So abased, so monotonous is everything that meets the eye, that when the Ganges comes down it might be expected to wash the excrescence back into the soil. (Chapter 1)

On the second rise is laid out the little civil station, and viewed hence Chandrapore appears to be a totally different place. It is a city of gardens. It is no city, but a forest sparsely scattered with huts. It is a tropical pleasaunce washed by a noble river. (Chapter 1)

They all become exactly the same, not worse, not better. I give any Englishman two years, be he Turton or Burton. It is only the difference of a letter. And I give any English woman six months. All are exactly alike. (Chapter 2)

He has found out our dinner hour, that’s all, and chooses to interrupt us every time, in order to show his power. (Chapter 2)

A Mosque by winning his approval let loose his... (Chapter 2)