IN FAMISHED INDIA
I t is no longer green, there are no more great palms ; the earth is no longer red, and it is quite chilly. . . . These are the surprises that attend my first awakening in Nizam after having journeyed all the night from the regions of Madras and Pondicherry, where yesterday everything was still so green. We have now reached the central plateau of India, and are in the midst of a stony wilderness where all is different-save the croaking of the eternal crows.