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diff --git a/1858-h/1858-h.htm b/1858-h/1858-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..84c876f --- /dev/null +++ b/1858-h/1858-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8727 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Plain Tales from the Hills, by Rudyard Kipling + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Plain Tales from the Hills, by Rudyard Kipling + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Plain Tales from the Hills + +Author: Rudyard Kipling + +Release Date: November 3, 2008 [EBook #1858] +Last Updated: March 9, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAIN TALES FROM THE HILLS *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + PLAIN TALES FROM THE HILLS + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Rudyard Kipling + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <big><b>PLAIN TALES FROM THE HILLS</b></big> + </a><br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> LISPETH. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> THREE AND—AN EXTRA. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THROWN AWAY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> MISS YOUGHAL'S SAIS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> YOKED WITH AN UNBELIEVER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> FALSE DAWN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> THE RESCUE OF PLUFFLES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> CUPID'S ARROWS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> HIS CHANCE IN LIFE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> WATCHES OF THE NIGHT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> THE OTHER MAN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> CONSEQUENCES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> THE CONVERSION OF AURELIAN McGOGGIN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> A GERM DESTROYER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> KIDNAPPED. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> THE ARREST OF LIEUTENANT GOLIGHTLY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> THE HOUSE OF SUDDHOO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> HIS WEDDED WIFE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> THE BROKEN LINK HANDICAPPED. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> BEYOND THE PALE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> IN ERROR. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> A BANK FRAUD. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> TOD'S AMENDMENT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> IN THE PRIDE OF HIS YOUTH. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> PIG. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> THE ROUT OF THE WHITE HUSSARS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> THE BRONCKHORST DIVORCE-CASE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> VENUS ANNODOMINI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> THE BISARA OF POOREE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> THE GATE OF A HUNDRED SORROWS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> THE STORY OF MUHAMMAD DIN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> ON THE STRENGTH OF A LIKENESS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> WRESSLEY OF THE FOREIGN OFFICE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> BY WORD OF MOUTH. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> TO BE HELD FOR REFERENCE. </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + PLAIN TALES FROM THE HILLS + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LISPETH. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Look, you have cast out Love! What Gods are these + You bid me please? + The Three in One, the One in Three? Not so! + To my own Gods I go. + It may be they shall give me greater ease + Than your cold Christ and tangled Trinities. + + The Convert. +</pre> + <p> + She was the daughter of Sonoo, a Hill-man, and Jadeh his wife. One year + their maize failed, and two bears spent the night in their only + poppy-field just above the Sutlej Valley on the Kotgarth side; so, next + season, they turned Christian, and brought their baby to the Mission to be + baptized. The Kotgarth Chaplain christened her Elizabeth, and “Lispeth” is + the Hill or pahari pronunciation. + </p> + <p> + Later, cholera came into the Kotgarth Valley and carried off Sonoo and + Jadeh, and Lispeth became half-servant, half-companion to the wife of the + then Chaplain of Kotgarth. This was after the reign of the Moravian + missionaries, but before Kotgarth had quite forgotten her title of + “Mistress of the Northern Hills.” + </p> + <p> + Whether Christianity improved Lispeth, or whether the gods of her own + people would have done as much for her under any circumstances, I do not + know; but she grew very lovely. When a Hill girl grows lovely, she is + worth traveling fifty miles over bad ground to look upon. Lispeth had a + Greek face—one of those faces people paint so often, and see so + seldom. She was of a pale, ivory color and, for her race, extremely tall. + Also, she possessed eyes that were wonderful; and, had she not been + dressed in the abominable print-cloths affected by Missions, you would, + meeting her on the hill-side unexpectedly, have thought her the original + Diana of the Romans going out to slay. + </p> + <p> + Lispeth took to Christianity readily, and did not abandon it when she + reached womanhood, as do some Hill girls. Her own people hated her because + she had, they said, become a memsahib and washed herself daily; and the + Chaplain's wife did not know what to do with her. Somehow, one cannot ask + a stately goddess, five foot ten in her shoes, to clean plates and dishes. + So she played with the Chaplain's children and took classes in the Sunday + School, and read all the books in the house, and grew more and more + beautiful, like the Princesses in fairy tales. The Chaplain's wife said + that the girl ought to take service in Simla as a nurse or something + “genteel.” But Lispeth did not want to take service. She was very happy + where she was. + </p> + <p> + When travellers—there were not many in those years—came to + Kotgarth, Lispeth used to lock herself into her own room for fear they + might take her away to Simla, or somewhere out into the unknown world. + </p> + <p> + One day, a few months after she was seventeen years old, Lispeth went out + for a walk. She did not walk in the manner of English ladies—a mile + and a half out, and a ride back again. She covered between twenty and + thirty miles in her little constitutionals, all about and about, between + Kotgarth and Narkunda. This time she came back at full dusk, stepping down + the breakneck descent into Kotgarth with something heavy in her arms. The + Chaplain's wife was dozing in the drawing-room when Lispeth came in + breathing hard and very exhausted with her burden. Lispeth put it down on + the sofa, and said simply: + </p> + <p> + “This is my husband. I found him on the Bagi Road. He has hurt himself. We + will nurse him, and when he is well, your husband shall marry him to me.” + </p> + <p> + This was the first mention Lispeth had ever made of her matrimonial views, + and the Chaplain's wife shrieked with horror. However, the man on the sofa + needed attention first. He was a young Englishman, and his head had been + cut to the bone by something jagged. Lispeth said she had found him down + the khud, so she had brought him in. He was breathing queerly and was + unconscious. + </p> + <p> + He was put to bed and tended by the Chaplain, who knew something of + medicine; and Lispeth waited outside the door in case she could be useful. + She explained to the Chaplain that this was the man she meant to marry; + and the Chaplain and his wife lectured her severely on the impropriety of + her conduct. Lispeth listened quietly, and repeated her first proposition. + It takes a great deal of Christianity to wipe out uncivilized Eastern + instincts, such as falling in love at first sight. Lispeth, having found + the man she worshipped, did not see why she should keep silent as to her + choice. She had no intention of being sent away, either. She was going to + nurse that Englishman until he was well enough to marry her. This was her + little programme. + </p> + <p> + After a fortnight of slight fever and inflammation, the Englishman + recovered coherence and thanked the Chaplain and his wife, and Lispeth—especially + Lispeth—for their kindness. He was a traveller in the East, he said—they + never talked about “globe-trotters” in those days, when the P. & O. + fleet was young and small—and had come from Dehra Dun to hunt for + plants and butterflies among the Simla hills. No one at Simla, therefore, + knew anything about him. He fancied he must have fallen over the cliff + while stalking a fern on a rotten tree-trunk, and that his coolies must + have stolen his baggage and fled. He thought he would go back to Simla + when he was a little stronger. He desired no more mountaineering. + </p> + <p> + He made small haste to go away, and recovered his strength slowly. Lispeth + objected to being advised either by the Chaplain or his wife; so the + latter spoke to the Englishman, and told him how matters stood in + Lispeth's heart. He laughed a good deal, and said it was very pretty and + romantic, a perfect idyl of the Himalayas; but, as he was engaged to a + girl at Home, he fancied that nothing would happen. Certainly he would + behave with discretion. He did that. Still he found it very pleasant to + talk to Lispeth, and walk with Lispeth, and say nice things to her, and + call her pet names while he was getting strong enough to go away. It meant + nothing at all to him, and everything in the world to Lispeth. She was + very happy while the fortnight lasted, because she had found a man to + love. + </p> + <p> + Being a savage by birth, she took no trouble to hide her feelings, and the + Englishman was amused. When he went away, Lispeth walked with him, up the + Hill as far as Narkunda, very troubled and very miserable. The Chaplain's + wife, being a good Christian and disliking anything in the shape of fuss + or scandal—Lispeth was beyond her management entirely—had told + the Englishman to tell Lispeth that he was coming back to marry her. “She + is but a child, you know, and, I fear, at heart a heathen,” said the + Chaplain's wife. So all the twelve miles up the hill the Englishman, with + his arm around Lispeth's waist, was assuring the girl that he would come + back and marry her; and Lispeth made him promise over and over again. She + wept on the Narkunda Ridge till he had passed out of sight along the + Muttiani path. + </p> + <p> + Then she dried her tears and went in to Kotgarth again, and said to the + Chaplain's wife: “He will come back and marry me. He has gone to his own + people to tell them so.” And the Chaplain's wife soothed Lispeth and said: + “He will come back.” At the end of two months, Lispeth grew impatient, and + was told that the Englishman had gone over the seas to England. She knew + where England was, because she had read little geography primers; but, of + course, she had no conception of the nature of the sea, being a Hill girl. + There was an old puzzle-map of the World in the House. Lispeth had played + with it when she was a child. She unearthed it again, and put it together + of evenings, and cried to herself, and tried to imagine where her + Englishman was. As she had no ideas of distance or steamboats, her notions + were somewhat erroneous. It would not have made the least difference had + she been perfectly correct; for the Englishman had no intention of coming + back to marry a Hill girl. He forgot all about her by the time he was + butterfly-hunting in Assam. He wrote a book on the East afterwards. + Lispeth's name did not appear. + </p> + <p> + At the end of three months, Lispeth made daily pilgrimage to Narkunda to + see if her Englishman was coming along the road. It gave her comfort, and + the Chaplain's wife, finding her happier, thought that she was getting + over her “barbarous and most indelicate folly.” A little later the walks + ceased to help Lispeth and her temper grew very bad. The Chaplain's wife + thought this a profitable time to let her know the real state of affairs—that + the Englishman had only promised his love to keep her quiet—that he + had never meant anything, and that it was “wrong and improper” of Lispeth + to think of marriage with an Englishman, who was of a superior clay, + besides being promised in marriage to a girl of his own people. Lispeth + said that all this was clearly impossible, because he had said he loved + her, and the Chaplain's wife had, with her own lips, asserted that the + Englishman was coming back. + </p> + <p> + “How can what he and you said be untrue?” asked Lispeth. + </p> + <p> + “We said it as an excuse to keep you quiet, child,” said the Chaplain's + wife. + </p> + <p> + “Then you have lied to me,” said Lispeth, “you and he?” + </p> + <p> + The Chaplain's wife bowed her head, and said nothing. Lispeth was silent, + too for a little time; then she went out down the valley, and returned in + the dress of a Hill girl—infamously dirty, but without the nose and + ear rings. She had her hair braided into the long pig-tail, helped out + with black thread, that Hill women wear. + </p> + <p> + “I am going back to my own people,” said she. “You have killed Lispeth. + There is only left old Jadeh's daughter—the daughter of a pahari and + the servant of Tarka Devi. You are all liars, you English.” + </p> + <p> + By the time that the Chaplain's wife had recovered from the shock of the + announcement that Lispeth had 'verted to her mother's gods, the girl had + gone; and she never came back. + </p> + <p> + She took to her own unclean people savagely, as if to make up the arrears + of the life she had stepped out of; and, in a little time, she married a + wood-cutter who beat her, after the manner of paharis, and her beauty + faded soon. + </p> + <p> + “There is no law whereby you can account for the vagaries of the heathen,” + said the Chaplain's wife, “and I believe that Lispeth was always at heart + an infidel.” Seeing she had been taken into the Church of England at the + mature age of five weeks, this statement does not do credit to the + Chaplain's wife. + </p> + <p> + Lispeth was a very old woman when she died. She always had a perfect + command of English, and when she was sufficiently drunk, could sometimes + be induced to tell the story of her first love-affair. + </p> + <p> + It was hard then to realize that the bleared, wrinkled creature, so like a + wisp of charred rag, could ever have been “Lispeth of the Kotgarth + Mission.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THREE AND—AN EXTRA. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “When halter and heel ropes are slipped, do not give chase with + sticks but with gram.” + + Punjabi Proverb. +</pre> + <p> + After marriage arrives a reaction, sometimes a big, sometimes a little + one; but it comes sooner or later, and must be tided over by both parties + if they desire the rest of their lives to go with the current. + </p> + <p> + In the case of the Cusack-Bremmils this reaction did not set in till the + third year after the wedding. Bremmil was hard to hold at the best of + times; but he was a beautiful husband until the baby died and Mrs. Bremmil + wore black, and grew thin, and mourned as if the bottom of the universe + had fallen out. Perhaps Bremmil ought to have comforted her. He tried to + do so, I think; but the more he comforted the more Mrs. Bremmil grieved, + and, consequently, the more uncomfortable Bremmil grew. The fact was that + they both needed a tonic. And they got it. Mrs. Bremmil can afford to + laugh now, but it was no laughing matter to her at the time. + </p> + <p> + You see, Mrs. Hauksbee appeared on the horizon; and where she existed was + fair chance of trouble. At Simla her bye-name was the “Stormy Petrel.” She + had won that title five times to my own certain knowledge. She was a + little, brown, thin, almost skinny, woman, with big, rolling, violet-blue + eyes, and the sweetest manners in the world. You had only to mention her + name at afternoon teas for every woman in the room to rise up, and call + her—well—NOT blessed. She was clever, witty, brilliant, and + sparkling beyond most of her kind; but possessed of many devils of malice + and mischievousness. She could be nice, though, even to her own sex. But + that is another story. + </p> + <p> + Bremmil went off at score after the baby's death and the general + discomfort that followed, and Mrs. Hauksbee annexed him. She took no + pleasure in hiding her captives. She annexed him publicly, and saw that + the public saw it. He rode with her, and walked with her, and talked with + her, and picnicked with her, and tiffined at Peliti's with her, till + people put up their eyebrows and said: “Shocking!” Mrs. Bremmil stayed at + home turning over the dead baby's frocks and crying into the empty cradle. + She did not care to do anything else. But some eight dear, affectionate + lady-friends explained the situation at length to her in case she should + miss the cream of it. Mrs. Bremmil listened quietly, and thanked them for + their good offices. She was not as clever as Mrs. Hauksbee, but she was no + fool. She kept her own counsel, and did not speak to Bremmil of what she + had heard. This is worth remembering. Speaking to, or crying over, a + husband never did any good yet. + </p> + <p> + When Bremmil was at home, which was not often, he was more affectionate + than usual; and that showed his hand. The affection was forced partly to + soothe his own conscience and partly to soothe Mrs. Bremmil. It failed in + both regards. + </p> + <p> + Then “the A.-D.-C. in Waiting was commanded by Their Excellencies, Lord + and Lady Lytton, to invite Mr. and Mrs. Cusack-Bremmil to Peterhoff on + July 26th at 9.30 P. M.”—“Dancing” in the bottom-left-hand corner. + </p> + <p> + “I can't go,” said Mrs. Bremmil, “it is too soon after poor little + Florrie... but it need not stop you, Tom.” + </p> + <p> + She meant what she said then, and Bremmil said that he would go just to + put in an appearance. Here he spoke the thing which was not; and Mrs. + Bremmil knew it. She guessed—a woman's guess is much more accurate + than a man's certainty—that he had meant to go from the first, and + with Mrs. Hauksbee. She sat down to think, and the outcome of her thoughts + was that the memory of a dead child was worth considerably less than the + affections of a living husband. She made her plan and staked her all upon + it. In that hour she discovered that she knew Tom Bremmil thoroughly, and + this knowledge she acted on. + </p> + <p> + “Tom,” said she, “I shall be dining out at the Longmores' on the evening + of the 26th. You'd better dine at the club.” + </p> + <p> + This saved Bremmil from making an excuse to get away and dine with Mrs. + Hauksbee, so he was grateful, and felt small and mean at the same time—which + was wholesome. Bremmil left the house at five for a ride. About half-past + five in the evening a large leather-covered basket came in from Phelps' + for Mrs. Bremmil. She was a woman who knew how to dress; and she had not + spent a week on designing that dress and having it gored, and hemmed, and + herring-boned, and tucked and rucked (or whatever the terms are) for + nothing. It was a gorgeous dress—slight mourning. I can't describe + it, but it was what The Queen calls “a creation”—a thing that hit + you straight between the eyes and made you gasp. She had not much heart + for what she was going to do; but as she glanced at the long mirror she + had the satisfaction of knowing that she had never looked so well in her + life. She was a large blonde and, when she chose, carried herself + superbly. + </p> + <p> + After the dinner at the Longmores, she went on to the dance—a little + late—and encountered Bremmil with Mrs. Hauksbee on his arm. That + made her flush, and as the men crowded round her for dances she looked + magnificent. She filled up all her dances except three, and those she left + blank. Mrs. Hauksbee caught her eye once; and she knew it was war—real + war—between them. She started handicapped in the struggle, for she + had ordered Bremmil about just the least little bit in the world too much; + and he was beginning to resent it. Moreover, he had never seen his wife + look so lovely. He stared at her from doorways, and glared at her from + passages as she went about with her partners; and the more he stared, the + more taken was he. He could scarcely believe that this was the woman with + the red eyes and the black stuff gown who used to weep over the eggs at + breakfast. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee did her best to hold him in play, but, after two dances, he + crossed over to his wife and asked for a dance. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you've come too late, MISTER Bremmil,” she said, with her eyes + twinkling. + </p> + <p> + Then he begged her to give him a dance, and, as a great favor, she allowed + him the fifth waltz. Luckily 5 stood vacant on his programme. They danced + it together, and there was a little flutter round the room. Bremmil had a + sort of notion that his wife could dance, but he never knew she danced so + divinely. At the end of that waltz he asked for another—as a favor, + not as a right; and Mrs. Bremmil said: “Show me your programme, dear!” He + showed it as a naughty little schoolboy hands up contraband sweets to a + master. There was a fair sprinkling of “H” on it besides “H” at supper. + Mrs. Bremmil said nothing, but she smiled contemptuously, ran her pencil + through 7 and 9—two “H's”—and returned the card with her own + name written above—a pet name that only she and her husband used. + Then she shook her finger at him, and said, laughing: “Oh, you silly, + SILLY boy!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee heard that, and—she owned as much—felt that she + had the worst of it. Bremmil accepted 7 and 9 gratefully. They danced 7, + and sat out 9 in one of the little tents. What Bremmil said and what Mrs. + Bremmil said is no concern of any one's. + </p> + <p> + When the band struck up “The Roast Beef of Old England,” the two went out + into the verandah, and Bremmil began looking for his wife's dandy (this + was before 'rickshaw days) while she went into the cloak-room. Mrs. + Hauksbee came up and said: “You take me in to supper, I think, Mr. + Bremmil.” Bremmil turned red and looked foolish. “Ah—h'm! I'm going + home with my wife, Mrs. Hauksbee. I think there has been a little + mistake.” Being a man, he spoke as though Mrs. Hauksbee were entirely + responsible. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bremmil came out of the cloak-room in a swansdown cloak with a white + “cloud” round her head. She looked radiant; and she had a right to. + </p> + <p> + The couple went off in the darkness together, Bremmil riding very close to + the dandy. + </p> + <p> + Then says Mrs. Hauksbee to me—she looked a trifle faded and jaded in + the lamplight: “Take my word for it, the silliest woman can manage a + clever man; but it needs a very clever woman to manage a fool.” + </p> + <p> + Then we went in to supper. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THROWN AWAY. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “And some are sulky, while some will plunge + [So ho! Steady! Stand still, you!] + Some you must gentle, and some you must lunge. + [There! There! Who wants to kill you?] + Some—there are losses in every trade— + Will break their hearts ere bitted and made, + Will fight like fiends as the rope cuts hard, + And die dumb-mad in the breaking-yard.” + + Toolungala Stockyard Chorus. +</pre> + <p> + To rear a boy under what parents call the “sheltered life system” is, if + the boy must go into the world and fend for himself, not wise. Unless he + be one in a thousand he has certainly to pass through many unnecessary + troubles; and may, possibly, come to extreme grief simply from ignorance + of the proper proportions of things. + </p> + <p> + Let a puppy eat the soap in the bath-room or chew a newly-blacked boot. He + chews and chuckles until, by and by, he finds out that blacking and Old + Brown Windsor make him very sick; so he argues that soap and boots are not + wholesome. Any old dog about the house will soon show him the unwisdom of + biting big dogs' ears. Being young, he remembers and goes abroad, at six + months, a well-mannered little beast with a chastened appetite. If he had + been kept away from boots, and soap, and big dogs till he came to the + trinity full-grown and with developed teeth, just consider how fearfully + sick and thrashed he would be! Apply that motion to the “sheltered life,” + and see how it works. It does not sound pretty, but it is the better of + two evils. + </p> + <p> + There was a Boy once who had been brought up under the “sheltered life” + theory; and the theory killed him dead. He stayed with his people all his + days, from the hour he was born till the hour he went into Sandhurst + nearly at the top of the list. He was beautifully taught in all that wins + marks by a private tutor, and carried the extra weight of “never having + given his parents an hour's anxiety in his life.” What he learnt at + Sandhurst beyond the regular routine is of no great consequence. He looked + about him, and he found soap and blacking, so to speak, very good. He ate + a little, and came out of Sandhurst not so high as he went in. Then there + was an interval and a scene with his people, who expected much from him. + Next a year of living “unspotted from the world” in a third-rate depot + battalion where all the juniors were children, and all the seniors old + women; and lastly he came out to India, where he was cut off from the + support of his parents, and had no one to fall back on in time of trouble + except himself. + </p> + <p> + Now India is a place beyond all others where one must not take things too + seriously—the midday sun always excepted. Too much work and too much + energy kill a man just as effectively as too much assorted vice or too + much drink. Flirtation does not matter because every one is being + transferred and either you or she leave the Station, and never return. + Good work does not matter, because a man is judged by his worst output and + another man takes all the credit of his best as a rule. Bad work does not + matter, because other men do worse, and incompetents hang on longer in + India than anywhere else. Amusements do not matter, because you must + repeat them as soon as you have accomplished them once, and most + amusements only mean trying to win another person's money. Sickness does + not matter, because it's all in the day's work, and if you die another man + takes over your place and your office in the eight hours between death and + burial. Nothing matters except Home furlough and acting allowances, and + these only because they are scarce. This is a slack, kutcha country where + all men work with imperfect instruments; and the wisest thing is to take + no one and nothing in earnest, but to escape as soon as ever you can to + some place where amusement is amusement and a reputation worth the having. + </p> + <p> + But this Boy—the tale is as old as the Hills—came out, and + took all things seriously. He was pretty and was petted. He took the + pettings seriously, and fretted over women not worth saddling a pony to + call upon. He found his new free life in India very good. It DOES look + attractive in the beginning, from a Subaltern's point of view—all + ponies, partners, dancing, and so on. He tasted it as the puppy tastes the + soap. Only he came late to the eating, with a growing set of teeth. He had + no sense of balance—just like the puppy—and could not + understand why he was not treated with the consideration he received under + his father's roof. This hurt his feelings. + </p> + <p> + He quarrelled with other boys, and, being sensitive to the marrow, + remembered these quarrels, and they excited him. He found whist, and + gymkhanas, and things of that kind (meant to amuse one after office) good; + but he took them seriously too, just as he took the “head” that followed + after drink. He lost his money over whist and gymkhanas because they were + new to him. + </p> + <p> + He took his losses seriously, and wasted as much energy and interest over + a two-goldmohur race for maiden ekka-ponies with their manes hogged, as if + it had been the Derby. One-half of this came from inexperience—much + as the puppy squabbles with the corner of the hearth-rug—and the + other half from the dizziness bred by stumbling out of his quiet life into + the glare and excitement of a livelier one. No one told him about the soap + and the blacking because an average man takes it for granted that an + average man is ordinarily careful in regard to them. It was pitiful to + watch The Boy knocking himself to pieces, as an over-handled colt falls + down and cuts himself when he gets away from the groom. + </p> + <p> + This unbridled license in amusements not worth the trouble of breaking + line for, much less rioting over, endured for six months—all through + one cold weather—and then we thought that the heat and the knowledge + of having lost his money and health and lamed his horses would sober The + Boy down, and he would stand steady. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred + this would have happened. You can see the principle working in any Indian + Station. But this particular case fell through because The Boy was + sensitive and took things seriously—as I may have said some seven + times before. Of course, we couldn't tell how his excesses struck him + personally. They were nothing very heart-breaking or above the average. He + might be crippled for life financially, and want a little nursing. Still + the memory of his performances would wither away in one hot weather, and + the shroff would help him to tide over the money troubles. But he must + have taken another view altogether and have believed himself ruined beyond + redemption. His Colonel talked to him severely when the cold weather + ended. That made him more wretched than ever; and it was only an ordinary + “Colonel's wigging!” + </p> + <p> + What follows is a curious instance of the fashion in which we are all + linked together and made responsible for one another. THE thing that + kicked the beam in The Boy's mind was a remark that a woman made when he + was talking to her. There is no use in repeating it, for it was only a + cruel little sentence, rapped out before thinking, that made him flush to + the roots of his hair. He kept himself to himself for three days, and then + put in for two days' leave to go shooting near a Canal Engineer's Rest + House about thirty miles out. He got his leave, and that night at Mess was + noisier and more offensive than ever. He said that he was “going to shoot + big game”, and left at half-past ten o'clock in an ekka. Partridge—which + was the only thing a man could get near the Rest House—is not big + game; so every one laughed. + </p> + <p> + Next morning one of the Majors came in from short leave, and heard that + The Boy had gone out to shoot “big game.” The Major had taken an interest + in The Boy, and had, more than once, tried to check him in the cold + weather. The Major put up his eyebrows when he heard of the expedition and + went to The Boy's room, where he rummaged. + </p> + <p> + Presently he came out and found me leaving cards on the Mess. There was no + one else in the ante-room. + </p> + <p> + He said: “The Boy has gone out shooting. DOES a man shoot tetur with a + revolver and a writing-case?” + </p> + <p> + I said: “Nonsense, Major!” for I saw what was in his mind. + </p> + <p> + He said: “Nonsense or nonsense, I'm going to the Canal now—at once. + I don't feel easy.” + </p> + <p> + Then he thought for a minute, and said: “Can you lie?” + </p> + <p> + “You know best,” I answered. “It's my profession.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said the Major; “you must come out with me now—at once—in + an ekka to the Canal to shoot black-buck. Go and put on shikar-kit—quick—and + drive here with a gun.” + </p> + <p> + The Major was a masterful man; and I knew that he would not give orders + for nothing. So I obeyed, and on return found the Major packed up in an + ekka—gun-cases and food slung below—all ready for a + shooting-trip. + </p> + <p> + He dismissed the driver and drove himself. We jogged along quietly while + in the station; but as soon as we got to the dusty road across the plains, + he made that pony fly. A country-bred can do nearly anything at a pinch. + We covered the thirty miles in under three hours, but the poor brute was + nearly dead. + </p> + <p> + Once I said: “What's the blazing hurry, Major?” + </p> + <p> + He said, quietly: “The Boy has been alone, by himself, for—one, two, + five—fourteen hours now! I tell you, I don't feel easy.” + </p> + <p> + This uneasiness spread itself to me, and I helped to beat the pony. + </p> + <p> + When we came to the Canal Engineer's Rest House the Major called for The + Boy's servant; but there was no answer. Then we went up to the house, + calling for The Boy by name; but there was no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he's out shooting,” said I. + </p> + <p> + Just then I saw through one of the windows a little hurricane-lamp + burning. This was at four in the afternoon. We both stopped dead in the + verandah, holding our breath to catch every sound; and we heard, inside + the room, the “brr—brr—brr” of a multitude of flies. The Major + said nothing, but he took off his helmet and we entered very softly. + </p> + <p> + The Boy was dead on the charpoy in the centre of the bare, lime-washed + room. He had shot his head nearly to pieces with his revolver. The + gun-cases were still strapped, so was the bedding, and on the table lay + The Boy's writing-case with photographs. He had gone away to die like a + poisoned rat! + </p> + <p> + The Major said to himself softly: “Poor Boy! Poor, POOR devil!” Then he + turned away from the bed and said: “I want your help in this business.” + </p> + <p> + Knowing The Boy was dead by his own hand, I saw exactly what that help + would be, so I passed over to the table, took a chair, lit a cheroot, and + began to go through the writing-case; the Major looking over my shoulder + and repeating to himself: “We came too late!—Like a rat in a hole!—Poor, + POOR devil!” + </p> + <p> + The Boy must have spent half the night in writing to his people, and to + his Colonel, and to a girl at Home; and as soon as he had finished, must + have shot himself, for he had been dead a long time when we came in. + </p> + <p> + I read all that he had written, and passed over each sheet to the Major as + I finished it. + </p> + <p> + We saw from his accounts how very seriously he had taken everything. He + wrote about “disgrace which he was unable to bear”—“indelible shame”—“criminal + folly”—“wasted life,” and so on; besides a lot of private things to + his Father and Mother too much too sacred to put into print. The letter to + the girl at Home was the most pitiful of all; and I choked as I read it. + The Major made no attempt to keep dry-eyed. I respected him for that. He + read and rocked himself to and fro, and simply cried like a woman without + caring to hide it. The letters were so dreary and hopeless and touching. + We forgot all about The Boy's follies, and only thought of the poor Thing + on the charpoy and the scrawled sheets in our hands. It was utterly + impossible to let the letters go Home. They would have broken his Father's + heart and killed his Mother after killing her belief in her son. + </p> + <p> + At last the Major dried his eyes openly, and said: “Nice sort of thing to + spring on an English family! What shall we do?” + </p> + <p> + I said, knowing what the Major had brought me but for: “The Boy died of + cholera. We were with him at the time. We can't commit ourselves to + half-measures. Come along.” + </p> + <p> + Then began one of the most grimy comic scenes I have ever taken part in—the + concoction of a big, written lie, bolstered with evidence, to soothe The + Boy's people at Home. I began the rough draft of a letter, the Major + throwing in hints here and there while he gathered up all the stuff that + The Boy had written and burnt it in the fireplace. It was a hot, still + evening when we began, and the lamp burned very badly. In due course I got + the draft to my satisfaction, setting forth how The Boy was the pattern of + all virtues, beloved by his regiment, with every promise of a great career + before him, and so on; how we had helped him through the sickness—it + was no time for little lies, you will understand—and how he had died + without pain. I choked while I was putting down these things and thinking + of the poor people who would read them. Then I laughed at the + grotesqueness of the affair, and the laughter mixed itself up with the + choke—and the Major said that we both wanted drinks. + </p> + <p> + I am afraid to say how much whiskey we drank before the letter was + finished. It had not the least effect on us. Then we took off The Boy's + watch, locket, and rings. + </p> + <p> + Lastly, the Major said: “We must send a lock of hair too. A woman values + that.” + </p> + <p> + But there were reasons why we could not find a lock fit to send. The Boy + was black-haired, and so was the Major, luckily. I cut off a piece of the + Major's hair above the temple with a knife, and put it into the packet we + were making. The laughing-fit and the chokes got hold of me again, and I + had to stop. The Major was nearly as bad; and we both knew that the worst + part of the work was to come. + </p> + <p> + We sealed up the packet, photographs, locket, seals, ring, letter, and + lock of hair with The Boy's sealing-wax and The Boy's seal. + </p> + <p> + Then the Major said: “For God's sake let's get outside—away from the + room—and think!” + </p> + <p> + We went outside, and walked on the banks of the Canal for an hour, eating + and drinking what we had with us, until the moon rose. I know now exactly + how a murderer feels. Finally, we forced ourselves back to the room with + the lamp and the Other Thing in it, and began to take up the next piece of + work. I am not going to write about this. It was too horrible. We burned + the bedstead and dropped the ashes into the Canal; we took up the matting + of the room and treated that in the same way. I went off to a village and + borrowed two big hoes—I did not want the villagers to help—while + the Major arranged—the other matters. It took us four hours' hard + work to make the grave. As we worked, we argued out whether it was right + to say as much as we remembered of the Burial of the Dead. We compromised + things by saying the Lord's Prayer with a private unofficial prayer for + the peace of the soul of The Boy. Then we filled in the grave and went + into the verandah—not the house—to lie down to sleep. We were + dead-tired. + </p> + <p> + When we woke the Major said, wearily: “We can't go back till to-morrow. We + must give him a decent time to die in. He died early THIS morning, + remember. That seems more natural.” So the Major must have been lying + awake all the time, thinking. + </p> + <p> + I said: “Then why didn't we bring the body back to the cantonments?” + </p> + <p> + The Major thought for a minute:—“Because the people bolted when they + heard of the cholera. And the ekka has gone!” + </p> + <p> + That was strictly true. We had forgotten all about the ekka-pony, and he + had gone home. + </p> + <p> + So, we were left there alone, all that stifling day, in the Canal Rest + House, testing and re-testing our story of The Boy's death to see if it + was weak at any point. A native turned up in the afternoon, but we said + that a Sahib was dead of cholera, and he ran away. As the dusk gathered, + the Major told me all his fears about The Boy, and awful stories of + suicide or nearly-carried-out suicide—tales that made one's hair + crisp. He said that he himself had once gone into the same Valley of the + Shadow as the Boy, when he was young and new to the country; so he + understood how things fought together in The Boy's poor jumbled head. He + also said that youngsters, in their repentant moments, consider their sins + much more serious and ineffaceable than they really are. We talked + together all through the evening, and rehearsed the story of the death of + The Boy. As soon as the moon was up, and The Boy, theoretically, just + buried, we struck across country for the Station. We walked from eight + till six o'clock in the morning; but though we were dead-tired, we did not + forget to go to The Boy's room and put away his revolver with the proper + amount of cartridges in the pouch. Also to set his writing-case on the + table. We found the Colonel and reported the death, feeling more like + murderers than ever. Then we went to bed and slept the clock round; for + there was no more in us. + </p> + <p> + The tale had credence as long as was necessary, for every one forgot about + The Boy before a fortnight was over. Many people, however, found time to + say that the Major had behaved scandalously in not bringing in the body + for a regimental funeral. The saddest thing of all was a letter from The + Boy's mother to the Major and me—with big inky blisters all over the + sheet. She wrote the sweetest possible things about our great kindness, + and the obligation she would be under to us as long as she lived. + </p> + <p> + All things considered, she WAS under an obligation; but not exactly as she + meant. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MISS YOUGHAL'S SAIS. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When Man and Woman are agreed, what can the Kazi do? + + Mahomedan Proverb. +</pre> + <p> + Some people say that there is no romance in India. Those people are wrong. + Our lives hold quite as much romance as is good for us. Sometimes more. + </p> + <p> + Strickland was in the Police, and people did not understand him; so they + said he was a doubtful sort of man and passed by on the other side. + Strickland had himself to thank for this. He held the extraordinary theory + that a Policeman in India should try to know as much about the natives as + the natives themselves. Now, in the whole of Upper India, there is only + ONE man who can pass for Hindu or Mohammedan, chamar or faquir, as he + pleases. He is feared and respected by the natives from the Ghor Kathri to + the Jamma Musjid; and he is supposed to have the gift of invisibility and + executive control over many Devils. But what good has this done him with + the Government? None in the world. He has never got Simla for his charge; + and his name is almost unknown to Englishmen. + </p> + <p> + Strickland was foolish enough to take that man for his model; and, + following out his absurd theory, dabbled in unsavory places no respectable + man would think of exploring—all among the native riff-raff. He + educated himself in this peculiar way for seven years, and people could + not appreciate it. He was perpetually “going Fantee” among the natives, + which, of course, no man with any sense believes in. He was initiated into + the Sat Bhai at Allahabad once, when he was on leave; he knew the + Lizard-Song of the Sansis, and the Halli-Hukk dance, which is a religious + can-can of a startling kind. When a man knows who dances the Halli-Hukk, + and how, and when, and where, he knows something to be proud of. He has + gone deeper than the skin. But Strickland was not proud, though he had + helped once, at Jagadhri, at the Painting of the Death Bull, which no + Englishman must even look upon; had mastered the thieves'-patter of the + changars; had taken a Eusufzai horse-thief alone near Attock; and had + stood under the mimbar-board of a Border mosque and conducted service in + the manner of a Sunni Mollah. + </p> + <p> + His crowning achievement was spending eleven days as a faquir in the + gardens of Baba Atal at Amritsar, and there picking up the threads of the + great Nasiban Murder Case. But people said, justly enough: “Why on earth + can't Strickland sit in his office and write up his diary, and recruit, + and keep quiet, instead of showing up the incapacity of his seniors?” So + the Nasiban Murder Case did him no good departmentally; but, after his + first feeling of wrath, he returned to his outlandish custom of prying + into native life. By the way, when a man once acquires a taste for this + particular amusement, it abides with him all his days. It is the most + fascinating thing in the world; Love not excepted. Where other men took + ten days to the Hills, Strickland took leave for what he called shikar, + put on the disguise that appealed to him at the time, stepped down into + the brown crowd, and was swallowed up for a while. He was a quiet, dark + young fellow—spare, black-eyes—and, when he was not thinking + of something else, a very interesting companion. Strickland on Native + Progress as he had seen it was worth hearing. Natives hated Strickland; + but they were afraid of him. He knew too much. + </p> + <p> + When the Youghals came into the station, Strickland—very gravely, as + he did everything—fell in love with Miss Youghal; and she, after a + while, fell in love with him because she could not understand him. Then + Strickland told the parents; but Mrs. Youghal said she was not going to + throw her daughter into the worst paid Department in the Empire, and old + Youghal said, in so many words, that he mistrusted Strickland's ways and + works, and would thank him not to speak or write to his daughter any more. + “Very well,” said Strickland, for he did not wish to make his lady-love's + life a burden. After one long talk with Miss Youghal he dropped the + business entirely. + </p> + <p> + The Youghals went up to Simla in April. + </p> + <p> + In July, Strickland secured three months' leave on “urgent private + affairs.” He locked up his house—though not a native in the + Providence would wittingly have touched “Estreekin Sahib's” gear for the + world—and went down to see a friend of his, an old dyer, at Tarn + Taran. + </p> + <p> + Here all trace of him was lost, until a sais met me on the Simla Mall with + this extraordinary note: + </p> + <p> + “Dear old man, + </p> + <p> + “Please give bearer a box of cheroots—Supers, No. I, for preference. + They are freshest at the Club. I'll repay when I reappear; but at present + I'm out of Society. + </p> + <p> + “Yours, + </p> + <p> + “E. STRICKLAND.” + </p> + <p> + I ordered two boxes, and handed them over to the sais with my love. That + sais was Strickland, and he was in old Youghal's employ, attached to Miss + Youghal's Arab. The poor fellow was suffering for an English smoke, and + knew that whatever happened I should hold my tongue till the business was + over. + </p> + <p> + Later on, Mrs. Youghal, who was wrapped up in her servants, began talking + at houses where she called of her paragon among saises—the man who + was never too busy to get up in the morning and pick flowers for the + breakfast-table, and who blacked—actually BLACKED—the hoofs of + his horse like a London coachman! The turnout of Miss Youghal's Arab was a + wonder and a delight. Strickland—Dulloo, I mean—found his + reward in the pretty things that Miss Youghal said to him when she went + out riding. Her parents were pleased to find she had forgotten all her + foolishness for young Strickland and said she was a good girl. + </p> + <p> + Strickland vows that the two months of his service were the most rigid + mental discipline he has ever gone through. Quite apart from the little + fact that the wife of one of his fellow-saises fell in love with him and + then tried to poison him with arsenic because he would have nothing to do + with her, he had to school himself into keeping quiet when Miss Youghal + went out riding with some man who tried to flirt with her, and he was + forced to trot behind carrying the blanket and hearing every word! Also, + he had to keep his temper when he was slanged in “Benmore” porch by a + policeman—especially once when he was abused by a Naik he had + himself recruited from Isser Jang village—or, worse still, when a + young subaltern called him a pig for not making way quickly enough. + </p> + <p> + But the life had its compensations. He obtained great insight into the + ways and thefts of saises—enough, he says, to have summarily + convicted half the chamar population of the Punjab if he had been on + business. He became one of the leading players at knuckle-bones, which all + jhampanis and many saises play while they are waiting outside the + Government House or the Gaiety Theatre of nights; he learned to smoke + tobacco that was three-fourths cowdung; and he heard the wisdom of the + grizzled Jemadar of the Government House saises, whose words are valuable. + He saw many things which amused him; and he states, on honor, that no man + can appreciate Simla properly, till he has seen it from the sais's point + of view. He also says that, if he chose to write all he saw, his head + would be broken in several places. + </p> + <p> + Strickland's account of the agony he endured on wet nights, hearing the + music and seeing the lights in “Benmore,” with his toes tingling for a + waltz and his head in a horse-blanket, is rather amusing. One of these + days, Strickland is going to write a little book on his experiences. That + book will be worth buying; and even more, worth suppressing. + </p> + <p> + Thus, he served faithfully as Jacob served for Rachel; and his leave was + nearly at an end when the explosion came. He had really done his best to + keep his temper in the hearing of the flirtations I have mentioned; but he + broke down at last. An old and very distinguished General took Miss + Youghal for a ride, and began that specially offensive + “you're-only-a-little-girl” sort of flirtation—most difficult for a + woman to turn aside deftly, and most maddening to listen to. Miss Youghal + was shaking with fear at the things he said in the hearing of her sais. + Dulloo—Strickland—stood it as long as he could. Then he caught + hold of the General's bridle, and, in most fluent English, invited him to + step off and be heaved over the cliff. Next minute Miss Youghal began + crying; and Strickland saw that he had hopelessly given himself away, and + everything was over. + </p> + <p> + The General nearly had a fit, while Miss Youghal was sobbing out the story + of the disguise and the engagement that wasn't recognized by the parents. + Strickland was furiously angry with himself and more angry with the + General for forcing his hand; so he said nothing, but held the horse's + head and prepared to thrash the General as some sort of satisfaction, but + when the General had thoroughly grasped the story, and knew who Strickland + was, he began to puff and blow in the saddle, and nearly rolled off with + laughing. He said Strickland deserved a V. C., if it were only for putting + on a sais's blanket. Then he called himself names, and vowed that he + deserved a thrashing, but he was too old to take it from Strickland. Then + he complimented Miss Youghal on her lover. The scandal of the business + never struck him; for he was a nice old man, with a weakness for + flirtations. Then he laughed again, and said that old Youghal was a fool. + Strickland let go of the cob's head, and suggested that the General had + better help them, if that was his opinion. Strickland knew Youghal's + weakness for men with titles and letters after their names and high + official position. “It's rather like a forty-minute farce,” said the + General, “but begad, I WILL help, if it's only to escape that tremendous + thrashing I deserved. Go along to your home, my sais-Policeman, and change + into decent kit, and I'll attack Mr. Youghal. Miss Youghal, may I ask you + to canter home and wait?” