Letters of Marque by Rudyard Kipling — Read

_Does not in any sort describe the Dead City of Amber, but gives / detailed information of a Cotton Press._

And what shall be said of Amber, Queen of the Pass -- the city that Jey Singh bade his people slough as snakes cast their skins? The Globe-Trotter will assure you that it must be "done" before anything else, and the Globe-Trotter is, for once, perfectly correct. Amber lies between six and seven miles from Jeypore among the "tumbled fragments of the hills," and is reachable by so prosaic a conveyance as a ticca-ghari, and so uncomfortable a one as an elephant. _He_ is provided by the Maharaja, and the people who make India their prey are apt to accept his services as a matter of course.