Francis Bradley Bradley-Birt

Biographical details

Francis Bradley Bradley-Birt An American Girl in India (1911)

The rows and rows of tents seemed never-ending—a vast canvas city of which even India, the land of tents, can hardly have seen the like before. Certainly not a city of tents like these. For above all, even above the vastness of it all, it was the trimness, the neatness, the exact precision, that struck one most. Not a rope was out of line, not a tent diverging by so much as an inch from its appointed place. It was just typical of the Durbar all through—an object-lesson of what the British have done. It has taken the mighty forces of this vast country, and swept them into line.
Source: Wikisource

Francis Bradley Bradley-Birt Bengal Fairy Tales (1920)

Oh, my dear, dear husband! to you I gave my hand, when you were only twelve days old, with death staring you in the face. I revived you through the blessing of the gods, fed you with tiger's milk, and brought you up, as your position required. Now I see you happy. May your happiness be everlasting. I pray for your father too, but only because he is your father. I love the girl beside you. May God give you both long life and prosperity.
Source: Wikisource

Francis Bradley Bradley-Birt An American Girl in India (1911)

And with a wave of the hand amidst a flutter of rose-pink silk dressing-gown Berengaria disappeared from sight. Nothing but Aunt Agatha's maxims had kept me from falling on her neck, and imploring her not to leave me.
I stood in the doorway—one of the eighteen—looking at the foundation-stone of the British Constitution in India. I can't truthfully say that the sight was calculated to inspire one with much confidence, but anyway I felt that it was something to fall back upon as a last resort in case of need. I was congratulating myself on that at least when something happened.
Source: Wikisource

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