He came and bloomed among us in the wilderness, and such and such things happened.

It sounds too rude a generalization to say that Simla is a wilderness; I hasten to add that it is a waste as highly cultivated as you like, producing many things more admirable than Ingersoll Armour.

Still he bloomed there conspicuously alone.

Perhaps there would have been nothing to tell if we had not tried to gather him.

That was wrong; Nature in Simla expects you to be content with cocked hats.
There are artists almost everywhere and people who paint even in the Himalayas, though Miss Harris and I in our superior way went yearly to the Simla Fine Arts Exhibition chiefly to amuse ourselves by scoffing.
It was easy to say clever things about the poor little exhibits; and one was grateful to the show on this account, for nothing is more depressing east of Suez than the absence of provocation to say clever things.