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + About seven minutes later, there was a wild hurroosh at the Club. A sais, + with a blanket and head-rope, was asking all the men he knew: “For + Heaven's sake lend me decent clothes!” As the men did not recognize him, + there were some peculiar scenes before Strickland could get a hot bath, + with soda in it, in one room, a shirt here, a collar there, a pair of + trousers elsewhere, and so on. He galloped off, with half the Club + wardrobe on his back, and an utter stranger's pony under him, to the house + of old Youghal. The General, arrayed in purple and fine linen, was before + him. What the General had said Strickland never knew, but Youghal received + Strickland with moderate civility; and Mrs. Youghal, touched by the + devotion of the transformed Dulloo, was almost kind. The General beamed, + and chuckled, and Miss Youghal came in, and almost before old Youghal knew + where he was, the parental consent had been wrenched out and Strickland + had departed with Miss Youghal to the Telegraph Office to wire for his + kit. The final embarrassment was when an utter stranger attacked him on + the Mall and asked for the stolen pony. + </p> + <p> + So, in the end, Strickland and Miss Youghal were married, on the strict + understanding that Strickland should drop his old ways, and stick to + Departmental routine, which pays best and leads to Simla. Strickland was + far too fond of his wife, just then, to break his word, but it was a sore + trial to him; for the streets and the bazars, and the sounds in them, were + full of meaning to Strickland, and these called to him to come back and + take up his wanderings and his discoveries. Some day, I will tell you how + he broke his promise to help a friend. That was long since, and he has, by + this time, been nearly spoilt for what he would call shikar. He is + forgetting the slang, and the beggar's cant, and the marks, and the signs, + and the drift of the undercurrents, which, if a man would master, he must + always continue to learn. + </p> + <p> + But he fills in his Departmental returns beautifully. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + YOKED WITH AN UNBELIEVER. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I am dying for you, and you are dying for another. + + Punjabi Proverb. +</pre> + <p> + When the Gravesend tender left the P. & O. steamer for Bombay and went + back to catch the train to Town, there were many people in it crying. But + the one who wept most, and most openly was Miss Agnes Laiter. She had + reason to cry, because the only man she ever loved—or ever could + love, so she said—was going out to India; and India, as every one + knows, is divided equally between jungle, tigers, cobras, cholera, and + sepoys. + </p> + <p> + Phil Garron, leaning over the side of the steamer in the rain, felt very + unhappy too; but he did not cry. He was sent out to “tea.” What “tea” + meant he had not the vaguest idea, but fancied that he would have to ride + on a prancing horse over hills covered with tea-vines, and draw a + sumptuous salary for doing so; and he was very grateful to his uncle for + getting him the berth. He was really going to reform all his slack, + shiftless ways, save a large proportion of his magnificent salary yearly, + and, in a very short time, return to marry Agnes Laiter. Phil Garron had + been lying loose on his friends' hands for three years, and, as he had + nothing to do, he naturally fell in love. He was very nice; but he was not + strong in his views and opinions and principles, and though he never came + to actual grief his friends were thankful when he said good-bye, and went + out to this mysterious “tea” business near Darjiling. They said:—“God + bless you, dear boy! Let us never see your face again,”—or at least + that was what Phil was given to understand. + </p> + <p> + When he sailed, he was very full of a great plan to prove himself several + hundred times better than any one had given him credit for—to work + like a horse, and triumphantly marry Agnes Laiter. He had many good points + besides his good looks; his only fault being that he was weak, the least + little bit in the world weak. He had as much notion of economy as the + Morning Sun; and yet you could not lay your hand on any one item, and say: + “Herein Phil Garron is extravagant or reckless.” Nor could you point out + any particular vice in his character; but he was “unsatisfactory” and as + workable as putty. + </p> + <p> + Agnes Laiter went about her duties at home—her family objected to + the engagement—with red eyes, while Phil was sailing to Darjiling—“a + port on the Bengal Ocean,” as his mother used to tell her friends. He was + popular enough on board ship, made many acquaintances and a moderately + large liquor bill, and sent off huge letters to Agnes Laiter at each port. + Then he fell to work on this plantation, somewhere between Darjiling and + Kangra, and, though the salary and the horse and the work were not quite + all he had fancied, he succeeded fairly well, and gave himself much + unnecessary credit for his perseverance. + </p> + <p> + In the course of time, as he settled more into collar, and his work grew + fixed before him, the face of Agnes Laiter went out of his mind and only + came when he was at leisure, which was not often. He would forget all + about her for a fortnight, and remember her with a start, like a + school-boy who has forgotten to learn his lesson. She did not forget Phil, + because she was of the kind that never forgets. Only, another man—a + really desirable young man—presented himself before Mrs. Laiter; and + the chance of a marriage with Phil was as far off as ever; and his letters + were so unsatisfactory; and there was a certain amount of domestic + pressure brought to bear on the girl; and the young man really was an + eligible person as incomes go; and the end of all things was that Agnes + married him, and wrote a tempestuous whirlwind of a letter to Phil in the + wilds of Darjiling, and said she should never know a happy moment all the + rest of her life. Which was a true prophecy. + </p> + <p> + Phil got that letter, and held himself ill-treated. This was two years + after he had come out; but by dint of thinking fixedly of Agnes Laiter, + and looking at her photograph, and patting himself on the back for being + one of the most constant lovers in history, and warming to the work as he + went on, he really fancied that he had been very hardly used. He sat down + and wrote one final letter—a really pathetic “world without end, + amen,” epistle; explaining how he would be true to Eternity, and that all + women were very much alike, and he would hide his broken heart, etc., + etc.; but if, at any future time, etc., etc., he could afford to wait, + etc., etc., unchanged affections, etc., etc., return to her old love, + etc., etc., for eight closely-written pages. From an artistic point of + view, it was very neat work, but an ordinary Philistine, who knew the + state of Phil's real feelings—not the ones he rose to as he went on + writing—would have called it the thoroughly mean and selfish work of + a thoroughly mean and selfish, weak man. But this verdict would have been + incorrect. Phil paid for the postage, and felt every word he had written + for at least two days and a half. It was the last flicker before the light + went out. + </p> + <p> + That letter made Agnes Laiter very unhappy, and she cried and put it away + in her desk, and became Mrs. Somebody Else for the good of her family. + Which is the first duty of every Christian maid. + </p> + <p> + Phil went his ways, and thought no more of his letter, except as an artist + thinks of a neatly touched-in sketch. His ways were not bad, but they were + not altogether good until they brought him across Dunmaya, the daughter of + a Rajput ex-Subadar-Major of our Native Army. The girl had a strain of + Hill blood in her, and, like the Hill women, was not a purdah nashin. + Where Phil met her, or how he heard of her, does not matter. She was a + good girl and handsome, and, in her way, very clever and shrewd; though, + of course, a little hard. It is to be remembered that Phil was living very + comfortably, denying himself no small luxury, never putting by an anna, + very satisfied with himself and his good intentions, was dropping all his + English correspondents one by one, and beginning more and more to look + upon this land as his home. Some men fall this way; and they are of no use + afterwards. The climate where he was stationed was good, and it really did + not seem to him that there was anything to go Home for. + </p> + <p> + He did what many planters have done before him—that is to say, he + made up his mind to marry a Hill girl and settle down. He was seven and + twenty then, with a long life before him, but no spirit to go through with + it. So he married Dunmaya by the forms of the English Church, and some + fellow-planters said he was a fool, and some said he was a wise man. + Dunmaya was a thoroughly honest girl, and, in spite of her reverence for + an Englishman, had a reasonable estimate of her husband's weaknesses. She + managed him tenderly, and became, in less than a year, a very passable + imitation of an English lady in dress and carriage. [It is curious to + think that a Hill man, after a lifetime's education, is a Hill man still; + but a Hill woman can in six months master most of the ways of her English + sisters. There was a coolie woman once. But that is another story.] + Dunmaya dressed by preference in black and yellow, and looked well. + </p> + <p> + Meantime the letter lay in Agnes's desk, and now and again she would think + of poor resolute hard-working Phil among the cobras and tigers of + Darjiling, toiling in the vain hope that she might come back to him. Her + husband was worth ten Phils, except that he had rheumatism of the heart. + Three years after he was married—and after he had tried Nice and + Algeria for his complaint—he went to Bombay, where he died, and set + Agnes free. Being a devout woman, she looked on his death and the place of + it, as a direct interposition of Providence, and when she had recovered + from the shock, she took out and reread Phil's letter with the “etc., + etc.,” and the big dashes, and the little dashes, and kissed it several + times. No one knew her in Bombay; she had her husband's income, which was + a large one, and Phil was close at hand. It was wrong and improper, of + course, but she decided, as heroines do in novels, to find her old lover, + to offer him her hand and her gold, and with him spend the rest of her + life in some spot far from unsympathetic souls. She sat for two months, + alone in Watson's Hotel, elaborating this decision, and the picture was a + pretty one. Then she set out in search of Phil Garron, Assistant on a tea + plantation with a more than usually unpronounceable name. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + She found him. She spent a month over it, for his plantation was not in + the Darjiling district at all, but nearer Kangra. Phil was very little + altered, and Dunmaya was very nice to her. + </p> + <p> + Now the particular sin and shame of the whole business is that Phil, who + really is not worth thinking of twice, was and is loved by Dunmaya, and + more than loved by Agnes, the whole of whose life he seems to have spoilt. + </p> + <p> + Worst of all, Dunmaya is making a decent man of him; and he will be + ultimately saved from perdition through her training. + </p> + <p> + Which is manifestly unfair. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FALSE DAWN. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To-night God knows what thing shall tide, + The Earth is racked and faint— + Expectant, sleepless, open-eyed; + And we, who from the Earth were made, + Thrill with our Mother's pain. + + In Durance. +</pre> + <p> + No man will ever know the exact truth of this story; though women may + sometimes whisper it to one another after a dance, when they are putting + up their hair for the night and comparing lists of victims. A man, of + course, cannot assist at these functions. So the tale must be told from + the outside—in the dark—all wrong. + </p> + <p> + Never praise a sister to a sister, in the hope of your compliments + reaching the proper ears, and so preparing the way for you later on. + Sisters are women first, and sisters afterwards; and you will find that + you do yourself harm. + </p> + <p> + Saumarez knew this when he made up his mind to propose to the elder Miss + Copleigh. Saumarez was a strange man, with few merits, so far as men could + see, though he was popular with women, and carried enough conceit to stock + a Viceroy's Council and leave a little over for the Commander-in-Chief's + Staff. He was a Civilian. Very many women took an interest in Saumarez, + perhaps, because his manner to them was offensive. If you hit a pony over + the nose at the outset of your acquaintance, he may not love you, but he + will take a deep interest in your movements ever afterwards. The elder + Miss Copleigh was nice, plump, winning and pretty. The younger was not so + pretty, and, from men disregarding the hint set forth above, her style was + repellant and unattractive. Both girls had, practically, the same figure, + and there was a strong likeness between them in look and voice; though no + one could doubt for an instant which was the nicer of the two. + </p> + <p> + Saumarez made up his mind, as soon as they came into the station from + Behar, to marry the elder one. At least, we all made sure that he would, + which comes to the same thing. She was two and twenty, and he was + thirty-three, with pay and allowances of nearly fourteen hundred rupees a + month. So the match, as we arranged it, was in every way a good one. + Saumarez was his name, and summary was his nature, as a man once said. + Having drafted his Resolution, he formed a Select Committee of One to sit + upon it, and resolved to take his time. In our unpleasant slang, the + Copleigh girls “hunted in couples.” That is to say, you could do nothing + with one without the other. They were very loving sisters; but their + mutual affection was sometimes inconvenient. Saumarez held the + balance-hair true between them, and none but himself could have said to + which side his heart inclined; though every one guessed. He rode with them + a good deal and danced with them, but he never succeeded in detaching them + from each other for any length of time. + </p> + <p> + Women said that the two girls kept together through deep mistrust, each + fearing that the other would steal a march on her. But that has nothing to + do with a man. Saumarez was silent for good or bad, and as business-likely + attentive as he could be, having due regard to his work and his polo. + Beyond doubt both girls were fond of him. + </p> + <p> + As the hot weather drew nearer, and Saumarez made no sign, women said that + you could see their trouble in the eyes of the girls—that they were + looking strained, anxious, and irritable. Men are quite blind in these + matters unless they have more of the woman than the man in their + composition, in which case it does not matter what they say or think. I + maintain it was the hot April days that took the color out of the Copleigh + girls' cheeks. They should have been sent to the Hills early. No one—man + or woman—feels an angel when the hot weather is approaching. The + younger sister grew more cynical—not to say acid—in her ways; + and the winningness of the elder wore thin. There was more effort in it. + </p> + <p> + Now the Station wherein all these things happened was, though not a little + one, off the line of rail, and suffered through want of attention. There + were no gardens or bands or amusements worth speaking of, and it was + nearly a day's journey to come into Lahore for a dance. People were + grateful for small things to interest them. + </p> + <p> + About the beginning of May, and just before the final exodus of + Hill-goers, when the weather was very hot and there were not more than + twenty people in the Station, Saumarez gave a moonlight riding-picnic at + an old tomb, six miles away, near the bed of the river. It was a “Noah's + Ark” picnic; and there was to be the usual arrangement of quarter-mile + intervals between each couple, on account of the dust. Six couples came + altogether, including chaperons. Moonlight picnics are useful just at the + very end of the season, before all the girls go away to the Hills. They + lead to understandings, and should be encouraged by chaperones; especially + those whose girls look sweetish in riding habits. I knew a case once. But + that is another story. That picnic was called the “Great Pop Picnic,” + because every one knew Saumarez would propose then to the eldest Miss + Copleigh; and, beside his affair, there was another which might possibly + come to happiness. The social atmosphere was heavily charged and wanted + clearing. + </p> + <p> + We met at the parade-ground at ten: the night was fearfully hot. The + horses sweated even at walking-pace, but anything was better than sitting + still in our own dark houses. When we moved off under the full moon we + were four couples, one triplet, and Mr. Saumarez rode with the Copleigh + girls, and I loitered at the tail of the procession, wondering with whom + Saumarez would ride home. Every one was happy and contented; but we all + felt that things were going to happen. We rode slowly: and it was nearly + midnight before we reached the old tomb, facing the ruined tank, in the + decayed gardens where we were going to eat and drink. I was late in coming + up; and before I went into the garden, I saw that the horizon to the north + carried a faint, dun-colored feather. But no one would have thanked me for + spoiling so well-managed an entertainment as this picnic—and a + dust-storm, more or less, does no great harm. + </p> + <p> + We gathered by the tank. Some one had brought out a banjo—which is a + most sentimental instrument—and three or four of us sang. You must + not laugh at this. Our amusements in out-of-the-way Stations are very few + indeed. Then we talked in groups or together, lying under the trees, with + the sun-baked roses dropping their petals on our feet, until supper was + ready. It was a beautiful supper, as cold and as iced as you could wish; + and we stayed long over it. + </p> + <p> + I had felt that the air was growing hotter and hotter; but nobody seemed + to notice it until the moon went out and a burning hot wind began lashing + the orange-trees with a sound like the noise of the sea. Before we knew + where we were, the dust-storm was on us, and everything was roaring, + whirling darkness. The supper-table was blown bodily into the tank. We + were afraid of staying anywhere near the old tomb for fear it might be + blown down. So we felt our way to the orange-trees where the horses were + picketed and waited for the storm to blow over. Then the little light that + was left vanished, and you could not see your hand before your face. The + air was heavy with dust and sand from the bed of the river, that filled + boots and pockets and drifted down necks and coated eyebrows and + moustaches. It was one of the worst dust-storms of the year. We were all + huddled together close to the trembling horses, with the thunder + clattering overhead, and the lightning spurting like water from a sluice, + all ways at once. There was no danger, of course, unless the horses broke + loose. I was standing with my head downward and my hands over my mouth, + hearing the trees thrashing each other. I could not see who was next me + till the flashes came. Then I found that I was packed near Saumarez and + the eldest Miss Copleigh, with my own horse just in front of me. I + recognized the eldest Miss Copleigh, because she had a pagri round her + helmet, and the younger had not. All the electricity in the air had gone + into my body and I was quivering and tingling from head to foot—exactly + as a corn shoots and tingles before rain. It was a grand storm. The wind + seemed to be picking up the earth and pitching it to leeward in great + heaps; and the heat beat up from the ground like the heat of the Day of + Judgment. + </p> + <p> + The storm lulled slightly after the first half-hour, and I heard a + despairing little voice close to my ear, saying to itself, quietly and + softly, as if some lost soul were flying about with the wind: “O my God!” + Then the younger Miss Copleigh stumbled into my arms, saying: “Where is my + horse? Get my horse. I want to go home. I WANT to go home. Take me home.” + </p> + <p> + I thought that the lightning and the black darkness had frightened her; so + I said there was no danger, but she must wait till the storm blew over. + She answered: “It is not THAT! It is not THAT! I want to go home! O take + me away from here!” + </p> + <p> + I said that she could not go till the light came; but I felt her brush + past me and go away. It was too dark to see where. Then the whole sky was + split open with one tremendous flash, as if the end of the world were + coming, and all the women shrieked. + </p> + <p> + Almost directly after this, I felt a man's hand on my shoulder and heard + Saumarez bellowing in my ear. Through the rattling of the trees and + howling of the wind, I did not catch his words at once, but at last I + heard him say: “I've proposed to the wrong one! What shall I do?” Saumarez + had no occasion to make this confidence to me. I was never a friend of + his, nor am I now; but I fancy neither of us were ourselves just then. He + was shaking as he stood with excitement, and I was feeling queer all over + with the electricity. I could not think of anything to say except:—“More + fool you for proposing in a dust-storm.” But I did not see how that would + improve the mistake. + </p> + <p> + Then he shouted: “Where's Edith—Edith Copleigh?” Edith was the + youngest sister. I answered out of my astonishment:—“What do you + want with HER?” Would you believe it, for the next two minutes, he and I + were shouting at each other like maniacs—he vowing that it was the + youngest sister he had meant to propose to all along, and I telling him + till my throat was hoarse that he must have made a mistake! I can't + account for this except, again, by the fact that we were neither of us + ourselves. Everything seemed to me like a bad dream—from the + stamping of the horses in the darkness to Saumarez telling me the story of + his loving Edith Copleigh since the first. He was still clawing my + shoulder and begging me to tell him where Edith Copleigh was, when another + lull came and brought light with it, and we saw the dust-cloud forming on + the plain in front of us. So we knew the worst was over. The moon was low + down, and there was just the glimmer of the false dawn that comes about an + hour before the real one. But the light was very faint, and the dun cloud + roared like a bull. I wondered where Edith Copleigh had gone; and as I was + wondering I saw three things together: First Maud Copleigh's face come + smiling out of the darkness and move towards Saumarez, who was standing by + me. I heard the girl whisper, “George,” and slide her arm through the arm + that was not clawing my shoulder, and I saw that look on her face which + only comes once or twice in a lifetime-when a woman is perfectly happy and + the air is full of trumpets and gorgeous-colored fire and the Earth turns + into cloud because she loves and is loved. At the same time, I saw + Saumarez's face as he heard Maud Copleigh's voice, and fifty yards away + from the clump of orange-trees I saw a brown holland habit getting upon a + horse. + </p> + <p> + It must have been my state of over-excitement that made me so quick to + meddle with what did not concern me. Saumarez was moving off to the habit; + but I pushed him back and said:—“Stop here and explain. I'll fetch + her back!” and I ran out to get at my own horse. I had a perfectly + unnecessary notion that everything must be done decently and in order, and + that Saumarez's first care was to wipe the happy look out of Maud + Copleigh's face. All the time I was linking up the curb-chain I wondered + how he would do it. + </p> + <p> + I cantered after Edith Copleigh, thinking to bring her back slowly on some + pretence or another. But she galloped away as soon as she saw me, and I + was forced to ride after her in earnest. She called back over her shoulder—“Go + away! I'm going home. Oh, go away!” two or three times; but my business + was to catch her first, and argue later. The ride just fitted in with the + rest of the evil dream. The ground was very bad, and now and again we + rushed through the whirling, choking “dust-devils” in the skirts of the + flying storm. There was a burning hot wind blowing that brought up a + stench of stale brick-kilns with it; and through the half light and + through the dust-devils, across that desolate plain, flickered the brown + holland habit on the gray horse. She headed for the Station at first. Then + she wheeled round and set off for the river through beds of burnt down + jungle-grass, bad even to ride a pig over. In cold blood I should never + have dreamed of going over such a country at night, but it seemed quite + right and natural with the lightning crackling overhead, and a reek like + the smell of the Pit in my nostrils. I rode and shouted, and she bent + forward and lashed her horse, and the aftermath of the dust-storm came up + and caught us both, and drove us downwind like pieces of paper. + </p> + <p> + I don't know how far we rode; but the drumming of the horse-hoofs and the + roar of the wind and the race of the faint blood-red moon through the + yellow mist seemed to have gone on for years and years, and I was + literally drenched with sweat from my helmet to my gaiters when the gray + stumbled, recovered himself, and pulled up dead lame. My brute was used up + altogether. Edith Copleigh was in a sad state, plastered with dust, her + helmet off, and crying bitterly. “Why can't you let me alone?” she said. + “I only wanted to get away and go home. Oh, PLEASE let me go!” + </p> + <p> + “You have got to come back with me, Miss Copleigh. Saumarez has something + to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + It was a foolish way of putting it; but I hardly knew Miss Copleigh; and, + though I was playing Providence at the cost of my horse, I could not tell + her in as many words what Saumarez had told me. I thought he could do that + better himself. All her pretence about being tired and wanting to go home + broke down, and she rocked herself to and fro in the saddle as she sobbed, + and the hot wind blew her black hair to leeward. I am not going to repeat + what she said, because she was utterly unstrung. + </p> + <p> + This, if you please, was the cynical Miss Copleigh. Here was I, almost an + utter stranger to her, trying to tell her that Saumarez loved her and she + was to come back to hear him say so! I believe I made myself understood, + for she gathered the gray together and made him hobble somehow, and we set + off for the tomb, while the storm went thundering down to Umballa and a + few big drops of warm rain fell. I found out that she had been standing + close to Saumarez when he proposed to her sister and had wanted to go home + and cry in peace, as an English girl should. She dabbled her eyes with her + pocket-handkerchief as we went along, and babbled to me out of sheer + lightness of heart and hysteria. That was perfectly unnatural; and yet, it + seemed all right at the time and in the place. All the world was only the + two Copleigh girls, Saumarez and I, ringed in with the lightning and the + dark; and the guidance of this misguided world seemed to lie in my hands. + </p> + <p> + When we returned to the tomb in the deep, dead stillness that followed the + storm, the dawn was just breaking and nobody had gone away. They were + waiting for our return. Saumarez most of all. His face was white and + drawn. As Miss Copleigh and I limped up, he came forward to meet us, and, + when he helped her down from her saddle, he kissed her before all the + picnic. It was like a scene in a theatre, and the likeness was heightened + by all the dust-white, ghostly-looking men and women under the + orange-trees, clapping their hands, as if they were watching a play—at + Saumarez's choice. I never knew anything so un-English in my life. + </p> + <p> + Lastly, Saumarez said we must all go home or the Station would come out to + look for us, and WOULD I be good enough to ride home with Maud Copleigh? + Nothing would give me greater pleasure, I said. + </p> + <p> + So, we formed up, six couples in all, and went back two by two; Saumarez + walking at the side of Edith Copleigh, who was riding his horse. + </p> + <p> + The air was cleared; and little by little, as the sun rose, I felt we were + all dropping back again into ordinary men and women and that the “Great + Pop Picnic” was a thing altogether apart and out of the world—never + to happen again. It had gone with the dust-storm and the tingle in the hot + air. + </p> + <p> + I felt tired and limp, and a good deal ashamed of myself as I went in for + a bath and some sleep. + </p> + <p> + There is a woman's version of this story, but it will never be written.... + unless Maud Copleigh cares to try. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE RESCUE OF PLUFFLES. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Thus, for a season, they fought it fair— + She and his cousin May— + Tactful, talented, debonnaire, + Decorous foes were they; + But never can battle of man compare + With merciless feminine fray. + + Two and One. +</pre> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee was sometimes nice to her own sex. Here is a story to prove + this; and you can believe just as much as ever you please. + </p> + <p> + Pluffles was a subaltern in the “Unmentionables.” He was callow, even for + a subaltern. He was callow all over—like a canary that had not + finished fledging itself. The worst of it was he had three times as much + money as was good for him; Pluffles' Papa being a rich man and Pluffles + being the only son. Pluffles' Mamma adored him. She was only a little less + callow than Pluffles and she believed everything he said. + </p> + <p> + Pluffles' weakness was not believing what people said. He preferred what + he called “trusting to his own judgment.” He had as much judgment as he + had seat or hands; and this preference tumbled him into trouble once or + twice. But the biggest trouble Pluffles ever manufactured came about at + Simla—some years ago, when he was four-and-twenty. + </p> + <p> + He began by trusting to his own judgment, as usual, and the result was + that, after a time, he was bound hand and foot to Mrs. Reiver's 'rickshaw + wheels. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing good about Mrs. Reiver, unless it was her dress. She was + bad from her hair—which started life on a Brittany's girl's head—to + her boot-heels, which were two and three-eighth inches high. She was not + honestly mischievous like Mrs. Hauksbee; she was wicked in a business-like + way. + </p> + <p> + There was never any scandal—she had not generous impulses enough for + that. She was the exception which proved the rule that Anglo-Indian ladies + are in every way as nice as their sisters at Home. She spent her life in + proving that rule. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee and she hated each other fervently. They heard far too much + to clash; but the things they said of each other were startling—not + to say original. Mrs. Hauksbee was honest—honest as her own front + teeth—and, but for her love of mischief, would have been a woman's + woman. There was no honesty about Mrs. Reiver; nothing but selfishness. + And at the beginning of the season, poor little Pluffles fell a prey to + her. She laid herself out to that end, and who was Pluffles, to resist? He + went on trusting to his judgment, and he got judged. + </p> + <p> + I have seen Hayes argue with a tough horse—I have seen a + tonga-driver coerce a stubborn pony—I have seen a riotous setter + broken to gun by a hard keeper—but the breaking-in of Pluffles of + the “Unmentionables” was beyond all these. He learned to fetch and carry + like a dog, and to wait like one, too, for a word from Mrs. Reiver. He + learned to keep appointments which Mrs. Reiver had no intention of + keeping. He learned to take thankfully dances which Mrs. Reiver had no + intention of giving him. He learned to shiver for an hour and a quarter on + the windward side of Elysium while Mrs. Reiver was making up her mind to + come for a ride. He learned to hunt for a 'rickshaw, in a light dress-suit + under a pelting rain, and to walk by the side of that 'rickshaw when he + had found it. He learned what it was to be spoken to like a coolie and + ordered about like a cook. He learned all this and many other things + besides. And he paid for his schooling. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps, in some hazy way, he fancied that it was fine and impressive, + that it gave him a status among men, and was altogether the thing to do. + It was nobody's business to warn Pluffles that he was unwise. The pace + that season was too good to inquire; and meddling with another man's folly + is always thankless work. Pluffles' Colonel should have ordered him back + to his regiment when he heard how things were going. But Pluffles had got + himself engaged to a girl in England the last time he went home; and if + there was one thing more than another which the Colonel detested, it was a + married subaltern. He chuckled when he heard of the education of Pluffles, + and said it was “good training for the boy.” But it was not good training + in the least. It led him into spending money beyond his means, which were + good: above that, the education spoilt an average boy and made it a + tenth-rate man of an objectionable kind. He wandered into a bad set, and + his little bill at Hamilton's was a thing to wonder at. + </p> + <p> + Then Mrs. Hauksbee rose to the occasion. She played her game alone, + knowing what people would say of her; and she played it for the sake of a + girl she had never seen. Pluffles' fiancee was to come out, under the + chaperonage of an aunt, in October, to be married to Pluffles. + </p> + <p> + At the beginning of August, Mrs. Hauksbee discovered that it was time to + interfere. A man who rides much knows exactly what a horse is going to do + next before he does it. In the same way, a woman of Mrs. Hauksbee's + experience knows accurately how a boy will behave under certain + circumstances—notably when he is infatuated with one of Mrs. + Reiver's stamp. She said that, sooner or later, little Pluffles would + break off that engagement for nothing at all—simply to gratify Mrs. + Reiver, who, in return, would keep him at her feet and in her service just + so long as she found it worth her while. She said she knew the signs of + these things. If she did not, no one else could. + </p> + <p> + Then she went forth to capture Pluffles under the guns of the enemy; just + as Mrs. Cusack-Bremmil carried away Bremmil under Mrs. Hauksbee's eyes. + </p> + <p> + This particular engagement lasted seven weeks—we called it the Seven + Weeks' War—and was fought out inch by inch on both sides. A detailed + account would fill a book, and would be incomplete then. Any one who knows + about these things can fit in the details for himself. It was a superb + fight—there will never be another like it as long as Jakko stands—and + Pluffles was the prize of victory. People said shameful things about Mrs. + Hauksbee. They did not know what she was playing for. Mrs. Reiver fought, + partly because Pluffles was useful to her, but mainly because she hated + Mrs. Hauksbee, and the matter was a trial of strength between them. No one + knows what Pluffles thought. He had not many ideas at the best of times, + and the few he possessed made him conceited. Mrs. Hauksbee said:—“The + boy must be caught; and the only way of catching him is by treating him + well.” + </p> + <p> + So she treated him as a man of the world and of experience so long as the + issue was doubtful. Little by little, Pluffles fell away from his old + allegiance and came over to the enemy, by whom he was made much of. He was + never sent on out-post duty after 'rickshaws any more, nor was he given + dances which never came off, nor were the drains on his purse continued. + Mrs. Hauksbee held him on the snaffle; and after his treatment at Mrs. + Reiver's hands, he appreciated the change. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Reiver had broken him of talking about himself, and made him talk + about her own merits. Mrs. Hauksbee acted otherwise, and won his + confidence, till he mentioned his engagement to the girl at Home, speaking + of it in a high and mighty way as a “piece of boyish folly.” This was when + he was taking tea with her one afternoon, and discoursing in what he + considered a gay and fascinating style. Mrs. Hauksbee had seen an earlier + generation of his stamp bud and blossom, and decay into fat Captains and + tubby Majors. + </p> + <p> + At a moderate estimate there were about three and twenty sides to that + lady's character. Some men say more. She began to talk to Pluffles after + the manner of a mother, and as if there had been three hundred years, + instead of fifteen, between them. She spoke with a sort of throaty quaver + in her voice which had a soothing effect, though what she said was + anything but soothing. She pointed out the exceeding folly, not to say + meanness, of Pluffles' conduct, and the smallness of his views. Then he + stammered something about “trusting to his own judgment as a man of the + world;” and this paved the way for what she wanted to say next. It would + have withered up Pluffles had it come from any other woman; but in the + soft cooing style in which Mrs. Hauksbee put it, it only made him feel + limp and repentant—as if he had been in some superior kind of + church. Little by little, very softly and pleasantly, she began taking the + conceit out of Pluffles, as you take the ribs out of an umbrella before + re-covering it. She told him what she thought of him and his judgment and + his knowledge of the world; and how his performances had made him + ridiculous to other people; and how it was his intention to make love to + herself if she gave him the chance. Then she said that marriage would be + the making of him; and drew a pretty little picture—all rose and + opal—of the Mrs. Pluffles of the future going through life relying + on the “judgment” and “knowledge of the world” of a husband who had + nothing to reproach himself with. How she reconciled these two statements + she alone knew. But they did not strike Pluffles as conflicting. + </p> + <p> + Hers was a perfect little homily—much better than any clergyman + could have given—and it ended with touching allusions to Pluffles' + Mamma and Papa, and the wisdom of taking his bride Home. + </p> + <p> + Then she sent Pluffles out for a walk, to think over what she had said. + Pluffles left, blowing his nose very hard and holding himself very + straight. Mrs. Hauksbee laughed. + </p> + <p> + What Pluffles had intended to do in the matter of the engagement only Mrs. + Reiver knew, and she kept her own counsel to her death. She would have + liked it spoiled as a compliment, I fancy. + </p> + <p> + Pluffles enjoyed many talks with Mrs. Hauksbee during the next few days. + They were all to the same end, and they helped Pluffles in the path of + Virtue. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee wanted to keep him under her wing to the last. Therefore she + discountenanced his going down to Bombay to get married. “Goodness only + knows what might happen by the way!” she said. “Pluffles is cursed with + the curse of Reuben, and India is no fit place for him!” + </p> + <p> + In the end, the fiancee arrived with her aunt; and Pluffles, having + reduced his affairs to some sort of order—here again Mrs. Hauksbee + helped him—was married. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee gave a sigh of relief when both the “I wills” had been said, + and went her way. + </p> + <p> + Pluffies took her advice about going Home. He left the Service, and is now + raising speckled cattle inside green painted fences somewhere at Home. I + believe he does this very judiciously. He would have come to extreme grief + out here. + </p> + <p> + For these reasons if any one says anything more than usually nasty about + Mrs. Hauksbee, tell him the story of the Rescue of Pluffles. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CUPID'S ARROWS. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Pit where the buffalo cooled his hide, + By the hot sun emptied, and blistered and dried; + Log in the reh-grass, hidden and alone; + Bund where the earth-rat's mounds are strown: + Cave in the bank where the sly stream steals; + Aloe that stabs at the belly and heels, + Jump if you dare on a steed untried— + Safer it is to go wide—go wide! + Hark, from in front where the best men ride:— + “Pull to the off, boys! Wide! Go wide!” + + The Peora Hunt. +</pre> + <p> + Once upon a time there lived at Simla a very pretty girl, the daughter of + a poor but honest District and Sessions Judge. She was a good girl, but + could not help knowing her power and using it. Her Mamma was very anxious + about her daughter's future, as all good Mammas should be. + </p> + <p> + When a man is a Commissioner and a bachelor and has the right of wearing + open-work jam-tart jewels in gold and enamel on his clothes, and of going + through a door before every one except a Member of Council, a + Lieutenant-Governor, or a Viceroy, he is worth marrying. At least, that is + what ladies say. There was a Commissioner in Simla, in those days, who + was, and wore, and did, all I have said. He was a plain man—an ugly + man—the ugliest man in Asia, with two exceptions. His was a face to + dream about and try to carve on a pipe-head afterwards. His name was + Saggott—Barr-Saggott—Anthony Barr-Saggott and six letters to + follow. Departmentally, he was one of the best men the Government of India + owned. Socially, he was like a blandishing gorilla. + </p> + <p> + When he turned his attentions to Miss Beighton, I believe that Mrs. + Beighton wept with delight at the reward Providence had sent her in her + old age. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Beighton held his tongue. He was an easy-going man. + </p> + <p> + Now a Commissioner is very rich. His pay is beyond the dreams of avarice—is + so enormous that he can afford to save and scrape in a way that would + almost discredit a Member of Council. Most Commissioners are mean; but + Barr-Saggott was an exception. He entertained royally; he horsed himself + well; he gave dances; he was a power in the land; and he behaved as such. + </p> + <p> + Consider that everything I am writing of took place in an almost + pre-historic era in the history of British India. Some folk may remember + the years before lawn-tennis was born when we all played croquet. There + were seasons before that, if you will believe me, when even croquet had + not been invented, and archery—which was revived in England in 1844—was + as great a pest as lawn-tennis is now. People talked learnedly about + “holding” and “loosing,” “steles,” “reflexed bows,” “56-pound bows,” + “backed” or “self-yew bows,” as we talk about “rallies,” “volleys,” + “smashes,” “returns,” and “16-ounce rackets.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Beighton shot divinely over ladies' distance—60 yards, that is—and + was acknowledged the best lady archer in Simla. Men called her “Diana of + Tara-Devi.” + </p> + <p> + Barr-Saggott paid her great attention; and, as I have said, the heart of + her mother was uplifted in consequence. Kitty Beighton took matters more + calmly. It was pleasant to be singled out by a Commissioner with letters + after his name, and to fill the hearts of other girls with bad feelings. + But there was no denying the fact that Barr-Saggott was phenomenally ugly; + and all his attempts to adorn himself only made him more grotesque. He was + not christened “The Langur”—which means gray ape—for nothing. + It was pleasant, Kitty thought, to have him at her feet, but it was better + to escape from him and ride with the graceless Cubbon—the man in a + Dragoon Regiment at Umballa—the boy with a handsome face, and no + prospects. Kitty liked Cubbon more than a little. He never pretended for a + moment the he was anything less than head over heels in love with her; for + he was an honest boy. So Kitty fled, now and again, from the stately + wooings of Barr-Saggott to the company of young Cubbon, and was scolded by + her Mamma in consequence. “But, Mother,” she said, “Mr. Saggot is such—such + a—is so FEARFULLY ugly, you know!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said Mrs. Beighton, piously, “we cannot be other than an + all-ruling Providence has made us. Besides, you will take precedence of + your own Mother, you know! Think of that and be reasonable.” + </p> + <p> + Then Kitty put up her little chin and said irreverent things about + precedence, and Commissioners, and matrimony. Mr. Beighton rubbed the top + of his head; for he was an easy-going man. + </p> + <p> + Late in the season, when he judged that the time was ripe, Barr-Saggott + developed a plan which did great credit to his administrative powers. He + arranged an archery tournament for ladies, with a most sumptuous + diamond-studded bracelet as prize. He drew up his terms skilfully, and + every one saw that the bracelet was a gift to Miss Beighton; the + acceptance carrying with it the hand and the heart of Commissioner + Barr-Saggott. The terms were a St. Leonard's Round—thirty-six shots + at sixty yards—under the rules of the Simla Toxophilite Society. + </p> + <p> + All Simla was invited. There were beautifully arranged tea-tables under + the deodars at Annandale, where the Grand Stand is now; and, alone in its + glory, winking in the sun, sat the diamond bracelet in a blue velvet case. + Miss Beighton was anxious—almost too anxious to compete. On the + appointed afternoon, all Simla rode down to Annandale to witness the + Judgment of Paris turned upside down. Kitty rode with young Cubbon, and it + was easy to see that the boy was troubled in his mind. He must be held + innocent of everything that followed. Kitty was pale and nervous, and + looked long at the bracelet. Barr-Saggott was gorgeously dressed, even + more nervous than Kitty, and more hideous than ever. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Beighton smiled condescendingly, as befitted the mother of a + potential Commissioneress, and the shooting began; all the world standing + in a semicircle as the ladies came out one after the other. + </p> + <p> + Nothing is so tedious as an archery competition. They shot, and they shot, + and they kept on shooting, till the sun left the valley, and little + breezes got up in the deodars, and people waited for Miss Beighton to + shoot and win. Cubbon was at one horn of the semicircle round the + shooters, and Barr-Saggott at the other. Miss Beighton was last on the + list. The scoring had been weak, and the bracelet, PLUS Commissioner + Barr-Saggott, was hers to a certainty. + </p> + <p> + The Commissioner strung her bow with his own sacred hands. She stepped + forward, looked at the bracelet, and her first arrow went true to a hair—full + into the heart of the “gold”—counting nine points. + </p> + <p> + Young Cubbon on the left turned white, and his Devil prompted Barr-Saggott + to smile. Now horses used to shy when Barr-Saggott smiled. Kitty saw that + smile. She looked to her left-front, gave an almost imperceptible nod to + Cubbon, and went on shooting. + </p> + <p> + I wish I could describe the scene that followed. It was out of the + ordinary and most improper. Miss Kitty fitted her arrows with immense deliberation, + so that every one might see what she was doing. She was a perfect shot; + and her 46-pound bow suited her to a nicety. She pinned the wooden legs of + the target with great care four successive times. She pinned the wooden + top of the target once, and all the ladies looked at each other. Then she + began some fancy shooting at the white, which, if you hit it, counts + exactly one point. She put five arrows into the white. It was wonderful + archery; but, seeing that her business was to make “golds” and win the + bracelet, Barr-Saggott turned a delicate green like young water-grass. + Next, she shot over the target twice, then wide to the left twice—always + with the same deliberation—while a chilly hush fell over the + company, and Mrs. Beighton took out her handkerchief. Then Kitty shot at + the ground in front of the target, and split several arrows. Then she made + a red—or seven points—just to show what she could do if she + liked, and finished up her amazing performance with some more fancy + shooting at the target-supports. Here is her score as it was picked off:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Gold. Red. Blue. Black. White. Total Hits. Total + Score + Miss Beighton 1 1 0 0 5 7 21 +</pre> + <p> + Barr-Saggott looked as if the last few arrowheads had been driven into his + legs instead of the target's, and the deep stillness was broken by a + little snubby, mottled, half-grown girl saying in a shrill voice of + triumph: “Then I'VE won!