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Updated: May 16, 2025
Shortly after I was ordered to Scottpore Garden in Cachar, the manager of which, a particularly fine man and a great friend of mine, had suffered the awful death of being pierced by the very sharp end of a heavy, newly-cut bamboo, which he seems to have ridden against in the dark. He always rode at great speed, and he too, in this way, was a victim of drink.
The planter's code of hospitality demanded this, but it was the financial ruin of the Chota Sahib, depending solely on his modest salary. At Scottpore I went in strong for vegetable, fruit and flower gardening, and not without success.
It may be said here that a snake's mouth opens crossways as well as vertically, and each side has the power of working independently, the teeth being re-curved backwards. Prey once in the jaws cannot escape, and the snake itself can only dispose of it in one way downwards. At Scottpore I employed an elephant for certain work, such as hauling heavy posts out of the jungle.
All that I myself could and did take credit for was this "quality," as the prices obtained in Calcutta were the best of all the Company's gardens. At Scottpore there was no lack of neighbours. My bungalow was on two cross-roads, a half-way house so to speak; consequently someone was continually dropping in.
Unfortunately that, during the whole period at Scottpore, was not mine; for the whole eighteen months fever had its grip on me; appetite was quite gone, and I subsisted on nothing but eggs, milk and whisky. Six months more would have done me up; but just at this time came the announcement of my father's death.
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