During our stay at Port Blair, the Head-Quarters of the Andaman Administration, we were the guests of the hospitable Superintendent, Lieutenant-Colonel Protheroe, who had been one of the political officers on my staff in Afghanistan.  The group of islands forming the settlement are extremely beautiful, but it is tropical beauty, and one pays the penalty for the luxuriant vegetation in the climate, which is very much like a Turkish bath, hot and damp.  While going through the prisons, I came across some of the sepoys of the 29th Punjab Infantry who deserted during the advance on the Peiwar Kotal.  I was told that they were behaving well, and might in time be allowed some remission of their sentences.

A voyage of thirty-six hours brought us to Rangoon, where we had the pleasure of meeting and being entertained by our old friends, Mr. Bernard,[2] the Chief Commissioner of Burma, and his wife.

In 1882 Thyetmyo and Tonghu were the two frontier stations of Burma, and I had been asked to consider the question of the defence of the proposed railway termini at these places.  I accordingly visited them both, and as I thought I foresaw that the lines of railway could not end as then contemplated, I recommended that the absolutely necessary works only should be attempted, and that these should be as inexpensive as possible.  Ere many years had passed, the line, as I anticipated, was completed to Mandalay.

The defences of Rangoon had also to be arranged for.  An examination of the approaches, however, satisfied me that no elaborate system of fortification was necessary, and that Rangoon’s best security lay in her winding, dangerous river; so I gave it as my opinion that, with two small batteries at Monkey Point and King’s Point, and a couple of torpedo-boats, Rangoon would be reasonably safe against attack.

Before leaving Burma I received letters from H.R.H. the Duke of Cambridge and Mr. Childers, in which were repeated the offer of the Quartermaster-Generalship at the Horse Guards.  But I had by this time begun to like my new work, and had no desire to leave Madras; I therefore definitely declined the appointment.

From Burma we returned to Ootacamund, via Calcutta, where we spent a few days with Lord and Lady Ripon and Sir Donald and Lady Stewart.

Life at ‘Ooty’ was very pleasant; such peace and repose I had never before experienced; I thoroughly enjoyed the rest after the turmoil of the preceding years, and I quite recovered my health, which had been somewhat shattered.  Unlike other hill-stations, Ootacamund rests on an undulating tableland, 7,400 feet above the sea, with plenty of room in the neighbourhood for riding, driving, and hunting; and, although the scenery is nothing like as grand as in the Himalayas, there are exquisite views to be had, and it is more restful and homelike.  We made many warm friends and agreeable acquaintances, who when our time in Madras came to an end presented my wife with a very beautiful clock ‘as a token of esteem and affection’; we were very sorry to bid farewell to our friends and to our Nilgiri home.