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Beighton did her best to bear up; but she wept in the presence of the + people. No training could help her through such a disappointment. Kitty + unstrung her bow with a vicious jerk, and went back to her place, while + Barr-Saggott was trying to pretend that he enjoyed snapping the bracelet + on the snubby girl's raw, red wrist. It was an awkward scene—most + awkward. Every one tried to depart in a body and leave Kitty to the mercy + of her Mamma. + </p> + <p> + But Cubbon took her away instead, and—the rest isn't worth printing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HIS CHANCE IN LIFE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Then a pile of heads be laid— + Thirty thousand heaped on high— + All to please the Kafir maid, + Where the Oxus ripples by. + Grimly spake Atulla Khan:— + “Love hath made this thing a Man.” + + Oatta's Story. +</pre> + <p> + If you go straight away from Levees and Government House Lists, past + Trades' Balls—far beyond everything and everybody you ever knew in + your respectable life—you cross, in time, the Border line where the + last drop of White blood ends and the full tide of Black sets in. It would + be easier to talk to a new made Duchess on the spur of the moment than to + the Borderline folk without violating some of their conventions or hurting + their feelings. The Black and the White mix very quaintly in their ways. + Sometimes the White shows in spurts of fierce, childish pride—which + is Pride of Race run crooked—and sometimes the Black in still + fiercer abasement and humility, half heathenish customs and strange, + unaccountable impulses to crime. One of these days, this people—understand + they are far lower than the class whence Derozio, the man who imitated + Byron, sprung—will turn out a writer or a poet; and then we shall + know how they live and what they feel. In the meantime, any stories about + them cannot be absolutely correct in fact or inference. + </p> + <p> + Miss Vezzis came from across the Borderline to look after some children + who belonged to a lady until a regularly ordained nurse could come out. + The lady said Miss Vezzis was a bad, dirty nurse and inattentive. It never + struck her that Miss Vezzis had her own life to lead and her own affairs + to worry over, and that these affairs were the most important things in + the world to Miss Vezzis. Very few mistresses admit this sort of + reasoning. Miss Vezzis was as black as a boot, and to our standard of + taste, hideously ugly. She wore cotton-print gowns and bulged shoes; and + when she lost her temper with the children, she abused them in the + language of the Borderline—which is part English, part Portuguese, + and part Native. She was not attractive; but she had her pride, and she + preferred being called “Miss Vezzis.” + </p> + <p> + Every Sunday she dressed herself wonderfully and went to see her Mamma, + who lived, for the most part, on an old cane chair in a greasy tussur-silk + dressing-gown and a big rabbit-warren of a house full of Vezzises, + Pereiras, Ribieras, Lisboas and Gansalveses, and a floating population of + loafers; besides fragments of the day's bazar, garlic, stale incense, + clothes thrown on the floor, petticoats hung on strings for screens, old + bottles, pewter crucifixes, dried immortelles, pariah puppies, plaster + images of the Virgin, and hats without crowns. Miss Vezzis drew twenty + rupees a month for acting as nurse, and she squabbled weekly with her + Mamma as to the percentage to be given towards housekeeping. When the + quarrel was over, Michele D'Cruze used to shamble across the low mud wall + of the compound and make love to Miss Vezzis after the fashion of the + Borderline, which is hedged about with much ceremony. Michele was a poor, + sickly weed and very black; but he had his pride. He would not be seen + smoking a huqa for anything; and he looked down on natives as only a man + with seven-eighths native blood in his veins can. The Vezzis Family had + their pride too. They traced their descent from a mythical plate-layer who + had worked on the Sone Bridge when railways were new in India, and they + valued their English origin. Michele was a Telegraph Signaller on Rs. 35 a + month. The fact that he was in Government employ made Mrs. Vezzis lenient + to the shortcomings of his ancestors. + </p> + <p> + There was a compromising legend—Dom Anna the tailor brought it from + Poonani—that a black Jew of Cochin had once married into the D'Cruze + family; while it was an open secret that an uncle of Mrs. D'Cruze was at + that very time doing menial work, connected with cooking, for a Club in + Southern India! He sent Mrs D'Cruze seven rupees eight annas a month; but + she felt the disgrace to the family very keenly all the same. + </p> + <p> + However, in the course of a few Sundays, Mrs. Vezzis brought herself to + overlook these blemishes and gave her consent to the marriage of her + daughter with Michele, on condition that Michele should have at least + fifty rupees a month to start married life upon. This wonderful prudence + must have been a lingering touch of the mythical plate-layer's Yorkshire + blood; for across the Borderline people take a pride in marrying when they + please—not when they can. + </p> + <p> + Having regard to his departmental prospects, Miss Vezzis might as well + have asked Michele to go away and come back with the Moon in his pocket. + But Michele was deeply in love with Miss Vezzis, and that helped him to + endure. He accompanied Miss Vezzis to Mass one Sunday, and after Mass, + walking home through the hot stale dust with her hand in his, he swore by + several Saints, whose names would not interest you, never to forget Miss + Vezzis; and she swore by her Honor and the Saints—the oath runs + rather curiously; “In nomine Sanctissimae—” (whatever the name of + the she-Saint is) and so forth, ending with a kiss on the forehead, a kiss + on the left cheek, and a kiss on the mouth—never to forget Michele. + </p> + <p> + Next week Michele was transferred, and Miss Vezzis dropped tears upon the + window-sash of the “Intermediate” compartment as he left the Station. + </p> + <p> + If you look at the telegraph-map of India you will see a long line + skirting the coast from Backergunge to Madras. Michele was ordered to + Tibasu, a little Sub-office one-third down this line, to send messages on + from Berhampur to Chicacola, and to think of Miss Vezzis and his chances + of getting fifty rupees a month out of office hours. He had the noise of + the Bay of Bengal and a Bengali Babu for company; nothing more. He sent + foolish letters, with crosses tucked inside the flaps of the envelopes, to + Miss Vezzis. + </p> + <p> + When he had been at Tibasu for nearly three weeks his chance came. + </p> + <p> + Never forget that unless the outward and visible signs of Our Authority + are always before a native he is as incapable as a child of understanding + what authority means, or where is the danger of disobeying it. Tibasu was + a forgotten little place with a few Orissa Mohamedans in it. These, + hearing nothing of the Collector-Sahib for some time, and heartily + despising the Hindu Sub-Judge, arranged to start a little Mohurrum riot of + their own. But the Hindus turned out and broke their heads; when, finding + lawlessness pleasant, Hindus and Mahomedans together raised an aimless + sort of Donnybrook just to see how far they could go. They looted each + other's shops, and paid off private grudges in the regular way. It was a + nasty little riot, but not worth putting in the newspapers. + </p> + <p> + Michele was working in his office when he heard the sound that a man never + forgets all his life—the “ah-yah” of an angry crowd. [When that + sound drops about three tones, and changes to a thick, droning <i>ut</i>, the man + who hears it had better go away if he is alone.] The Native Police + Inspector ran in and told Michele that the town was in an uproar and + coming to wreck the Telegraph Office. The Babu put on his cap and quietly + dropped out of the window; while the Police Inspector, afraid, but obeying + the old race-instinct which recognizes a drop of White blood as far as it + can be diluted, said:—“What orders does the Sahib give?” + </p> + <p> + The “Sahib” decided Michele. Though horribly frightened, he felt that, for + the hour, he, the man with the Cochin Jew and the menial uncle in his + pedigree, was the only representative of English authority in the place. + Then he thought of Miss Vezzis and the fifty rupees, and took the + situation on himself. There were seven native policemen in Tibasu, and + four crazy smooth-bore muskets among them. All the men were gray with + fear, but not beyond leading. Michele dropped the key of the telegraph + instrument, and went out, at the head of his army, to meet the mob. As the + shouting crew came round a corner of the road, he dropped and fired; the + men behind him loosing instinctively at the same time. + </p> + <p> + The whole crowd—curs to the backbone—yelled and ran; leaving + one man dead, and another dying in the road. Michele was sweating with + fear, but he kept his weakness under, and went down into the town, past + the house where the Sub-Judge had barricaded himself. The streets were + empty. Tibasu was more frightened than Michele, for the mob had been taken + at the right time. + </p> + <p> + Michele returned to the Telegraph-Office, and sent a message to Chicacola + asking for help. Before an answer came, he received a deputation of the + elders of Tibasu, telling him that the Sub-Judge said his actions + generally were “unconstitutional,” and trying to bully him. But the heart of + Michele D'Cruze was big and white in his breast, because of his love for + Miss Vezzis, the nurse-girl, and because he had tasted for the first time + Responsibility and Success. Those two make an intoxicating drink, and have + ruined more men than ever has Whiskey. Michele answered that the Sub-Judge + might say what he pleased, but, until the Assistant Collector came, the + Telegraph Signaller was the Government of India in Tibasu, and the elders + of the town would be held accountable for further rioting. Then they bowed + their heads and said: “Show mercy!” or words to that effect, and went back + in great fear; each accusing the other of having begun the rioting. + </p> + <p> + Early in the dawn, after a night's patrol with his seven policemen, + Michele went down the road, musket in hand, to meet the Assistant + Collector, who had ridden in to quell Tibasu. But, in the presence of this + young Englishman, Michele felt himself slipping back more and more into + the native, and the tale of the Tibasu Riots ended, with the strain on the + teller, in an hysterical outburst of tears, bred by sorrow that he had + killed a man, shame that he could not feel as uplifted as he had felt + through the night, and childish anger that his tongue could not do justice + to his great deeds. It was the White drop in Michele's veins dying out, + though he did not know it. + </p> + <p> + But the Englishman understood; and, after he had schooled those men of + Tibasu, and had conferred with the Sub-Judge till that excellent official + turned green, he found time to draught an official letter describing the + conduct of Michele. Which letter filtered through the Proper Channels, and + ended in the transfer of Michele up-country once more, on the Imperial + salary of sixty-six rupees a month. + </p> + <p> + So he and Miss Vezzis were married with great state and ancientry; and now + there are several little D'Cruzes sprawling about the verandahs of the + Central Telegraph Office. + </p> + <p> + But, if the whole revenue of the Department he serves were to be his + reward Michele could never, never repeat what he did at Tibasu for the + sake of Miss Vezzis the nurse-girl. + </p> + <p> + Which proves that, when a man does good work out of all proportion to his + pay, in seven cases out of nine there is a woman at the back of the + virtue. + </p> + <p> + The two exceptions must have suffered from sunstroke. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WATCHES OF THE NIGHT. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + What is in the Brahmin's books that is in the Brahmin's heart. + Neither you nor I knew there was so much evil in the world. + + Hindu Proverb. +</pre> + <p> + This began in a practical joke; but it has gone far enough now, and is + getting serious. + </p> + <p> + Platte, the Subaltern, being poor, had a Waterbury watch and a plain + leather guard. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel had a Waterbury watch also, and for guard, the lip-strap of a + curb-chain. Lip-straps make the best watch guards. They are strong and + short. Between a lip-strap and an ordinary leather guard there is no great + difference; between one Waterbury watch and another there is none at all. + Every one in the station knew the Colonel's lip-strap. He was not a horsey + man, but he liked people to believe he had been on once; and he wove + fantastic stories of the hunting-bridle to which this particular lip-strap + had belonged. Otherwise he was painfully religious. + </p> + <p> + Platte and the Colonel were dressing at the Club—both late for their + engagements, and both in a hurry. That was Kismet. The two watches were on + a shelf below the looking-glass—guards hanging down. That was + carelessness. Platte changed first, snatched a watch, looked in the glass, + settled his tie, and ran. Forty seconds later, the Colonel did exactly the + same thing; each man taking the other's watch. + </p> + <p> + You may have noticed that many religious people are deeply suspicious. + They seem—for purely religious purposes, of course—to know + more about iniquity than the Unregenerate. Perhaps they were specially bad + before they became converted! At any rate, in the imputation of things + evil, and in putting the worst construction on things innocent, a certain + type of good people may be trusted to surpass all others. The Colonel and + his Wife were of that type. But the Colonel's Wife was the worst. She + manufactured the Station scandal, and—TALKED TO HER AYAH! Nothing + more need be said. The Colonel's Wife broke up the Laplace's home. The + Colonel's Wife stopped the Ferris-Haughtrey engagement. The Colonel's Wife + induced young Buxton to keep his wife down in the Plains through the first + year of the marriage. Whereby little Mrs. Buxton died, and the baby with + her. These things will be remembered against the Colonel's Wife so long as + there is a regiment in the country. + </p> + <p> + But to come back to the Colonel and Platte. They went their several ways + from the dressing-room. The Colonel dined with two Chaplains, while Platte + went to a bachelor-party, and whist to follow. + </p> + <p> + Mark how things happen! If Platte's sais had put the new saddle-pad on the + mare, the butts of the territs would not have worked through the worn + leather, and the old pad into the mare's withers, when she was coming home + at two o'clock in the morning. She would not have reared, bolted, fallen + into a ditch, upset the cart, and sent Platte flying over an aloe-hedge on + to Mrs. Larkyn's well-kept lawn; and this tale would never have been + written. But the mare did all these things, and while Platte was rolling + over and over on the turf, like a shot rabbit, the watch and guard flew + from his waistcoat—as an Infantry Major's sword hops out of the + scabbard when they are firing a feu de joie—and rolled and rolled in + the moonlight, till it stopped under a window. + </p> + <p> + Platte stuffed his handkerchief under the pad, put the cart straight, and + went home. + </p> + <p> + Mark again how Kismet works! This would not happen once in a hundred + years. Towards the end of his dinner with the two Chaplains, the Colonel + let out his waistcoat and leaned over the table to look at some Mission + Reports. The bar of the watch-guard worked through the buttonhole, and the + watch—Platte's watch—slid quietly on to the carpet. Where the + bearer found it next morning and kept it. + </p> + <p> + Then the Colonel went home to the wife of his bosom; but the driver of the + carriage was drunk and lost his way. So the Colonel returned at an + unseemly hour and his excuses were not accepted. If the Colonel's Wife had + been an ordinary “vessel of wrath appointed for destruction,” she would + have known that when a man stays away on purpose, his excuse is always + sound and original. The very baldness of the Colonel's explanation proved + its truth. + </p> + <p> + See once more the workings of Kismet! The Colonel's watch which came with + Platte hurriedly on to Mrs. Larkyn's lawn, chose to stop just under Mrs. + Larkyn's window, where she saw it early in the morning, recognized it, and + picked it up. She had heard the crash of Platte's cart at two o'clock that + morning, and his voice calling the mare names. She knew Platte and liked + him. That day she showed him the watch and heard his story. He put his + head on one side, winked and said:—“How disgusting! Shocking old + man! with his religious training, too! I should send the watch to the + Colonel's Wife and ask for explanations.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Larkyn thought for a minute of the Laplaces—whom she had known + when Laplace and his wife believed in each other—and answered:—“I + will send it. I think it will do her good. But remember, we must NEVER + tell her the truth.” + </p> + <p> + Platte guessed that his own watch was in the Colonel's possession, and + thought that the return of the lip-strapped Waterbury with a soothing note + from Mrs. Larkyn, would merely create a small trouble for a few minutes. + Mrs. Larkyn knew better. She knew that any poison dropped would find good + holding-ground in the heart of the Colonel's Wife. + </p> + <p> + The packet, and a note containing a few remarks on the Colonel's + calling-hours, were sent over to the Colonel's Wife, who wept in her own + room and took counsel with herself. + </p> + <p> + If there was one woman under Heaven whom the Colonel's Wife hated with + holy fervor, it was Mrs. Larkyn. Mrs. Larkyn was a frivolous lady, and + called the Colonel's Wife “old cat.” The Colonel's Wife said that somebody + in Revelations was remarkably like Mrs. Larkyn. She mentioned other + Scripture people as well. From the Old Testament. [But the Colonel's Wife + was the only person who cared or dared to say anything against Mrs. + Larkyn. Every one else accepted her as an amusing, honest little body.] + Wherefore, to believe that her husband had been shedding watches under + that “Thing's” window at ungodly hours, coupled with the fact of his late + arrival on the previous night, was..... + </p> + <p> + At this point she rose up and sought her husband. He denied everything + except the ownership of the watch. She besought him, for his Soul's sake, + to speak the truth. He denied afresh, with two bad words. Then a stony + silence held the Colonel's Wife, while a man could draw his breath five + times. + </p> + <p> + The speech that followed is no affair of mine or yours. It was made up of + wifely and womanly jealousy; knowledge of old age and sunken cheeks; deep + mistrust born of the text that says even little babies' hearts are as bad + as they make them; rancorous hatred of Mrs. Larkyn, and the tenets of the + creed of the Colonel's Wife's upbringing. + </p> + <p> + Over and above all, was the damning lip-strapped Waterbury, ticking away + in the palm of her shaking, withered hand. At that hour, I think, the + Colonel's Wife realized a little of the restless suspicions she had + injected into old Laplace's mind, a little of poor Miss Haughtrey's + misery, and some of the canker that ate into Buxton's heart as he watched + his wife dying before his eyes. The Colonel stammered and tried to + explain. Then he remembered that his watch had disappeared; and the + mystery grew greater. The Colonel's Wife talked and prayed by turns till + she was tired, and went away to devise means for “chastening the stubborn + heart of her husband.” Which translated, means, in our slang, + “tail-twisting.” + </p> + <p> + You see, being deeply impressed with the doctrine of Original Sin, she + could not believe in the face of appearances. She knew too much, and + jumped to the wildest conclusions. + </p> + <p> + But it was good for her. It spoilt her life, as she had spoilt the life of + the Laplaces. She had lost her faith in the Colonel, and—here the + creed-suspicion came in—he might, she argued, have erred many times, + before a merciful Providence, at the hands of so unworthy an instrument as + Mrs. Larkyn, had established his guilt. He was a bad, wicked, gray-haired + profligate. This may sound too sudden a revulsion for a long-wedded wife; + but it is a venerable fact that, if a man or woman makes a practice of, + and takes a delight in, believing and spreading evil of people indifferent + to him or her, he or she will end in believing evil of folk very near and + dear. You may think, also, that the mere incident of the watch was too + small and trivial to raise this misunderstanding. It is another aged fact + that, in life as well as racing, all the worst accidents happen at little + ditches and cut-down fences. In the same way, you sometimes see a woman + who would have made a Joan of Arc in another century and climate, + threshing herself to pieces over all the mean worry of housekeeping. But + that is another story. + </p> + <p> + Her belief only made the Colonel's Wife more wretched, because it insisted + so strongly on the villainy of men. Remembering what she had done, it was + pleasant to watch her unhappiness, and the penny-farthing attempts she + made to hide it from the Station. But the Station knew and laughed + heartlessly; for they had heard the story of the watch, with much dramatic + gesture, from Mrs. Larkyn's lips. + </p> + <p> + Once or twice Platte said to Mrs. Larkyn, seeing that the Colonel had not + cleared himself:—“This thing has gone far enough. I move we tell the + Colonel's Wife how it happened.” Mrs. Larkyn shut her lips and shook her + head, and vowed that the Colonel's Wife must bear her punishment as best + she could. Now Mrs. Larkyn was a frivolous woman, in whom none would have + suspected deep hate. So Platte took no action, and came to believe + gradually, from the Colonel's silence, that the Colonel must have “run off + the line” somewhere that night, and, therefore, preferred to stand + sentence on the lesser count of rambling into other people's compounds out + of calling hours. Platte forgot about the watch business after a while, + and moved down-country with his regiment. Mrs. Larkyn went home when her + husband's tour of Indian service expired. She never forgot. + </p> + <p> + But Platte was quite right when he said that the joke had gone too far. + The mistrust and the tragedy of it—which we outsiders cannot see and + do not believe in—are killing the Colonel's Wife, and are making the + Colonel wretched. If either of them read this story, they can depend upon + its being a fairly true account of the case, and can “kiss and make + friends.” + </p> + <p> + Shakespeare alludes to the pleasure of watching an Engineer being shelled + by his own Battery. Now this shows that poets should not write about what + they do not understand. Any one could have told him that Sappers and + Gunners are perfectly different branches of the Service. But, if you + correct the sentence, and substitute Gunner for Sapper, the moral comes + just the same. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE OTHER MAN. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When the earth was sick and the skies were gray, + And the woods were rotted with rain, + The Dead Man rode through the autumn day + To visit his love again. + + Old Ballad. +</pre> + <p> + Far back in the “seventies,” before they had built any Public Offices at + Simla, and the broad road round Jakko lived in a pigeon-hole in the P. W. + D. hovels, her parents made Miss Gaurey marry Colonel Schriederling. He + could not have been MUCH more than thirty-five years her senior; and, as + he lived on two hundred rupees a month and had money of his own, he was + well off. He belonged to good people, and suffered in the cold weather + from lung complaints. In the hot weather he dangled on the brink of + heat-apoplexy; but it never quite killed him. + </p> + <p> + Understand, I do not blame Schriederling. He was a good husband according + to his lights, and his temper only failed him when he was being nursed. + Which was some seventeen days in each month. He was almost generous to his + wife about money matters, and that, for him, was a concession. Still Mrs. + Schreiderling was not happy. They married her when she was this side of + twenty and had given all her poor little heart to another man. I have + forgotten his name, but we will call him the Other Man. He had no money + and no prospects. He was not even good-looking; and I think he was in the + Commissariat or Transport. But, in spite of all these things, she loved + him very madly; and there was some sort of an engagement between the two + when Schreiderling appeared and told Mrs. Gaurey that he wished to marry + her daughter. Then the other engagement was broken off—washed away + by Mrs. Gaurey's tears, for that lady governed her house by weeping over + disobedience to her authority and the lack of reverence she received in + her old age. The daughter did not take after her mother. She never cried. + Not even at the wedding. + </p> + <p> + The Other Man bore his loss quietly, and was transferred to as bad a + station as he could find. Perhaps the climate consoled him. He suffered + from intermittent fever, and that may have distracted him from his other + trouble. He was weak about the heart also. Both ways. One of the valves + was affected, and the fever made it worse. This showed itself later on. + </p> + <p> + Then many months passed, and Mrs. Schreiderling took to being ill. She did + not pine away like people in story books, but she seemed to pick up every + form of illness that went about a station, from simple fever upwards. She + was never more than ordinarily pretty at the best of times; and the + illness made her ugly. Schreiderling said so. He prided himself on + speaking his mind. + </p> + <p> + When she ceased being pretty, he left her to her own devices, and went + back to the lairs of his bachelordom. She used to trot up and down Simla + Mall in a forlorn sort of way, with a gray Terai hat well on the back of + her head, and a shocking bad saddle under her. Schreiderling's generosity + stopped at the horse. He said that any saddle would do for a woman as + nervous as Mrs. Schreiderling. She never was asked to dance, because she + did not dance well; and she was so dull and uninteresting, that her box + very seldom had any cards in it. Schreiderling said that if he had known + that she was going to be such a scare-crow after her marriage, he would + never have married her. He always prided himself on speaking his mind, did + Schreiderling! + </p> + <p> + He left her at Simla one August, and went down to his regiment. Then she + revived a little, but she never recovered her looks. I found out at the + Club that the Other Man is coming up sick—very sick—on an off + chance of recovery. The fever and the heart-valves had nearly killed him. + She knew that, too, and she knew—what I had no interest in knowing—when + he was coming up. I suppose he wrote to tell her. They had not seen each + other since a month before the wedding. And here comes the unpleasant part + of the story. + </p> + <p> + A late call kept me down at the Dovedell Hotel till dusk one evening. Mrs. + Schreidlerling had been flitting up and down the Mall all the afternoon in + the rain. Coming up along the Cart-road, a tonga passed me, and my pony, + tired with standing so long, set off at a canter. Just by the road down to + the Tonga Office Mrs. Schreiderling, dripping from head to foot, was + waiting for the tonga. I turned up-hill, as the tonga was no affair of + mine; and just then she began to shriek. I went back at once and saw, + under the Tonga Office lamps, Mrs. Schreiderling kneeling in the wet road + by the back seat of the newly-arrived tonga, screaming hideously. Then she + fell face down in the dirt as I came up. + </p> + <p> + Sitting in the back seat, very square and firm, with one hand on the + awning-stanchion and the wet pouring off his hat and moustache, was the + Other Man—dead. The sixty-mile up-hill jolt had been too much for + his valve, I suppose. The tonga-driver said:—“The Sahib died two + stages out of Solon. Therefore, I tied him with a rope, lest he should + fall out by the way, and so came to Simla. Will the Sahib give me + bukshish? IT,” pointing to the Other Man, “should have given one rupee.” + </p> + <p> + The Other Man sat with a grin on his face, as if he enjoyed the joke of + his arrival; and Mrs. Schreiderling, in the mud, began to groan. There was + no one except us four in the office and it was raining heavily. The first + thing was to take Mrs. Schreiderling home, and the second was to prevent + her name from being mixed up with the affair. The tonga-driver received + five rupees to find a bazar 'rickshaw for Mrs. Schreiderling. He was to + tell the tonga Babu afterwards of the Other Man, and the Babu was to make + such arrangements as seemed best. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Schreiderling was carried into the shed out of the rain, and for + three-quarters of an hour we two waited for the 'rickshaw. The Other Man + was left exactly as he had arrived. Mrs. Schreiderling would do everything + but cry, which might have helped her. She tried to scream as soon as her + senses came back, and then she began praying for the Other Man's soul. Had + she not been as honest as the day, she would have prayed for her own soul + too. I waited to hear her do this, but she did not. Then I tried to get + some of the mud off her habit. Lastly, the 'rickshaw came, and I got her + away—partly by force. It was a terrible business from beginning to + end; but most of all when the 'rickshaw had to squeeze between the wall + and the tonga, and she saw by the lamp-light that thin, yellow hand + grasping the awning-stanchion. + </p> + <p> + She was taken home just as every one was going to a dance at Viceregal + Lodge—“Peterhoff” it was then—and the doctor found that she + had fallen from her horse, that I had picked her up at the back of Jakko, + and really deserved great credit for the prompt manner in which I had + secured medical aid. She did not die—men of Schreiderling's stamp + marry women who don't die easily. They live and grow ugly. + </p> + <p> + She never told of her one meeting, since her marriage, with the Other Man; + and, when the chill and cough following the exposure of that evening, + allowed her abroad, she never by word or sign alluded to having met me by + the Tonga Office. Perhaps she never knew. + </p> + <p> + She used to trot up and down the Mall, on that shocking bad saddle, + looking as if she expected to meet some one round the corner every minute. + Two years afterward, she went Home, and died—at Bournemouth, I + think. + </p> + <p> + Schreiderling, when he grew maudlin at Mess, used to talk about “my poor + dear wife.” He always set great store on speaking his mind, did + Schreiderling! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CONSEQUENCES. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Rosicrucian subtleties + In the Orient had rise; + Ye may find their teachers still + Under Jacatala's Hill. + Seek ye Bombast Paracelsus, + Read what Flood the Seeker tells us + Of the Dominant that runs + Through the cycles of the Suns— + Read my story last and see + Luna at her apogee. +</pre> + <p> + There are yearly appointments, and two-yearly appointments, and + five-yearly appointments at Simla, and there are, or used to be, permanent + appointments, whereon you stayed up for the term of your natural life and + secured red cheeks and a nice income. Of course, you could descend in the + cold weather; for Simla is rather dull then. + </p> + <p> + Tarrion came from goodness knows where—all away and away in some + forsaken part of Central India, where they call Pachmari a “Sanitarium,” + and drive behind trotting bullocks, I believe. He belonged to a regiment; + but what he really wanted to do was to escape from his regiment and live + in Simla forever and ever. He had no preference for anything in + particular, beyond a good horse and a nice partner. He thought he could do + everything well; which is a beautiful belief when you hold it with all + your heart. He was clever in many ways, and good to look at, and always + made people round him comfortable—even in Central India. + </p> + <p> + So he went up to Simla, and, because he was clever and amusing, he + gravitated naturally to Mrs. Hauksbee, who could forgive everything but + stupidity. Once he did her great service by changing the date on an + invitation-card for a big dance which Mrs. Hauksbee wished to attend, but + couldn't because she had quarrelled with the A.-D.-C., who took care, + being a mean man, to invite her to a small dance on the 6th instead of the + big Ball of the 26th. It was a very clever piece of forgery; and when Mrs. + Hauksbee showed the A.-D.-C. her invitation-card, and chaffed him mildly + for not better managing his vendettas, he really thought he had made a + mistake; and—which was wise—realized that it was no use to + fight with Mrs. Hauksbee. She was grateful to Tarrion and asked what she + could do for him. He said simply: “I'm a Freelance up here on leave, and + on the lookout for what I can loot. I haven't a square inch of interest in + all Simla. My name isn't known to any man with an appointment in his gift, + and I want an appointment—a good, sound, pukka one. I believe you + can do anything you turn yourself to do. Will you help me?” Mrs. Hauksbee + thought for a minute, and passed the last of her riding-whip through her + lips, as was her custom when thinking. Then her eyes sparkled, and she + said:—“I will;” and she shook hands on it. Tarrion, having perfect + confidence in this great woman, took no further thought of the business at + all. Except to wonder what sort of an appointment he would win. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee began calculating the prices of all the Heads of Departments + and Members of Council she knew, and the more she thought the more she + laughed, because her heart was in the game and it amused her. Then she + took a Civil List and ran over a few of the appointments. There are some + beautiful appointments in the Civil List. Eventually, she decided that, + though Tarrion was too good for the Political Department, she had better + begin by trying to get him in there. What were her own plans to this end, + does not matter in the least, for Luck or Fate played into her hands, and + she had nothing to do but to watch the course of events and take the + credit of them. + </p> + <p> + All Viceroys, when they first come out, pass through the “Diplomatic + Secrecy” craze. It wears off in time; but they all catch it in the + beginning, because they are new to the country. The particular Viceroy who + was suffering from the complaint just then—this was a long time ago, + before Lord Dufferin ever came from Canada, or Lord Ripon from the bosom + of the English Church—had it very badly; and the result was that men + who were new to keeping official secrets went about looking unhappy; and + the Viceroy plumed himself on the way in which he had instilled notions of + reticence into his Staff. + </p> + <p> + Now, the Supreme Government have a careless custom of committing what they + do to printed papers. These papers deal with all sorts of things—from + the payment of Rs. 200 to a “secret service” native, up to rebukes + administered to Vakils and Motamids of Native States, and rather brusque + letters to Native Princes, telling them to put their houses in order, to + refrain from kidnapping women, or filling offenders with pounded red + pepper, and eccentricities of that kind. Of course, these things could + never be made public, because Native Princes never err officially, and + their States are, officially, as well administered as Our territories. + Also, the private allowances to various queer people are not exactly + matters to put into newspapers, though they give quaint reading sometimes. + When the Supreme Government is at Simla, these papers are prepared there, + and go round to the people who ought to see them in office-boxes or by + post. The principle of secrecy was to that Viceroy quite as important as + the practice, and he held that a benevolent despotism like Ours should + never allow even little things, such as appointments of subordinate + clerks, to leak out till the proper time. He was always remarkable for his + principles. + </p> + <p> + There was a very important batch of papers in preparation at that time. It + had to travel from one end of Simla to the other by hand. It was not put + into an official envelope, but a large, square, pale-pink one; the matter + being in MS. on soft crinkley paper. It was addressed to “The Head Clerk, + etc., etc.” Now, between “The Head Clerk, etc., etc.,” and “Mrs. Hauksbee” + and a flourish, is no very great difference if the address be written in a + very bad hand, as this was. The chaprassi who took the envelope was not + more of an idiot than most chaprassis. He merely forgot where this most + unofficial cover was to be delivered, and so asked the first Englishman he + met, who happened to be a man riding down to Annandale in a great hurry. + The Englishman hardly looked, said: “Hauksbee Sahib ki Mem,” and went on. + So did the chaprasss, because that letter was the last in stock and he + wanted to get his work over. There was no book to sign; he thrust the + letter into Mrs. Hauksbee's bearer's hands and went off to smoke with a + friend. Mrs. Hauksbee was expecting some cut-out pattern things in flimsy + paper from a friend. As soon as she got the big square packet, therefore, + she said, “Oh, the DEAR creature!” and tore it open with a paper-knife, + and all the MS. enclosures tumbled out on the floor. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee began reading. I have said the batch was rather important. + That is quite enough for you to know. It referred to some correspondence, + two measures, a peremptory order to a native chief and two dozen other + things. Mrs. Hauksbee gasped as she read, for the first glimpse of the + naked machinery of the Great Indian Government, stripped of its casings, + and lacquer, and paint, and guard-rails, impresses even the most stupid + man. And Mrs. Hauksbee was a clever woman. She was a little afraid at + first, and felt as if she had laid hold of a lightning-flash by the tail, + and did not quite know what to do with it. There were remarks and initials + at the side of the papers; and some of the remarks were rather more severe + than the papers. The initials belonged to men who are all dead or gone + now; but they were great in their day. Mrs. Hauksbee read on and thought + calmly as she read. Then the value of her trove struck her, and she cast + about for the best method of using it. Then Tarrion dropped in, and they + read through all the papers together, and Tarrion, not knowing how she had + come by them, vowed that Mrs. Hauksbee was the greatest woman on earth. + Which I believe was true, or nearly so. + </p> + <p> + “The honest course is always the best,” said Tarrion after an hour and a + half of study and conversation. “All things considered, the Intelligence + Branch is about my form. Either that or the Foreign Office. I go to lay + siege to the High Gods in their Temples.” + </p> + <p> + He did not seek a little man, or a little big man, or a weak Head of a + strong Department, but he called on the biggest and strongest man that the + Government owned, and explained that he wanted an appointment at Simla on + a good salary. The compound insolence of this amused the Strong Man, and, + as he had nothing to do for the moment, he listened to the proposals of + the audacious Tarrion. “You have, I presume, some special qualifications, + besides the gift of self-assertion, for the claims you put forwards?” said + the Strong Man. “That, Sir,” said Tarrion, “is for you to judge.” Then he + began, for he had a good memory, quoting a few of the more important notes + in the papers—slowly and one by one as a man drops chlorodyne into a + glass. When he had reached the peremptory order—and it WAS a + peremptory order—the Strong Man was troubled. + </p> + <p> + Tarrion wound up:—“And I fancy that special knowledge of this kind + is at least as valuable for, let us say, a berth in the Foreign Office, as + the fact of being the nephew of a distinguished officer's wife.” That hit + the Strong Man hard, for the last appointment to the Foreign Office had + been by black favor, and he knew it. “I'll see what I can do for you,” + said the Strong Man. “Many thanks,” said Tarrion. Then he left, and the + Strong Man departed to see how the appointment was to be blocked. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + Followed a pause of eleven days; with thunders and lightnings and much + telegraphing. The appointment was not a very important one, carrying only + between Rs. 500 and Rs. 700 a month; but, as the Viceroy said, it was the + principle of diplomatic secrecy that had to be maintained, and it was more + than likely that a boy so well supplied with special information would be + worth translating. So they translated him. They must have suspected him, + though he protested that his information was due to singular talents of + his own. Now, much of this story, including the after-history of the + missing envelope, you must fill in for yourself, because there are reasons + why it cannot be written. If you do not know about things Up Above, you + won't understand how to fill it in, and you will say it is impossible. + </p> + <p> + What the Viceroy said when Tarrion was introduced to him was:—“So, + this is the boy who 'rushed' the Government of India, is it? Recollect, + Sir, that is not done TWICE.” So he must have known something. + </p> + <p> + What Tarrion said when he saw his appointment gazetted was:—“If Mrs. + Hauksbee were twenty years younger, and I her husband, I should be Viceroy + of India in twenty years.” + </p> + <p> + What Mrs. Hauksbee said, when Tarrion thanked her, almost with tears in + his eyes, was first:—“I told you so!” and next, to herself:—“What + fools men are!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE CONVERSION OF AURELIAN McGOGGIN. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Ride with an idle whip, ride with an unused heel. + But, once in a way, there will come a day + When the colt must be taught to feel + The lash that falls, and the curb that galls, + and the sting of the rowelled steel. + + Life's Handicap. +</pre> + <p> + This is not a tale exactly. It is a Tract; and I am immensely proud of it. + Making a Tract is a Feat. + </p> + <p> + Every man is entitled to his own religious opinions; but no man—least + of all a junior—has a right to thrust these down other men's + throats. The Government sends out weird Civilians now and again; but + McGoggin was the queerest exported for a long time. He was clever—brilliantly + clever—but his cleverness worked the wrong way. Instead of keeping + to the study of the vernaculars, he had read some books written by a man + called Comte, I think, and a man called Spencer, and a Professor Clifford. + [You will find these books in the Library.] They deal with people's + insides from the point of view of men who have no stomachs. There was no + order against his reading them; but his Mamma should have smacked him. + They fermented in his head, and he came out to India with a rarefied + religion over and above his work. It was not much of a creed. It only + proved that men had no souls, and there was no God and no hereafter, and + that you must worry along somehow for the good of Humanity. + </p> + <p> + One of its minor tenets seemed to be that the one thing more sinful than + giving an order was obeying it. At least, that was what McGoggin said; but + I suspect he had misread his primers. + </p> + <p> + I do not say a word against this creed. It was made up in Town, where + there is nothing but machinery and asphalt and building—all shut in + by the fog. Naturally, a man grows to think that there is no one higher + than himself, and that the Metropolitan Board of Works made everything. + But in this country, where you really see humanity—raw, brown, naked + humanity—with nothing between it and the blazing sky, and only the + used-up, over-handled earth underfoot, the notion somehow dies away, and + most folk come back to simpler theories. Life, in India, is not long + enough to waste in proving that there is no one in particular at the head + of affairs. For this reason. The Deputy is above the Assistant, the + Commissioner above the Deputy, the Lieutenant-Governor above the + Commissioner, and the Viceroy above all four, under the orders of the + Secretary of State, who is responsible to the Empress. If the Empress be + not responsible to her Maker—if there is no Maker for her to be + responsible to—the entire system of Our administration must be + wrong. Which is manifestly impossible. At Home men are to be excused. They + are stalled up a good deal and get intellectually “beany.” When you take a + gross, “beany” horse to exercise, he slavers and slobbers over the bit + till you can't see the horns. But the bit is there just the same. Men do + not get “beany” in India. The climate and the work are against playing + bricks with words. + </p> + <p> + If McGoggin had kept his creed, with the capital letters and the endings + in “isms,” to himself, no one would have cared; but his grandfathers on + both sides had been Wesleyan preachers, and the preaching strain came out + in his mind. He wanted every one at the Club to see that they had no souls + too, and to help him to eliminate his Creator. As a good many men told + him, HE undoubtedly had no soul, because he was so young, but it did not + follow that his seniors were equally undeveloped; and, whether there was + another world or not, a man still wanted to read his papers in this. “But + that is not the point—that is not the point!” Aurelian used to say. + Then men threw sofa-cushions at him and told him to go to any particular + place he might believe in. They christened him the “Blastoderm”—he + said he came from a family of that name somewhere, in the pre-historic + ages—and, by insult and laughter, strove to choke him dumb, for he + was an unmitigated nuisance at the Club; besides being an offence to the + older men. His Deputy Commissioner, who was working on the Frontier when + Aurelian was rolling on a bed-quilt, told him that, for a clever boy, + Aurelian was a very big idiot. And, you know, if he had gone on with his + work, he would have been caught up to the Secretariat in a few years. He + was just the type that goes there—all head, no physique and a + hundred theories. Not a soul was interested in McGoggin's soul. He might + have had two, or none, or somebody's else's. His business was to obey + orders and keep abreast of his files instead of devastating the Club with + “isms.” + </p> + <p> + He worked brilliantly; but he could not accept any order without trying to + better it. That was the fault of his creed. It made men too responsible + and left too much to their honor. You can sometimes ride an old horse in a + halter; but never a colt. McGoggin took more trouble over his cases than + any of the men of his year. He may have fancied that thirty-page judgments + on fifty-rupee cases—both sides perjured to the gullet—advanced + the cause of Humanity. At any rate, he worked too much, and worried and + fretted over the rebukes he received, and lectured away on his ridiculous + creed out of office, till the Doctor had to warn him that he was overdoing + it. No man can toil eighteen annas in the rupee in June without suffering. + But McGoggin was still intellectually “beany” and proud of himself and his + powers, and he would take no hint. He worked nine hours a day steadily. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said the doctor, “you'll break down because you are + over-engined for your beam.” McGoggin was a little chap. + </p> + <p> + One day, the collapse came—as dramatically as if it had been meant + to embellish a Tract. + </p> + <p> + It was just before the Rains. We were sitting in the verandah in the dead, + hot, close air, gasping and praying that the black-blue clouds would let + down and bring the cool. Very, very far away, there was a faint whisper, + which was the roar of the Rains breaking over the river. One of the men + heard it, got out of his chair, listened, and said, naturally enough:—“Thank + God!” + </p> + <p> + Then the Blastoderm turned in his place and said:—“Why? I assure you + it's only the result of perfectly natural causes—atmospheric + phenomena of the simplest kind. Why you should, therefore, return thanks + to a Being who never did exist—who is only a figment—” + </p> + <p> + “Blastoderm,” grunted the man in the next chair, “dry up, and throw me + over the Pioneer. We know all about your figments.” The Blastoderm reached + out to the table, took up one paper, and jumped as if something had stung + him. Then he handed the paper over. + </p> + <p> + “As I was saying,” he went on slowly and with an effort—“due to + perfectly natural causes—perfectly natural causes. I mean—” + </p> + <p> + “Hi! Blastoderm, you've given me the Calcutta Mercantile Advertiser.” + </p> + <p> + The dust got up in little whorls, while the treetops rocked and the kites + whistled. But no one was looking at the coming of the Rains. We were all + staring at the Blastoderm, who had risen from his chair and was fighting + with his speech. Then he said, still more slowly:— + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly conceivable—dictionary—red oak—amenable—cause—retaining—shuttlecock—alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Blastoderm's drunk,” said one man. But the Blastoderm was not drunk. He + looked at us in a dazed sort of way, and began motioning with his hands in + the half light as the clouds closed overhead. Then—with a scream:— + </p> + <p> + “What is it?