No native ghost has yet been authentically reported to have frightened an Englishman; but many English ghosts have scared the life out of each white and black. Then the wind ran out and the billiards stopped, and that i felt that I had ruined, my one real ghost-story. You might deal with something, from a Viceroy to a Vernacular Paper, with levity; but you will need to behave reverently towards a ghost, and significantly an Indian one. There are stated to be two at Simla, not counting the lady who blows the bellows at Syree dâk-bungalow on the Old Road; Mussoorie has a home haunted of a very lively Thing; a White Lady is speculated to do evening-watchman spherical a house in Lahore; Dalhousie says that one among her homes "repeats" on autumn evenings all the incidents of a horrible horse-and-precipice accident; Murree has a merry ghost, and now that she has been swept by cholera, will have room for some sorrowful ones; there are Officers' Quarters in Mian Mir whose doorways open with out purpose, and whose furnishings is assured to creak, not with the heat of June but with the burden of Invisibles who come to lounge in the chairs; Peshawar possesses homes that none will willingly rent; and there's something-not fever-unsuitable with a giant bungalow in Allahabad.

Some of the dâk-bungalows or rest houses on the Grand Trunk Road have handy little cemeteries in their compound witnesses to the "changes and chances of this mortal life" in the days when males drove behind horses from Calcutta to the North- West. I lived in "transformed" ones-outdated homes officiating as dâk-bungalows-where nothing was in its proper place and there wasn't even a fowl for dinner. I lived in dâk-bungalows the place the final entry within the guests'-ebook was fifteen months previous and where they slashed off the curry-child's head with a sword. Not way back it was my enterprise to stay in dâk-bungalows. A man with a sensitive hide has no proper to sleep in dâk-bungalows. These wander along the pathways at dusk, or hide within the crops near a village, and name seductively. There are, on this land, ghosts who take the type of fats, cold, pobby corpses, and hide in bushes near the roadside till a traveller passes. There are some tempers which Satan will need to have had a hand in forming, and if others are thankfully not bothered in the identical means, they should do not forget that golf is a really irritating recreation.

But although golf could also be more attempting to the temper than every other sport, every game has its trials. I have played at many video games, but golf is performed by extra faddists than have been returned to the House of Commons in the course of the previous ten years. You play with the same cue at billiards, with the same bat at cricket, with the identical mallet at croquet, with the identical racquet at tennis, lawn-tennis, and racquets; golf is the one recreation on the planet, as far as I know, the place it is completely essential to have a minimal variety of 5 or 6 clubs to play a sport with. There is now not any doubt that golf is threatening the supremacy of our nationwide game. Between the pauses of the wind I heard the game go forward-stroke after stroke. I lived in second-hand palaces where the wind blew by way of open-work marble tracery simply as uncomfortably as through a broken pane. I lived in Government-constructed ones with red brick partitions and rail ceilings, a list of the furniture posted in every room, and an excited snake on the threshold to provide welcome. The floor was of worn brick, the walls had been filthy, and the windows have been practically black with grime.

Somewhere in England where there are books and pictures and plays and shop windows to take a look at, and hundreds of males who spend their lives in constructing up all 4, lives a gentleman who writes real tales about the actual insides of people; and his identify is Mr. Walter Besant. I very a lot doubt whether any player in England could truthfully say that all distances were alike to him, that he performed equally well or equally badly at a shot that wanted a 180-yards knock or a thirty. If you happen to get indignant with him, he refers to some Sahib dead and buried these thirty years, and says that when he was in that Sahib's service not a butler in the Province could contact him. The man of thirty in a few years will very doubtless grow to be a very bad putter, not as a result of he has not the talent-for he proved his skill when a beginner-however as a result of he has learnt the terrors of putting, and his ability is overpowered by his nerves. A golfer by observe could enhance his play with a membership, but he very probably will find that, throughout the time he has occupied himself with this club, one other has mysteriously failed him; and in any case the terrible ordeal of placing needs to be gone by, and it's the painful expertise of unhealthy putters that practice does in no way good, however solely causes new terrors to look.

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