Every Day Life on a Ceylon Cocoa Estate by Mary E. Steuart

The weather is getting very hot in the daytime, but the nights are generally pleasantly cool. The thermometer all last week stood close upon ninety degrees in the shade and draught of our verandah. I find the best way not to feel the heat is to keep oneself constantly employed with writing, reading, or needlework. The difficulty is to get enough books. Friends are kind in lending them to one another, and a new work or magazine often goes the round of a whole district. Our great standby is the "Book Tambi," who is a sort of circulating library in himself. He and his attendant go from house to house with a bundle of books, some extremely uninteresting, but there are always others to be found one has not read before, and often very good novels issued in the "Home and Colonial Series." A man who buys new books and soon gets tired of them is a perfect boon to a district. Such a one we had, but he lately brought out a bride from England, and to our great disappointment, when the Tambi last paid us a visit and we asked for some of G--- Dorei's books, he gave a broad grin and said the new Dorel Sani (lady) would not let him sell any. We can only truly and devoutly hope that when she has read and re-read her library, and the novelty of the surroundings has worn off, that she may want some new books. The terms for the transaction are an old book and sixpence, which is certainly not an exorbitant sum. I would strongly advise any newcomers not to leave behind them the books they brought for the voyage. Never mind how trashy they may be, you will find them appreciated even if only for the purpose of exchange. I have even seen old lesson books in the bookman's bundle, and constantly, I am sorry to say, religious books of an antiquated school. There are "Tambis" with all kinds of merchandise, but the most useful is the man who brings calicos, prints, towels, and sheets. Khaki, flannel shiris, flannel suiting, Cannanore cloth, needles, pins, buttons, tape, ready-made coats (as worn by Kanganies), Dhurris, and other useful odds and ends. This arrival is quite an event both in the Lines and at the bungalow. First comes the Tambi, usually a Moorman in a fez, short coat, and coloured cloth put on like a petticoat, and always grasping a huge black cotton umbrella, behind him, three or four youths with bundles on their heads, each bundle being covered by a large piece of talipot palmleaf to keep off sun and rain. They stand in battle array in front of the verandah, are told to let us see what they have got, and then begins a regular battle over prices. The Tambis invariably ask twice the proper price at the beginning, and lower by very slow degrees. The best way to bargain with them is to offer exactly half what they ask, and then gradually go up a little until you see by their expression that they begin to look pleased. This sort of conversation usually occurs. "Tambi, how much will you take for that cloth." N.B. - calico always called cloth in Ceylon.

"Seventy-five cents a yard, lady."