—Can't—reserve—attainable—market—obscure—” + </p> + <p> + But his speech seemed to freeze in him, and—just as the lightning + shot two tongues that cut the whole sky into three pieces and the rain + fell in quivering sheets—the Blastoderm was struck dumb. He stood + pawing and champing like a hard-held horse, and his eyes were full of + terror. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor came over in three minutes, and heard the story. “It's + aphasia,” he said. “Take him to his room. I KNEW the smash would come.” We + carried the Blastoderm across, in the pouring rain, to his quarters, and + the Doctor gave him bromide of potassium to make him sleep. + </p> + <p> + Then the Doctor came back to us and told us that aphasia was like all the + arrears of “Punjab Head” falling in a lump; and that only once before—in + the case of a sepoy—had he met with so complete a case. I myself + have seen mild aphasia in an overworked man, but this sudden dumbness was + uncanny—though, as the Blastoderm himself might have said, due to + “perfectly natural causes.” + </p> + <p> + “He'll have to take leave after this,” said the Doctor. “He won't be fit + for work for another three months. No; it isn't insanity or anything like + it. It's only complete loss of control over the speech and memory. I fancy + it will keep the Blastoderm quiet, though.” + </p> + <p> + Two days later, the Blastoderm found his tongue again. The first question + he asked was: “What was it?” The Doctor enlightened him. “But I can't + understand it!” said the Blastoderm; “I'm quite sane; but I can't be sure + of my mind, it seems—my OWN memory—can I?” + </p> + <p> + “Go up into the Hills for three months, and don't think about it,” said + the Doctor. + </p> + <p> + “But I can't understand it,” repeated the Blastoderm. “It was my OWN mind + and memory.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't help it,” said the Doctor; “there are a good many things you + can't understand; and, by the time you have put in my length of service, + you'll know exactly how much a man dare call his own in this world.” + </p> + <p> + The stroke cowed the Blastoderm. He could not understand it. He went into + the Hills in fear and trembling, wondering whether he would be permitted + to reach the end of any sentence he began. + </p> + <p> + This gave him a wholesome feeling of mistrust. The legitimate explanation, + that he had been overworking himself, failed to satisfy him. Something had + wiped his lips of speech, as a mother wipes the milky lips of her child, + and he was afraid—horribly afraid. + </p> + <p> + So the Club had rest when he returned; and if ever you come across + Aurelian McGoggin laying down the law on things Human—he doesn't + seem to know as much as he used to about things Divine—put your + forefinger on your lip for a moment, and see what happens. + </p> + <p> + Don't blame me if he throws a glass at your head! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A GERM DESTROYER. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Pleasant it is for the Little Tin Gods, + When great Jove nods; + But Little Tin Gods make their little mistakes + In missing the hour when great Jove wakes. +</pre> + <p> + As a general rule, it is inexpedient to meddle with questions of State in + a land where men are highly paid to work them out for you. This tale is a + justifiable exception. + </p> + <p> + Once in every five years, as you know, we indent for a new Viceroy; and + each Viceroy imports, with the rest of his baggage, a Private Secretary, + who may or may not be the real Viceroy, just as Fate ordains. Fate looks + after the Indian Empire because it is so big and so helpless. + </p> + <p> + There was a Viceroy once, who brought out with him a turbulent Private + Secretary—a hard man with a soft manner and a morbid passion for + work. This Secretary was called Wonder—John Fennil Wonder. The + Viceroy possessed no name—nothing but a string of counties and + two-thirds of the alphabet after them. He said, in confidence, that he was + the electro-plated figurehead of a golden administration, and he watched + in a dreamy, amused way Wonder's attempts to draw matters which were + entirely outside his province into his own hands. “When we are all + cherubims together,” said His Excellency once, “my dear, good friend + Wonder will head the conspiracy for plucking out Gabriel's tail-feathers + or stealing Peter's keys. THEN I shall report him.” + </p> + <p> + But, though the Viceroy did nothing to check Wonder's officiousness, other + people said unpleasant things. Maybe the Members of Council began it; but, + finally, all Simla agreed that there was “too much Wonder, and too little + Viceroy,” in that regime. Wonder was always quoting “His Excellency.” It + was “His Excellency this,” “His Excellency that,” “In the opinion of His + Excellency,” and so on. The Viceroy smiled; but he did not heed. He said + that, so long as his old men squabbled with his “dear, good Wonder,” they + might be induced to leave the “Immemorial East” in peace. + </p> + <p> + “No wise man has a policy,” said the Viceroy. “A Policy is the blackmail + levied on the Fool by the Unforeseen. I am not the former, and I do not + believe in the latter.” + </p> + <p> + I do not quite see what this means, unless it refers to an Insurance + Policy. Perhaps it was the Viceroy's way of saying:—“Lie low.” + </p> + <p> + That season, came up to Simla one of these crazy people with only a single + idea. These are the men who make things move; but they are not nice to + talk to. This man's name was Mellish, and he had lived for fifteen years + on land of his own, in Lower Bengal, studying cholera. He held that + cholera was a germ that propagated itself as it flew through a muggy + atmosphere; and stuck in the branches of trees like a wool-flake. The germ + could be rendered sterile, he said, by “Mellish's Own Invincible + Fumigatory”—a heavy violet-black powder—“the result of fifteen + years' scientific investigation, Sir!” + </p> + <p> + Inventors seem very much alike as a caste. They talk loudly, especially + about “conspiracies of monopolists;” they beat upon the table with their + fists; and they secrete fragments of their inventions about their persons. + </p> + <p> + Mellish said that there was a Medical “Ring” at Simla, headed by the + Surgeon-General, who was in league, apparently, with all the Hospital + Assistants in the Empire. I forget exactly how he proved it, but it had + something to do with “skulking up to the Hills;” and what Mellish wanted + was the independent evidence of the Viceroy—“Steward of our Most + Gracious Majesty the Queen, Sir.” So Mellish went up to Simla, with + eighty-four pounds of Fumigatory in his trunk, to speak to the Viceroy and + to show him the merits of the invention. + </p> + <p> + But it is easier to see a Viceroy than to talk to him, unless you chance + to be as important as Mellishe of Madras. He was a six-thousand-rupee man, + so great that his daughters never “married.” They “contracted alliances.” + He himself was not paid. He “received emoluments,” and his journeys about + the country were “tours of observation.” His business was to stir up the + people in Madras with a long pole—as you stir up stench in a pond—and + the people had to come up out of their comfortable old ways and gasp:—“This + is Enlightenment and progress. Isn't it fine!” Then they gave Mellishe + statues and jasmine garlands, in the hope of getting rid of him. + </p> + <p> + Mellishe came up to Simla “to confer with the Viceroy.” That was one of + his perquisites. The Viceroy knew nothing of Mellishe except that he was + “one of those middle-class deities who seem necessary to the spiritual + comfort of this Paradise of the Middle-classes,” and that, in all + probability, he had “suggested, designed, founded, and endowed all the + public institutions in Madras.” Which proves that His Excellency, though + dreamy, had experience of the ways of six-thousand-rupee men. + </p> + <p> + Mellishe's name was E. Mellishe and Mellish's was E. S. Mellish, and they + were both staying at the same hotel, and the Fate that looks after the + Indian Empire ordained that Wonder should blunder and drop the final “e;” + that the Chaprassi should help him, and that the note which ran: “Dear Mr. + Mellish.—Can you set aside your other engagements and lunch with us + at two to-morrow? His Excellency has an hour at your disposal then,” + should be given to Mellish with the Fumigatory. He nearly wept with pride + and delight, and at the appointed hour cantered off to Peterhoff, a big + paper-bag full of the Fumigatory in his coat-tail pockets. He had his + chance, and he meant to make the most of it. Mellishe of Madras had been + so portentously solemn about his “conference,” that Wonder had arranged + for a private tiffin—no A.-D. C.'s, no Wonder, no one but the + Viceroy, who said plaintively that he feared being left alone with + unmuzzled autocrats like the great Mellishe of Madras. + </p> + <p> + But his guest did not bore the Viceroy. On the contrary, he amused him. + Mellish was nervously anxious to go straight to his Fumigatory, and talked + at random until tiffin was over and His Excellency asked him to smoke. The + Viceroy was pleased with Mellish because he did not talk “shop.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as the cheroots were lit, Mellish spoke like a man; beginning with + his cholera-theory, reviewing his fifteen years' “scientific labors,” the + machinations of the “Simla Ring,” and the excellence of his Fumigatory, + while the Viceroy watched him between half-shut eyes and thought: + “Evidently, this is the wrong tiger; but it is an original animal.” + Mellish's hair was standing on end with excitement, and he stammered. He + began groping in his coat-tails and, before the Viceroy knew what was + about to happen, he had tipped a bagful of his powder into the big silver + ash-tray. + </p> + <p> + “J-j-judge for yourself, Sir,” said Mellish. “Y' Excellency shall judge + for yourself! Absolutely infallible, on my honor.” + </p> + <p> + He plunged the lighted end of his cigar into the powder, which began to + smoke like a volcano, and send up fat, greasy wreaths of copper-colored + smoke. In five seconds the room was filled with a most pungent and + sickening stench—a reek that took fierce hold of the trap of your + windpipe and shut it. The powder then hissed and fizzed, and sent out blue + and green sparks, and the smoke rose till you could neither see, nor + breathe, nor gasp. Mellish, however, was used to it. + </p> + <p> + “Nitrate of strontia,” he shouted; “baryta, bone-meal, etcetera! Thousand + cubic feet smoke per cubic inch. Not a germ could live—not a germ, + Y' Excellency!” + </p> + <p> + But His Excellency had fled, and was coughing at the foot of the stairs, + while all Peterhoff hummed like a hive. Red Lancers came in, and the Head + Chaprassi, who speaks English, came in, and mace-bearers came in, and + ladies ran downstairs screaming “fire;” for the smoke was drifting through + the house and oozing out of the windows, and bellying along the verandahs, + and wreathing and writhing across the gardens. No one could enter the room + where Mellish was lecturing on his Fumigatory, till that unspeakable + powder had burned itself out. + </p> + <p> + Then an Aide-de-Camp, who desired the V. C., rushed through the rolling + clouds and hauled Mellish into the hall. The Viceroy was prostrate with + laughter, and could only waggle his hands feebly at Mellish, who was + shaking a fresh bagful of powder at him. + </p> + <p> + “Glorious! Glorious!” sobbed his Excellency. “Not a germ, as you justly + observe, could exist! I can swear it. A magnificent success!” + </p> + <p> + Then he laughed till the tears came, and Wonder, who had caught the real + Mellishe snorting on the Mall, entered and was deeply shocked at the + scene. But the Viceroy was delighted, because he saw that Wonder would + presently depart. Mellish with the Fumigatory was also pleased, for he + felt that he had smashed the Simla Medical “Ring.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + Few men could tell a story like His Excellency when he took the trouble, + and the account of “my dear, good Wonder's friend with the powder” went + the round of Simla, and flippant folk made Wonder unhappy by their + remarks. + </p> + <p> + But His Excellency told the tale once too often—for Wonder. As he + meant to do. It was at a Seepee Picnic. Wonder was sitting just behind the + Viceroy. + </p> + <p> + “And I really thought for a moment,” wound up His Excellency, “that my + dear, good Wonder had hired an assassin to clear his way to the throne!” + </p> + <p> + Every one laughed; but there was a delicate subtinkle in the Viceroy's + tone which Wonder understood. He found that his health was giving way; and + the Viceroy allowed him to go, and presented him with a flaming + “character” for use at Home among big people. + </p> + <p> + “My fault entirely,” said His Excellency, in after seasons, with a + twinkling in his eye. “My inconsistency must always have been distasteful + to such a masterly man.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + KIDNAPPED. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + There is a tide in the affairs of men, + Which, taken any way you please, is bad, + And strands them in forsaken guts and creeks + No decent soul would think of visiting. + You cannot stop the tide; but now and then, + You may arrest some rash adventurer + Who—h'm—will hardly thank you for your pains. + + Vibart's Moralities. +</pre> + <p> + We are a high-caste and enlightened race, and infant-marriage is very + shocking and the consequences are sometimes peculiar; but, nevertheless, + the Hindu notion—which is the Continental notion—which is the + aboriginal notion—of arranging marriages irrespective of the + personal inclinations of the married, is sound. Think for a minute, and + you will see that it must be so; unless, of course, you believe in + “affinities.” In which case you had better not read this tale. How can a + man who has never married; who cannot be trusted to pick up at sight a + moderately sound horse; whose head is hot and upset with visions of + domestic felicity, go about the choosing of a wife? He cannot see straight + or think straight if he tries; and the same disadvantages exist in the + case of a girl's fancies. But when mature, married and discreet people + arrange a match between a boy and a girl, they do it sensibly, with a view + to the future, and the young couple live happily ever afterwards. As + everybody knows. + </p> + <p> + Properly speaking, Government should establish a Matrimonial Department, + efficiently officered, with a Jury of Matrons, a Judge of the Chief Court, + a Senior Chaplain, and an Awful Warning, in the shape of a love-match that + has gone wrong, chained to the trees in the courtyard. All marriages + should be made through the Department, which might be subordinate to the + Educational Department, under the same penalty as that attaching to the + transfer of land without a stamped document. But Government won't take + suggestions. It pretends that it is too busy. However, I will put my + notion on record, and explain the example that illustrates the theory. + </p> + <p> + Once upon a time there was a good young man—a first-class officer in + his own Department—a man with a career before him and, possibly, a + K. C. G. E. at the end of it. All his superiors spoke well of him, because + he knew how to hold his tongue and his pen at the proper times. There are + to-day only eleven men in India who possess this secret; and they have + all, with one exception, attained great honor and enormous incomes. + </p> + <p> + This good young man was quiet and self-contained—too old for his + years by far. Which always carries its own punishment. Had a Subaltern, or + a Tea-Planter's Assistant, or anybody who enjoys life and has no care for + to-morrow, done what he tried to do not a soul would have cared. But when + Peythroppe—the estimable, virtuous, economical, quiet, hard-working, + young Peythroppe—fell, there was a flutter through five Departments. + </p> + <p> + The manner of his fall was in this way. He met a Miss Castries—d'Castries + it was originally, but the family dropped the d' for administrative + reasons—and he fell in love with her even more energetically that he + worked. Understand clearly that there was not a breath of a word to be + said against Miss Castries—not a shadow of a breath. She was good + and very lovely—possessed what innocent people at home call a + “Spanish” complexion, with thick blue-black hair growing low down on her + forehead, into a “widow's peak,” and big violet eyes under eyebrows as + black and as straight as the borders of a Gazette Extraordinary when a big + man dies. But—but—but—. Well, she was a VERY sweet girl + and very pious, but for many reasons she was “impossible.” Quite so. All + good Mammas know what “impossible” means. It was obviously absurd that + Peythroppe should marry her. The little opal-tinted onyx at the base of + her finger-nails said this as plainly as print. Further, marriage with + Miss Castries meant marriage with several other Castries—Honorary + Lieutenant Castries, her Papa, Mrs. Eulalie Castries, her Mamma, and all + the ramifications of the Castries family, on incomes ranging from Rs. 175 + to Rs. 470 a month, and THEIR wives and connections again. + </p> + <p> + It would have been cheaper for Peythroppe to have assaulted a Commissioner + with a dog-whip, or to have burned the records of a Deputy Commissioner's + Office, than to have contracted an alliance with the Castries. It would + have weighted his after-career less—even under a Government which + never forgets and NEVER forgives. Everybody saw this but Peythroppe. He + was going to marry Miss Castries, he was—being of age and drawing a + good income—and woe betide the house that would not afterwards + receive Mrs. Virginie Saulez Peythroppe with the deference due to her + husband's rank. That was Peythroppe's ultimatum, and any remonstrance + drove him frantic. + </p> + <p> + These sudden madnesses most afflict the sanest men. There was a case once—but + I will tell you of that later on. You cannot account for the mania, except + under a theory directly contradicting the one about the Place wherein + marriages are made. Peythroppe was burningly anxious to put a millstone + round his neck at the outset of his career and argument had not the least + effect on him. He was going to marry Miss Castries, and the business was + his own business. He would thank you to keep your advice to yourself. With + a man in this condition, mere words only fix him in his purpose. Of course + he cannot see that marriage out here does not concern the individual but + the Government he serves. + </p> + <p> + Do you remember Mrs. Hauksbee—the most wonderful woman in India? She + saved Pluffles from Mrs. Reiver, won Tarrion his appointment in the + Foreign Office, and was defeated in open field by Mrs. Cusack-Bremmil. She + heard of the lamentable condition of Peythroppe, and her brain struck out + the plan that saved him. She had the wisdom of the Serpent, the logical + coherence of the Man, the fearlessness of the Child, and the triple + intuition of the Woman. Never—no, never—as long as a tonga + buckets down the Solon dip, or the couples go a-riding at the back of + Summer Hill, will there be such a genius as Mrs. Hauksbee. She attended + the consultation of Three Men on Peythroppe's case; and she stood up with + the lash of her riding-whip between her lips and spake. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + Three weeks later, Peythroppe dined with the Three Men, and the Gazette of + India came in. Peythroppe found to his surprise that he had been gazetted + a month's leave. Don't ask me how this was managed. I believe firmly that + if Mrs. Hauksbee gave the order, the whole Great Indian Administration + would stand on its head. + </p> + <p> + The Three Men had also a month's leave each. Peythroppe put the Gazette + down and said bad words. Then there came from the compound the soft + “pad-pad” of camels—“thieves' camels,” the bikaneer breed that don't + bubble and howl when they sit down and get up. + </p> + <p> + After that I don't know what happened. This much is certain. Peythroppe + disappeared—vanished like smoke—and the long foot-rest chair + in the house of the Three Men was broken to splinters. Also a bedstead + departed from one of the bedrooms. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hauksbee said that Mr. Peythroppe was shooting in Rajputana with the + Three Men; so we were compelled to believe her. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the month, Peythroppe was gazetted twenty days' extension of + leave; but there was wrath and lamentation in the house of Castries. The + marriage-day had been fixed, but the bridegroom never came; and the + D'Silvas, Pereiras, and Ducketts lifted their voices and mocked Honorary + Lieutenant Castries as one who had been basely imposed upon. Mrs. Hauksbee + went to the wedding, and was much astonished when Peythroppe did not + appear. After seven weeks, Peythroppe and the Three Men returned from + Rajputana. Peythroppe was in hard, tough condition, rather white, and more + self-contained than ever. + </p> + <p> + One of the Three Men had a cut on his nose, cause by the kick of a gun. + Twelve-bores kick rather curiously. + </p> + <p> + Then came Honorary Lieutenant Castries, seeking for the blood of his + perfidious son-in-law to be. He said things—vulgar and “impossible” + things which showed the raw rough “ranker” below the “Honorary,” and I + fancy Peythroppe's eyes were opened. Anyhow, he held his peace till the + end; when he spoke briefly. Honorary Lieutenant Castries asked for a “peg” + before he went away to die or bring a suit for breach of promise. + </p> + <p> + Miss Castries was a very good girl. She said that she would have no breach + of promise suits. She said that, if she was not a lady, she was refined + enough to know that ladies kept their broken hearts to themselves; and, as + she ruled her parents, nothing happened. Later on, she married a most + respectable and gentlemanly person. He travelled for an enterprising firm + in Calcutta, and was all that a good husband should be. + </p> + <p> + So Peythroppe came to his right mind again, and did much good work, and + was honored by all who knew him. One of these days he will marry; but he + will marry a sweet pink-and-white maiden, on the Government House List, + with a little money and some influential connections, as every wise man + should. And he will never, all his life, tell her what happened during the + seven weeks of his shooting-tour in Rajputana. + </p> + <p> + But just think how much trouble and expense—for camel hire is not + cheap, and those Bikaneer brutes had to be fed like humans—might + have been saved by a properly conducted Matrimonial Department, under the + control of the Director General of Education, but corresponding direct + with the Viceroy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ARREST OF LIEUTENANT GOLIGHTLY. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'I've forgotten the countersign,' sez 'e. + 'Oh! You 'aye, 'ave you?' sez I. + 'But I'm the Colonel,' sez 'e. + 'Oh! You are, are you?' sez I. 'Colonel nor no Colonel, you waits + 'ere till I'm relieved, an' the Sarjint reports on your ugly old + mug. Coop!' sez I. + . . . . . . . . . + An' s'help me soul, 'twas the Colonel after all! But I was a + recruity then.” + + The Unedited Autobiography of Private Ortheris. +</pre> + <p> + IF there was one thing on which Golightly prided himself more than + another, it was looking like “an Officer and a gentleman.” He said it was + for the honor of the Service that he attired himself so elaborately; but + those who knew him best said that it was just personal vanity. There was + no harm about Golightly—not an ounce. He recognized a horse when he + saw one, and could do more than fill a cantle. He played a very fair game + at billiards, and was a sound man at the whist-table. Everyone liked him; + and nobody ever dreamed of seeing him handcuffed on a station platform as + a deserter. But this sad thing happened. + </p> + <p> + He was going down from Dalhousie, at the end of his leave—riding + down. He had cut his leave as fine as he dared, and wanted to come down in + a hurry. + </p> + <p> + It was fairly warm at Dalhousie, and knowing what to expect below, he + descended in a new khaki suit—tight fitting—of a delicate + olive-green; a peacock-blue tie, white collar, and a snowy white solah + helmet. He prided himself on looking neat even when he was riding post. He + did look neat, and he was so deeply concerned about his appearance before + he started that he quite forgot to take anything but some small change + with him. He left all his notes at the hotel. His servants had gone down + the road before him, to be ready in waiting at Pathankote with a change of + gear. That was what he called travelling in “light marching-order.” He was + proud of his faculty of organization—what we call bundobust. + </p> + <p> + Twenty-two miles out of Dalhousie it began to rain—not a mere + hill-shower, but a good, tepid monsoonish downpour. Golightly bustled on, + wishing that he had brought an umbrella. The dust on the roads turned into + mud, and the pony mired a good deal. So did Golightly's khaki gaiters. But + he kept on steadily and tried to think how pleasant the coolth was. + </p> + <p> + His next pony was rather a brute at starting, and Golightly's hands being + slippery with the rain, contrived to get rid of Golightly at a corner. He + chased the animal, caught it, and went ahead briskly. The spill had not + improved his clothes or his temper, and he had lost one spur. He kept the + other one employed. By the time that stage was ended, the pony had had as + much exercise as he wanted, and, in spite of the rain, Golightly was + sweating freely. At the end of another miserable half-hour, Golightly + found the world disappear before his eyes in clammy pulp. The rain had + turned the pith of his huge and snowy solah-topee into an evil-smelling + dough, and it had closed on his head like a half-opened mushroom. Also the + green lining was beginning to run. + </p> + <p> + Golightly did not say anything worth recording here. He tore off and + squeezed up as much of the brim as was in his eyes and ploughed on. The + back of the helmet was flapping on his neck and the sides stuck to his + ears, but the leather band and green lining kept things roughly together, + so that the hat did not actually melt away where it flapped. + </p> + <p> + Presently, the pulp and the green stuff made a sort of slimy mildew which + ran over Golightly in several directions—down his back and bosom for + choice. The khaki color ran too—it was really shockingly bad dye—and + sections of Golightly were brown, and patches were violet, and contours + were ochre, and streaks were ruddy red, and blotches were nearly white, + according to the nature and peculiarities of the dye. When he took out his + handkerchief to wipe his face and the green of the hat-lining and the + purple stuff that had soaked through on to his neck from the tie became + thoroughly mixed, the effect was amazing. + </p> + <p> + Near Dhar the rain stopped and the evening sun came out and dried him up + slightly. It fixed the colors, too. Three miles from Pathankote the last + pony fell dead lame, and Golightly was forced to walk. He pushed on into + Pathankote to find his servants. He did not know then that his khitmatgar + had stopped by the roadside to get drunk, and would come on the next day + saying that he had sprained his ankle. When he got into Pathankote, he + couldn't find his servants, his boots were stiff and ropy with mud, and + there were large quantities of dirt about his body. The blue tie had run + as much as the khaki. So he took it off with the collar and threw it away. + Then he said something about servants generally and tried to get a peg. He + paid eight annas for the drink, and this revealed to him that he had only + six annas more in his pocket—or in the world as he stood at that + hour. + </p> + <p> + He went to the Station-Master to negotiate for a first-class ticket to + Khasa, where he was stationed. The booking-clerk said something to the + Station-Master, the Station-Master said something to the Telegraph Clerk, + and the three looked at him with curiosity. They asked him to wait for + half-an-hour, while they telegraphed to Umritsar for authority. So he + waited, and four constables came and grouped themselves picturesquely + round him. Just as he was preparing to ask them to go away, the + Station-Master said that he would give the Sahib a ticket to Umritsar, if + the Sahib would kindly come inside the booking-office. Golightly stepped + inside, and the next thing he knew was that a constable was attached to + each of his legs and arms, while the Station-Master was trying to cram a + mailbag over his head. + </p> + <p> + There was a very fair scuffle all round the booking-office, and Golightly + received a nasty cut over his eye through falling against a table. But the + constables were too much for him, and they and the Station-Master + handcuffed him securely. As soon as the mail-bag was slipped, he began + expressing his opinions, and the head-constable said:—“Without doubt + this is the soldier-Englishman we required. Listen to the abuse!” Then + Golightly asked the Station-Master what the this and the that the + proceedings meant. The Station-Master told him he was “Private John Binkle + of the —— Regiment, 5 ft. 9 in., fair hair, gray eyes, and a + dissipated appearance, no marks on the body,” who had deserted a fortnight + ago. Golightly began explaining at great length; and the more he explained + the less the Station-Master believed him. He said that no Lieutenant could + look such a ruffian as did Golightly, and that his instructions were to + send his capture under proper escort to Umritsar. Golightly was feeling + very damp and uncomfortable, and the language he used was not fit for + publication, even in an expurgated form. The four constables saw him safe + to Umritsar in an “intermediate” compartment, and he spent the four-hour + journey in abusing them as fluently as his knowledge of the vernaculars + allowed. + </p> + <p> + At Umritsar he was bundled out on the platform into the arms of a Corporal + and two men of the —— Regiment. Golightly drew himself up and + tried to carry off matters jauntily. He did not feel too jaunty in + handcuffs, with four constables behind him, and the blood from the cut on + his forehead stiffening on his left cheek. The Corporal was not jocular + either. Golightly got as far as—“This is a very absurd mistake, my + men,” when the Corporal told him to “stow his lip” and come along. + Golightly did not want to come along. He desired to stop and explain. He + explained very well indeed, until the Corporal cut in with:—“YOU a + orficer! It's the like o' YOU as brings disgrace on the likes of US. + Bloom-in' fine orficer you are! I know your regiment. The Rogue's March is + the quickstep where you come from. You're a black shame to the Service.” + </p> + <p> + Golightly kept his temper, and began explaining all over again from the + beginning. Then he was marched out of the rain into the refreshment-room + and told not to make a qualified fool of himself. The men were going to + run him up to Fort Govindghar. And “running up” is a performance almost as + undignified as the Frog March. + </p> + <p> + Golightly was nearly hysterical with rage and the chill and the mistake + and the handcuffs and the headache that the cut on his forehead had given + him. He really laid himself out to express what was in his mind. When he + had quite finished and his throat was feeling dry, one of the men said:—“I've + 'eard a few beggars in the click blind, stiff and crack on a bit; but I've + never 'eard any one to touch this 'ere 'orficer.'” They were not angry + with him. They rather admired him. They had some beer at the + refreshment-room, and offered Golightly some too, because he had “swore + won'erful.” They asked him to tell them all about the adventures of + Private John Binkle while he was loose on the countryside; and that made + Golightly wilder than ever. If he had kept his wits about him he would + have kept quiet until an officer came; but he attempted to run. + </p> + <p> + Now the butt of a Martini in the small of your back hurts a great deal, + and rotten, rain-soaked khaki tears easily when two men are jerking at + your collar. + </p> + <p> + Golightly rose from the floor feeling very sick and giddy, with his shirt + ripped open all down his breast and nearly all down his back. He yielded + to his luck, and at that point the down-train from Lahore came in carrying + one of Golightly's Majors. + </p> + <p> + This is the Major's evidence in full:— + </p> + <p> + “There was the sound of a scuffle in the second-class refreshment-room, so + I went in and saw the most villainous loafer that I ever set eyes on. His + boots and breeches were plastered with mud and beer-stains. He wore a + muddy-white dunghill sort of thing on his head, and it hung down in slips + on his shoulders, which were a good deal scratched. He was half in and + half out of a shirt as nearly in two pieces as it could be, and he was + begging the guard to look at the name on the tail of it. As he had rucked + the shirt all over his head, I couldn't at first see who he was, but I + fancied that he was a man in the first stage of D. T. from the way he + swore while he wrestled with his rags. When he turned round, and I had + made allowance for a lump as big as a pork-pie over one eye, and some + green war-paint on the face, and some violet stripes round the neck, I saw + that it was Golightly. He was very glad to see me,” said the Major, “and + he hoped I would not tell the Mess about it. I didn't, but you can if you + like, now that Golightly has gone Home.” + </p> + <p> + Golightly spent the greater part of that summer in trying to get the + Corporal and the two soldiers tried by Court-Martial for arresting an + “officer and a gentleman.” They were, of course, very sorry for their + error. But the tale leaked into the regimental canteen, and thence ran + about the Province. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE HOUSE OF SUDDHOO + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A stone's throw out on either hand + From that well-ordered road we tread, + And all the world is wild and strange; + Churel and ghoul and Djinn and sprite + Shall bear us company to-night, + For we have reached the Oldest Land + Wherein the Powers of Darkness range. + + From the Dusk to the Dawn. +</pre> + <p> + The house of Suddhoo, near the Taksali Gate, is two-storied, with four + carved windows of old brown wood, and a flat roof. You may recognize it by + five red hand-prints arranged like the Five of Diamonds on the whitewash + between the upper windows. Bhagwan Dass, the bunnia, and a man who says he + gets his living by seal-cutting, live in the lower story with a troop of + wives, servants, friends, and retainers. The two upper rooms used to be + occupied by Janoo and Azizun and a little black-and-tan terrier that was + stolen from an Englishman's house and given to Janoo by a soldier. To-day, + only Janoo lives in the upper rooms. Suddhoo sleeps on the roof generally, + except when he sleeps in the street. He used to go to Peshawar in the cold + weather to visit his son, who sells curiosities near the Edwardes' Gate, + and then he slept under a real mud roof. Suddhoo is a great friend of + mine, because his cousin had a son who secured, thanks to my + recommendation, the post of head-messenger to a big firm in the Station. + Suddhoo says that God will make me a Lieutenant-Governor one of these + days. I daresay his prophecy will come true. He is very, very old, with + white hair and no teeth worth showing, and he has outlived his wits—outlived + nearly everything except his fondness for his son at Peshawar. Janoo and + Azizun are Kashmiris, Ladies of the City, and theirs was an ancient and + more or less honorable profession; but Azizun has since married a medical + student from the North-West and has settled down to a most respectable + life somewhere near Bareilly. Bhagwan Dass is an extortionate and an + adulterator. He is very rich. The man who is supposed to get his living by + seal-cutting pretends to be very poor. This lets you know as much as is + necessary of the four principal tenants in the house of Suddhoo. Then + there is Me, of course; but I am only the chorus that comes in at the end + to explain things. So I do not count. + </p> + <p> + Suddhoo was not clever. The man who pretended to cut seals was the + cleverest of them all—Bhagwan Dass only knew how to lie—except + Janoo. She was also beautiful, but that was her own affair. + </p> + <p> + Suddhoo's son at Peshawar was attacked by pleurisy, and old Suddhoo was + troubled. The seal-cutter man heard of Suddhoo's anxiety and made capital + out of it. He was abreast of the times. He got a friend in Peshawar to + telegraph daily accounts of the son's health. And here the story begins. + </p> + <p> + Suddhoo's cousin's son told me, one evening, that Suddhoo wanted to see + me; that he was too old and feeble to come personally, and that I should + be conferring an everlasting honor on the House of Suddhoo if I went to + him. I went; but I think, seeing how well-off Suddhoo was then, that he + might have sent something better than an ekka, which jolted fearfully, to + haul out a future Lieutenant-Governor to the City on a muggy April + evening. The ekka did not run quickly. It was full dark when we pulled up + opposite the door of Ranjit Singh's Tomb near the main gate of the Fort. + Here was Suddhoo and he said that, by reason of my condescension, it was + absolutely certain that I should become a Lieutenant-Governor while my + hair was yet black. Then we talked about the weather and the state of my + health, and the wheat crops, for fifteen minutes, in the Huzuri Bagh, + under the stars. + </p> + <p> + Suddhoo came to the point at last. He said that Janoo had told him that + there was an order of the Sirkar against magic, because it was feared that + magic might one day kill the Empress of India. I didn't know anything + about the state of the law; but I fancied that something interesting was + going to happen. I said that so far from magic being discouraged by the + Government it was highly commended. The greatest officials of the State + practiced it themselves. (If the Financial Statement isn't magic, I don't + know what is.) Then, to encourage him further, I said that, if there was + any jadoo afoot, I had not the least objection to giving it my countenance + and sanction, and to seeing that it was clean jadoo—white magic, as + distinguished from the unclean jadoo which kills folk. It took a long time + before Suddhoo admitted that this was just what he had asked me to come + for. Then he told me, in jerks and quavers, that the man who said he cut + seals was a sorcerer of the cleanest kind; that every day he gave Suddhoo + news of the sick son in Peshawar more quickly than the lightning could + fly, and that this news was always corroborated by the letters. Further, + that he had told Suddhoo how a great danger was threatening his son, which + could be removed by clean jadoo; and, of course, heavy payment. I began to + see how the land lay, and told Suddhoo that I also understood a little + jadoo in the Western line, and would go to his house to see that + everything was done decently and in order. We set off together; and on the + way Suddhoo told me he had paid the seal-cutter between one hundred and + two hundred rupees already; and the jadoo of that night would cost two + hundred more. Which was cheap, he said, considering the greatness of his + son's danger; but I do not think he meant it. + </p> + <p> + The lights were all cloaked in the front of the house when we arrived. I + could hear awful noises from behind the seal-cutter's shop-front, as if + some one were groaning his soul out. Suddhoo shook all over, and while we + groped our way upstairs told me that the jadoo had begun. Janoo and Azizun + met us at the stair-head, and told us that the jadoo-work was coming off + in their rooms, because there was more space there. Janoo is a lady of a + freethinking turn of mind. She whispered that the jadoo was an invention + to get money out of Suddhoo, and that the seal-cutter would go to a hot + place when he died. Suddhoo was nearly crying with fear and old age. He + kept walking up and down the room in the half light, repeating his son's + name over and over again, and asking Azizun if the seal-cutter ought not + to make a reduction in the case of his own landlord. Janoo pulled me over + to the shadow in the recess of the carved bow-windows. The boards were up, + and the rooms were only lit by one tiny lamp. There was no chance of my + being seen if I stayed still. + </p> + <p> + Presently, the groans below ceased, and we heard steps on the staircase. + That was the seal-cutter. He stopped outside the door as the terrier + barked and Azizun fumbled at the chain, and he told Suddhoo to blow out + the lamp. This left the place in jet darkness, except for the red glow + from the two huqas that belonged to Janoo and Azizun. The seal-cutter came + in, and I heard Suddhoo throw himself down on the floor and groan. Azizun + caught her breath, and Janoo backed to one of the beds with a shudder. + There was a clink of something metallic, and then shot up a pale + blue-green flame near the ground. The light was just enough to show + Azizun, pressed against one corner of the room with the terrier between + her knees; Janoo, with her hands clasped, leaning forward as she sat on + the bed; Suddhoo, face down, quivering, and the seal-cutter. + </p> + <p> + I hope I may never see another man like that seal-cutter. He was stripped + to the waist, with a wreath of white jasmine as thick as my wrist round + his forehead, a salmon-colored loin-cloth round his middle, and a steel + bangle on each ankle. This was not awe-inspiring. It was the face of the + man that turned me cold. It was blue-gray in the first place. In the + second, the eyes were rolled back till you could only see the whites of + them; and, in the third, the face was the face of a demon—a ghoul—anything + you please except of the sleek, oily old ruffian who sat in the day-time + over his turning-lathe downstairs. He was lying on his stomach, with his + arms turned and crossed behind him, as if he had been thrown down + pinioned. His head and neck were the only parts of him off the floor. They + were nearly at right angles to the body, like the head of a cobra at + spring. It was ghastly. In the centre of the room, on the bare earth + floor, stood a big, deep, brass basin, with a pale blue-green light + floating in the centre like a night-light. Round that basin the man on the + floor wriggled himself three times. How he did it I do not know. I could + see the muscles ripple along his spine and fall smooth again; but I could + not see any other motion. The head seemed the only thing alive about him, + except that slow curl and uncurl of the laboring back-muscles. Janoo from + the bed was breathing seventy to the minute; Azizun held her hands before + her eyes; and old Suddhoo, fingering at the dirt that had got into his + white beard, was crying to himself. The horror of it was that the + creeping, crawly thing made no sound—only crawled! And, remember, + this lasted for ten minutes, while the terrier whined, and Azizun + shuddered, and Janoo gasped, and Suddhoo cried. + </p> + <p> + I felt the hair lift at the back of my head, and my heart thump like a + thermantidote paddle. Luckily, the seal-cutter betrayed himself by his + most impressive trick and made me calm again. After he had finished that + unspeakable triple crawl, he stretched his head away from the floor as + high as he could, and sent out a jet of fire from his nostrils. Now, I + knew how fire-spouting is done—I can do it myself—so I felt at + ease. The business was a fraud. If he had only kept to that crawl without + trying to raise the effect, goodness knows what I might not have thought. + Both the girls shrieked at the jet of fire and the head dropped, chin + down, on the floor with a thud; the whole body lying then like a corpse + with its arms trussed. There was a pause of five full minutes after this, + and the blue-green flame died down. Janoo stooped to settle one of her + anklets, while Azizun turned her face to the wall and took the terrier in + her arms. Suddhoo put out an arm mechanically to Janoo's huqa, and she + slid it across the floor with her foot. Directly above the body and on the + wall, were a couple of flaming portraits, in stamped paper frames, of the + Queen and the Prince of Wales. They looked down on the performance, and, + to my thinking, seemed to heighten the grotesqueness of it all. + </p> + <p> + Just when the silence was getting unendurable, the body turned over and + rolled away from the basin to the side of the room, where it lay stomach + up. There was a faint “plop” from the basin—exactly like the noise a + fish makes when it takes a fly—and the green light in the centre + revived. + </p> + <p> + I looked at the basin, and saw, bobbing in the water, the dried, + shrivelled, black head of a native baby—open eyes, open mouth and + shaved scalp. It was worse, being so very sudden, than the crawling + exhibition. We had no time to say anything before it began to speak. + </p> + <p> + Read Poe's account of the voice that came from the mesmerized dying man, + and you will realize less than one-half of the horror of that head's + voice. + </p> + <p> + There was an interval of a second or two between each word, and a sort of + “ring, ring, ring,” in the note of the voice, like the timbre of a bell. + It pealed slowly, as if talking to itself, for several minutes before I + got rid of my cold sweat. Then the blessed solution struck me. I looked at + the body lying near the doorway, and saw, just where the hollow of the + throat joins on the shoulders, a muscle that had nothing to do with any + man's regular breathing, twitching away steadily. The whole thing was a + careful reproduction of the Egyptian teraphin that one read about + sometimes and the voice was as clever and as appalling a piece of + ventriloquism as one could wish to hear. All this time the head was + “lip-lip-lapping” against the side of the basin, and speaking. It told + Suddhoo, on his face again whining, of his son's illness and of the state + of the illness up to the evening of that very night. I always shall + respect the seal-cutter for keeping so faithfully to the time of the + Peshawar telegrams. It went on to say that skilled doctors were night and + day watching over the man's life; and that he would eventually recover if + the fee to the potent sorcerer, whose servant was the head in the basin, + were doubled. + </p> + <p> + Here the mistake from the artistic point of view came in. To ask for twice + your stipulated fee in a voice that Lazarus might have used when he rose + from the dead, is absurd. Janoo, who is really a woman of masculine + intellect, saw this as quickly as I did. I heard her say “Asli nahin! + Fareib!” scornfully under her breath; and just as she said so, the light + in the basin died out, the head stopped talking, and we heard the room + door creak on its hinges. Then Janoo struck a match, lit the lamp, and we + saw that head, basin, and seal-cutter were gone. Suddhoo was wringing his + hands and explaining to any one who cared to listen, that, if his chances + of eternal salvation depended on it, he could not raise another two + hundred rupees. Azizun was nearly in hysterics in the corner; while Janoo + sat down composedly on one of the beds to discuss the probabilities of the + whole thing being a bunao, or “make-up.” + </p> + <p> + I explained as much as I knew of the seal-cutter's way of jadoo; but her + argument was much more simple:—“The magic that is always demanding + gifts is no true magic,” said she. “My mother told me that the only potent + love-spells are those which are told you for love. This seal-cutter man is + a liar and a devil. I dare not tell, do anything, or get anything done, + because I am in debt to Bhagwan Dass the bunnia for two gold rings and a + heavy anklet. I must get my food from his shop. The seal-cutter is the + friend of Bhagwan Dass, and he would poison my food. A fool's jadoo has + been going on for ten days, and has cost Suddhoo many rupees each night. + The seal-cutter used black hens and lemons and mantras before. He never + showed us anything like this till to-night. Azizun is a fool, and will be + a pur dahnashin soon. Suddhoo has lost his strength and his wits. See now! + I had hoped to get from Suddhoo many rupees while he lived, and many more + after his death; and behold, he is spending everything on that offspring + of a devil and a she-ass, the seal-cutter!” + </p> + <p> + Here I said:—“But what induced Suddhoo to drag me into the business? + Of course I can speak to the seal-cutter, and he shall refund. The whole + thing is child's talk—shame—and senseless.” + </p> + <p> + “Suddhoo IS an old child,” said Janoo. “He has lived on the roofs these + seventy years and is as senseless as a milch-goat. He brought you here to + assure himself that he was not breaking any law of the Sirkar, whose salt + he ate many years ago. He worships the dust off the feet of the + seal-cutter, and that cow-devourer has forbidden him to go and see his + son. What does Suddhoo know of your laws or the lightning-post? I have to + watch his money going day by day to that lying beast below.” + </p> + <p> + Janoo stamped her foot on the floor and nearly cried with vexation; while + Suddhoo was whimpering under a blanket in the corner, and Azizun was + trying to guide the pipe-stem to his foolish old mouth. