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 and very far advanced. It all depends on what you've been accustomed to. We were only five hours late, and we were nearing Delhi at last. We could hear the guns announcing the arrival of some Indian prince or big official. Our train, containing the Lieutenant-Governor, whom I had not yet seen, would be greeted with a salute of thirteen guns. I felt aglow with reflected glory at the thought of those thirteen guns. Is there anything quite like the sound of a salute to give you a prickly sort of feeling all down the back? How delightful it must be to hear them booming out just for you alone. But, alas, like most things in life, those guns generally come too late. Just when you are almost on the shelf, and just about worn out after thirty years' service, and retirement looms ahead, then you may with great luck hear those guns, but every time they thunder out they must seem to bring with them the sound of a farewell. But, although we were so near to Delhi, we were not to get in yet. Some way outside we came to a dead stop on what seemed to be a side line. And there we waited. It was long after we were due, but even now it seemed that they weren't ready for us. Presently, up behind us, came another train, which drew up also on a side line across the way. It was the Lieutenant-Governor's train of another province, but it also had to wait. It was just a trifle damping when I had counted on sweeping into Delhi in such state to the accompaniment of those thirteen guns. Nobody knew what we