Washing Clothes in the Ganges
A Single Tree—a Banyan
Preparations were being made on a large scale. A special Durbar Post Office of brick was erected. A new and imposing station, called "Kingsway," especially designed for King George, had been built. It was here we met the youthful Maharaja of Cooch Behar with his attractive little wife. They were wandering about the newly constructed station as naturally as though they were ordinary persons.
"You're afraid to break in on them," I said to Richardson.
"I beg your pardon, but would you kindly direct us to the amphitheatre where King George is to be crowned?" said Richardson, addressing his question to the Maharaja as he would to any other prospective informant. He answered at once. Our intrusion was so easy that it was a joke. The Maharaja was not a snob and with a clear voice and in good English, for he was a Cambridge man, told us how to find the theatre. He was a tall, rather slight fellow with a shady complexion and was dressed in a black European suit. His wife had on an ordinary dark dress and over her hat she wore a heavy black veil. They looked and acted like human beings.