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + Now the case stands thus. Unthinkingly, I have laid myself open to the + charge of aiding and abetting the seal-cutter in obtaining money under + false pretences, which is forbidden by Section 420 of the Indian Penal + Code. I am helpless in the matter for these reasons, I cannot inform the + Police. What witnesses would support my statements? Janoo refuses flatly, + Azizun is a veiled woman somewhere near Bareilly—lost in this big + India of ours. I cannot again take the law into my own hands, and speak to + the seal-cutter; for certain am I that, not only would Suddhoo disbelieve + me, but this step would end in the poisoning of Janoo, who is bound hand + and foot by her debt to the bunnia. Suddhoo is an old dotard; and whenever + we meet mumbles my idiotic joke that the Sirkar rather patronizes the + Black Art than otherwise. His son is well now; but Suddhoo is completely + under the influence of the seal-cutter, by whose advice he regulates the + affairs of his life. Janoo watches daily the money that she hoped to + wheedle out of Suddhoo taken by the seal-cutter, and becomes daily more + furious and sullen. + </p> + <p> + She will never tell, because she dare not; but, unless something happens + to prevent her, I am afraid that the seal-cutter will die of cholera—the + white arsenic kind—about the middle of May. And thus I shall have to + be privy to a murder in the House of Suddhoo. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HIS WEDDED WIFE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Cry “Murder!” in the market-place, and each + Will turn upon his neighbor anxious eyes + That ask:—“Art thou the man?” We hunted Cain, + Some centuries ago, across the world, + That bred the fear our own misdeeds maintain + To-day. + + Vibart's Moralities. +</pre> + <p> + Shakespeare says something about worms, or it may be giants or beetles, + turning if you tread on them too severely. The safest plan is never to + tread on a worm—not even on the last new subaltern from Home, with + his buttons hardly out of their tissue paper, and the red of sappy English + beef in his cheeks. This is the story of the worm that turned. For the + sake of brevity, we will call Henry Augustus Ramsay Faizanne, “The Worm,” + although he really was an exceedingly pretty boy, without a hair on his + face, and with a waist like a girl's when he came out to the Second + “Shikarris” and was made unhappy in several ways. The “Shikarris” are a + high-caste regiment, and you must be able to do things well—play a + banjo or ride more than a little, or sing, or act—to get on with + them. + </p> + <p> + The Worm did nothing except fall off his pony, and knock chips out of + gate-posts with his trap. Even that became monotonous after a time. He + objected to whist, cut the cloth at billiards, sang out of tune, kept very + much to himself, and wrote to his Mamma and sisters at Home. Four of these + five things were vices which the “Shikarris” objected to and set + themselves to eradicate. Every one knows how subalterns are, by brother + subalterns, softened and not permitted to be ferocious. It is good and + wholesome, and does no one any harm, unless tempers are lost; and then + there is trouble. There was a man once—but that is another story. + </p> + <p> + The “Shikarris” shikarred The Worm very much, and he bore everything + without winking. He was so good and so anxious to learn, and flushed so + pink, that his education was cut short, and he was left to his own devices + by every one except the Senior Subaltern, who continued to make life a + burden to The Worm. The Senior Subaltern meant no harm; but his chaff was + coarse, and he didn't quite understand where to stop. He had been waiting + too long for his company; and that always sours a man. Also he was in + love, which made him worse. + </p> + <p> + One day, after he had borrowed The Worm's trap for a lady who never + existed, had used it himself all the afternoon, had sent a note to The + Worm purporting to come from the lady, and was telling the Mess all about + it, The Worm rose in his place and said, in his quiet, ladylike voice: + “That was a very pretty sell; but I'll lay you a month's pay to a month's + pay when you get your step, that I work a sell on you that you'll remember + for the rest of your days, and the Regiment after you when you're dead or + broke.” The Worm wasn't angry in the least, and the rest of the Mess + shouted. Then the Senior Subaltern looked at The Worm from the boots + upwards, and down again, and said, “Done, Baby.” The Worm took the rest of + the Mess to witness that the bet had been taken, and retired into a book + with a sweet smile. + </p> + <p> + Two months passed, and the Senior Subaltern still educated The Worm, who + began to move about a little more as the hot weather came on. I have said + that the Senior Subaltern was in love. The curious thing is that a girl + was in love with the Senior Subaltern. Though the Colonel said awful + things, and the Majors snorted, and married Captains looked unutterable + wisdom, and the juniors scoffed, those two were engaged. + </p> + <p> + The Senior Subaltern was so pleased with getting his Company and his + acceptance at the same time that he forgot to bother The Worm. The girl + was a pretty girl, and had money of her own. She does not come into this + story at all. + </p> + <p> + One night, at the beginning of the hot weather, all the Mess, except The + Worm, who had gone to his own room to write Home letters, were sitting on + the platform outside the Mess House. The Band had finished playing, but no + one wanted to go in. And the Captains' wives were there also. The folly of + a man in love is unlimited. The Senior Subaltern had been holding forth on + the merits of the girl he was engaged to, and the ladies were purring + approval, while the men yawned, when there was a rustle of skirts in the + dark, and a tired, faint voice lifted itself: + </p> + <p> + “Where's my husband?” + </p> + <p> + I do not wish in the least to reflect on the morality of the “Shikarris;” + but it is on record that four men jumped up as if they had been shot. + Three of them were married men. Perhaps they were afraid that their wives + had come from Home unbeknownst. The fourth said that he had acted on the + impulse of the moment. He explained this afterwards. + </p> + <p> + Then the voice cried:—“Oh, Lionel!” Lionel was the Senior + Subaltern's name. A woman came into the little circle of light by the + candles on the peg-tables, stretching out her hands to the dark where the + Senior Subaltern was, and sobbing. We rose to our feet, feeling that + things were going to happen and ready to believe the worst. In this bad, + small world of ours, one knows so little of the life of the next man—which, + after all, is entirely his own concern—that one is not surprised + when a crash comes. Anything might turn up any day for any one. Perhaps + the Senior Subaltern had been trapped in his youth. Men are crippled that + way occasionally. We didn't know; we wanted to hear; and the Captains' + wives were as anxious as we. If he HAD been trapped, he was to be excused; + for the woman from nowhere, in the dusty shoes, and gray travelling dress, + was very lovely, with black hair and great eyes full of tears. She was + tall, with a fine figure, and her voice had a running sob in it pitiful to + hear. As soon as the Senior Subaltern stood up, she threw her arms round + his neck, and called him “my darling,” and said she could not bear waiting + alone in England, and his letters were so short and cold, and she was his + to the end of the world, and would he forgive her. This did not sound + quite like a lady's way of speaking. It was too demonstrative. + </p> + <p> + Things seemed black indeed, and the Captains' wives peered under their + eyebrows at the Senior Subaltern, and the Colonel's face set like the Day + of Judgment framed in gray bristles, and no one spoke for a while. + </p> + <p> + Next the Colonel said, very shortly:—“Well, Sir?” and the woman + sobbed afresh. The Senior Subaltern was half choked with the arms round + his neck, but he gasped out:—“It's a d——d lie! I never + had a wife in my life!” “Don't swear,” said the Colonel. “Come into the + Mess. We must sift this clear somehow,” and he sighed to himself, for he + believed in his “Shikarris,” did the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + We trooped into the ante-room, under the full lights, and there we saw how + beautiful the woman was. She stood up in the middle of us all, sometimes + choking with crying, then hard and proud, and then holding out her arms to + the Senior Subaltern. It was like the fourth act of a tragedy. She told us + how the Senior Subaltern had married her when he was Home on leave + eighteen months before; and she seemed to know all that we knew, and more + too, of his people and his past life. He was white and ashy gray, trying + now and again to break into the torrent of her words; and we, noting how + lovely she was and what a criminal he looked, esteemed him a beast of the + worst kind. We felt sorry for him, though. + </p> + <p> + I shall never forget the indictment of the Senior Subaltern by his wife. + Nor will he. It was so sudden, rushing out of the dark, unannounced, into + our dull lives. The Captains' wives stood back; but their eyes were + alight, and you could see that they had already convicted and sentenced + the Senior Subaltern. The Colonel seemed five years older. One Major was + shading his eyes with his hand and watching the woman from underneath it. + Another was chewing his moustache and smiling quietly as if he were + witnessing a play. Full in the open space in the centre, by the + whist-tables, the Senior Subaltern's terrier was hunting for fleas. I + remember all this as clearly as though a photograph were in my hand. I + remember the look of horror on the Senior Subaltern's face. It was rather + like seeing a man hanged; but much more interesting. Finally, the woman + wound up by saying that the Senior Subaltern carried a double F. M. in + tattoo on his left shoulder. We all knew that, and to our innocent minds + it seemed to clinch the matter. But one of the Bachelor Majors said very + politely:—“I presume that your marriage certificate would be more to + the purpose?” + </p> + <p> + That roused the woman. She stood up and sneered at the Senior Subaltern + for a cur, and abused the Major and the Colonel and all the rest. Then she + wept, and then she pulled a paper from her breast, saying imperially:—“Take + that! And let my husband—my lawfully wedded husband—read it + aloud—if he dare!” + </p> + <p> + There was a hush, and the men looked into each other's eyes as the Senior + Subaltern came forward in a dazed and dizzy way, and took the paper. We + were wondering as we stared, whether there was anything against any one of + us that might turn up later on. The Senior Subaltern's throat was dry; + but, as he ran his eye over the paper, he broke out into a hoarse cackle + of relief, and said to the woman:—“You young blackguard!” + </p> + <p> + But the woman had fled through a door, and on the paper was written:—“This + is to certify that I, The Worm, have paid in full my debts to the Senior + Subaltern, and, further, that the Senior Subaltern is my debtor, by + agreement on the 23d of February, as by the Mess attested, to the extent + of one month's Captain's pay, in the lawful currency of the India Empire.” + </p> + <p> + Then a deputation set off for The Worm's quarters and found him, betwixt + and between, unlacing his stays, with the hat, wig, serge dress, etc., on + the bed. He came over as he was, and the “Shikarris” shouted till the + Gunners' Mess sent over to know if they might have a share of the fun. I + think we were all, except the Colonel and the Senior Subaltern, a little + disappointed that the scandal had come to nothing. But that is human + nature. There could be no two words about The Worm's acting. It leaned as + near to a nasty tragedy as anything this side of a joke can. When most of + the Subalterns sat upon him with sofa-cushions to find out why he had not + said that acting was his strong point, he answered very quietly:—“I + don't think you ever asked me. I used to act at Home with my sisters.” But + no acting with girls could account for The Worm's display that night. + Personally, I think it was in bad taste. Besides being dangerous. There is + no sort of use in playing with fire, even for fun. + </p> + <p> + The “Shikarris” made him President of the Regimental Dramatic Club; and, + when the Senior Subaltern paid up his debt, which he did at once, The Worm + sank the money in scenery and dresses. He was a good Worm; and the + “Shikarris” are proud of him. The only drawback is that he has been + christened “Mrs. Senior Subaltern;” and as there are now two Mrs. Senior + Subalterns in the Station, this is sometimes confusing to strangers. + </p> + <p> + Later on, I will tell you of a case something like, this, but with all the + jest left out and nothing in it but real trouble. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BROKEN LINK HANDICAPPED. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + While the snaffle holds, or the “long-neck” stings, + While the big beam tilts, or the last bell rings, + While horses are horses to train and to race, + Then women and wine take a second place + For me—for me— + While a short “ten-three” + Has a field to squander or fence to face! + + Song of the G. R. +</pre> + <p> + There are more ways of running a horse to suit your book than pulling his + head off in the straight. Some men forget this. Understand clearly that + all racing is rotten—as everything connected with losing money must + be. Out here, in addition to its inherent rottenness, it has the merit of + being two-thirds sham; looking pretty on paper only. Every one knows every + one else far too well for business purposes. How on earth can you rack and + harry and post a man for his losings, when you are fond of his wife, and + live in the same Station with him? He says, “on the Monday following, I + can't settle just yet.” You say, “All right, old man,” and think your self + lucky if you pull off nine hundred out of a two-thousand rupee debt. Any + way you look at it, Indian racing is immoral, and expensively immoral. + Which is much worse. If a man wants your money, he ought to ask for it, or + send round a subscription-list, instead of juggling about the country, + with an Australian larrikin; a “brumby,” with as much breed as the boy; a + brace of chumars in gold-laced caps; three or four ekka-ponies with hogged + manes, and a switch-tailed demirep of a mare called Arab because she has a + kink in her flag. Racing leads to the shroff quicker than anything else. + But if you have no conscience and no sentiments, and good hands, and some + knowledge of pace, and ten years' experience of horses, and several + thousand rupees a month, I believe that you can occasionally contrive to + pay your shoeing-bills. + </p> + <p> + Did you ever know Shackles—b. w. g., 15.13.8—coarse, loose, + mule-like ears—barrel as long as a gate-post—tough as a + telegraph-wire—and the queerest brute that ever looked through a + bridle? He was of no brand, being one of an ear-nicked mob taken into the + Bucephalus at 4l.-10s. a head to make up freight, and sold raw and out of + condition at Calcutta for Rs. 275. People who lost money on him called him + a “brumby;” but if ever any horse had Harpoon's shoulders and The Gin's + temper, Shackles was that horse. Two miles was his own particular + distance. He trained himself, ran himself, and rode himself; and, if his + jockey insulted him by giving him hints, he shut up at once and bucked the + boy off. He objected to dictation. Two or three of his owners did not + understand this, and lost money in consequence. At last he was bought by a + man who discovered that, if a race was to be won, Shackles, and Shackles + only, would win it in his own way, so long as his jockey sat still. This + man had a riding-boy called Brunt—a lad from Perth, West Australia—and + he taught Brunt, with a trainer's whip, the hardest thing a jock can learn—to + sit still, to sit still, and to keep on sitting still. When Brunt fairly + grasped this truth, Shackles devastated the country. No weight could stop + him at his own distance; and the fame of Shackles spread from Ajmir in the + South, to Chedputter in the North. There was no horse like Shackles, so + long as he was allowed to do his work in his own way. But he was beaten in + the end; and the story of his fall is enough to make angels weep. + </p> + <p> + At the lower end of the Chedputter racecourse, just before the turn into + the straight, the track passes close to a couple of old brick-mounds + enclosing a funnel-shaped hollow. The big end of the funnel is not six + feet from the railings on the off-side. The astounding peculiarity of the + course is that, if you stand at one particular place, about half a mile + away, inside the course, and speak at an ordinary pitch, your voice just + hits the funnel of the brick-mounds and makes a curious whining echo + there. A man discovered this one morning by accident while out training + with a friend. He marked the place to stand and speak from with a couple + of bricks, and he kept his knowledge to himself. EVERY peculiarity of a + course is worth remembering in a country where rats play the mischief with + the elephant-litter, and Stewards build jumps to suit their own stables. + This man ran a very fairish country-bred, a long, racking high mare with + the temper of a fiend, and the paces of an airy wandering seraph—a + drifty, glidy stretch. The mare was, as a delicate tribute to Mrs. Reiver, + called “The Lady Regula Baddun”—or for short, Regula Baddun. + </p> + <p> + Shackles' jockey, Brunt, was a quiet, well-behaved boy, but his nerves had + been shaken. He began his career by riding jump-races in Melbourne, where + a few Stewards want lynching, and was one of the jockeys who came through + the awful butchery—perhaps you will recollect it—of the + Maribyrnong Plate. The walls were colonial ramparts—logs of jarrak + spiked into masonry—with wings as strong as Church buttresses. Once + in his stride, a horse had to jump or fall. He couldn't run out. In the + Maribyrnong Plate, twelve horses were jammed at the second wall. Red Hat, + leading, fell this side, and threw out The Glen, and the ruck came up + behind and the space between wing and wing was one struggling, screaming, + kicking shambles. Four jockeys were taken out dead; three were very badly + hurt, and Brunt was among the three. He told the story of the Maribyrnong + Plate sometimes; and when he described how Whalley on Red Hat, said, as + the mare fell under him:—“God ha' mercy, I'm done for!” and how, + next instant, Sithee There and White Otter had crushed the life out of + poor Whalley, and the dust hid a small hell of men and horses, no one + marvelled that Brunt had dropped jump-races and Australia together. Regula + Baddun's owner knew that story by heart. Brunt never varied it in the + telling. He had no education. + </p> + <p> + Shackles came to the Chedputter Autumn races one year, and his owner + walked about insulting the sportsmen of Chedputter generally, till they + went to the Honorary Secretary in a body and said:—“Appoint + Handicappers, and arrange a race which shall break Shackles and humble the + pride of his owner.” The Districts rose against Shackles and sent up of + their best; Ousel, who was supposed to be able to do his mile in 1-53; + Petard, the stud-bred, trained by a cavalry regiment who knew how to + train; Gringalet, the ewe-lamb of the 75th; Bobolink, the pride of + Peshawar; and many others. + </p> + <p> + They called that race The Broken-Link Handicap, because it was to smash + Shackles; and the Handicappers piled on the weights, and the Fund gave + eight hundred rupees, and the distance was “round the course for all + horses.” Shackles' owner said:—“You can arrange the race with regard + to Shackles only. So long as you don't bury him under weight-cloths, I + don't mind.” Regula Baddun's owner said:—“I throw in my mare to fret + Ousel. Six furlongs is Regula's distance, and she will then lie down and + die. So also will Ousel, for his jockey doesn't understand a waiting + race.” Now, this was a lie, for Regula had been in work for two months at + Dehra, and her chances were good, always supposing that Shackles broke a + blood-vessel—OR BRUNT MOVED ON HIM. + </p> + <p> + The plunging in the lotteries was fine. They filled eight thousand-rupee + lotteries on the Broken Link Handicap, and the account in the Pioneer said + that “favoritism was divided.” In plain English, the various contingents + were wild on their respective horses; for the Handicappers had done their + work well. The Honorary Secretary shouted himself hoarse through the din; + and the smoke of the cheroots was like the smoke, and the rattling of the + dice-boxes like the rattle of small-arm fire. + </p> + <p> + Ten horses started—very level—and Regula Baddun's owner + cantered out on his back to a place inside the circle of the course, where + two bricks had been thrown. He faced towards the brick-mounds at the lower + end of the course and waited. + </p> + <p> + The story of the running is in the Pioneer. At the end of the first mile, + Shackles crept out of the ruck, well on the outside, ready to get round + the turn, lay hold of the bit and spin up the straight before the others + knew he had got away. Brunt was sitting still, perfectly happy, listening + to the “drum, drum, drum” of the hoofs behind, and knowing that, in about + twenty strides, Shackles would draw one deep breath and go up the last + half-mile like the “Flying Dutchman.” As Shackles went short to take the + turn and came abreast of the brick-mound, Brunt heard, above the noise of + the wind in his ears, a whining, wailing voice on the offside, saying:—“God + ha' mercy, I'm done for!” In one stride, Brunt saw the whole seething + smash of the Maribyrnong Plate before him, started in his saddle and gave + a yell of terror. The start brought the heels into Shackles' side, and the + scream hurt Shackles' feelings. He couldn't stop dead; but he put out his + feet and slid along for fifty yards, and then, very gravely and + judicially, bucked off Brunt—a shaking, terror-stricken lump, while + Regula Baddun made a neck-and-neck race with Bobolink up the straight, and + won by a short head—Petard a bad third. Shackles' owner, in the + Stand, tried to think that his field-glasses had gone wrong. Regula + Baddun's owner, waiting by the two bricks, gave one deep sigh of relief, + and cantered back to the stand. He had won, in lotteries and bets, about + fifteen thousand. + </p> + <p> + It was a broken-link Handicap with a vengeance. It broke nearly all the + men concerned, and nearly broke the heart of Shackles' owner. He went down + to interview Brunt. The boy lay, livid and gasping with fright, where he + had tumbled off. The sin of losing the race never seemed to strike him. + All he knew was that Whalley had “called” him, that the “call” was a + warning; and, were he cut in two for it, he would never get up again. His + nerve had gone altogether, and he only asked his master to give him a good + thrashing, and let him go. He was fit for nothing, he said. He got his + dismissal, and crept up to the paddock, white as chalk, with blue lips, + his knees giving way under him. People said nasty things in the paddock; + but Brunt never heeded. He changed into tweeds, took his stick and went + down the road, still shaking with fright, and muttering over and over + again:—“God ha' mercy, I'm done for!” To the best of my knowledge + and belief he spoke the truth. + </p> + <p> + So now you know how the Broken-Link Handicap was run and won. Of course + you don't believe it. You would credit anything about Russia's designs on + India, or the recommendations of the Currency Commission; but a little bit + of sober fact is more than you can stand! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BEYOND THE PALE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Love heeds not caste nor sleep a broken bed. I went in search of + love and lost myself.” + + Hindu Proverb. +</pre> + <p> + A man should, whatever happens, keep to his own caste, race and breed. Let + the White go to the White and the Black to the Black. Then, whatever + trouble falls is in the ordinary course of things—neither sudden, + alien, nor unexpected. + </p> + <p> + This is the story of a man who wilfully stepped beyond the safe limits of + decent every-day society, and paid for it heavily. + </p> + <p> + He knew too much in the first instance; and he saw too much in the second. + He took too deep an interest in native life; but he will never do so + again. + </p> + <p> + Deep away in the heart of the City, behind Jitha Megji's bustee, lies Amir + Nath's Gully, which ends in a dead-wall pierced by one grated window. At + the head of the Gully is a big cow-byre, and the walls on either side of + the Gully are without windows. Neither Suchet Singh nor Gaur Chand + approved of their women-folk looking into the world. If Durga Charan had + been of their opinion, he would have been a happier man to-day, and little + Biessa would have been able to knead her own bread. Her room looked out + through the grated window into the narrow dark Gully where the sun never + came and where the buffaloes wallowed in the blue slime. She was a widow, + about fifteen years old, and she prayed the Gods, day and night, to send + her a lover; for she did not approve of living alone. + </p> + <p> + One day the man—Trejago his name was—came into Amir Nath's + Gully on an aimless wandering; and, after he had passed the buffaloes, + stumbled over a big heap of cattle food. + </p> + <p> + Then he saw that the Gully ended in a trap, and heard a little laugh from + behind the grated window. It was a pretty little laugh, and Trejago, + knowing that, for all practical purposes, the old Arabian Nights are good + guides, went forward to the window, and whispered that verse of “The Love + Song of Har Dyal” which begins: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Can a man stand upright in the face of the naked Sun; + or a Lover in the Presence of his Beloved? + If my feet fail me, O Heart of my Heart, am I to blame, + being blinded by the glimpse of your beauty? +</pre> + <p> + There came the faint tchinks of a woman's bracelets from behind the + grating, and a little voice went on with the song at the fifth verse: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Alas! alas! Can the Moon tell the Lotus of her love when the + Gate of Heaven is shut and the clouds gather for the rains? + They have taken my Beloved, and driven her with the pack-horses + to the North. + There are iron chains on the feet that were set on my heart. + Call to the bowman to make ready— +</pre> + <p> + The voice stopped suddenly, and Trejago walked out of Amir Nath's Gully, + wondering who in the world could have capped “The Love Song of Har Dyal” + so neatly. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, as he was driving to the office, an old woman threw a packet + into his dog-cart. In the packet was the half of a broken glass bangle, + one flower of the blood red dhak, a pinch of bhusa or cattle-food, and + eleven cardamoms. That packet was a letter—not a clumsy compromising + letter, but an innocent, unintelligible lover's epistle. + </p> + <p> + Trejago knew far too much about these things, as I have said. No + Englishman should be able to translate object-letters. But Trejago spread + all the trifles on the lid of his office-box and began to puzzle them out. + </p> + <p> + A broken glass-bangle stands for a Hindu widow all India over; because, + when her husband dies a woman's bracelets are broken on her wrists. + Trejago saw the meaning of the little bit of the glass. The flower of the + dhak means diversely “desire,” “come,” “write,” or “danger,” according to + the other things with it. One cardamom means “jealousy;” but when any + article is duplicated in an object-letter, it loses its symbolic meaning + and stands merely for one of a number indicating time, or, if incense, + curds, or saffron be sent also, place. The message ran then:—“A + widow dhak flower and bhusa—at eleven o'clock.” The pinch of bhusa + enlightened Trejago. He saw—this kind of letter leaves much to + instinctive knowledge—that the bhusa referred to the big heap of + cattle-food over which he had fallen in Amir Nath's Gully, and that the + message must come from the person behind the grating; she being a widow. + So the message ran then:—“A widow, in the Gully in which is the heap + of bhusa, desires you to come at eleven o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + Trejago threw all the rubbish into the fireplace and laughed. He knew that + men in the East do not make love under windows at eleven in the forenoon, + nor do women fix appointments a week in advance. So he went, that very + night at eleven, into Amir Nath's Gully, clad in a boorka, which cloaks a + man as well as a woman. Directly the gongs in the City made the hour, the + little voice behind the grating took up “The Love Song of Har Dyal” at the + verse where the Panthan girl calls upon Har Dyal to return. The song is + really pretty in the Vernacular. In English you miss the wail of it. It + runs something like this:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Alone upon the housetops, to the North + I turn and watch the lightning in the sky,— + The glamour of thy footsteps in the North, + Come back to me, Beloved, or I die! + + Below my feet the still bazar is laid + Far, far below the weary camels lie,— + The camels and the captives of thy raid, + Come back to me, Beloved, or I die! + + My father's wife is old and harsh with years, + And drudge of all my father's house am I.— + My bread is sorrow and my drink is tears, + Come back to me, Beloved, or I die! +</pre> + <p> + As the song stopped, Trejago stepped up under the grating and whispered:—“I + am here.” + </p> + <p> + Bisesa was good to look upon. + </p> + <p> + That night was the beginning of many strange things, and of a double life + so wild that Trejago to-day sometimes wonders if it were not all a dream. + Bisesa or her old handmaiden who had thrown the object-letter had detached + the heavy grating from the brick-work of the wall; so that the window slid + inside, leaving only a square of raw masonry, into which an active man + might climb. + </p> + <p> + In the day-time, Trejago drove through his routine of office-work, or put + on his calling-clothes and called on the ladies of the Station; wondering + how long they would know him if they knew of poor little Bisesa. At night, + when all the City was still, came the walk under the evil-smelling boorka, + the patrol through Jitha Megji's bustee, the quick turn into Amir Nath's + Gully between the sleeping cattle and the dead walls, and then, last of + all, Bisesa, and the deep, even breathing of the old woman who slept + outside the door of the bare little room that Durga Charan allotted to his + sister's daughter. Who or what Durga Charan was, Trejago never inquired; + and why in the world he was not discovered and knifed never occurred to + him till his madness was over, and Bisesa... But this comes later. + </p> + <p> + Bisesa was an endless delight to Trejago. She was as ignorant as a bird; + and her distorted versions of the rumors from the outside world that had + reached her in her room, amused Trejago almost as much as her lisping + attempts to pronounce his name—“Christopher.” The first syllable was + always more than she could manage, and she made funny little gestures with + her rose-leaf hands, as one throwing the name away, and then, kneeling + before Trejago, asked him, exactly as an Englishwoman would do, if he were + sure he loved her. Trejago swore that he loved her more than any one else + in the world. Which was true. + </p> + <p> + After a month of this folly, the exigencies of his other life compelled + Trejago to be especially attentive to a lady of his acquaintance. You may + take it for a fact that anything of this kind is not only noticed and + discussed by a man's own race, but by some hundred and fifty natives as + well. Trejago had to walk with this lady and talk to her at the + Band-stand, and once or twice to drive with her; never for an instant + dreaming that this would affect his dearer out-of-the-way life. But the + news flew, in the usual mysterious fashion, from mouth to mouth, till + Bisesa's duenna heard of it and told Bisesa. The child was so troubled + that she did the household work evilly, and was beaten by Durga Charan's + wife in consequence. + </p> + <p> + A week later, Bisesa taxed Trejago with the flirtation. She understood no + gradations and spoke openly. Trejago laughed and Bisesa stamped her little + feet—little feet, light as marigold flowers, that could lie in the + palm of a man's one hand. + </p> + <p> + Much that is written about “Oriental passion and impulsiveness” is + exaggerated and compiled at second-hand, but a little of it is true; and + when an Englishman finds that little, it is quite as startling as any + passion in his own proper life. Bisesa raged and stormed, and finally + threatened to kill herself if Trejago did not at once drop the alien + Memsahib who had come between them. Trejago tried to explain, and to show + her that she did not understand these things from a Western standpoint. + Bisesa drew herself up, and said simply: + </p> + <p> + “I do not. I know only this—it is not good that I should have made + you dearer than my own heart to me, Sahib. You are an Englishman. I am + only a black girl”—she was fairer than bar-gold in the Mint—“and + the widow of a black man.” + </p> + <p> + Then she sobbed and said: “But on my soul and my Mother's soul, I love + you. There shall no harm come to you, whatever happens to me.” + </p> + <p> + Trejago argued with the child, and tried to soothe her, but she seemed + quite unreasonably disturbed. Nothing would satisfy her save that all + relations between them should end. He was to go away at once. And he went. + As he dropped out at the window, she kissed his forehead twice, and he + walked away wondering. + </p> + <p> + A week, and then three weeks, passed without a sign from Bisesa. Trejago, + thinking that the rupture had lasted quite long enough, went down to Amir + Nath's Gully for the fifth time in the three weeks, hoping that his rap at + the sill of the shifting grating would be answered. He was not + disappointed. + </p> + <p> + There was a young moon, and one stream of light fell down into Amir Nath's + Gully, and struck the grating, which was drawn away as he knocked. From + the black dark, Bisesa held out her arms into the moonlight. Both hands + had been cut off at the wrists, and the stumps were nearly healed. + </p> + <p> + Then, as Bisesa bowed her head between her arms and sobbed, some one in + the room grunted like a wild beast, and something sharp—knife, sword + or spear—thrust at Trejago in his boorka. The stroke missed his + body, but cut into one of the muscles of the groin, and he limped slightly + from the wound for the rest of his days. + </p> + <p> + The grating went into its place. There was no sign whatever from inside + the house—nothing but the moonlight strip on the high wall, and the + blackness of Amir Nath's Gully behind. + </p> + <p> + The next thing Trejago remembers, after raging and shouting like a madman + between those pitiless walls, is that he found himself near the river as + the dawn was breaking, threw away his boorka and went home bareheaded. + </p> + <p> + What the tragedy was—whether Bisesa had, in a fit of causeless + despair, told everything, or the intrigue had been discovered and she + tortured to tell, whether Durga Charan knew his name, and what became of + Bisesa—Trejago does not know to this day. Something horrible had + happened, and the thought of what it must have been comes upon Trejago in + the night now and again, and keeps him company till the morning. One + special feature of the case is that he does not know where lies the front + of Durga Charan's house. It may open on to a courtyard common to two or + more houses, or it may lie behind any one of the gates of Jitha Megji's + bustee. Trejago cannot tell. He cannot get Bisesa—poor little Bisesa—back + again. He has lost her in the City, where each man's house is as guarded + and as unknowable as the grave; and the grating that opens into Amir + Nath's Gully has been walled up. + </p> + <p> + But Trejago pays his calls regularly, and is reckoned a very decent sort + of man. + </p> + <p> + There is nothing peculiar about him, except a slight stiffness, caused by + a riding-strain, in the right leg. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IN ERROR. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They burnt a corpse upon the sand— + The light shone out afar; + It guided home the plunging boats + That beat from Zanzibar. + Spirit of Fire, where'er Thy altars rise. + Thou art Light of Guidance to our eyes! + + Salsette Boat-Song. +</pre> + <p> + There is hope for a man who gets publicly and riotously drunk more often + that he ought to do; but there is no hope for the man who drinks secretly + and alone in his own house—the man who is never seen to drink. + </p> + <p> + This is a rule; so there must be an exception to prove it. Moriarty's case + was that exception. + </p> + <p> + He was a Civil Engineer, and the Government, very kindly, put him quite by + himself in an out-district, with nobody but natives to talk to and a great + deal of work to do. He did his work well in the four years he was utterly + alone; but he picked up the vice of secret and solitary drinking, and came + up out of the wilderness more old and worn and haggard than the dead-alive + life had any right to make him. You know the saying that a man who has + been alone in the jungle for more than a year is never quite sane all his + life after. People credited Moriarty's queerness of manner and moody ways + to the solitude, and said it showed how Government spoilt the futures of + its best men. Moriarty had built himself the plinth of a very good + reputation in the bridge-dam-girder line. But he knew, every night of the + week, that he was taking steps to undermine that reputation with L. L. L. + and “Christopher” and little nips of liqueurs, and filth of that kind. He + had a sound constitution and a great brain, or else he would have broken + down and died like a sick camel in the district, as better men have done + before him. + </p> + <p> + Government ordered him to Simla after he had come out of the desert; and + he went up meaning to try for a post then vacant. That season, Mrs. Reiver—perhaps + you will remember her—was in the height of her power, and many men + lay under her yoke. Everything bad that could be said has already been + said about Mrs. Reiver, in another tale. Moriarty was heavily-built and + handsome, very quiet and nervously anxious to please his neighbors when he + wasn't sunk in a brown study. He started a good deal at sudden noises or + if spoken to without warning; and, when you watched him drinking his glass + of water at dinner, you could see the hand shake a little. But all this + was put down to nervousness, and the quiet, steady, “sip-sip-sip, fill and + sip-sip-sip, again,” that went on in his own room when he was by himself, + was never known. Which was miraculous, seeing how everything in a man's + private life is public property out here. + </p> + <p> + Moriarty was drawn, not into Mrs. Reiver's set, because they were not his + sort, but into the power of Mrs. Reiver, and he fell down in front of her + and made a goddess of her. This was due to his coming fresh out of the + jungle to a big town. He could not scale things properly or see who was + what. + </p> + <p> + Because Mrs. Reiver was cold and hard, he said she was stately and + dignified. Because she had no brains, and could not talk cleverly, he said + she was reserved and shy. Mrs. Reiver shy! Because she was unworthy of + honor or reverence from any one, he reverenced her from a distance and + dowered her with all the virtues in the Bible and most of those in + Shakespeare. + </p> + <p> + This big, dark, abstracted man who was so nervous when a pony cantered + behind him, used to moon in the train of Mrs. Reiver, blushing with + pleasure when she threw a word or two his way. His admiration was strictly + platonic: even other women saw and admitted this. He did not move out in + Simla, so he heard nothing against his idol: which was satisfactory. Mrs. + Reiver took no special notice of him, beyond seeing that he was added to + her list of admirers, and going for a walk with him now and then, just to + show that he was her property, claimable as such. Moriarty must have done + most of the talking, for Mrs. Reiver couldn't talk much to a man of his + stamp; and the little she said could not have been profitable. What + Moriarty believed in, as he had good reason to, was Mrs. Reiver's + influence over him, and, in that belief, set himself seriously to try to + do away with the vice that only he himself knew of. + </p> + <p> + His experiences while he was fighting with it must have been peculiar, but + he never described them. Sometimes he would hold off from everything + except water for a week. Then, on a rainy night, when no one had asked him + out to dinner, and there was a big fire in his room, and everything + comfortable, he would sit down and make a big night of it by adding little + nip to little nip, planning big schemes of reformation meanwhile, until he + threw himself on his bed hopelessly drunk. He suffered next morning. + </p> + <p> + One night, the big crash came. He was troubled in his own mind over his + attempts to make himself “worthy of the friendship” of Mrs. Reiver. The + past ten days had been very bad ones, and the end of it all was that he + received the arrears of two and three-quarter years of sipping in one + attack of delirium tremens of the subdued kind; beginning with suicidal + depression, going on to fits and starts and hysteria, and ending with + downright raving. As he sat in a chair in front of the fire, or walked up + and down the room picking a handkerchief to pieces, you heard what poor + Moriarty really thought of Mrs. Reiver, for he raved about her and his own + fall for the most part; though he ravelled some P. W. D. accounts into the + same skein of thought. He talked, and talked, and talked in a low dry + whisper to himself, and there was no stopping him. He seemed to know that + there was something wrong, and twice tried to pull himself together and + confer rationally with the Doctor; but his mind ran out of control at + once, and he fell back to a whisper and the story of his troubles. It is + terrible to hear a big man babbling like a child of all that a man usually + locks up, and puts away in the deep of his heart. Moriarty read out his + very soul for the benefit of any one who was in the room between + ten-thirty that night and two-forty-five next morning. + </p> + <p> + From what he said, one gathered how immense an influence Mrs. Reiver held + over him, and how thoroughly he felt for his own lapse. His whisperings + cannot, of course, be put down here; but they were very instructive as + showing the errors of his estimates. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + When the trouble was over, and his few acquaintances were pitying him for + the bad attack of jungle-fever that had so pulled him down, Moriarty swore + a big oath to himself and went abroad again with Mrs. Reiver till the end + of the season, adoring her in a quiet and deferential way as an angel from + heaven. Later on he took to riding—not hacking, but honest riding—which + was good proof that he was improving, and you could slam doors behind him + without his jumping to his feet with a gasp. That, again, was hopeful. + </p> + <p> + How he kept his oath, and what it cost him in the beginning, nobody knows. + He certainly managed to compass the hardest thing that a man who has drank + heavily can do. He took his peg and wine at dinner, but he never drank + alone, and never let what he drank have the least hold on him. + </p> + <p> + Once he told a bosom-friend the story of his great trouble, and how the + “influence of a pure honest woman, and an angel as well” had saved him. + When the man—startled at anything good being laid to Mrs. Reiver's + door—laughed, it cost him Moriarty's friendship. Moriarty, who is + married now to a woman ten thousand times better than Mrs. Reiver—a + woman who believes that there is no man on earth as good and clever as her + husband—will go down to his grave vowing and protesting that Mrs. + Reiver saved him from ruin in both worlds. + </p> + <p> + That she knew anything of Moriarty's weakness nobody believed for a + moment. That she would have cut him dead, thrown him over, and acquainted + all her friends with her discovery, if she had known of it, nobody who + knew her doubted for an instant. + </p> + <p> + Moriarty thought her something she never was, and in that belief saved + himself. Which was just as good as though she had been everything that he + had imagined. + </p> + <p> + But the question is, what claim will Mrs. Reiver have to the credit of + Moriarty's salvation, when her day of reckoning comes? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A BANK FRAUD. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He drank strong waters and his speech was coarse; + He purchased raiment and forebore to pay; + He struck a trusting junior with a horse, + And won Gymkhanas in a doubtful way. + Then, 'twixt a vice and folly, turned aside + To do good deeds and straight to cloak them, lied. + + The Mess Room. +</pre> + <p> + If Reggie Burke were in India now, he would resent this tale being told; + but as he is in Hong-Kong and won't see it, the telling is safe. He was + the man who worked the big fraud on the Sind and Sialkote Bank. He was + manager of an up-country Branch, and a sound practical man with a large + experience of native loan and insurance work. He could combine the + frivolities of ordinary life with his work, and yet do well. Reggie Burke + rode anything that would let him get up, danced as neatly as he rode, and + was wanted for every sort of amusement in the Station. + </p> + <p> + As he said himself, and as many men found out rather to their surprise, + there were two Burkes, both very much at your service. “Reggie Burke,” + between four and ten, ready for anything from a hot-weather gymkhana to a + riding-picnic; and, between ten and four, “Mr. Reginald Burke, Manager of + the Sind and Sialkote Branch Bank.” You might play polo with him one + afternoon and hear him express his opinions when a man crossed; and you + might call on him next morning to raise a two-thousand rupee loan on a + five hundred pound insurance-policy, eighty pounds paid in premiums. He + would recognize you, but you would have some trouble in recognizing him. + </p> + <p> + The Directors of the Bank—it had its headquarters in Calcutta and + its General Manager's word carried weight with the Government—picked + their men well. They had tested Reggie up to a fairly severe + breaking-strain. They trusted him just as much as Directors ever trust + Managers. You must see for yourself whether their trust was misplaced. + </p> + <p> + Reggie's Branch was in a big Station, and worked with the usual staff—one + Manager, one Accountant, both English, a Cashier, and a horde of native + clerks; besides the Police patrol at nights outside. The bulk of its work, + for it was in a thriving district, was hoondi and accommodation of all + kinds. A fool has no grip of this sort of business; and a clever man who + does not go about among his clients, and know more than a little of their + affairs, is worse than a fool. Reggie was young-looking, clean-shaved, + with a twinkle in his eye, and a head that nothing short of a gallon of + the Gunners' Madeira could make any impression on. + </p> + <p> + One day, at a big dinner, he announced casually that the Directors had + shifted on to him a Natural Curiosity, from England, in the Accountant + line. He was perfectly correct. Mr. Silas Riley, Accountant, was a MOST + curious animal—a long, gawky, rawboned Yorkshireman, full of the + savage self-conceit that blossom's only in the best county in England. + Arrogance was a mild word for the mental attitude of Mr. S. Riley. He had + worked himself up, after seven years, to a Cashier's position in a + Huddersfield Bank; and all his experience lay among the factories of the + North. Perhaps he would have done better on the Bombay side, where they + are happy with one-half per cent. profits, and money is cheap. He was + useless for Upper India and a wheat Province, where a man wants a large + head and a touch of imagination if he is to turn out a satisfactory + balance-sheet. + </p> + <p> + He was wonderfully narrow-minded in business, and, being new to the + country, had no notion that Indian banking is totally distinct from Home + work. Like most clever self-made men, he had much simplicity in his + nature; and, somehow or other, had construed the ordinarily polite terms + of his letter of engagement into a belief that the Directors had chosen + him on account of his special and brilliant talents, and that they set + great store by him. This notion grew and crystallized; thus adding to his + natural North-country conceit. Further, he was delicate, suffered from + some trouble in his chest, and was short in his temper. + </p> + <p> + You will admit that Reggie had reason to call his new Accountant a Natural + Curiosity. The two men failed to hit it off at all. Riley considered + Reggie a wild, feather-headed idiot, given to Heaven only knew what + dissipation in low places called “Messes,” and totally unfit for the + serious and solemn vocation of banking. He could never get over Reggie's + look of youth and “you-be-damned” air; and he couldn't understand Reggie's + friends—clean-built, careless men in the Army—who rode over to + big Sunday breakfasts at the Bank, and told sultry stories till Riley got + up and left the room. Riley was always showing Reggie how the business + ought to be conducted, and Reggie had more than once to remind him that + seven years' limited experience between Huddersfield and Beverly did not + qualify a man to steer a big up-country business. Then Riley sulked and + referred to himself as a pillar of the Bank and a cherished friend of the + Directors, and Reggie tore his hair. If a man's English subordinates fail + him in this country, he comes to a hard time indeed, for native help has + strict limitations. In the winter Riley went sick for weeks at a time with + his lung complaint, and this threw more work on Reggie. But he preferred + it to the everlasting friction when Riley was well. + </p> + <p> + One of the Travelling Inspectors of the Bank discovered these collapses + and reported them to the Directors. Now Riley had been foisted on the Bank + by an M. P., who wanted the support of Riley's father, who, again, was + anxious to get his son out to a warmer climate because of those lungs. The + M. P. had an interest in the Bank; but one of the Directors wanted to + advance a nominee of his own; and, after Riley's father had died, he made + the rest of the Board see that an Accountant who was sick for half the + year, had better give place to a healthy man. If Riley had known the real + story of his appointment, he might have behaved better; but knowing + nothing, his stretches of sickness alternated with restless, persistent, + meddling irritation of Reggie, and all the hundred ways in which conceit + in a subordinate situation can find play. Reggie used to call him striking + and hair-curling names behind his back as a relief to his own feelings; + but he never abused him to his face, because he said: “Riley is such a + frail beast that half of his loathsome conceit is due to pains in the + chest.” + </p> + <p> + Late one April, Riley went very sick indeed. The doctor punched him and + thumped him, and told him he would be better before long. Then the doctor + went to Reggie and said:—“Do you know how sick your Accountant is?” + “No!” said Reggie—“The worse the better, confound him! He's a + clacking nuisance when he's well. I'll let you take away the Bank Safe if + you can drug him silent for this hot-weather.” + </p> + <p> + But the doctor did not laugh—“Man, I'm not joking,” he said. “I'll + give him another three months in his bed and a week or so more to die in. + On my honor and reputation that's all the grace he has in this world. + Consumption has hold of him to the marrow.” + </p> + <p> + Reggie's face changed at once into the face of “Mr. Reginald Burke,” and + he answered:—“What can I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said the doctor. “For all practical purposes the man is dead + already. Keep him quiet and cheerful and tell him he's going to recover. + That's all. I'll look after him to the end, of course.