The weather, during the cold season in this part of India, is not
nearly so inclement as in Calcutta and the north-western provinces;
nevertheless, it is very desirable to shut out the keen and cutting
wind, which frequently blows during the night. The people here,
however, seem fond of living in tents, and it often happens that
gentlemen especially, who have had good houses of their own over their
heads, go to very considerable expense for the purpose of enjoying the
free air of a camp.
I had an opportunity of seeing the facility and despatch with which
such a change of residence is managed in Bombay. Driving one evening
round the foot of a conical hill overlooking the sea, we met a party
of gentlemen who said that they were looking out for a good place to
pitch their tents, and invited us to dine with them on the following
evening at seven o'clock. As the hill was in our neighbourhood, we
ascertained at eleven o'clock the next morning that there was not a
symptom of habitation upon it; however, we were determined to keep our
engagement, and accordingly arrived at the appointed hour at the point
of the road at which a rude pathway opened.
It was perfectly dark, but we found the place indicated by a cluster
of lamps hanging like a bunch of grapes from a tree; a palanquin was
also in waiting to carry the ladies up the hill in turn.
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