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 it will be "all right by the First" — if it does not rain.

On all sides are tents, big and little, round and square, from the lordly marquee to the tiny gipsy tents where the servants shelter. There cannot have been such a collection since the tent-dwellers of Central Asia set out to conquer the world. No other country could furnish a like spectacle. It is worth coming to Delhi to see the tents alone. Many have mud fire-places neatly let into the walls, while without rise square chimneys of white-washed mud. Over the sea of white roofs a flag-staff appears, with the Union Jack hanging limply in the still morning air. It marks the Commander-in-Chiefs quarters, and his Excellency is evidently in residence. You turn into a broad well-kept road, and emerge upon a large open space surrounded by spacious dwellings. A circular drive before the biggest marquee encloses a plot of grass, with flower-beds. The happy idea of bedecking Lord Kitchener's camp with flowers has been ruined by the dust. The plants are dirty and dejected, the blossoms are begrimed. Elsewhere a forlorn coolie had actually been set to dust a bed of flowers with a red feather dusting-brush!

You make your way up an adjacent gentle slope to the Viceregal House, a not very imposing structure of khaki colour, relieved by white pillars and cornices. In front, the outlook is neat and smooth enough, but the ground behind is an unkempt desert of sands and boulders. The terrace is