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor went away, and Reggie sat down to open the evening mail. His + first letter was one from the Directors, intimating for his information + that Mr. Riley was to resign, under a month's notice, by the terms of his + agreement, telling Reggie that their letter to Riley would follow and + advising Reggie of the coming of a new Accountant, a man whom Reggie knew + and liked. + </p> + <p> + Reggie lit a cheroot, and, before he had finished smoking, he had sketched + the outline of a fraud. He put away—“burked”—the Directors + letter, and went in to talk to Riley, who was as ungracious as usual, and + fretting himself over the way the bank would run during his illness. He + never thought of the extra work on Reggie's shoulders, but solely of the + damage to his own prospects of advancement. Then Reggie assured him that + everything would be well, and that he, Reggie, would confer with Riley + daily on the management of the Bank. Riley was a little soothed, but he + hinted in as many words that he did not think much of Reggie's business + capacity. Reggie was humble. And he had letters in his desk from the + Directors that a Gilbarte or a Hardie might have been proud of! + </p> + <p> + The days passed in the big darkened house, and the Directors' letter of + dismissal to Riley came and was put away by Reggie, who, every evening, + brought the books to Riley's room, and showed him what had been going + forward, while Riley snarled. Reggie did his best to make statements + pleasing to Riley, but the Accountant was sure that the Bank was going to + rack and ruin without him. In June, as the lying in bed told on his + spirit, he asked whether his absence had been noted by the Directors, and + Reggie said that they had written most sympathetic letters, hoping that he + would be able to resume his valuable services before long. He showed Riley + the letters: and Riley said that the Directors ought to have written to + him direct. A few days later, Reggie opened Riley's mail in the half-light + of the room, and gave him the sheet—not the envelope—of a + letter to Riley from the Directors. Riley said he would thank Reggie not + to interfere with his private papers, specially as Reggie knew he was too + weak to open his own letters. Reggie apologized. + </p> + <p> + Then Riley's mood changed, and he lectured Reggie on his evil ways: his + horses and his bad friends. “Of course, lying here on my back, Mr. Burke, + I can't keep you straight; but when I'm well, I DO hope you'll pay some + heed to my words.” Reggie, who had dropped polo, and dinners, and tennis, + and all to attend to Riley, said that he was penitent and settled Riley's + head on the pillow and heard him fret and contradict in hard, dry, hacking + whispers, without a sign of impatience. This at the end of a heavy day's + office work, doing double duty, in the latter half of June. + </p> + <p> + When the new Accountant came, Reggie told him the facts of the case, and + announced to Riley that he had a guest staying with him. Riley said that + he might have had more consideration than to entertain his “doubtful + friends” at such a time. Reggie made Carron, the new Accountant, sleep at + the Club in consequence. Carron's arrival took some of the heavy work off + his shoulders, and he had time to attend to Riley's exactions—to + explain, soothe, invent, and settle and resettle the poor wretch in bed, + and to forge complimentary letters from Calcutta. At the end of the first + month, Riley wished to send some money home to his mother. Reggie sent the + draft. At the end of the second month, Riley's salary came in just the + same. Reggie paid it out of his own pocket; and, with it, wrote Riley a + beautiful letter from the Directors. + </p> + <p> + Riley was very ill indeed, but the flame of his life burnt unsteadily. Now + and then he would be cheerful and confident about the future, sketching + plans for going Home and seeing his mother. Reggie listened patiently when + the office work was over, and encouraged him. + </p> + <p> + At other times Riley insisted on Reggie's reading the Bible and grim + “Methody” tracts to him. Out of these tracts he pointed morals directed at + his Manager. But he always found time to worry Reggie about the working of + the Bank, and to show him where the weak points lay. + </p> + <p> + This in-door, sick-room life and constant strains wore Reggie down a good + deal, and shook his nerves, and lowered his billiard-play by forty points. + But the business of the Bank, and the business of the sick-room, had to go + on, though the glass was 116 degrees in the shade. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the third month, Riley was sinking fast, and had begun to + realize that he was very sick. But the conceit that made him worry Reggie, + kept him from believing the worst. “He wants some sort of mental stimulant + if he is to drag on,” said the doctor. “Keep him interested in life if you + care about his living.” So Riley, contrary to all the laws of business and + the finance, received a 25-per-cent, rise of salary from the Directors. + The “mental stimulant” succeeded beautifully. Riley was happy and + cheerful, and, as is often the case in consumption, healthiest in mind + when the body was weakest. He lingered for a full month, snarling and + fretting about the Bank, talking of the future, hearing the Bible read, + lecturing Reggie on sin, and wondering when he would be able to move + abroad. + </p> + <p> + But at the end of September, one mercilessly hot evening, he rose up in + his bed with a little gasp, and said quickly to Reggie:—“Mr. Burke, + I am going to die. I know it in myself. My chest is all hollow inside, and + there's nothing to breathe with. To the best of my knowledge I have done + nowt”—he was returning to the talk of his boyhood—“to lie + heavy on my conscience. God be thanked, I have been preserved from the + grosser forms of sin; and I counsel YOU, Mr. Burke....” + </p> + <p> + Here his voice died down, and Reggie stooped over him. + </p> + <p> + “Send my salary for September to my mother.... done great things with the + Bank if I had been spared.... mistaken policy.... no fault of mine.” + </p> + <p> + Then he turned his face to the wall and died. + </p> + <p> + Reggie drew the sheet over Its face, and went out into the verandah, with + his last “mental stimulant”—a letter of condolence and sympathy from + the Directors—unused in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “If I'd been only ten minutes earlier,” thought Reggie, “I might have + heartened him up to pull through another day.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TOD'S AMENDMENT. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The World hath set its heavy yoke + Upon the old white-bearded folk + Who strive to please the King. + God's mercy is upon the young, + God's wisdom in the baby tongue + That fears not anything. + + The Parable of Chajju Bhagat. +</pre> + <p> + Now Tods' Mamma was a singularly charming woman, and every one in Simla + knew Tods. Most men had saved him from death on occasions. He was beyond + his ayah's control altogether, and perilled his life daily to find out + what would happen if you pulled a Mountain Battery mule's tail. He was an + utterly fearless young Pagan, about six years old, and the only baby who + ever broke the holy calm of the supreme Legislative Council. + </p> + <p> + It happened this way: Tods' pet kid got loose, and fled up the hill, off + the Boileaugunge Road, Tods after it, until it burst into the Viceregal + Lodge lawn, then attached to “Peterhoff.” The Council were sitting at the + time, and the windows were open because it was warm. The Red Lancer in the + porch told Tods to go away; but Tods knew the Red Lancer and most of the + Members of Council personally. Moreover, he had firm hold of the kid's + collar, and was being dragged all across the flower-beds. “Give my salaam + to the long Councillor Sahib, and ask him to help me take Moti back!” + gasped Tods. The Council heard the noise through the open windows; and, + after an interval, was seen the shocking spectacle of a Legal Member and a + Lieutenant-Governor helping, under the direct patronage of a + Commander-in-Chief and a Viceroy, one small and very dirty boy in a + sailor's suit and a tangle of brown hair, to coerce a lively and + rebellious kid. They headed it off down the path to the Mall, and Tods + went home in triumph and told his Mamma that ALL the Councillor Sahibs had + been helping him to catch Moti. Whereat his Mamma smacked Tods for + interfering with the administration of the Empire; but Tods met the Legal + Member the next day, and told him in confidence that if the Legal Member + ever wanted to catch a goat, he, Tods, would give him all the help in his + power. “Thank you, Tods,” said the Legal Member. + </p> + <p> + Tods was the idol of some eighty jhampanis, and half as many saises. He + saluted them all as “O Brother.” It never entered his head that any living + human being could disobey his orders; and he was the buffer between the + servants and his Mamma's wrath. The working of that household turned on + Tods, who was adored by every one from the dhoby to the dog-boy. Even + Futteh Khan, the villainous loafer khit from Mussoorie, shirked risking + Tods' displeasure for fear his co-mates should look down on him. + </p> + <p> + So Tods had honor in the land from Boileaugunge to Chota Simla, and ruled + justly according to his lights. Of course, he spoke Urdu, but he had also + mastered many queer side-speeches like the chotee bolee of the women, and + held grave converse with shopkeepers and Hill-coolies alike. He was + precocious for his age, and his mixing with natives had taught him some of + the more bitter truths of life; the meanness and the sordidness of it. He + used, over his bread and milk, to deliver solemn and serious aphorisms, + translated from the vernacular into the English, that made his Mamma jump + and vow that Tods MUST go home next hot weather. + </p> + <p> + Just when Tods was in the bloom of his power, the Supreme Legislature were + hacking out a Bill, for the Sub-Montane Tracts, a revision of the then + Act, smaller than the Punjab Land Bill, but affecting a few hundred + thousand people none the less. The Legal Member had built, and bolstered, + and embroidered, and amended that Bill, till it looked beautiful on paper. + Then the Council began to settle what they called the “minor details.” As + if any Englishman legislating for natives knows enough to know which are + the minor and which are the major points, from the native point of view, + of any measure! That Bill was a triumph of “safe guarding the interests of + the tenant.” One clause provided that land should not be leased on longer + terms than five years at a stretch; because, if the landlord had a tenant + bound down for, say, twenty years, he would squeeze the very life out of + him. The notion was to keep up a stream of independent cultivators in the + Sub-Montane Tracts; and ethnologically and politically the notion was + correct. The only drawback was that it was altogether wrong. A native's + life in India implies the life of his son. Wherefore, you cannot legislate + for one generation at a time. You must consider the next from the native + point of view. Curiously enough, the native now and then, and in Northern + India more particularly, hates being over-protected against himself. There + was a Naga village once, where they lived on dead AND buried Commissariat + mules.... But that is another story. + </p> + <p> + For many reasons, to be explained later, the people concerned objected to + the Bill. The Native Member in Council knew as much about Punjabis as he + knew about Charing Cross. He had said in Calcutta that “the Bill was + entirely in accord with the desires of that large and important class, the + cultivators;” and so on, and so on. The Legal Member's knowledge of + natives was limited to English-speaking Durbaris, and his own red + chaprassis, the Sub-Montane Tracts concerned no one in particular, the + Deputy Commissioners were a good deal too driven to make representations, + and the measure was one which dealt with small landholders only. + Nevertheless, the Legal Member prayed that it might be correct, for he was + a nervously conscientious man. He did not know that no man can tell what + natives think unless he mixes with them with the varnish off. And not + always then. But he did the best he knew. And the measure came up to the + Supreme Council for the final touches, while Tods patrolled the Burra + Simla Bazar in his morning rides, and played with the monkey belonging to + Ditta Mull, the bunnia, and listened, as a child listens to all the stray + talk about this new freak of the Lat Sahib's. + </p> + <p> + One day there was a dinner-party, at the house of Tods' Mamma, and the + Legal Member came. Tods was in bed, but he kept awake till he heard the + bursts of laughter from the men over the coffee. Then he paddled out in + his little red flannel dressing-gown and his night-suit, and took refuge + by the side of his father, knowing that he would not be sent back. “See + the miseries of having a family!” said Tods' father, giving Tods three + prunes, some water in a glass that had been used for claret, and telling + him to sit still. Tods sucked the prunes slowly, knowing that he would + have to go when they were finished, and sipped the pink water like a man + of the world, as he listened to the conversation. Presently, the Legal + Member, talking “shop,” to the Head of a Department, mentioned his Bill by + its full name—“The Sub-Montane Tracts Ryotwari Revised Enactment.” + Tods caught the one native word, and lifting up his small voice said:—“Oh, + I know ALL about that! Has it been murramutted yet, Councillor Sahib?” + </p> + <p> + “How much?” said the Legal Member. + </p> + <p> + “Murramutted—mended.—Put theek, you know—made nice to + please Ditta Mull!” + </p> + <p> + The Legal Member left his place and moved up next to Tods. + </p> + <p> + “What do you know about Ryotwari, little man?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not a little man, I'm Tods, and I know ALL about it. Ditta Mull, and + Choga Lall, and Amir Nath, and—oh, lakhs of my friends tell me about + it in the bazars when I talk to them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they do—do they? What do they say, Tods?” + </p> + <p> + Tods tucked his feet under his red flannel dressing-gown and said:—“I + must fink.” + </p> + <p> + The Legal Member waited patiently. Then Tods, with infinite compassion: + </p> + <p> + “You don't speak my talk, do you, Councillor Sahib?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I am sorry to say I do not,” said the Legal Member. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Tods. “I must fink in English.” + </p> + <p> + He spent a minute putting his ideas in order, and began very slowly, + translating in his mind from the vernacular to English, as many + Anglo-Indian children do. You must remember that the Legal Member helped + him on by questions when he halted, for Tods was not equal to the + sustained flight of oratory that follows. + </p> + <p> + “Ditta Mull says:—'This thing is the talk of a child, and was made + up by fools.' But I don't think you are a fool, Councillor Sahib,” said + Todds, hastily. “You caught my goat. This is what Ditta Mull says:—'I + am not a fool, and why should the Sirkar say I am a child? I can see if + the land is good and if the landlord is good. If I am a fool, the sin is + upon my own head. For five years I take my ground for which I have saved + money, and a wife I take too, and a little son is born.' Ditta Mull has + one daughter now, but he SAYS he will have a son, soon. And he says: 'At + the end of five years, by this new bundobust, I must go. If I do not go, I + must get fresh seals and takkus-stamps on the papers, perhaps in the + middle of the harvest, and to go to the law-courts once is wisdom, but to + go twice is Jehannum.' That is QUITE true,” explained Tods, gravely. “All + my friends say so. And Ditta Mull says:—'Always fresh takkus and + paying money to vakils and chaprassis and law-courts every five years or + else the landlord makes me go. Why do I want to go? Am I fool? If I am a + fool and do not know, after forty years, good land when I see it, let me + die! But if the new bundobust says for FIFTEEN years, then it is good and + wise. My little son is a man, and I am burnt, and he takes the ground or + another ground, paying only once for the takkus-stamps on the papers, and + his little son is born, and at the end of fifteen years is a man too. But + what profit is there in five years and fresh papers? Nothing but dikh, + trouble, dikh. We are not young men who take these lands, but old ones—not + jais, but tradesmen with a little money—and for fifteen years we + shall have peace. Nor are we children that the Sirkar should treat us so.” + </p> + <p> + Here Tods stopped short, for the whole table were listening. The Legal + Member said to Tods: “Is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “All I can remember,” said Tods. “But you should see Ditta Mull's big + monkey. It's just like a Councillor Sahib.” + </p> + <p> + “Tods! Go to bed,” said his father. + </p> + <p> + Tods gathered up his dressing-gown tail and departed. + </p> + <p> + The Legal Member brought his hand down on the table with a crash—“By + Jove!” said the Legal Member, “I believe the boy is right. The short + tenure IS the weak point.” + </p> + <p> + He left early, thinking over what Tods had said. Now, it was obviously + impossible for the Legal Member to play with a bunnia's monkey, by way of + getting understanding; but he did better. He made inquiries, always + bearing in mind the fact that the real native—not the hybrid, + University-trained mule—is as timid as a colt, and, little by + little, he coaxed some of the men whom the measure concerned most + intimately to give in their views, which squared very closely with Tods' + evidence. + </p> + <p> + So the Bill was amended in that clause; and the Legal Member was filled + with an uneasy suspicion that Native Members represent very little except + the Orders they carry on their bosoms. But he put the thought from him as + illiberal. He was a most Liberal Man. + </p> + <p> + After a time the news spread through the bazars that Tods had got the Bill + recast in the tenure clause, and if Tods' Mamma had not interfered, Tods + would have made himself sick on the baskets of fruit and pistachio nuts + and Cabuli grapes and almonds that crowded the verandah. Till he went + Home, Tods ranked some few degrees before the Viceroy in popular + estimation. But for the little life of him Tods could not understand why. + </p> + <p> + In the Legal Member's private-paper-box still lies the rough draft of the + Sub-Montane Tracts Ryotwari Revised Enactment; and, opposite the + twenty-second clause, pencilled in blue chalk, and signed by the Legal + Member, are the words “Tods' Amendment.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IN THE PRIDE OF HIS YOUTH. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Stopped in the straight when the race was his own! + Look at him cutting it—cur to the bone!” + “Ask ere the youngster be rated and chidden, + What did he carry and how was he ridden? + Maybe they used him too much at the start; + Maybe Fate's weight-cloths are breaking his heart.” + + Life's Handicap. +</pre> + <p> + When I was telling you of the joke that The Worm played off on the Senior + Subaltern, I promised a somewhat similar tale, but with all the jest left + out. This is that tale: + </p> + <p> + Dicky Hatt was kidnapped in his early, early youth—neither by + landlady's daughter, housemaid, barmaid, nor cook, but by a girl so nearly + of his own caste that only a woman could have said she was just the least + little bit in the world below it. This happened a month before he came out + to India, and five days after his one-and-twentieth birthday. The girl was + nineteen—six years older than Dicky in the things of this world, + that is to say—and, for the time, twice as foolish as he. + </p> + <p> + Excepting, always, falling off a horse there is nothing more fatally easy + than marriage before the Registrar. The ceremony costs less than fifty + shillings, and is remarkably like walking into a pawn-shop. After the + declarations of residence have been put in, four minutes will cover the + rest of the proceedings—fees, attestation, and all. Then the + Registrar slides the blotting-pad over the names, and says grimly, with + his pen between his teeth:—“Now you're man and wife;” and the couple + walk out into the street, feeling as if something were horribly illegal + somewhere. + </p> + <p> + But that ceremony holds and can drag a man to his undoing just as + thoroughly as the “long as ye both shall live” curse from the altar-rails, + with the bridesmaids giggling behind, and “The Voice that breathed o'er + Eden” lifting the roof off. In this manner was Dicky Hatt kidnapped, and + he considered it vastly fine, for he had received an appointment in India + which carried a magnificent salary from the Home point of view. The + marriage was to be kept secret for a year. Then Mrs. Dicky Hatt was to + come out and the rest of life was to be a glorious golden mist. That was + how they sketched it under the Addison Road Station lamps; and, after one + short month, came Gravesend and Dicky steaming out to his new life, and + the girl crying in a thirty-shillings a week bed-and-living room, in a + back street off Montpelier Square near the Knightsbridge Barracks. + </p> + <p> + But the country that Dicky came to was a hard land, where “men” of + twenty-one were reckoned very small boys indeed, and life was expensive. + The salary that loomed so large six thousand miles away did not go far. + Particularly when Dicky divided it by two, and remitted more than the fair + half, at 1-6, to Montpelier Square. One hundred and thirty-five rupees out + of three hundred and thirty is not much to live on; but it was absurd to + suppose that Mrs. Hatt could exist forever on the 20 pounds held back by + Dicky, from his outfit allowance. Dicky saw this, and remitted at once; + always remembering that Rs. 700 were to be paid, twelve months later, for + a first-class passage out for a lady. When you add to these trifling + details the natural instincts of a boy beginning a new life in a new + country and longing to go about and enjoy himself, and the necessity for + grappling with strange work—which, properly speaking, should take up + a boy's undivided attention—you will see that Dicky started + handicapped. He saw it himself for a breath or two; but he did not guess + the full beauty of his future. + </p> + <p> + As the hot weather began, the shackles settled on him and ate into his + flesh. First would come letters—big, crossed, seven sheet letters—from + his wife, telling him how she longed to see him, and what a Heaven upon + earth would be their property when they met. Then some boy of the chummery + wherein Dicky lodged would pound on the door of his bare little room, and + tell him to come out and look at a pony—the very thing to suit him. + Dicky could not afford ponies. He had to explain this. Dicky could not + afford living in the chummery, modest as it was. He had to explain this + before he moved to a single room next the office where he worked all day. + He kept house on a green oil-cloth table-cover, one chair, one charpoy, + one photograph, one tooth-glass, very strong and thick, a seven-rupee + eight-anna filter, and messing by contract at thirty-seven rupees a month. + Which last item was extortion. He had no punkah, for a punkah costs + fifteen rupees a month; but he slept on the roof of the office with all + his wife's letters under his pillow. Now and again he was asked out to + dinner where he got both a punkah and an iced drink. But this was seldom, + for people objected to recognizing a boy who had evidently the instincts + of a Scotch tallow-chandler, and who lived in such a nasty fashion. Dicky + could not subscribe to any amusement, so he found no amusement except the + pleasure of turning over his Bank-book and reading what it said about + “loans on approved security.” That cost nothing. He remitted through a + Bombay Bank, by the way, and the Station knew nothing of his private + affairs. + </p> + <p> + Every month he sent Home all he could possibly spare for his wife—and + for another reason which was expected to explain itself shortly and would + require more money. + </p> + <p> + About this time, Dicky was overtaken with the nervous, haunting fear that + besets married men when they are out of sorts. He had no pension to look + to. What if he should die suddenly, and leave his wife unprovided for? The + thought used to lay hold of him in the still, hot nights on the roof, till + the shaking of his heart made him think that he was going to die then and + there of heart-disease. Now this is a frame of mind which no boy has a + right to know. It is a strong man's trouble; but, coming when it did, it + nearly drove poor punkah-less, perspiring Dicky Hatt mad. He could tell no + one about it. + </p> + <p> + A certain amount of “screw” is as necessary for a man as for a + billiard-ball. It makes them both do wonderful things. Dicky needed money + badly, and he worked for it like a horse. But, naturally, the men who + owned him knew that a boy can live very comfortably on a certain income—pay + in India is a matter of age, not merit, you see, and if their particular + boy wished to work like two boys, Business forbid that they should stop + him! But Business forbid that they should give him an increase of pay at + his present ridiculously immature age! So Dicky won certain rises of + salary—ample for a boy—not enough for a wife and child—certainly + too little for the seven-hundred-rupee passage that he and Mrs. Hatt had + discussed so lightly once upon a time. And with this he was forced to be + content. + </p> + <p> + Somehow, all his money seemed to fade away in Home drafts and the crushing + Exchange, and the tone of the Home letters changed and grew querulous. + “Why wouldn't Dicky have his wife and the baby out? Surely he had a salary—a + fine salary—and it was too bad of him to enjoy himself in India. But + would he—could he—make the next draft a little more elastic?” + Here followed a list of baby's kit, as long as a Parsee's bill. Then + Dicky, whose heart yearned to his wife and the little son he had never + seen—which, again, is a feeling no boy is entitled to—enlarged + the draft and wrote queer half-boy, half-man letters, saying that life was + not so enjoyable after all and would the little wife wait yet a little + longer? But the little wife, however much she approved of money, objected + to waiting, and there was a strange, hard sort of ring in her letters that + Dicky didn't understand. How could he, poor boy? + </p> + <p> + Later on still—just as Dicky had been told—apropos of another + youngster who had “made a fool of himself,” as the saying is—that + matrimony would not only ruin his further chances of advancement, but + would lose him his present appointment—came the news that the baby, + his own little, little son, had died, and, behind this, forty lines of an + angry woman's scrawl, saying that death might have been averted if certain + things, all costing money, had been done, or if the mother and the baby + had been with Dicky. The letter struck at Dicky's naked heart; but, not + being officially entitled to a baby, he could show no sign of trouble. + </p> + <p> + How Dicky won through the next four months, and what hope he kept alight + to force him into his work, no one dare say. He pounded on, the + seven-hundred-rupee passage as far away as ever, and his style of living + unchanged, except when he launched into a new filter. There was the strain + of his office-work, and the strain of his remittances, and the knowledge + of his boy's death, which touched the boy more, perhaps, than it would + have touched a man; and, beyond all, the enduring strain of his daily + life. Gray-headed seniors, who approved of his thrift and his fashion of + denying himself everything pleasant, reminded him of the old saw that + says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “If a youth would be distinguished in his art, art, art, + He must keep the girls away from his heart, heart, heart.” + </pre> + <p> + And Dicky, who fancied he had been through every trouble that a man is + permitted to know, had to laugh and agree; with the last line of his + balanced Bank-book jingling in his head day and night. + </p> + <p> + But he had one more sorrow to digest before the end. There arrived a + letter from the little wife—the natural sequence of the others if + Dicky had only known it—and the burden of that letter was “gone with + a handsomer man than you.” It was a rather curious production, without + stops, something like this:—“She was not going to wait forever and + the baby was dead and Dicky was only a boy and he would never set eyes on + her again and why hadn't he waved his handkerchief to her when he left + Gravesend and God was her judge she was a wicked woman but Dicky was worse + enjoying himself in India and this other man loved the ground she trod on + and would Dicky ever forgive her for she would never forgive Dicky; and + there was no address to write to.” + </p> + <p> + Instead of thanking his lucky stars that he was free, Dicky discovered + exactly how an injured husband feels—again, not at all the knowledge + to which a boy is entitled—for his mind went back to his wife as he + remembered her in the thirty-shilling “suite” in Montpelier Square, when + the dawn of his last morning in England was breaking, and she was crying + in the bed. Whereat he rolled about on his bed and bit his fingers. He + never stopped to think whether, if he had met Mrs. Hatt after those two + years, he would have discovered that he and she had grown quite different + and new persons. This, theoretically, he ought to have done. He spent the + night after the English Mail came in rather severe pain. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, Dicky Hatt felt disinclined to work. He argued that he had + missed the pleasure of youth. He was tired, and he had tasted all the + sorrow in life before three-and-twenty. His Honor was gone—that was + the man; and now he, too, would go to the Devil—that was the boy in + him. So he put his head down on the green oil-cloth table-cover, and wept + before resigning his post, and all it offered. + </p> + <p> + But the reward of his services came. He was given three days to reconsider + himself, and the Head of the establishment, after some telegraphings, said + that it was a most unusual step, but, in view of the ability that Mr. Hatt + had displayed at such and such a time, at such and such junctures, he was + in a position to offer him an infinitely superior post—first on + probation, and later, in the natural course of things, on confirmation. + “And how much does the post carry?” said Dicky. “Six hundred and fifty + rupees,” said the Head slowly, expecting to see the young man sink with + gratitude and joy. + </p> + <p> + And it came then! The seven hundred rupee passage, and enough to have + saved the wife, and the little son, and to have allowed of assured and + open marriage, came then. Dicky burst into a roar of laughter—laughter + he could not check—nasty, jangling merriment that seemed as if it + would go on forever. When he had recovered himself he said, quite + seriously:—“I'm tired of work. I'm an old man now. It's about time I + retired. And I will.” + </p> + <p> + “The boy's mad!” said the Head. + </p> + <p> + I think he was right; but Dicky Hatt never reappeared to settle the + question. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PIG. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Go, stalk the red deer o'er the heather + Ride, follow the fox if you can! + But, for pleasure and profit together, + Allow me the hunting of Man,— + The chase of the Human, the search for the Soul + To its ruin,—the hunting of Man. + + The Old Shikarri. +</pre> + <p> + I believe the difference began in the matter of a horse, with a twist in + his temper, whom Pinecoffin sold to Nafferton and by whom Nafferton was + nearly slain. There may have been other causes of offence; the horse was + the official stalking-horse. Nafferton was very angry; but Pinecoffin + laughed and said that he had never guaranteed the beast's manners. + Nafferton laughed, too, though he vowed that he would write off his fall + against Pinecoffin if he waited five years. Now, a Dalesman from beyond + Skipton will forgive an injury when the Strid lets a man live; but a South + Devon man is as soft as a Dartmoor bog. You can see from their names that + Nafferton had the race-advantage of Pinecoffin. He was a peculiar man, and + his notions of humor were cruel. He taught me a new and fascinating form + of shikar. He hounded Pinecoffin from Mithankot to Jagadri, and from + Gurgaon to Abbottabad up and across the Punjab, a large province and in + places remarkably dry. He said that he had no intention of allowing + Assistant Commissioners to “sell him pups,” in the shape of ramping, + screaming countrybreds, without making their lives a burden to them. + </p> + <p> + Most Assistant Commissioners develop a bent for some special work after + their first hot weather in the country. The boys with digestions hope to + write their names large on the Frontier and struggle for dreary places + like Bannu and Kohat. The bilious ones climb into the Secretariat. Which + is very bad for the liver. Others are bitten with a mania for District + work, Ghuznivide coins or Persian poetry; while some, who come of farmers' + stock, find that the smell of the Earth after the Rains gets into their + blood, and calls them to “develop the resources of the Province.” These + men are enthusiasts. Pinecoffin belonged to their class. He knew a great + many facts bearing on the cost of bullocks and temporary wells, and + opium-scrapers, and what happens if you burn too much rubbish on a field, + in the hope of enriching used-up soil. All the Pinecoffins come of a + landholding breed, and so the land only took back her own again. + Unfortunately—most unfortunately for Pinecoffin—he was a + Civilian, as well as a farmer. Nafferton watched him, and thought about + the horse. Nafferton said:—“See me chase that boy till he drops!” I + said:—“You can't get your knife into an Assistant Commissioner.” + Nafferton told me that I did not understand the administration of the + Province. + </p> + <p> + Our Government is rather peculiar. It gushes on the agricultural and + general information side, and will supply a moderately respectable man + with all sorts of “economic statistics,” if he speaks to it prettily. For + instance, you are interested in gold-washing in the sands of the Sutlej. + You pull the string, and find that it wakes up half a dozen Departments, + and finally communicates, say, with a friend of yours in the Telegraph, + who once wrote some notes on the customs of the gold-washers when he was + on construction-work in their part of the Empire. He may or may not be + pleased at being ordered to write out everything he knows for your + benefit. This depends on his temperament. The bigger man you are, the more + information and the greater trouble can you raise. + </p> + <p> + Nafferton was not a big man; but he had the reputation of being very + earnest. An “earnest” man can do much with a Government. There was an + earnest man who once nearly wrecked... but all India knows THAT story. I + am not sure what real “earnestness” is. A very fair imitation can be + manufactured by neglecting to dress decently, by mooning about in a + dreamy, misty sort of way, by taking office-work home after staying in + office till seven, and by receiving crowds of native gentlemen on Sundays. + That is one sort of “earnestness.” + </p> + <p> + Nafferton cast about for a peg whereon to hang his earnestness, and for a + string that would communicate with Pinecoffin. He found both. They were + Pig. Nafferton became an earnest inquirer after Pig. He informed the + Government that he had a scheme whereby a very large percentage of the + British Army in India could be fed, at a very large saving, on Pig. Then + he hinted that Pinecoffin might supply him with the “varied information + necessary to the proper inception of the scheme.” So the Government wrote + on the back of the letter:—“Instruct Mr. Pinecoffin to furnish Mr. + Nafferton with any information in his power.” Government is very prone to + writing things on the backs of letters which, later, lead to trouble and + confusion. + </p> + <p> + Nafferton had not the faintest interest in Pig, but he knew that + Pinecoffin would flounce into the trap. Pinecoffin was delighted at being + consulted about Pig. The Indian Pig is not exactly an important factor in + agricultural life; but Nafferton explained to Pinecoffin that there was + room for improvement, and corresponded direct with that young man. + </p> + <p> + You may think that there is not much to be evolved from Pig. It all + depends how you set to work. Pinecoffin being a Civilian and wishing to do + things thoroughly, began with an essay on the Primitive Pig, the Mythology + of the Pig, and the Dravidian Pig. Nafferton filed that information—twenty-seven + foolscap sheets—and wanted to know about the distribution of the Pig + in the Punjab, and how it stood the Plains in the hot weather. From this + point onwards, remember that I am giving you only the barest outlines of + the affair—the guy-ropes, as it were, of the web that Nafferton spun + round Pinecoffin. + </p> + <p> + Pinecoffin made a colored Pig-population map, and collected observations + on the comparative longevity of the Pig (a) in the sub-montane tracts of + the Himalayas, and (b) in the Rechna Doab. Nafferton filed that, and asked + what sort of people looked after Pig. This started an ethnological + excursus on swineherds, and drew from Pinecoffin long tables showing the + proportion per thousand of the caste in the Derajat. Nafferton filed that + bundle, and explained that the figures which he wanted referred to the + Cis-Sutlej states, where he understood that Pigs were very fine and large, + and where he proposed to start a Piggery. By this time, Government had + quite forgotten their instructions to Mr. Pinecoffin. They were like the + gentlemen, in Keats' poem, who turned well-oiled wheels to skin other + people. But Pinecoffin was just entering into the spirit of the Pig-hunt, + as Nafferton well knew he would do. He had a fair amount of work of his + own to clear away; but he sat up of nights reducing Pig to five places of + decimals for the honor of his Service. He was not going to appear ignorant + of so easy a subject as Pig. + </p> + <p> + Then Government sent him on special duty to Kohat, to “inquire into” the + big-seven-foot, iron-shod spades of that District. People had been killing + each other with those peaceful tools; and Government wished to know + “whether a modified form of agricultural implement could not, tentatively + and as a temporary measure, be introduced among the agricultural + population without needlessly or unduly exasperating the existing + religious sentiments of the peasantry.” + </p> + <p> + Between those spades and Nafferton's Pig, Pinecoffin was rather heavily + burdened. + </p> + <p> + Nafferton now began to take up “(a) The food-supply of the indigenous Pig, + with a view to the improvement of its capacities as a flesh-former. (b) + The acclimatization of the exotic Pig, maintaining its distinctive + peculiarities.” Pinecoffin replied exhaustively that the exotic Pig would + become merged in the indigenous type; and quoted horse-breeding statistics + to prove this. The side-issue was debated, at great length on Pinecoffin's + side, till Nafferton owned that he had been in the wrong, and moved the + previous question. When Pinecoffin had quite written himself out about + flesh-formers, and fibrins, and glucose and the nitrogenous constituents + of maize and lucerne, Nafferton raised the question of expense. By this + time Pinecoffin, who had been transferred from Kohat, had developed a Pig + theory of his own, which he stated in thirty-three folio pages—all + carefully filed by Nafferton. Who asked for more. + </p> + <p> + These things took ten months, and Pinecoffin's interest in the potential + Piggery seemed to die down after he had stated his own views. But + Nafferton bombarded him with letters on “the Imperial aspect of the + scheme, as tending to officialize the sale of pork, and thereby calculated + to give offence to the Mahomedan population of Upper India.” He guessed + that Pinecoffin would want some broad, free-hand work after his niggling, + stippling, decimal details. Pinecoffin handled the latest development of + the case in masterly style, and proved that no “popular ebullition of + excitement was to be apprehended.” Nafferton said that there was nothing + like Civilian insight in matters of this kind, and lured him up a bye-path—“the + possible profits to accrue to the Government from the sale of + hog-bristles.” There is an extensive literature of hog-bristles, and the + shoe, brush, and colorman's trades recognize more varieties of bristles + than you would think possible. After Pinecoffin had wondered a little at + Nafferton's rage for information, he sent back a monograph, fifty-one + pages, on “Products of the Pig.” This led him, under Nafferton's tender + handling, straight to the Cawnpore factories, the trade in hog-skin for + saddles—and thence to the tanners. Pinecoffin wrote that + pomegranate-seed was the best cure for hog-skin, and suggested—for + the past fourteen months had wearied him—that Nafferton should + “raise his pigs before he tanned them.” + </p> + <p> + Nafferton went back to the second section of his fifth question. How could + the exotic Pig be brought to give as much pork as it did in the West and + yet “assume the essentially hirsute characteristics of its oriental + congener?” Pinecoffin felt dazed, for he had forgotten what he had written + sixteen month's before, and fancied that he was about to reopen the entire + question. He was too far involved in the hideous tangle to retreat, and, + in a weak moment, he wrote:—“Consult my first letter.” Which related + to the Dravidian Pig. As a matter of fact, Pinecoffin had still to reach + the acclimatization stage; having gone off on a side-issue on the merging + of types. + </p> + <p> + THEN Nafferton really unmasked his batteries! He complained to the + Government, in stately language, of “the paucity of help accorded to me in + my earnest attempts to start a potentially remunerative industry, and the + flippancy with which my requests for information are treated by a + gentleman whose pseudo-scholarly attainments should at lest have taught + him the primary differences between the Dravidian and the Berkshire + variety of the genus Sus. If I am to understand that the letter to which + he refers me contains his serious views on the acclimatization of a + valuable, though possibly uncleanly, animal, I am reluctantly compelled to + believe,” etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + There was a new man at the head of the Department of Castigation. The + wretched Pinecoffin was told that the Service was made for the Country, + and not the Country for the Service, and that he had better begin to + supply information about Pigs. + </p> + <p> + Pinecoffin answered insanely that he had written everything that could be + written about Pig, and that some furlough was due to him. + </p> + <p> + Nafferton got a copy of that letter, and sent it, with the essay on the + Dravidian Pig, to a down-country paper, which printed both in full. The + essay was rather highflown; but if the Editor had seen the stacks of + paper, in Pinecoffin's handwriting, on Nafferton's table, he would not + have been so sarcastic about the “nebulous discursiveness and blatant + self-sufficiency of the modern Competition-wallah, and his utter inability + to grasp the practical issues of a practical question.” Many friends cut + out these remarks and sent them to Pinecoffin. + </p> + <p> + I have already stated that Pinecoffin came of a soft stock. This last + stroke frightened and shook him. He could not understand it; but he felt + he had been, somehow, shamelessly betrayed by Nafferton. He realized that + he had wrapped himself up in the Pigskin without need, and that he could + not well set himself right with his Government. All his acquaintances + asked after his “nebulous discursiveness” or his “blatant + self-sufficiency,” and this made him miserable. + </p> + <p> + He took a train and went to Nafferton, whom he had not seen since the Pig + business began. He also took the cutting from the paper, and blustered + feebly and called Nafferton names, and then died down to a watery, weak + protest of the “I-say-it's-too-bad-you-know” order. + </p> + <p> + Nafferton was very sympathetic. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I've given you a good deal of trouble, haven't I?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Trouble!” whimpered Pinecoffin; “I don't mind the trouble so much, though + that was bad enough; but what I resent is this showing up in print. It + will stick to me like a burr all through my service. And I DID do my best + for your interminable swine. It's too bad of you, on my soul it is!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Nafferton; “have you ever been stuck with a horse? It + isn't the money I mind, though that is bad enough; but what I resent is + the chaff that follows, especially from the boy who stuck me. But I think + we'll cry quits now.” + </p> + <p> + Pinecoffin found nothing to say save bad words; and Nafferton smiled ever + so sweetly, and asked him to dinner. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE ROUT OF THE WHITE HUSSARS. