With all the material above alluded to, our circle of society, as you may suppose, is sufficiently extensive and varied. Among the ladies, we have elderlies who enjoy tea and delight in scandal: grass widows—excuse the term, being very much wanted, it is comme il faut in this region—and spinsters of every kind, from the little girl in bib and tucker, to the full blown Anglo-Indian young lady, who discourses of her papa the Colonel, and disdains to look at anything below the rank of a field-officer. The gentlemen supply us with many an originale. There are ci-devant young men that pride themselves upon giving ostentatious feeds which youthful gastronomes make a point of eating, misanthropes and hermits who inhabit out-of-the-way abodes, civilians on the shelf, authors, linguists, oriental students, amateur divines who periodically convert their drawing-rooms into chapels of ease rather than go to church, sportsmen, worshippers of Bacchus in numbers, juniors whose glory it is to escort fair dames during evening rides, and seniors who would rather face his Satanic Majesty himself than stand in the dread presence of a “woman.” We have clergymen, priests, missionaries, tavern-keepers, school-masters, and scholars, with précieux and précieuses ridicules of all descriptions.
But, unhappily, the said circle is divided into several segments, which do not willingly or neatly unite. In the first place, there is a line of demarcation occasionally broken through, but pretty clearly drawn between the two Presidencies. The Mulls[159] again split into three main bodies, 1, the very serious; 2, the petit-sérieux; and, 3, the unsanctified. So do the Ducks, but these being upon strange ground are not so exclusive as they otherwise would be. Subdivision does not end here. For instance, the genus serious will contain two distinct species, the orthodox and the heterodox serious. The unsanctified also form numerous little knots, whose bond of union is some such accidental matters as an acquaintance previous to meeting on the hills, or a striking conformity of tastes and pursuits.
A brief account of the Neilgherry day will answer your inquiry about the existence of amusement. We premise that there are two formulas, one for the sanitarian, the other for the pleasure-hunter.
And first, of Il Penseroso, or the invalid. He rises with the sun, clothes himself according to Dr. Baikie,[160] and either mounts his pony, or more probably starts stick in hand for a four mile walk. He returns in time to avoid the sun’s effects upon an empty stomach, bathes, breakfasts, and hurries once more into the open air. Possibly, between the hours of twelve and four, his dinner-time, he may allow himself to rest awhile in the library, to play a game at billiards, or to call upon a friend, but upon principle he avoids tainted atmospheres as much as possible. At 5 P.M. he recommences walking or riding, persevering laudably in the exercise selected, till the falling dew drives him home. A cup of tea, and a book or newspaper, finish the day. This even tenor of his existence is occasionally varied by some such excitement as a pic-nic, or a shooting-party, but late dinners, balls, and parties, know him not.
Secondly of L’Allegro, as the man who obtains two months’ leave of “absence on urgent private affairs” to the Neilgherries, and the Penseroso become a robust convalescent, may classically and accurately be termed. L’Allegro, dresses at mid-day, he has spent the forenoon either in bed or en deshabille, in dozing, tea-drinking, and smoking, or, if of a literary turn of mind, in perusing the pages of “The Devoted,” or, “Demented One.” He dilates breakfast to spite old Time, and asks himself the frequent question What shall I do to-day? The ladies are generally at home between twelve and two, but L’Allegro, considering the occupation rather a “slow” one, votes it a “bore.” But there is the club, and a couple of hours may be spent profitably enough over the newspapers, or pleasantly enough with the assistance of billiards and whist. At three o’clock our Joyful returns home, or accompanies a party of friends to a hot and substantial meal, termed tiffin, followed by many gigantic Trichinopoly cigars, and glasses of pale ale in proportion.
A walk or a ride round the lake, is now deemed necessary to recruit exhausted Appetite, who is expected to be ready at seven for another hot and substantial meal, called dinner. And now, the labours of the day being happily over, L’Allegro concludes it with prodigious facility by means of cards or billiards, with whiskey and weeds.
This routine of life is broken only by such interruptions, as a shooting-party, an excursion, a pic-nic, a grand dinner, soirée, or a ball. Short notices of these amusements may not be unacceptable to the reader.
There are many places in the neighbourhood of Ooty—such as Dodabetta, Fair Lawn, and others—where, during the fine season, the votaries of Terpsichore display very fantastic toes indeed, particularly if they wear Neilgherry-made boots, between the hours of ten A.M. and five P.M. Much innocent mirth prevails on these social occasions, the only remarkable characteristic of their nature being, that the gentlemen generally ride out slowly and deliberately, but ride in, racing, or steeple-chasing, or enacting Johnny Gilpin.