ness and ill health occasioned by a residence on the plains.
India, with its habits fixed by the authority of three thousand years, has been compelled by British supremacy to receive some novelties; one of these is the "transit bandy," the conveyance by which we were carried to the hills. The palankeen, which is both slow and expensive, has, within a few years past, been somewhat superseded in the carriage of passengers from Madras to Bangalore, Mysore, and the mountains, by this mode of travel. The transit bandy is a peculiar kind of vehicle. It is very nearly a palankeen on wheels, and more like a little omnibus without seats, and drawn by one horse or two bullocks, than any other American conveyance. On the level floor you lay a mattrass, with pillows or bundles to raise your head, and stow away in every corner and recess some article needed for the way. Should you trust to an imaginary “Arcot Hotel,” or “Mysore House" for entertainment, the bare walls of the travellers’ bungalow would sadly disappoint your expectations. Your transit bandy must be storehouse, pantry, wardrobe, and library, as well as bedroom, for the journey.
