Some of the withdrawing-rooms of Bombay are perfectly open at either end, and though the effect is certainly beautiful—­a charming living landscape of wood and water, framed in by the pillars at the angles of the chamber—­yet it is enjoyed at too great a risk.  Dining-rooms are frequently nearly as much exposed, the aim of everybody apparently being to admit as great a quantity of air as possible, no matter from what point of the compass it blows.  Strangers, therefore, however guarded they may be in their own apartments, can never emerge from them without incurring danger, and it is only by clothing themselves more warmly than can be at all reconciled with comfort, that they can escape from rheumatic or other painful attacks.

These land-winds are also very destructive to the goods and chattels exposed to them; desks are warped and will not shut, leather gloves and shoes become so dry that they shrink and divide, while all unseasoned wood is speedily split across.  It is said that the hot weather is never so fierce in Bombay as in Bengal, the sea-breezes, which sometimes blow very strongly, and are not so injurious as those from the land, affording a daily relief.

It may be necessary, for the advantage of succeeding travellers, to say that, in passing down the Red Sea, in the autumn and winter months, no danger need be apprehended from the effects of the climate upon coloured silks.  It was not possible for me to burthen myself with tin cases, and I was obliged to put my wearing apparel, ribbons, &c, into portmanteaus, with no other precaution than a wrapper of brown paper.  Nothing, however, was injured, and satin dresses previously worn came out as fresh as possible:  a circumstance which never happens in the voyage round the Cape.

And now, while upon the subject of dress, I will further say, that it is advisable for ladies to bring out with them to Bombay every thing they can possibly want, since the shops, excepting immediately after the arrival of a ship, are very poorly provided, while the packs, for few have attained to the dignity of tin boxes, brought about by the hawkers, contain the most wretched assortment of goods imaginable.  The moment, therefore, that the cargo of a vessel hag been purchased by the retail dealers, all that is really elegant or fashionable is eagerly purchased, and the rejected articles, even should they be equally excellent, when once consigned to the dingy precincts of a Bombay shop, lose all their lustre.  The most perfect bonnet that Maradan ever produced, if once gibbeted in one of Muncherjee’s glass-cases, could never be worn by a lady of the slightest pretensions.  Goods to the amount of L300 were sold in one morning, it is said, in the above-mentioned worthy’s shop, and those who were unable to pay it a visit on the day of the opening of the cases, must either content themselves with the leavings, or wait the arrival of another ship.