But I had by this time begun to like my new work, and had no desire to leave Madras; I therefore definitely declined the appointment.
From Burma we returned to Ootacamund, via Calcutta, where we spent a few days with Lord and Lady Ripon and Sir Donald and Lady Stewart.
Life at 'Ooty' was very pleasant; such peace and repose I had never before experienced; I thoroughly enjoyed the rest after the turmoil of the preceding years, and I quite recovered my health, which had been somewhat shattered.

Unlike other hill-stations, Ootacamund rests on an undulating tableland, 7,400 feet above the sea, with plenty of room in the neighbourhood for riding, driving, and hunting; and, although the scenery is nothing like as grand as in the Himalayas, there are exquisite views to be had, and it is more restful and homelike.

We made many warm friends and agreeable acquaintances, who when our time in Madras came to an end presented my wife with a very beautiful clock 'as a token of esteem and affection'; we were very sorry to bid farewell to our friends and to our Nilgiri home.
Each cold season I made long tours in order to acquaint myself with the needs and capabilities of the men of the Madras Army.

I tried hard to discover in them those fighting qualities which had distinguished their forefathers during the wars of the last and the beginning of the present century.

But long years of peace, and the security and prosperity attending it, had evidently had upon them, as they always seem to have on Asiatics, a softening and deteriorating effect; and I was forced to the conclusion that the ancient military spirit had died in them, as it had died in the ordinary Hindustani of Bengal and the Mahratta of Bombay, and that they could no longer with safety be pitted against warlike races, or employed outside the limits of southern India.
It was with extreme reluctance that I formed this opinion with regard to the successors of the old Coast Army, for which I had always entertained a great admiration.