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It was not in the open fight + We threw away the sword, + But in the lonely watching + In the darkness by the ford. + The waters lapped, the night-wind blew, + Full-armed the Fear was born and grew, + And we were flying ere we knew + From panic in the night. + + Beoni Bar. +</pre> + <p> + Some people hold that an English Cavalry regiment cannot run. This is a + mistake. I have seen four hundred and thirty-seven sabres flying over the + face of the country in abject terror—have seen the best Regiment + that ever drew bridle, wiped off the Army List for the space of two hours. + If you repeat this tale to the White Hussars they will, in all + probability, treat you severely. They are not proud of the incident. + </p> + <p> + You may know the White Hussars by their “side,” which is greater than that + of all the Cavalry Regiments on the roster. If this is not a sufficient + mark, you may know them by their old brandy. It has been sixty years in + the Mess and is worth going far to taste. Ask for the “McGaire” old + brandy, and see that you get it. If the Mess Sergeant thinks that you are + uneducated, and that the genuine article will be lost on you, he will + treat you accordingly. He is a good man. But, when you are at Mess, you + must never talk to your hosts about forced marches or long-distance rides. + The Mess are very sensitive; and, if they think that you are laughing at + them, will tell you so. + </p> + <p> + As the White Hussars say, it was all the Colonel's fault. He was a new + man, and he ought never to have taken the Command. He said that the + Regiment was not smart enough. This to the White Hussars, who knew they + could walk round any Horse and through any Guns, and over any Foot on the + face of the earth! That insult was the first cause of offence. + </p> + <p> + Then the Colonel cast the Drum-Horse—the Drum-Horse of the White + Hussars! Perhaps you do not see what an unspeakable crime he had + committed. I will try to make it clear. The soul of the Regiment lives in + the Drum-Horse, who carries the silver kettle-drums. He is nearly always a + big piebald Waler. That is a point of honor; and a Regiment will spend + anything you please on a piebald. He is beyond the ordinary laws of + casting. His work is very light, and he only manoeuvres at a foot-pace. + Wherefore, so long as he can step out and look handsome, his well-being is + assured. He knows more about the Regiment than the Adjutant, and could not + make a mistake if he tried. + </p> + <p> + The Drum-Horse of the White Hussars was only eighteen years old, and + perfectly equal to his duties. He had at least six years' more work in + him, and carried himself with all the pomp and dignity of a Drum-Major of + the Guards. The Regiment had paid Rs. 1,200 for him. + </p> + <p> + But the Colonel said that he must go, and he was cast in due form and + replaced by a washy, bay beast as ugly as a mule, with a ewe-neck, + rat-tail, and cow-hocks. The Drummer detested that animal, and the best of + the Band-horses put back their ears and showed the whites of their eyes at + the very sight of him. They knew him for an upstart and no gentleman. I + fancy that the Colonel's ideas of smartness extended to the Band, and that + he wanted to make it take part in the regular parade movements. A Cavalry + Band is a sacred thing. It only turns out for Commanding Officers' + parades, and the Band Master is one degree more important than the + Colonel. He is a High Priest and the “Keel Row” is his holy song. The + “Keel Row” is the Cavalry Trot; and the man who has never heard that tune + rising, high and shrill, above the rattle of the Regiment going past the + saluting-base, has something yet to hear and understand. + </p> + <p> + When the Colonel cast the Drum-horse of the White Hussars, there was + nearly a mutiny. + </p> + <p> + The officers were angry, the Regiment were furious, and the Bandsman swore—like + troopers. The Drum-Horse was going to be put up to auction—public + auction—to be bought, perhaps, by a Parsee and put into a cart! It + was worse than exposing the inner life of the Regiment to the whole world, + or selling the Mess Plate to a Jew—a black Jew. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel was a mean man and a bully. He knew what the Regiment thought + about his action; and, when the troopers offered to buy the Drum-Horse, he + said that their offer was mutinous and forbidden by the Regulations. + </p> + <p> + But one of the Subalterns—Hogan-Yale, an Irishman—bought the + Drum-Horse for Rs. 160 at the sale; and the Colonel was wroth. Yale + professed repentance—he was unnaturally submissive—and said + that, as he had only made the purchase to save the horse from possible + ill-treatment and starvation, he would now shoot him and end the business. + This appeared to soothe the Colonel, for he wanted the Drum-Horse disposed + of. He felt that he had made a mistake, and could not of course + acknowledge it. Meantime, the presence of the Drum-Horse was an annoyance + to him. + </p> + <p> + Yale took to himself a glass of the old brandy, three cheroots, and his + friend, Martyn; and they all left the Mess together. Yale and Martyn + conferred for two hours in Yale's quarters; but only the bull-terrier who + keeps watch over Yale's boot-trees knows what they said. A horse, hooded + and sheeted to his ears, left Yale's stables and was taken, very + unwillingly, into the Civil Lines. Yale's groom went with him. Two men + broke into the Regimental Theatre and took several paint-pots and some + large scenery brushes. Then night fell over the Cantonments, and there was + a noise as of a horse kicking his loose-box to pieces in Yale's stables. + Yale had a big, old, white Waler trap-horse. + </p> + <p> + The next day was a Thursday, and the men, hearing that Yale was going to + shoot the Drum-Horse in the evening, determined to give the beast a + regular regimental funeral—a finer one than they would have given + the Colonel had he died just then. They got a bullock-cart and some + sacking, and mounds and mounds of roses, and the body, under sacking, was + carried out to the place where the anthrax cases were cremated; two-thirds + of the Regiment followed. There was no Band, but they all sang “The Place + where the old Horse died” as something respectful and appropriate to the + occasion. When the corpse was dumped into the grave and the men began + throwing down armfuls of roses to cover it, the Farrier-Sergeant ripped + out an oath and said aloud:—“Why, it ain't the Drum-Horse any more + than it's me!” The Troop-Sergeant-Majors asked him whether he had left his + head in the Canteen. The Farrier-Sergeant said that he knew the + Drum-Horse's feet as well as he knew his own; but he was silenced when he + saw the regimental number burnt in on the poor stiff, upturned near-fore. + </p> + <p> + Thus was the Drum-Horse of the White Hussars buried; the Farrier-Sergeant + grumbling. The sacking that covered the corpse was smeared in places with + black paint; and the Farrier-Sergeant drew attention to this fact. But the + Troop-Sergeant-Major of E Troop kicked him severely on the shin, and told + him that he was undoubtedly drunk. + </p> + <p> + On the Monday following the burial, the Colonel sought revenge on the + White Hussars. Unfortunately, being at that time temporarily in Command of + the Station, he ordered a Brigade field-day. He said that he wished to + make the regiment “sweat for their damned insolence,” and he carried out + his notion thoroughly. That Monday was one of the hardest days in the + memory of the White Hussars. They were thrown against a skeleton-enemy, + and pushed forward, and withdrawn, and dismounted, and “scientifically + handled” in every possible fashion over dusty country, till they sweated + profusely. Their only amusement came late in the day, when they fell upon + the battery of Horse Artillery and chased it for two mile's. This was a + personal question, and most of the troopers had money on the event; the + Gunners saying openly that they had the legs of the White Hussars. They + were wrong. A march-past concluded the campaign, and when the Regiment got + back to their Lines, the men were coated with dirt from spur to + chin-strap. + </p> + <p> + The White Hussars have one great and peculiar privilege. They won it at + Fontenoy, I think. + </p> + <p> + Many Regiments possess special rights, such as wearing collars with + undress uniform, or a bow of ribbon between the shoulders, or red and + white roses in their helmets on certain days of the year. Some rights are + connected with regimental saints, and some with regimental successes. All + are valued highly; but none so highly as the right of the White Hussars to + have the Band playing when their horses are being watered in the Lines. + Only one tune is played, and that tune never varies. I don't know its real + name, but the White Hussars call it:—“Take me to London again.” It + sound's very pretty. The Regiment would sooner be struck off the roster + than forego their distinction. + </p> + <p> + After the “dismiss” was sounded, the officers rode off home to prepare for + stables; and the men filed into the lines, riding easy. That is to say, + they opened their tight buttons, shifted their helmets, and began to joke + or to swear as the humor took them; the more careful slipping off and + easing girths and curbs. A good trooper values his mount exactly as much + as he values himself, and believes, or should believe, that the two + together are irresistible where women or men, girl's or gun's, are + concerned. + </p> + <p> + Then the Orderly-Officer gave the order:—“Water horses,” and the + Regiment loafed off to the squadron-troughs, which were in rear of the + stables and between these and the barracks. There were four huge troughs, + one for each squadron, arranged en echelon, so that the whole Regiment + could water in ten minutes if it liked. But it lingered for seventeen, as + a rule, while the Band played. + </p> + <p> + The band struck up as the squadrons filed off the troughs and the men + slipped their feet out of the stirrups and chaffed each other. The sun was + just setting in a big, hot bed of red cloud, and the road to the Civil + Lines seemed to run straight into the sun's eye. There was a little dot on + the road. It grew and grew till it showed as a horse, with a sort of + gridiron thing on his back. The red cloud glared through the bars of the + gridiron. Some of the troopers shaded their eyes with their hands and + said:—“What the mischief as that there 'orse got on 'im!” + </p> + <p> + In another minute they heard a neigh that every soul—horse and man—in + the Regiment knew, and saw, heading straight towards the Band, the dead + Drum-Horse of the White Hussars! + </p> + <p> + On his withers banged and bumped the kettle-drums draped in crape, and on + his back, very stiff and soldierly, sat a bare-headed skeleton. + </p> + <p> + The band stopped playing, and, for a moment, there was a hush. + </p> + <p> + Then some one in E troop—men said it was the Troop-Sergeant-Major—swung + his horse round and yelled. No one can account exactly for what happened + afterwards; but it seems that, at least, one man in each troop set an + example of panic, and the rest followed like sheep. The horses that had + barely put their muzzles into the trough's reared and capered; but, as + soon as the Band broke, which it did when the ghost of the Drum-Horse was + about a furlong distant, all hooves followed suit, and the clatter of the + stampede—quite different from the orderly throb and roar of a + movement on parade, or the rough horse-play of watering in camp—made + them only more terrified. They felt that the men on their backs were + afraid of something. When horses once know THAT, all is over except the + butchery. + </p> + <p> + Troop after troop turned from the troughs and ran—anywhere, and + everywhere—like spit quicksilver. It was a most extraordinary + spectacle, for men and horses were in all stages of easiness, and the + carbine-buckets flopping against their sides urged the horses on. Men were + shouting and cursing, and trying to pull clear of the Band which was being + chased by the Drum-Horse whose rider had fallen forward and seemed to be + spurring for a wager. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel had gone over to the Mess for a drink. Most of the officers + were with him, and the Subaltern of the Day was preparing to go down to + the lines, and receive the watering reports from the Troop-Sergeant + Majors. When “Take me to London again” stopped, after twenty bars, every + one in the Mess said:—“What on earth has happened?” A minute later, + they heard unmilitary noises, and saw, far across the plain, the White + Hussars scattered, and broken, and flying. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel was speechless with rage, for he thought that the Regiment had + risen against him or was unanimously drunk. The Band, a disorganized mob, + tore past, and at it's heels labored the Drum-Horse—the dead and + buried Drum-Horse—with the jolting, clattering skeleton. Hogan-Yale + whispered softly to Martyn:—“No wire will stand that treatment,” and + the Band, which had doubled like a hare, came back again. But the rest of + the Regiment was gone, was rioting all over the Province, for the dusk had + shut in and each man was howling to his neighbor that the Drum-Horse was + on his flank. Troop-Horses are far too tenderly treated as a rule. They + can, on emergencies, do a great deal, even with seventeen stone on their + backs. As the troopers found out. + </p> + <p> + How long this panic lasted I cannot say. I believe that when the moon rose + the men saw they had nothing to fear, and, by twos and threes and + half-troops, crept back into Cantonments very much ashamed of themselves. + Meantime, the Drum-Horse, disgusted at his treatment by old friends, + pulled up, wheeled round, and trotted up to the Mess verandah-steps for + bread. No one liked to run; but no one cared to go forward till the + Colonel made a movement and laid hold of the skeleton's foot. The Band had + halted some distance away, and now came back slowly. The Colonel called + it, individually and collectively, every evil name that occurred to him at + the time; for he had set his hand on the bosom of the Drum-Horse and found + flesh and blood. Then he beat the kettle-drums with his clenched fist, and + discovered that they were but made of silvered paper and bamboo. Next, + still swearing, he tried to drag the skeleton out of the saddle, but found + that it had been wired into the cantle. The sight of the Colonel, with his + arms round the skeleton's pelvis and his knee in the old Drum-Horse's + stomach, was striking. Not to say amusing. He worried the thing off in a + minute or two, and threw it down on the ground, saying to the Band:—“Here, + you curs, that's what you're afraid of.” The skeleton did not look pretty + in the twilight. The Band-Sergeant seemed to recognize it, for he began to + chuckle and choke. “Shall I take it away, sir?” said the Band-Sergeant. + “Yes,” said the Colonel, “take it to Hell, and ride there yourselves!” + </p> + <p> + The Band-Sergeant saluted, hoisted the skeleton across his saddle-bow, and + led off to the stables. Then the Colonel began to make inquiries for the + rest of the Regiment, and the language he used was wonderful. He would + disband the Regiment—he would court-martial every soul in it—he + would not command such a set of rabble, and so on, and so on. As the men + dropped in, his language grew wilder, until at last it exceeded the utmost + limits of free speech allowed even to a Colonel of Horse. + </p> + <p> + Martyn took Hogan-Yale aside and suggested compulsory retirement from the + service as a necessity when all was discovered. Martyn was the weaker man + of the two, Hogan-Yale put up his eyebrows and remarked, firstly, that he + was the son of a Lord, and secondly, that he was as innocent as the babe + unborn of the theatrical resurrection of the Drum-Horse. + </p> + <p> + “My instructions,” said Yale, with a singularly sweet smile, “were that + the Drum-Horse should be sent back as impressively as possible. I ask you, + AM I responsible if a mule-headed friend sends him back in such a manner + as to disturb the peace of mind of a regiment of Her Majesty's Cavalry?” + </p> + <p> + Martyn said:—“you are a great man and will in time become a General; + but I'd give my chance of a troop to be safe out of this affair.” + </p> + <p> + Providence saved Martyn and Hogan-Yale. The Second-in-Command led the + Colonel away to the little curtained alcove wherein the subalterns of the + white Hussars were accustomed to play poker of nights; and there, after + many oaths on the Colonel's part, they talked together in low tones. I + fancy that the Second-in-Command must have represented the scare as the + work of some trooper whom it would be hopeless to detect; and I know that + he dwelt upon the sin and the shame of making a public laughingstock of + the scare. + </p> + <p> + “They will call us,” said the Second-in-Command, who had really a fine + imagination, “they will call us the 'Fly-by-Nights'; they will call us the + 'Ghost Hunters'; they will nickname us from one end of the Army list to + the other. All the explanations in the world won't make outsiders + understand that the officers were away when the panic began. For the honor + of the Regiment and for your own sake keep this thing quiet.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel was so exhausted with anger that soothing him down was not so + difficult as might be imagined. He was made to see, gently and by degrees, + that it was obviously impossible to court-martial the whole Regiment, and + equally impossible to proceed against any subaltern who, in his belief, + had any concern in the hoax. + </p> + <p> + “But the beast's alive! He's never been shot at all!” shouted the Colonel. + “It's flat, flagrant disobedience! I've known a man broke for less, d——d + sight less. They're mocking me, I tell you, Mutman! They're mocking me!” + </p> + <p> + Once more, the Second-in-Command set himself to sooth the Colonel, and + wrestled with him for half-an-hour. At the end of that time, the + Regimental Sergeant-Major reported himself. The situation was rather novel + tell to him; but he was not a man to be put out by circumstances. He + saluted and said: “Regiment all come back, Sir.” Then, to propitiate the + Colonel:—“An' none of the horses any the worse, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel only snorted and answered:—“You'd better tuck the men + into their cots, then, and see that they don't wake up and cry in the + night.” The Sergeant withdrew. + </p> + <p> + His little stroke of humor pleased the Colonel, and, further, he felt + slightly ashamed of the language he had been using. The Second-in-Command + worried him again, and the two sat talking far into the night. + </p> + <p> + Next day but one, there was a Commanding Officer's parade, and the Colonel + harangued the White Hussars vigorously. The pith of his speech was that, + since the Drum-Horse in his old age had proved himself capable of cutting + up the Whole Regiment, he should return to his post of pride at the head + of the band, BUT the Regiment were a set of ruffians with bad consciences. + </p> + <p> + The White Hussars shouted, and threw everything movable about them into + the air, and when the parade was over, they cheered the Colonel till they + couldn't speak. No cheers were put up for Lieutenant Hogan-Yale, who + smiled very sweetly in the background. + </p> + <p> + Said the Second-in-Command to the Colonel, unofficially:—“These + little things ensure popularity, and do not the least affect discipline.” + </p> + <p> + “But I went back on my word,” said the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” said the Second-in-Command. “The White Hussars will follow + you anywhere from to-day. Regiment's are just like women. They will do + anything for trinketry.” + </p> + <p> + A week later, Hogan-Yale received an extraordinary letter from some one + who signed himself “Secretary Charity and Zeal, 3709, E. C.,” and asked + for “the return of our skeleton which we have reason to believe is in your + possession.” + </p> + <p> + “Who the deuce is this lunatic who trades in bones?” said Hogan-Yale. + </p> + <p> + “Beg your pardon, Sir,” said the Band-Sergeant, “but the skeleton is with + me, an' I'll return it if you'll pay the carriage into the Civil Lines. + There's a coffin with it, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + Hogan-Yale smiled and handed two rupees to the Band-Sergeant, saying:—“Write + the date on the skull, will you?” + </p> + <p> + If you doubt this story, and know where to go, you can see the date on the + skeleton. But don't mention the matter to the White Hussars. + </p> + <p> + I happen to know something about it, because I prepared the Drum-Horse for + his resurrection. He did not take kindly to the skeleton at all. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BRONCKHORST DIVORCE-CASE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In the daytime, when she moved about me, + In the night, when she was sleeping at my side,— + I was wearied, I was wearied of her presence. + Day by day and night by night I grew to hate her— + Would to God that she or I had died! + + Confessions. +</pre> + <p> + There was a man called Bronckhorst—a three-cornered, middle-aged man + in the Army—gray as a badger, and, some people said, with a touch of + country-blood in him. That, however, cannot be proved. Mrs. Bronckhorst + was not exactly young, though fifteen years younger than her husband. She + was a large, pale, quiet woman, with heavy eyelids, over weak eyes, and + hair that turned red or yellow as the lights fell on it. + </p> + <p> + Bronckhorst was not nice in any way. He had no respect for the pretty + public and private lies that make life a little less nasty than it is. His + manner towards his wife was coarse. There are many things—including + actual assault with the clenched fist—that a wife will endure; but + seldom a wife can bear—as Mrs. Bronckhorst bore—with a long + course of brutal, hard chaff, making light of her weaknesses, her + headaches, her small fits of gayety, her dresses, her queer little + attempts to make herself attractive to her husband when she knows that she + is not what she has been, and—worst of all—the love that she + spends on her children. That particular sort of heavy-handed jest was + specially dear to Bronckhorst. I suppose that he had first slipped into + it, meaning no harm, in the honeymoon, when folk find their ordinary stock + of endearments run short, and so go to the other extreme to express their + feelings. A similar impulse make's a man say:—“Hutt, you old beast!” + when a favorite horse nuzzles his coat-front. Unluckily, when the reaction + of marriage sets in, the form of speech remains, and, the tenderness + having died out, hurts the wife more than she cares to say. But Mrs. + Bronckhorst was devoted to her “teddy,” as she called him. Perhaps that + was why he objected to her. Perhaps—this is only a theory to account + for his infamous behavior later on—he gave way to the queer savage + feeling that sometimes takes by the throat a husband twenty years' + married, when he sees, across the table, the same face of his wedded wife, + and knows that, as he has sat facing it, so must he continue to sit until + day of its death or his own. Most men and all women know the spasm. It + only lasts for three breaths as a rule, must be a “throw-back” to times + when men and women were rather worse than they are now, and is too + unpleasant to be discussed. + </p> + <p> + Dinner at the Bronckhorst's was an infliction few men cared to undergo. + Bronckhorst took a pleasure in saying things that made his wife wince. + When their little boy came in at dessert, Bronckhorst used to give him + half a glass of wine, and naturally enough, the poor little mite got first + riotous, next miserable, and was removed screaming. Bronckhorst asked if + that was the way Teddy usually behaved, and whether Mrs. Bronckhorst could + not spare some of her time to teach the “little beggar decency.” Mrs. + Bronckhorst, who loved the boy more than her own life, tried not to cry—her + spirit seemed to have been broken by her marriage. Lastly, Bronckhorst + used to say:—“There! That'll do, that'll do. For God's sake try to + behave like a rational woman. Go into the drawing-room.” Mrs. Bronckhorst + would go, trying to carry it all off with a smile; and the guest of the + evening would feel angry and uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + After three years of this cheerful life—for Mrs. Bronckhorst had no + woman-friends to talk to—the Station was startled by the news that + Bronckhorst had instituted proceedings ON THE CRIMINAL COUNT, against a + man called Biel, who certainly had been rather attentive to Mrs. + Bronckhorst whenever she had appeared in public. The utter want of reserve + with which Bronckhorst treated his own dishonor helped us to know that the + evidence against Biel would be entirely circumstantial and native. There + were no letters; but Bronckhorst said openly that he would rack Heaven and + Earth until he saw Biel superintending the manufacture of carpets in the + Central Jail. Mrs. Bronckhorst kept entirely to her house, and let + charitable folks say what they pleased. Opinions were divided. Some + two-thirds of the Station jumped at once to the conclusion that Biel was + guilty; but a dozen men who knew and liked him held by him. Biel was + furious and surprised. He denied the whole thing, and vowed that he would + thrash Bronckhorst within an inch of his life. No jury, we knew, could + convict a man on the criminal count on native evidence in a land where you + can buy a murder-charge, including the corpse, all complete for fifty-four + rupees; but Biel did not care to scrape through by the benefit of a doubt. + He wanted the whole thing cleared: but as he said one night:—“He can + prove anything with servants' evidence, and I've only my bare word.” This + was about a month before the case came on; and beyond agreeing with Biel, + we could do little. All that we could be sure of was that the native + evidence would be bad enough to blast Biel's character for the rest of his + service; for when a native begins perjury he perjures himself thoroughly. + He does not boggle over details. + </p> + <p> + Some genius at the end of the table whereat the affair was being talked + over, said:—“Look here! I don't believe lawyers are any good. Get a + man to wire to Strickland, and beg him to come down and pull us through.” + </p> + <p> + Strickland was about a hundred and eighty miles up the line. He had not + long been married to Miss Youghal, but he scented in the telegram a chance + of return to the old detective work that his soul lusted after, and next + night he came in and heard our story. He finished his pipe and said + oracularly:—“we must get at the evidence. Oorya bearer, Mussalman + khit and methraniayah, I suppose, are the pillars of the charge. I am on + in this piece; but I'm afraid I'm getting rusty in my talk.” + </p> + <p> + He rose and went into Biel's bedroom where his trunk had been put, and + shut the door. An hour later, we heard him say:—“I hadn't the heart + to part with my old makeups when I married. Will this do?” There was a + lothely faquir salaaming in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Now lend me fifty rupees,” said Strickland, “and give me your Words of + Honor that you won't tell my Wife.” + </p> + <p> + He got all that he asked for, and left the house while the table drank his + health. What he did only he himself knows. A faquir hung about + Bronckhorst's compound for twelve days. Then a mehter appeared, and when + Biel heard of HIM, he said that Strickland was an angel full-fledged. + Whether the mehter made love to Janki, Mrs. Bronckhorst's ayah, is a + question which concerns Strickland exclusively. + </p> + <p> + He came back at the end of three weeks, and said quietly:—“You spoke + the truth, Biel. The whole business is put up from beginning to end. Jove! + It almost astonishes ME! That Bronckhorst-beast isn't fit to live.” + </p> + <p> + There was uproar and shouting, and Biel said:—“How are you going to + prove it? You can't say that you've been trespassing on Bronckhorst's + compound in disguise!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Strickland. “Tell your lawyer-fool, whoever he is, to get up + something strong about 'inherent improbabilities' and 'discrepancies of + evidence.' He won't have to speak, but it will make him happy. I'M going + to run this business.” + </p> + <p> + Biel held his tongue, and the other men waited to see what would happen. + They trusted Strickland as men trust quiet men. When the case came off the + Court was crowded. Strickland hung about in the verandah of the Court, + till he met the Mohammedan khitmatgar. Then he murmured a faquir's + blessing in his ear, and asked him how his second wife did. The man spun + round, and, as he looked into the eyes of “Estreeken Sahib,” his jaw + dropped. You must remember that before Strickland was married, he was, as + I have told you already, a power among natives. Strickland whispered a + rather coarse vernacular proverb to the effect that he was abreast of all + that was going on, and went into the Court armed with a gut + trainer's-whip. + </p> + <p> + The Mohammedan was the first witness and Strickland beamed upon him from + the back of the Court. The man moistened his lips with his tongue and, in + his abject fear of “Estreeken Sahib” the faquir, went back on every detail + of his evidence—said he was a poor man and God was his witness that + he had forgotten every thing that Bronckhorst Sahib had told him to say. + Between his terror of Strickland, the Judge, and Bronckhorst he collapsed, + weeping. + </p> + <p> + Then began the panic among the witnesses. Janki, the ayah, leering + chastely behind her veil, turned gray, and the bearer left the Court. He + said that his Mamma was dying and that it was not wholesome for any man to + lie unthriftily in the presence of “Estreeken Sahib.” + </p> + <p> + Biel said politely to Bronckhorst:—“Your witnesses don't seem to + work. Haven't you any forged letters to produce?” But Bronckhorst was + swaying to and fro in his chair, and there was a dead pause after Biel had + been called to order. + </p> + <p> + Bronckhorst's Counsel saw the look on his client's face, and without more + ado, pitched his papers on the little green baize table, and mumbled + something about having been misinformed. The whole Court applauded wildly, + like soldiers at a theatre, and the Judge began to say what he thought. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + Biel came out of the place, and Strickland dropped a gut trainer's-whip in + the verandah. Ten minutes later, Biel was cutting Bronckhorst into ribbons + behind the old Court cells, quietly and without scandal. What was left of + Bronckhorst was sent home in a carriage; and his wife wept over it and + nursed it into a man again. + </p> + <p> + Later on, after Biel had managed to hush up the counter-charge against + Bronckhorst of fabricating false evidence, Mrs. Bronckhorst, with her + faint watery smile, said that there had been a mistake, but it wasn't her + Teddy's fault altogether. She would wait till her Teddy came back to her. + Perhaps he had grown tired of her, or she had tried his patience, and + perhaps we wouldn't cut her any more, and perhaps the mothers would let + their children play with “little Teddy” again. He was so lonely. Then the + Station invited Mrs. Bronckhorst everywhere, until Bronckhorst was fit to + appear in public, when he went Home and took his wife with him. According + to the latest advices, her Teddy did “come back to her,” and they are + moderately happy. Though, of course, he can never forgive her the + thrashing that she was the indirect means of getting for him. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + What Biel wants to know is:—“Why didn't I press home the charge + against the Bronckhorst-brute, and have him run in?” + </p> + <p> + What Mrs. Strickland wants to know is:—“How DID my husband bring + such a lovely, lovely Waler from your Station? I know ALL his + money-affairs; and I'm CERTAIN he didn't BUY it.” + </p> + <p> + What I want to know is:—“How do women like Mrs. Bronckhorst come to + marry men like Bronckhorst?” + </p> + <p> + And my conundrum is the most unanswerable of the three. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VENUS ANNODOMINI. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And the years went on as the years must do; + But our great Diana was always new— + Fresh, and blooming, and blonde, and fair, + With azure eyes and with aureate hair; + And all the folk, as they came or went, + Offered her praise to her heart's content. + + Diana of Ephesus. +</pre> + <p> + She had nothing to do with Number Eighteen in the Braccio Nuovo of the + Vatican, between Visconti's Ceres and the God of the Nile. She was purely + an Indian deity—an Anglo-Indian deity, that is to say—and we + called her THE Venus Annodomini, to distinguish her from other Annodominis + of the same everlasting order. There was a legend among the Hills that she + had once been young; but no living man was prepared to come forward and + say boldly that the legend was true. Men rode up to Simla, and stayed, and + went away and made their name and did their life's work, and returned + again to find the Venus Annodomini exactly as they had left her. She was + as immutable as the Hills. But not quite so green. All that a girl of + eighteen could do in the way of riding, walking, dancing, picnicking and + over-exertion generally, the Venus Annodomini did, and showed no sign of + fatigue or trace of weariness. Besides perpetual youth, she had + discovered, men said, the secret of perpetual health; and her fame spread + about the land. From a mere woman, she grew to be an Institution, insomuch + that no young man could be said to be properly formed, who had not, at + some time or another, worshipped at the shrine of the Venus Annodomini. + There was no one like her, though there were many imitations. Six years in + her eyes were no more than six months to ordinary women; and ten made less + visible impression on her than does a week's fever on an ordinary woman. + Every one adored her, and in return she was pleasant and courteous to + nearly every one. Youth had been a habit of hers for so long, that she + could not part with it—never realized, in fact, the necessity of + parting with it—and took for her more chosen associates young + people. + </p> + <p> + Among the worshippers of the Venus Annodomini was young Gayerson. “Very + Young” Gayerson, he was called to distinguish him from his father “Young” + Gayerson, a Bengal Civilian, who affected the customs—as he had the + heart—of youth. “Very Young” Gayerson was not content to worship + placidly and for form's sake, as the other young men did, or to accept a + ride or a dance, or a talk from the Venus Annodomini in a properly humble + and thankful spirit. He was exacting, and, therefore, the Venus Annodomini + repressed him. He worried himself nearly sick in a futile sort of way over + her; and his devotion and earnestness made him appear either shy or + boisterous or rude, as his mood might vary, by the side of the older men + who, with him, bowed before the Venus Annodomini. She was sorry for him. + He reminded her of a lad who, three-and-twenty years ago, had professed a + boundless devotion for her, and for whom in return she had felt something + more than a week's weakness. But that lad had fallen away and married + another woman less than a year after he had worshipped her; and the Venus + Annodomini had almost—not quite—forgotten his name. “Very + Young” Gayerson had the same big blue eyes and the same way of pouting his + underlip when he was excited or troubled. But the Venus Annodomini checked + him sternly none the less. Too much zeal was a thing that she did not + approve of; preferring instead, a tempered and sober tenderness. + </p> + <p> + “Very Young” Gayerson was miserable, and took no trouble to conceal his + wretchedness. He was in the Army—a Line regiment I think, but am not + certain—and, since his face was a looking-glass and his forehead an + open book, by reason of his innocence, his brothers in arms made his life + a burden to him and embittered his naturally sweet disposition. No one + except “Very Young” Gayerson, and he never told his views, knew how old + “Very Young” Gayerson believed the Venus Annodomini to be. Perhaps he + thought her five and twenty, or perhaps she told him that she was this + age. “Very Young” Gayerson would have forded the Gugger in flood to carry + her lightest word, and had implicit faith in her. Every one liked him, and + every one was sorry when they saw him so bound a slave of the Venus + Annodomini. Every one, too, admitted that it was not her fault; for the + Venus Annodomini differed from Mrs. Hauksbee and Mrs. Reiver in this + particular—she never moved a finger to attract any one; but, like + Ninon de l'Enclos, all men were attracted to her. One could admire and + respect Mrs. Hauksbee, despise and avoid Mrs. Reiver, but one was forced + to adore the Venus Annodomini. + </p> + <p> + “Very Young” Gayerson's papa held a Division or a Collectorate or + something administrative in a particularly unpleasant part of Bengal—full + of Babus who edited newspapers proving that “Young” Gayerson was a “Nero” + and a “Scylla” and a “Charybdis”; and, in addition to the Babus, there was + a good deal of dysentery and cholera abroad for nine months of the year. + “Young” Gayerson—he was about five and forty—rather liked + Babus, they amused him, but he objects to dysentery, and when he could get + away, went to Darjilling for the most part. This particular season he + fancied that he would come up to Simla, and see his boy. The boy was not + altogether pleased. He told the Venus Annodomini that his father was + coming up, and she flushed a little and said that she should be delighted + to make his acquaintance. Then she looked long and thoughtfully at “Very + Young” Gayerson; because she was very, very sorry for him, and he was a + very, very big idiot. + </p> + <p> + “My daughter is coming out in a fortnight, Mr. Gayerson,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Your WHAT?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Daughter,” said the Venus Annodomini. “She's been out for a year at Home + already, and I want her to see a little of India. She is nineteen and a + very sensible, nice girl I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Very Young” Gayerson, who was a short twenty-two years old, nearly fell + out of his chair with astonishment; for he had persisted in believing, + against all belief, in the youth of the Venus Annodomini. She, with her + back to the curtained window, watched the effect of her sentences and + smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Very Young” Gayerson's papa came up twelve days later, and had not been + in Simla four and twenty hours, before two men, old acquaintances of his, + had told him how “Very Young” Gayerson had been conducting himself. + </p> + <p> + “Young” Gayerson laughed a good deal, and inquired who the Venus + Annodomini might be. Which proves that he had been living in Bengal where + nobody knows anything except the rate of Exchange. Then he said “boys will + be boys,” and spoke to his son about the matter. “Very Young” Gayerson + said that he felt wretched and unhappy; and “Young” Gayerson said that he + repented of having helped to bring a fool into the world. He suggested + that his son had better cut his leave short and go down to his duties. + This led to an unfilial answer, and relations were strained, until “Young” + Gayerson demmanded that they should call on the Venus Annodomini. “Very + Young” Gayerson went with his papa, feeling, somehow, uncomfortable and + small. + </p> + <p> + The Venus Annodomini received them graciously and “Young” Gayerson said:—“By + Jove! It's Kitty!” “Very Young” Gayerson would have listened for an + explanation, if his time had not been taken up with trying to talk to a + large, handsome, quiet, well-dressed girl—introduced to him by the + Venus Annodomini as her daughter. She was far older in manners, style and + repose than “Very Young” Gayerson; and, as he realized this thing, he felt + sick. + </p> + <p> + Presently, he heard the Venus Annodomini saying:—“Do you know that + your son is one of my most devoted admirers?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't wonder,” said “Young” Gayerson. Here he raised his voice:—“He + follows his father's footsteps. Didn't I worship the ground you trod on, + ever so long ago, Kitty—and you haven't changed since then. How + strange it all seems!” + </p> + <p> + “Very Young” Gayerson said nothing. His conversation with the daughter of + the Venus Annodomini was, through the rest of the call, fragmentary and + disjointed. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + “At five, to-morrow then,” said the Venus Annodomini. “And mind you are + punctual.” + </p> + <p> + “At five punctual,” said “Young” Gayerson. “You can lend your old father a + horse I dare say, youngster, can't you? I'm going for a ride tomorrow + afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said “Very Young” Gayerson. “I am going down to-morrow + morning. My ponies are at your service, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + The Venus Annodomini looked at him across the half-light of the room, and + her big gray eyes filled with moisture. She rose and shook hands with him. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Tom,” whispered the Venus Annodomini. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BISARA OF POOREE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Little Blind Fish, thou art marvellous wise, + Little Blind Fish, who put out thy eyes? + Open thine ears while I whisper my wish— + Bring me a lover, thou little Blind Fish. + + The Charm of the Bisara. +</pre> + <p> + Some natives say that it came from the other side of Kulu, where the + eleven-inch Temple Sapphire is. Others that it was made at the + Devil-Shrine of Ao-Chung in Thibet, was stolen by a Kafir, from him by a + Gurkha, from him again by a Lahouli, from him by a khitmatgar, and by this + latter sold to an Englishman, so all its virtue was lost: because, to work + properly, the Bisara of Pooree must be stolen—with bloodshed if + possible, but, at any rate, stolen. + </p> + <p> + These stories of the coming into India are all false. It was made at + Pooree ages since—the manner of its making would fill a small book—was + stolen by one of the Temple dancing-girls there, for her own purposes, and + then passed on from hand to hand, steadily northward, till it reached + Hanla: always bearing the same name—the Bisara of Pooree. In shape + it is a tiny, square box of silver, studded outside with eight small + balas-rubies. Inside the box, which opens with a spring, is a little + eyeless fish, carved from some sort of dark, shiny nut and wrapped in a + shred of faded gold-cloth. That is the Bisara of Pooree, and it were + better for a man to take a king cobra in his hand than to touch the Bisara + of Pooree. + </p> + <p> + All kinds of magic are out of date and done away with except in India + where nothing changes in spite of the shiny, toy-scum stuff that people + call “civilization.” Any man who knows about the Bisara of Pooree will + tell you what its powers are—always supposing that it has been + honestly stolen. It is the only regularly working, trustworthy love-charm + in the country, with one exception. + </p> + <p> + [The other charm is in the hands of a trooper of the Nizam's Horse, at a + place called Tuprani, due north of Hyderabad.] This can be depended upon + for a fact. Some one else may explain it. + </p> + <p> + If the Bisara be not stolen, but given or bought or found, it turns + against its owner in three years, and leads to ruin or death. This is + another fact which you may explain when you have time. Meanwhile, you can + laugh at it. At present, the Bisara is safe on an ekka-pony's neck, inside + the blue bead-necklace that keeps off the Evil-eye. If the ekka-driver + ever finds it, and wears it, or gives it to his wife, I am sorry for him. + </p> + <p> + A very dirty hill-cooly woman, with goitre, owned it at Theog in 1884. It + came into Simla from the north before Churton's khitmatgar bought it, and + sold it, for three times its silver-value, to Churton, who collected + curiosities. The servant knew no more what he had bought than the master; + but a man looking over Churton's collection of curiosities—Churton + was an Assistant Commissioner by the way—saw and held his tongue. He + was an Englishman; but knew how to believe. Which shows that he was + different from most Englishmen. He knew that it was dangerous to have any + share in the little box when working or dormant; for unsought Love is a + terrible gift. + </p> + <p> + Pack—“Grubby” Pack, as we used to call him—was, in every way, + a nasty little man who must have crawled into the Army by mistake. He was + three inches taller than his sword, but not half so strong. And the sword + was a fifty-shilling, tailor-made one. Nobody liked him, and, I suppose, + it was his wizenedness and worthlessness that made him fall so hopelessly + in love with Miss Hollis, who was good and sweet, and five foot seven in + her tennis shoes. He was not content with falling in love quietly, but + brought all the strength of his miserable little nature into the business. + If he had not been so objectionable, one might have pitied him. He + vapored, and fretted, and fumed, and trotted up and down, and tried to + make himself pleasing in Miss Hollis's big, quiet, gray eyes, and failed. + It was one of the cases that you sometimes meet, even in this country + where we marry by Code, of a really blind attachment all on one side, + without the faintest possibility of return. Miss Hollis looked on Pack as + some sort of vermin running about the road. He had no prospects beyond + Captain's pay, and no wits to help that out by one anna. In a large-sized + man, love like his would have been touching. In a good man it would have + been grand. He being what he was, it was only a nuisance. + </p> + <p> + You will believe this much. What you will not believe, is what follows: + Churton, and The Man who Knew that the Bisara was, were lunching at the + Simla Club together. Churton was complaining of life in general. His best + mare had rolled out of stable down the hill and had broken her back; his + decisions were being reversed by the upper Courts, more than an Assistant + Commissioner of eight years' standing has a right to expect; he knew liver + and fever, and, for weeks past, had felt out of sorts. Altogether, he was + disgusted and disheartened. + </p> + <p> + Simla Club dining-room is built, as all the world knows, in two sections, + with an arch-arrangement dividing them. Come in, turn to your own left, + take the table under the window, and you cannot see any one who has come + in, turning to the right, and taken a table on the right side of the arch. + Curiously enough, every word that you say can be heard, not only by the + other diner, but by the servants beyond the screen through which they + bring dinner. This is worth knowing: an echoing-room is a trap to be + forewarned against. + </p> + <p> + Half in fun, and half hoping to be believed, The Man who Knew told Churton + the story of the Bisara of Pooree at rather greater length than I have + told it to you in this place; winding up with the suggestion that Churton + might as well throw the little box down the hill and see whether all his + troubles would go with it. In ordinary ears, English ears, the tale was + only an interesting bit of folk-lore. Churton laughed, said that he felt + better for his tiffin, and went out. Pack had been tiffining by himself to + the right of the arch, and had heard everything. He was nearly mad with + his absurd infatuation for Miss Hollis that all Simla had been laughing + about. + </p> + <p> + It is a curious thing that, when a man hates or loves beyond reason, he is + ready to go beyond reason to gratify his feelings. Which he would not do + for money or power merely. Depend upon it, Solomon would never have built + altars to Ashtaroth and all those ladies with queer names, if there had + not been trouble of some kind in his zenana, and nowhere else. But this is + beside the story. The facts of the case are these: Pack called on Churton + next day when Churton was out, left his card, and STOLE the Bisara of + Pooree from its place under the clock on the mantelpiece! Stole it like + the thief he was by nature. Three days later, all Simla was electrified by + the news that Miss Hollis had accepted Pack—the shrivelled rat, + Pack! Do you desire clearer evidence than this? The Bisara of Pooree had + been stolen, and it worked as it had always done when won by foul means. + </p> + <p> + There are three or four times in a man's life-when he is justified in + meddling with other people's affairs to play Providence. + </p> + <p> + The Man who Knew felt that he WAS justified; but believing and acting on a + belief are quite different things. The insolent satisfaction of Pack as he + ambled by the side of Miss Hollis, and Churton's striking release from + liver, as soon as the Bisara of Pooree had gone, decided the Man. He + explained to Churton and Churton laughed, because he was not brought up to + believe that men on the Government House List steal—at least little + things. But the miraculous acceptance by Miss Hollis of that tailor, Pack, + decided him to take steps on suspicion. He vowed that he only wanted to + find out where his ruby-studded silver box had vanished to. You cannot + accuse a man on the Government House List of stealing. And if you rifle + his room you are a thief yourself. Churton, prompted by The Man who Knew, + decided on burglary. If he found nothing in Pack's room.... but it is not + nice to think of what would have happened in that case. + </p> + <p> + Pack went to a dance at Benmore—Benmore WAS Benmore in those days, + and not an office—and danced fifteen waltzes out of twenty-two with + Miss Hollis. Churton and The Man took all the keys that they could lay + hands on, and went to Pack's room in the hotel, certain that his servants + would be away. Pack was a cheap soul. He had not purchased a decent + cash-box to keep his papers in, but one of those native imitations that + you buy for ten rupees. It opened to any sort of key, and there at the + bottom, under Pack's Insurance Policy, lay the Bisara of Pooree! + </p> + <p> + Churton called Pack names, put the Bisara of Pooree in his pocket, and + went to the dance with The Man. At least, he came in time for supper, and + saw the beginning of the end in Miss Hollis's eyes. She was hysterical + after supper, and was taken away by her Mamma. + </p> + <p> + At the dance, with the abominable Bisara in his pocket, Churton twisted + his foot on one of the steps leading down to the old Rink, and had to be + sent home in a rickshaw, grumbling. He did not believe in the Bisara of + Pooree any the more for this manifestation, but he sought out Pack and + called him some ugly names; and “thief” was the mildest of them. Pack took + the names with the nervous smile of a little man who wants both soul and + body to resent an insult, and went his way. There was no public scandal. + </p> + <p> + A week later, Pack got his definite dismissal from Miss Hollis. There had + been a mistake in the placing of her affections, she said. So he went away + to Madras, where he can do no great harm even if he lives to be a Colonel. + </p> + <p> + Churton insisted upon The Man who Knew taking the Bisara of Pooree as a + gift. The Man took it, went down to the Cart Road at once, found an ekka + pony with a blue head-necklace, fastened the Bisara of Pooree inside the + necklace with a piece of shoe-string and thanked Heaven that he was rid of + a danger. Remember, in case you ever find it, that you must not destroy + the Bisara of Pooree. I have not time to explain why just now, but the + power lies in the little wooden fish. Mister Gubernatis or Max Muller + could tell you more about it than I. + </p> + <p> + You will say that all this story is made up. Very well. If ever you come + across a little silver, ruby-studded box, seven-eighths of an inch long by + three-quarters wide, with a dark-brown wooden fish, wrapped in gold cloth, + inside it, keep it. Keep it for three years, and then you will discover + for yourself whether my story is true or false. + </p> + <p> + Better still, steal it as Pack did, and you will be sorry that you had not + killed yourself in the beginning. