"Pardon, madame," said he, "je m'en vais cracher mon autre poumon." To Simla the whole supreme Government migrates for the summer--Viceroy, council, clerks, printers, and hangers-on.

Thither the high official from the plains takes his wife, his daughters, and his liver.

There the journalists congregate to pick up the news that oozes through the pent-house of Government secrecy, and failing such scant drops of information, to manufacture as much as is necessary to fill the columns of their dailies.

On the slopes of "Jako"-- the wooded eminence that rises above the town--the enterprising German establishes his concert-hall and his beer-garden; among the rhododendron trees Madame Blavatzky, Colonel Olcott and Mr.Sinnett move mysteriously in the performance of their wonders; and the wealthy tourist from America, the botanist from Berlin, and the casual peer from Great Britain, are not wanting to complete the motley crowd.

There are no roads in Simla proper where it is possible to drive, excepting one narrow way, reserved when I was there, and probably still set apart, for the exclusive delectation of the Viceroy.