Managers, in the case of a large estate, should never walk along the roads, unless of course for a very short distance, but only amongst the coolies at work, or when inspecting work done, or laying out fresh work.  For these purposes all the strength and freshness of the managers are required, and it seems superfluous to observe that a tired man is seldom a good observer, or rather in a good state for observing.  On a steep estate the manager should dismount on the upper road and walk downhill to his coolies, and send his horse down to the lower road so as to avoid climbing the hill.

Managers should be careful of their health, make it a rule always to change at once the moment they come in, and see that their food, however plain, is of good quality and well cooked.  They should take remedies immediately at the first indication of disorder, and should be very careful to attend to the directions in the preceding section, and avoid all unnecessary fatigue, as it is when over fatigued that a man is most liable to the inroads of disease.

It is very important to, as soon as possible, make a beginning, however small, as regards any work, even if it should have to be discontinued for a time on account of other works coming in the way.  For the beginning stands there as a reminder that the work has to be done, and the proverbial first step has been taken.

It is also important so to arrange work that parties may be within easy reach of each other, as this of course lightens the work of supervision.

When visiting a working party the manager should not trouble himself so much about the work being then done, but should occupy most of his time in examining the work of the previous day, and he should see that the duffadars are not merely staring at the coolies as they work, but that they are examining the work that has been done.  When pruning, for instance, the duffadar should move from one end of the line to the other examining as he goes the trees just finished by the people.  It is hardly necessary to say that a fluent command of the vernacular is of the utmost, or I may say, of the most indispensable importance, for, as an old planter once said to me, “A native thinks that a European who can’t speak the language is a perfect fool.”  The reader will find a chapter in the “Experiences of a Planter” on learning languages by ear, and I regret that I cannot, from want of space, insert it in this volume.

FOOTNOTES: 

[59] “The Cyclopaedia of India, and of Eastern and Southern Asia,” by Surgeon-General Edward Balfour.  Third edition.  London:  Bernard Quaritch, 15, Piccadilly, 1885.

[60] And so should every estate in England, and every business, too.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE PLANTER’S BUNGALOW, AND THE AMENITIES OF AN ESTATE.