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE GATE OF A HUNDRED SORROWS. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “If I can attain Heaven for a pice, why should you be envious?” + + Opium Smoker's Proverb. +</pre> + <p> + This is no work of mine. My friend, Gabral Misquitta, the half-caste, + spoke it all, between moonset and morning, six weeks before he died; and I + took it down from his mouth as he answered my questions so:— + </p> + <p> + It lies between the Copper-smith's Gully and the pipe-stem sellers' + quarter, within a hundred yards, too, as the crow flies, of the Mosque of + Wazir Khan. I don't mind telling any one this much, but I defy him to find + the Gate, however well he may think he knows the City. You might even go + through the very gully it stands in a hundred times, and be none the + wiser. We used to call the gully, “the Gully of the Black Smoke,” but its + native name is altogether different of course. A loaded donkey couldn't + pass between the walls; and, at one point, just before you reach the Gate, + a bulged house-front makes people go along all sideways. + </p> + <p> + It isn't really a gate though. It's a house. Old Fung-Tching had it first + five years ago. He was a boot-maker in Calcutta. They say that he murdered + his wife there when he was drunk. That was why he dropped bazar-rum and + took to the Black Smoke instead. Later on, he came up north and opened the + Gate as a house where you could get your smoke in peace and quiet. Mind + you, it was a pukka, respectable opium-house, and not one of those + stifling, sweltering chandoo-khanas, that you can find all over the City. + No; the old man knew his business thoroughly, and he was most clean for a + Chinaman. He was a one-eyed little chap, not much more than five feet + high, and both his middle fingers were gone. All the same, he was the + handiest man at rolling black pills I have ever seen. Never seemed to be + touched by the Smoke, either; and what he took day and night, night and + day, was a caution. I've been at it five years, and I can do my fair share + of the Smoke with any one; but I was a child to Fung-Tching that way. All + the same, the old man was keen on his money, very keen; and that's what I + can't understand. I heard he saved a good deal before he died, but his + nephew has got all that now; and the old man's gone back to China to be + buried. + </p> + <p> + He kept the big upper room, where his best customers gathered, as neat as + a new pin. In one corner used to stand Fung-Tching's Joss—almost as + ugly as Fung-Tching—and there were always sticks burning under his + nose; but you never smelt 'em when the pipes were going thick. Opposite + the Joss was Fung-Tching's coffin. He had spent a good deal of his savings + on that, and whenever a new man came to the Gate he was always introduced + to it. It was lacquered black, with red and gold writings on it, and I've + heard that Fung-Tching brought it out all the way from China. I don't know + whether that's true or not, but I know that, if I came first in the + evening, I used to spread my mat just at the foot of it. It was a quiet + corner you see, and a sort of breeze from the gully came in at the window + now and then. Besides the mats, there was no other furniture in the room—only + the coffin, and the old Joss all green and blue and purple with age and + polish. + </p> + <p> + Fung-Tching never told us why he called the place “The Gate of a Hundred + Sorrows.” (He was the only Chinaman I know who used bad-sounding fancy + names. Most of them are flowery. As you'll see in Calcutta.) We used to + find that out for ourselves. Nothing grows on you so much, if you're + white, as the Black Smoke. A yellow man is made different. Opium doesn't + tell on him scarcely at all; but white and black suffer a good deal. Of + course, there are some people that the Smoke doesn't touch any more than + tobacco would at first. They just doze a bit, as one would fall asleep + naturally, and next morning they are almost fit for work. Now, I was one + of that sort when I began, but I've been at it for five years pretty + steadily, and its different now. There was an old aunt of mine, down Agra + way, and she left me a little at her death. About sixty rupees a month + secured. Sixty isn't much. I can recollect a time, seems hundreds and + hundreds of years ago, that I was getting my three hundred a month, and + pickings, when I was working on a big timber contract in Calcutta. + </p> + <p> + I didn't stick to that work for long. The Black Smoke does not allow of + much other business; and even though I am very little affected by it, as + men go, I couldn't do a day's work now to save my life. After all, sixty + rupees is what I want. When old Fung-Tching was alive he used to draw the + money for me, give me about half of it to live on (I eat very little), and + the rest he kept himself. I was free of the Gate at any time of the day + and night, and could smoke and sleep there when I liked, so I didn't care. + I know the old man made a good thing out of it; but that's no matter. + Nothing matters much to me; and, besides, the money always came fresh and + fresh each month. + </p> + <p> + There was ten of us met at the Gate when the place was first opened. Me, + and two Baboos from a Government Office somewhere in Anarkulli, but they + got the sack and couldn't pay (no man who has to work in the daylight can + do the Black Smoke for any length of time straight on); a Chinaman that + was Fung-Tching's nephew; a bazar-woman that had got a lot of money + somehow; an English loafer—Mac-Somebody I think, but I have + forgotten—that smoked heaps, but never seemed to pay anything (they + said he had saved Fung-Tching's life at some trial in Calcutta when he was + a barrister): another Eurasian, like myself, from Madras; a half-caste + woman, and a couple of men who said they had come from the North. I think + they must have been Persians or Afghans or something. There are not more + than five of us living now, but we come regular. I don't know what + happened to the Baboos; but the bazar-woman she died after six months of + the Gate, and I think Fung-Tching took her bangles and nose-ring for + himself. But I'm not certain. The Englishman, he drank as well as smoked, + and he dropped off. One of the Persians got killed in a row at night by + the big well near the mosque a long time ago, and the Police shut up the + well, because they said it was full of foul air. They found him dead at + the bottom of it. So, you see, there is only me, the Chinaman, the + half-caste woman that we call the Memsahib (she used to live with + Fung-Tching), the other Eurasian, and one of the Persians. The Memsahib + looks very old now. I think she was a young woman when the Gate was + opened; but we are all old for the matter of that. Hundreds and hundreds + of years old. It is very hard to keep count of time in the Gate, and + besides, time doesn't matter to me. I draw my sixty rupees fresh and fresh + every month. A very, very long while ago, when I used to be getting three + hundred and fifty rupees a month, and pickings, on a big timber-contract + at Calcutta, I had a wife of sorts. But she's dead now. People said that I + killed her by taking to the Black Smoke. Perhaps I did, but it's so long + since it doesn't matter. Sometimes when I first came to the Gate, I used + to feel sorry for it; but that's all over and done with long ago, and I + draw my sixty rupees fresh and fresh every month, and am quite happy. Not + DRUNK happy, you know, but always quiet and soothed and contented. + </p> + <p> + How did I take to it? It began at Calcutta. I used to try it in my own + house, just to see what it was like. I never went very far, but I think my + wife must have died then. Anyhow, I found myself here, and got to know + Fung-Tching. I don't remember rightly how that came about; but he told me + of the Gate and I used to go there, and, somehow, I have never got away + from it since. Mind you, though, the Gate was a respectable place in + Fung-Tching's time where you could be comfortable, and not at all like the + chandoo-khanas where the niggers go. No; it was clean and quiet, and not + crowded. Of course, there were others beside us ten and the man; but we + always had a mat apiece with a wadded woollen head-piece, all covered with + black and red dragons and things; just like a coffin in the corner. + </p> + <p> + At the end of one's third pipe the dragons used to move about and fight. + I've watched 'em, many and many a night through. I used to regulate my + Smoke that way, and now it takes a dozen pipes to make 'em stir. Besides, + they are all torn and dirty, like the mats, and old Fung-Tching is dead. + He died a couple of years ago, and gave me the pipe I always use now—a + silver one, with queer beasts crawling up and down the receiver-bottle + below the cup. Before that, I think, I used a big bamboo stem with a + copper cup, a very small one, and a green jade mouthpiece. It was a little + thicker than a walking-stick stem, and smoked sweet, very sweet. The + bamboo seemed to suck up the smoke. Silver doesn't, and I've got to clean + it out now and then, that's a great deal of trouble, but I smoke it for + the old man's sake. He must have made a good thing out of me, but he + always gave me clean mats and pillows, and the best stuff you could get + anywhere. + </p> + <p> + When he died, his nephew Tsin-ling took up the Gate, and he called it the + “Temple of the Three Possessions;” but we old ones speak of it as the + “Hundred Sorrows,” all the same. The nephew does things very shabbily, and + I think the Memsahib must help him. She lives with him; same as she used + to do with the old man. The two let in all sorts of low people, niggers + and all, and the Black Smoke isn't as good as it used to be. I've found + burnt bran in my pipe over and over again. The old man would have died if + that had happened in his time. Besides, the room is never cleaned, and all + the mats are torn and cut at the edges. The coffin has gone—gone to + China again—with the old man and two ounces of smoke inside it, in + case he should want 'em on the way. + </p> + <p> + The Joss doesn't get so many sticks burnt under his nose as he used to; + that's a sign of ill-luck, as sure as Death. He's all brown, too, and no + one ever attends to him. That's the Memsahib's work, I know; because, when + Tsin-ling tried to burn gilt paper before him, she said it was a waste of + money, and, if he kept a stick burning very slowly, the Joss wouldn't know + the difference. So now we've got the sticks mixed with a lot of glue, and + they take half-an-hour longer to burn, and smell stinky. Let alone the + smell of the room by itself. No business can get on if they try that sort + of thing. The Joss doesn't like it. I can see that. Late at night, + sometimes, he turns all sorts of queer colors—blue and green and red—just + as he used to do when old Fung-Tching was alive; and he rolls his eyes and + stamps his feet like a devil. + </p> + <p> + I don't know why I don't leave the place and smoke quietly in a little + room of my own in the bazar. Most like, Tsin-ling would kill me if I went + away—he draws my sixty rupees now—and besides, it's so much + trouble, and I've grown to be very fond of the Gate. It's not much to look + at. Not what it was in the old man's time, but I couldn't leave it. I've + seen so many come in and out. And I've seen so many die here on the mats + that I should be afraid of dying in the open now. I've seen some things + that people would call strange enough; but nothing is strange when you're + on the Black Smoke, except the Black Smoke. And if it was, it wouldn't + matter. Fung-Tching used to be very particular about his people, and never + got in any one who'd give trouble by dying messy and such. But the nephew + isn't half so careful. He tells everywhere that he keeps a “first-chop” + house. Never tries to get men in quietly, and make them comfortable like + Fung-Tching did. That's why the Gate is getting a little bit more known + than it used to be. Among the niggers of course. The nephew daren't get a + white, or, for matter of that, a mixed skin into the place. He has to keep + us three of course—me and the Memsahib and the other Eurasian. We're + fixtures. But he wouldn't give us credit for a pipeful—not for + anything. + </p> + <p> + One of these days, I hope, I shall die in the Gate. The Persian and the + Madras man are terrible shaky now. They've got a boy to light their pipes + for them. I always do that myself. Most like, I shall see them carried out + before me. I don't think I shall ever outlive the Memsahib or Tsin-ling. + Women last longer than men at the Black-Smoke, and Tsin-ling has a deal of + the old man's blood in him, though he DOES smoke cheap stuff. The + bazar-woman knew when she was going two days before her time; and SHE died + on a clean mat with a nicely wadded pillow, and the old man hung up her + pipe just above the Joss. He was always fond of her, I fancy. But he took + her bangles just the same. + </p> + <p> + I should like to die like the bazar-woman—on a clean, cool mat with + a pipe of good stuff between my lips. When I feel I'm going, I shall ask + Tsin-ling for them, and he can draw my sixty rupees a month, fresh and + fresh, as long as he pleases, and watch the black and red dragons have + their last big fight together; and then.... + </p> + <p> + Well, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters much to me—only I wished + Tsin-ling wouldn't put bran into the Black Smoke. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE STORY OF MUHAMMAD DIN. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Who is the happy man? He that sees in his own house at home little + children crowned with dust, leaping and falling and crying.” + + Munichandra, translated by Professor Peterson. +</pre> + <p> + The polo-ball was an old one, scarred, chipped, and dinted. It stood on + the mantelpiece among the pipe-stems which Imam Din, khitmatgar, was + cleaning for me. + </p> + <p> + “Does the Heaven-born want this ball?” said Imam Din, deferentially. + </p> + <p> + The Heaven-born set no particular store by it; but of what use was a + polo-ball to a khitmatgar? + </p> + <p> + “By Your Honor's favor, I have a little son. He has seen this ball, and + desires it to play with. I do not want it for myself.” + </p> + <p> + No one would for an instant accuse portly old Imam Din of wanting to play + with polo-balls. He carried out the battered thing into the verandah; and + there followed a hurricane of joyful squeaks, a patter of small feet, and + the thud-thud-thud of the ball rolling along the ground. Evidently the + little son had been waiting outside the door to secure his treasure. But + how had he managed to see that polo-ball? + </p> + <p> + Next day, coming back from office half an hour earlier than usual, I was + aware of a small figure in the dining-room—a tiny, plump figure in a + ridiculously inadequate shirt which came, perhaps, half-way down the tubby + stomach. It wandered round the room, thumb in mouth, crooning to itself as + it took stock of the pictures. Undoubtedly this was the “little son.” + </p> + <p> + He had no business in my room, of course; but was so deeply absorbed in + his discoveries that he never noticed me in the doorway. I stepped into + the room and startled him nearly into a fit. He sat down on the ground + with a gasp. His eyes opened, and his mouth followed suit. I knew what was + coming, and fled, followed by a long, dry howl which reached the servants' + quarters far more quickly than any command of mine had ever done. In ten + seconds Imam Din was in the dining-room. Then despairing sobs arose, and I + returned to find Imam Din admonishing the small sinner who was using most + of his shirt as a handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “This boy,” said Imam Din, judicially, “is a budmash, a big budmash. He + will, without doubt, go to the jail-khana for his behavior.” Renewed yells + from the penitent, and an elaborate apology to myself from Imam Din. + </p> + <p> + “Tell the baby,” said I, “that the Sahib is not angry, and take him away.” + Imam Din conveyed my forgiveness to the offender, who had now gathered all + his shirt round his neck, string-wise, and the yell subsided into a sob. + The two set off for the door. “His name,” said Imam Din, as though the + name were part of the crime, “is Muhammad Din, and he is a budmash.” Freed + from present danger, Muhammad Din turned round, in his father's arms, and + said gravely:—“It is true that my name is Muhammad Din, Tahib, but I + am not a budmash. I am a MAN!” + </p> + <p> + From that day dated my acquaintance with Muhammad Din. Never again did he + come into my dining-room, but on the neutral ground of the compound, we + greeted each other with much state, though our conversation was confined + to “Talaam, Tahib” from his side and “Salaam Muhammad Din” from mine. + Daily on my return from office, the little white shirt, and the fat little + body used to rise from the shade of the creeper-covered trellis where they + had been hid; and daily I checked my horse here, that my salutation might + not be slurred over or given unseemly. + </p> + <p> + Muhammad Din never had any companions. He used to trot about the compound, + in and out of the castor-oil bushes, on mysterious errands of his own. One + day I stumbled upon some of his handiwork far down the ground. He had half + buried the polo-ball in dust, and stuck six shrivelled old marigold + flowers in a circle round it. Outside that circle again, was a rude + square, traced out in bits of red brick alternating with fragments of + broken china; the whole bounded by a little bank of dust. The bhistie from + the well-curb put in a plea for the small architect, saying that it was + only the play of a baby and did not much disfigure my garden. + </p> + <p> + Heaven knows that I had no intention of touching the child's work then or + later; but, that evening, a stroll through the garden brought me unawares + full on it; so that I trampled, before I knew, marigold-heads, dust-bank, + and fragments of broken soap-dish into confusion past all hope of mending. + Next morning I came upon Muhammad Din crying softly to himself over the + ruin I had wrought. Some one had cruelly told him that the Sahib was very + angry with him for spoiling the garden, and had scattered his rubbish + using bad language the while. Muhammad Din labored for an hour at effacing + every trace of the dust-bank and pottery fragments, and it was with a + tearful apologetic face that he said, “Talaam Tahib,” when I came home + from the office. A hasty inquiry resulted in Imam Din informing Muhammad + Din that by my singular favor he was permitted to disport himself as he + pleased. Whereat the child took heart and fell to tracing the ground-plan + of an edifice which was to eclipse the marigold-polo-ball creation. + </p> + <p> + For some months, the chubby little eccentricity revolved in his humble + orbit among the castor-oil bushes and in the dust; always fashioning + magnificent palaces from stale flowers thrown away by the bearer, smooth + water-worn pebbles, bits of broken glass, and feathers pulled, I fancy, + from my fowls—always alone and always crooning to himself. + </p> + <p> + A gayly-spotted sea-shell was dropped one day close to the last of his + little buildings; and I looked that Muhammad Din should build something + more than ordinarily splendid on the strength of it. Nor was I + disappointed. He meditated for the better part of an hour, and his + crooning rose to a jubilant song. Then he began tracing in dust. It would + certainly be a wondrous palace, this one, for it was two yards long and a + yard broad in ground-plan. But the palace was never completed. + </p> + <p> + Next day there was no Muhammad Din at the head of the carriage-drive, and + no “Talaam Tahib” to welcome my return. I had grown accustomed to the + greeting, and its omission troubled me. Next day, Imam Din told me that + the child was suffering slightly from fever and needed quinine. He got the + medicine, and an English Doctor. + </p> + <p> + “They have no stamina, these brats,” said the Doctor, as he left Imam + Din's quarters. + </p> + <p> + A week later, though I would have given much to have avoided it, I met on + the road to the Mussulman burying-ground Imam Din, accompanied by one + other friend, carrying in his arms, wrapped in a white cloth, all that was + left of little Muhammad Din. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ON THE STRENGTH OF A LIKENESS. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + If your mirror be broken, look into still water; but have a care + that you do not fall in. + + Hindu Proverb. +</pre> + <p> + Next to a requited attachment, one of the most convenient things that a + young man can carry about with him at the beginning of his career, is an + unrequited attachment. It makes him feel important and business-like, and + blase, and cynical; and whenever he has a touch of liver, or suffers from + want of exercise, he can mourn over his lost love, and be very happy in a + tender, twilight fashion. + </p> + <p> + Hannasyde's affair of the heart had been a Godsend to him. It was four + years old, and the girl had long since given up thinking of it. She had + married and had many cares of her own. In the beginning, she had told + Hannasyde that, “while she could never be anything more than a sister to + him, she would always take the deepest interest in his welfare.” This + startlingly new and original remark gave Hannasyde something to think over + for two years; and his own vanity filled in the other twenty-four months. + Hannasyde was quite different from Phil Garron, but, none the less, had + several points in common with that far too lucky man. + </p> + <p> + He kept his unrequited attachment by him as men keep a well-smoked pipe—for + comfort's sake, and because it had grown dear in the using. It brought him + happily through the Simla season. Hannasyde was not lovely. There was a + crudity in his manners, and a roughness in the way in which he helped a + lady on to her horse, that did not attract the other sex to him. Even if + he had cast about for their favor, which he did not. He kept his wounded + heart all to himself for a while. + </p> + <p> + Then trouble came to him. All who go to Simla, know the slope from the + Telegraph to the Public Works Office. Hannasyde was loafing up the hill, + one September morning between calling hours, when a 'rickshaw came down in + a hurry, and in the 'rickshaw sat the living, breathing image of the girl + who had made him so happily unhappy. Hannasyde leaned against the railing + and gasped. He wanted to run downhill after the 'rickshaw, but that was + impossible; so he went forward with most of his blood in his temples. It + was impossible, for many reasons, that the woman in the 'rickshaw could be + the girl he had known. She was, he discovered later, the wife of a man + from Dindigul, or Coimbatore, or some out-of-the-way place, and she had + come up to Simla early in the season for the good of her health. She was + going back to Dindigul, or wherever it was, at the end of the season; and + in all likelihood would never return to Simla again, her proper + Hill-station being Ootacamund. That night, Hannasyde, raw and savage from + the raking up of all old feelings, took counsel with himself for one + measured hour. What he decided upon was this; and you must decide for + yourself how much genuine affection for the old love, and how much a very + natural inclination to go abroad and enjoy himself, affected the decision. + Mrs. Landys-Haggert would never in all human likelihood cross his path + again. So whatever he did didn't much matter. She was marvellously like + the girl who “took a deep interest” and the rest of the formula. All + things considered, it would be pleasant to make the acquaintance of Mrs. + Landys-Haggert, and for a little time—only a very little time—to + make believe that he was with Alice Chisane again. Every one is more or + less mad on one point. Hannasyde's particular monomania was his old love, + Alice Chisane. + </p> + <p> + He made it his business to get introduced to Mrs. Haggert, and the + introduction prospered. He also made it his business to see as much as he + could of that lady. When a man is in earnest as to interviews, the + facilities which Simla offers are startling. There are garden-parties, and + tennis-parties, and picnics, and luncheons at Annandale, and + rifle-matches, and dinners and balls; besides rides and walks, which are + matters of private arrangement. Hannasyde had started with the intention + of seeing a likeness, and he ended by doing much more. He wanted to be + deceived, he meant to be deceived, and he deceived himself very + thoroughly. Not only were the face and figure, the face and figure of + Alice Chisane, but the voice and lower tones were exactly the same, and so + were the turns of speech; and the little mannerisms, that every woman has, + of gait and gesticulation, were absolutely and identically the same. The + turn of the head was the same; the tired look in the eyes at the end of a + long walk was the same; the sloop and wrench over the saddle to hold in a + pulling horse was the same; and once, most marvellous of all, Mrs. + Landys-Haggert singing to herself in the next room, while Hannasyde was + waiting to take her for a ride, hummed, note for note, with a throaty + quiver of the voice in the second line:—“Poor Wandering One!” + exactly as Alice Chisane had hummed it for Hannasyde in the dusk of an + English drawing-room. In the actual woman herself—in the soul of her—there + was not the least likeness; she and Alice Chisane being cast in different + moulds. But all that Hannasyde wanted to know and see and think about, was + this maddening and perplexing likeness of face and voice and manner. He + was bent on making a fool of himself that way; and he was in no sort + disappointed. + </p> + <p> + Open and obvious devotion from any sort of man is always pleasant to any + sort of woman; but Mrs. Landys-Haggert, being a woman of the world, could + make nothing of Hannasyde's admiration. + </p> + <p> + He would take any amount of trouble—he was a selfish man habitually—to + meet and forestall, if possible, her wishes. Anything she told him to do + was law; and he was, there could be no doubting it, fond of her company so + long as she talked to him, and kept on talking about trivialities. But + when she launched into expression of her personal views and her wrongs, + those small social differences that make the spice of Simla life, + Hannasyde was neither pleased nor interested. He didn't want to know + anything about Mrs. Landys-Haggert, or her experiences in the past—she + had travelled nearly all over the world, and could talk cleverly—he + wanted the likeness of Alice Chisane before his eyes and her voice in his + ears. Anything outside that, reminding him of another personality jarred, + and he showed that it did. + </p> + <p> + Under the new Post Office, one evening, Mrs. Landys-Haggert turned on him, + and spoke her mind shortly and without warning. “Mr. Hannasyde,” said she, + “will you be good enough to explain why you have appointed yourself my + special cavalier servente? I don't understand it. But I am perfectly + certain, somehow or other, that you don't care the least little bit in the + world for ME.” This seems to support, by the way, the theory that no man + can act or tell lies to a woman without being found out. Hannasyde was + taken off his guard. His defence never was a strong one, because he was + always thinking of himself, and he blurted out, before he knew what he was + saying, this inexpedient answer:—“No more I do.” + </p> + <p> + The queerness of the situation and the reply, made Mrs. Landys-Haggert + laugh. Then it all came out; and at the end of Hannasyde's lucid + explanation, Mrs. Haggert said, with the least little touch of scorn in + her voice:—“So I'm to act as the lay-figure for you to hang the rags + of your tattered affections on, am I?” + </p> + <p> + Hannasyde didn't see what answer was required, and he devoted himself + generally and vaguely to the praise of Alice Chisane, which was + unsatisfactory. Now it is to be thoroughly made clear that Mrs. Haggert + had not the shadow of a ghost of an interest in Hannasyde. Only.... only + no woman likes being made love through instead of to—specially on + behalf of a musty divinity of four years' standing. + </p> + <p> + Hannasyde did not see that he had made any very particular exhibition of + himself. He was glad to find a sympathetic soul in the arid wastes of + Simla. + </p> + <p> + When the season ended, Hannasyde went down to his own place and Mrs. + Haggert to hers. “It was like making love to a ghost,” said Hannasyde to + himself, “and it doesn't matter; and now I'll get to my work.” But he + found himself thinking steadily of the Haggert-Chisane ghost; and he could + not be certain whether it was Haggert or Chisane that made up the greater + part of the pretty phantom. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + He got understanding a month later. + </p> + <p> + A peculiar point of this peculiar country is the way in which a heartless + Government transfers men from one end of the Empire to the other. You can + never be sure of getting rid of a friend or an enemy till he or she dies. + There was a case once—but that's another story. + </p> + <p> + Haggert's Department ordered him up from Dindigul to the Frontier at two + days' notice, and he went through, losing money at every step, from + Dindigul to his station. He dropped Mrs. Haggert at Lucknow, to stay with + some friends there, to take part in a big ball at the Chutter Munzil, and + to come on when he had made the new home a little comfortable. Lucknow was + Hannasyde's station, and Mrs. Haggert stayed a week there. Hannasyde went + to meet her. And the train came in, he discovered which he had been + thinking of for the past month. The unwisdom of his conduct also struck + him. The Lucknow week, with two dances, and an unlimited quantity of rides + together, clinched matters; and Hannasyde found himself pacing this circle + of thought:—He adored Alice Chisane—at least he HAD adored + her. AND he admired Mrs. Landys-Haggert because she was like Alice + Chisane. BUT Mrs. Landys-Haggert was not in the least like Alice Chisane, + being a thousand times more adorable. NOW Alice Chisane was “the bride of + another,” and so was Mrs. Landys-Haggert, and a good and honest wife too. + THEREFORE, he, Hannasyde, was.... here he called himself several hard + names, and wished that he had been wise in the beginning. + </p> + <p> + Whether Mrs. Landys-Haggert saw what was going on in his mind, she alone + knows. He seemed to take an unqualified interest in everything connected + with herself, as distinguished from the Alice-Chisane likeness, and he + said one or two things which, if Alice Chisane had been still betrothed to + him, could scarcely have been excused, even on the grounds of the + likeness. But Mrs. Haggert turned the remarks aside, and spent a long time + in making Hannasyde see what a comfort and a pleasure she had been to him + because of her strange resemblance to his old love. Hannasyde groaned in + his saddle and said, “Yes, indeed,” and busied himself with preparations + for her departure to the Frontier, feeling very small and miserable. + </p> + <p> + The last day of her stay at Lucknow came, and Hannasyde saw her off at the + Railway Station. She was very grateful for his kindness and the trouble he + had taken, and smiled pleasantly and sympathetically as one who knew the + Alice-Chisane reason of that kindness. And Hannasyde abused the coolies + with the luggage, and hustled the people on the platform, and prayed that + the roof might fall in and slay him. + </p> + <p> + As the train went out slowly, Mrs. Landys-Haggert leaned out of the window + to say goodbye:—“On second thoughts au revoir, Mr. Hannasyde. I go + Home in the Spring, and perhaps I may meet you in Town.” + </p> + <p> + Hannasyde shook hands, and said very earnestly and adoringly:—“I + hope to Heaven I shall never see your face again!” + </p> + <p> + And Mrs. Haggert understood. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + WRESSLEY OF THE FOREIGN OFFICE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I closed and drew for my love's sake, + That now is false to me, + And I slew the Riever of Tarrant Moss, + And set Dumeny free. + + And ever they give me praise and gold, + And ever I moan my loss, + For I struck the blow for my false love's sake, + And not for the men at the Moss. + + Tarrant Moss. +</pre> + <p> + One of the many curses of our life out here is the want of atmosphere in + the painter's sense. There are no half-tints worth noticing. Men stand out + all crude and raw, with nothing to tone them down, and nothing to scale + them against. They do their work, and grow to think that there is nothing + but their work, and nothing like their work, and that they are the real + pivots on which the administration turns. Here is an instance of this + feeling. A half-caste clerk was ruling forms in a Pay Office. He said to + me:—“Do you know what would happen if I added or took away one + single line on this sheet?” Then, with the air of a conspirator:—“It + would disorganize the whole of the Treasury payments throughout the whole + of the Presidency Circle! Think of that?” + </p> + <p> + If men had not this delusion as to the ultra-importance of their own + particular employments, I suppose that they would sit down and kill + themselves. But their weakness is wearisome, particularly when the + listener knows that he himself commits exactly the same sin. + </p> + <p> + Even the Secretariat believes that it does good when it asks an + over-driven Executive Officer to take census of wheat-weevils through a + district of five thousand square miles. + </p> + <p> + There was a man once in the Foreign Office—a man who had grown + middle-aged in the department, and was commonly said, by irreverent + juniors, to be able to repeat Aitchison's “Treaties and Sunnuds” + backwards, in his sleep. What he did with his stored knowledge only the + Secretary knew; and he, naturally, would not publish the news abroad. This + man's name was Wressley, and it was the Shibboleth, in those days, to say:—“Wressley + knows more about the Central Indian States than any living man.” If you + did not say this, you were considered one of mean understanding. + </p> + <p> + Now-a-days, the man who says that he knows the ravel of the inter-tribal + complications across the Border is of more use; but in Wressley's time, + much attention was paid to the Central Indian States. They were called + “foci” and “factors,” and all manner of imposing names. + </p> + <p> + And here the curse of Anglo-Indian life fell heavily. When Wressley lifted + up his voice, and spoke about such-and-such a succession to such-and-such + a throne, the Foreign Office were silent, and Heads of Departments + repeated the last two or three words of Wressley's sentences, and tacked + “yes, yes,” on them, and knew that they were “assisting the Empire to + grapple with serious political contingencies.” In most big undertakings, + one or two men do the work while the rest sit near and talk till the ripe + decorations begin to fall. + </p> + <p> + Wressley was the working-member of the Foreign Office firm, and, to keep + him up to his duties when he showed signs of flagging, he was made much of + by his superiors and told what a fine fellow he was. He did not require + coaxing, because he was of tough build, but what he received confirmed him + in the belief that there was no one quite so absolutely and imperatively + necessary to the stability of India as Wressley of the Foreign Office. + There might be other good men, but the known, honored and trusted man + among men was Wressley of the Foreign Office. We had a Viceroy in those + days who knew exactly when to “gentle” a fractious big man and to hearten + up a collar-galled little one, and so keep all his team level. He conveyed + to Wressley the impression which I have just set down; and even tough men + are apt to be disorganized by a Viceroy's praise. There was a case once—but + that is another story. + </p> + <p> + All India knew Wressley's name and office—it was in Thacker and + Spink's Directory—but who he was personally, or what he did, or what + his special merits were, not fifty men knew or cared. His work filled all + his time, and he found no leisure to cultivate acquaintances beyond those + of dead Rajput chiefs with Ahir blots in their 'scutcheons. Wressley would + have made a very good Clerk in the Herald's College had he not been a + Bengal Civilian. + </p> + <p> + Upon a day, between office and office, great trouble came to Wressley—overwhelmed + him, knocked him down, and left him gasping as though he had been a little + school-boy. Without reason, against prudence, and at a moment's notice, he + fell in love with a frivolous, golden-haired girl who used to tear about + Simla Mall on a high, rough waler, with a blue velvet jockey-cap crammed + over her eyes. Her name was Venner—Tillie Venner—and she was + delightful. She took Wressley's heart at a hand-gallop, and Wressley found + that it was not good for man to live alone; even with half the Foreign + Office Records in his presses. + </p> + <p> + Then Simla laughed, for Wressley in love was slightly ridiculous. He did + his best to interest the girl in himself—that is to say, his work—and + she, after the manner of women, did her best to appear interested in what, + behind his back, she called “Mr. Wressley's Wajahs”; for she lisped very + prettily. She did not understand one little thing about them, but she + acted as if she did. Men have married on that sort of error before now. + </p> + <p> + Providence, however, had care of Wressley. He was immensely struck with + Miss Venner's intelligence. He would have been more impressed had he heard + her private and confidential accounts of his calls. He held peculiar + notions as to the wooing of girls. He said that the best work of a man's + career should be laid reverently at their feet. Ruskin writes something + like this somewhere, I think; but in ordinary life a few kisses are better + and save time. + </p> + <p> + About a month after he had lost his heart to Miss Venner, and had been + doing his work vilely in consequence, the first idea of his “Native Rule + in Central India” struck Wressley and filled him with joy. It was, as he + sketched it, a great thing—the work of his life—a really + comprehensive survey of a most fascinating subject—to be written + with all the special and laboriously acquired knowledge of Wressley of the + Foreign Office—a gift fit for an Empress. + </p> + <p> + He told Miss Venner that he was going to take leave, and hoped, on his + return, to bring her a present worthy of her acceptance. Would she wait? + Certainly she would. Wressley drew seventeen hundred rupees a month. She + would wait a year for that. Her mamma would help her to wait. + </p> + <p> + So Wressley took one year's leave and all the available documents, about a + truck-load, that he could lay hands on, and went down to Central India + with his notion hot in his head. He began his book in the land he was + writing of. Too much official correspondence had made him a frigid + workman, and he must have guessed that he needed the white light of local + color on his palette. This is a dangerous paint for amateurs to play with. + </p> + <p> + Heavens, how that man worked! He caught his Rajahs, analyzed his Rajahs, + and traced them up into the mists of Time and beyond, with their queens + and their concubines. He dated and cross-dated, pedigreed and + triple-pedigreed, compared, noted, connoted, wove, strung, sorted, + selected, inferred, calendared and counter-calendared for ten hours a day. + And, because this sudden and new light of Love was upon him, he turned + those dry bones of history and dirty records of misdeeds into things to + weep or to laugh over as he pleased. His heart and soul were at the end of + his pen, and they got into the link. He was dowered with sympathy, + insight, humor and style for two hundred and thirty days and nights; and + his book was a Book. He had his vast special knowledge with him, so to + speak; but the spirit, the woven-in human Touch, the poetry and the power + of the output, were beyond all special knowledge. But I doubt whether he + knew the gift that was in him then, and thus he may have lost some + happiness. He was toiling for Tillie Venner, not for himself. Men often do + their best work blind, for some one else's sake. + </p> + <p> + Also, though this has nothing to do with the story, in India where every + one knows every one else, you can watch men being driven, by the women who + govern them, out of the rank-and-file and sent to take up points alone. A + good man once started, goes forward; but an average man, so soon as the + woman loses interest in his success as a tribute to her power, comes back + to the battalion and is no more heard of. + </p> + <p> + Wressley bore the first copy of his book to Simla and, blushing and + stammering, presented it to Miss Venner. She read a little of it. I give + her review verbatim:—“Oh, your book? It's all about those how-wid + Wajahs. I didn't understand it.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + Wressley of the Foreign Office was broken, smashed,—I am not + exaggerating—by this one frivolous little girl. All that he could + say feebly was:—“But, but it's my magnum opus! The work of my life.” + Miss Venner did not know what magnum opus meant; but she knew that Captain + Kerrington had won three races at the last Gymkhana. Wressley didn't press + her to wait for him any longer. He had sense enough for that. + </p> + <p> + Then came the reaction after the year's strain, and Wressley went back to + the Foreign Office and his “Wajahs,” a compiling, gazetteering, + report-writing hack, who would have been dear at three hundred rupees a + month. He abided by Miss Venner's review. Which proves that the + inspiration in the book was purely temporary and unconnected with himself. + Nevertheless, he had no right to sink, in a hill-tarn, five packing-cases, + brought up at enormous expense from Bombay, of the best book of Indian + history ever written. + </p> + <p> + When he sold off before retiring, some years later, I was turning over his + shelves, and came across the only existing copy of “Native Rule in Central + India”—the copy that Miss Venner could not understand. I read it, + sitting on his mule-trucks, as long as the light lasted, and offered him + his own price for it. He looked over my shoulder for a few pages and said + to himself drearily:—“Now, how in the world did I come to write such + damned good stuff as that?” Then to me:—“Take it and keep it. Write + one of your penny-farthing yarns about its birth. Perhaps—perhaps—the + whole business may have been ordained to that end.” + </p> + <p> + Which, knowing what Wressley of the Foreign Office was once, struck me as + about the bitterest thing that I had ever heard a man say of his own work. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BY WORD OF MOUTH. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Not though you die to-night, O Sweet, and wail, + A spectre at my door, + Shall mortal Fear make Love immortal fail— + I shall but love you more, + Who from Death's house returning, give me still + One moment's comfort in my matchless ill. + + Shadow Houses. +</pre> + <p> + This tale may be explained by those who know how souls are made, and where + the bounds of the Possible are put down. I have lived long enough in this + country to know that it is best to know nothing, and can only write the + story as it happened. + </p> + <p> + Dumoise was our Civil Surgeon at Meridki, and we called him “Dormouse,” + because he was a round little, sleepy little man. He was a good Doctor and + never quarrelled with any one, not even with our Deputy Commissioner, who + had the manners of a bargee and the tact of a horse. He married a girl as + round and as sleepy-looking as himself. She was a Miss Hillardyce, + daughter of “Squash” Hillardyce of the Berars, who married his Chief's + daughter by mistake. But that is another story. + </p> + <p> + A honeymoon in India is seldom more than a week long; but there is nothing + to hinder a couple from extending it over two or three years. This is a + delightful country for married folk who are wrapped up in one another. + They can live absolutely alone and without interruption—just as the + Dormice did. These two little people retired from the world after their + marriage, and were very happy. They were forced, of course, to give + occasional dinners, but they made no friends hereby, and the Station went + its own way and forgot them; only saying, occasionally, that Dormouse was + the best of good fellows, though dull. A Civil Surgeon who never quarrels + is a rarity, appreciated as such. + </p> + <p> + Few people can afford to play Robinson Crusoe anywhere—least of all + in India, where we are few in the land, and very much dependent on each + other's kind offices. Dumoise was wrong in shutting himself from the world + for a year, and he discovered his mistake when an epidemic of typhoid + broke out in the Station in the heart of the cold weather, and his wife + went down. He was a shy little man, and five days were wasted before he + realized that Mrs. Dumoise was burning with something worse than simple + fever, and three days more passed before he ventured to call on Mrs. + Shute, the Engineer's wife, and timidly speak about his trouble. Nearly + every household in India knows that Doctors are very helpless in typhoid. + The battle must be fought out between Death and the Nurses, minute by + minute and degree by degree. Mrs. Shute almost boxed Dumoise's ears for + what she called his “criminal delay,” and went off at once to look after + the poor girl. We had seven cases of typhoid in the Station that winter + and, as the average of death is about one in every five cases, we felt + certain that we should have to lose somebody. But all did their best. The + women sat up nursing the women, and the men turned to and tended the + bachelors who were down, and we wrestled with those typhoid cases for + fifty-six days, and brought them through the Valley of the Shadow in + triumph. But, just when we thought all was over, and were going to give a + dance to celebrate the victory, little Mrs. Dumoise got a relapse and died + in a week and the Station went to the funeral. Dumoise broke down utterly + at the brink of the grave, and had to be taken away. + </p> + <p> + After the death, Dumoise crept into his own house and refused to be + comforted. He did his duties perfectly, but we all felt that he should go + on leave, and the other men of his own Service told him so. Dumoise was + very thankful for the suggestion—he was thankful for anything in + those days—and went to Chini on a walking-tour. Chini is some twenty + marches from Simla, in the heart of the Hills, and the scenery is good if + you are in trouble. You pass through big, still deodar-forests, and under + big, still cliffs, and over big, still grass-downs swelling like a woman's + breasts; and the wind across the grass, and the rain among the deodars + says:—“Hush—hush—hush.” So little Dumoise was packed off + to Chini, to wear down his grief with a full-plate camera, and a rifle. He + took also a useless bearer, because the man had been his wife's favorite + servant. He was idle and a thief, but Dumoise trusted everything to him. + </p> + <p> + On his way back from Chini, Dumoise turned aside to Bagi, through the + Forest Reserve which is on the spur of Mount Huttoo. Some men who have + travelled more than a little say that the march from Kotegarh to Bagi is + one of the finest in creation. It runs through dark wet forest, and ends + suddenly in bleak, nipped hill-side and black rocks. Bagi dak-bungalow is + open to all the winds and is bitterly cold. Few people go to Bagi. Perhaps + that was the reason why Dumoise went there. He halted at seven in the + evening, and his bearer went down the hill-side to the village to engage + coolies for the next day's march. The sun had set, and the night-winds + were beginning to croon among the rocks. Dumoise leaned on the railing of + the verandah, waiting for his bearer to return. The man came back almost + immediately after he had disappeared, and at such a rate that Dumoise + fancied he must have crossed a bear. He was running as hard as he could up + the face of the hill. + </p> + <p> + But there was no bear to account for his terror. He raced to the verandah + and fell down, the blood spurting from his nose and his face iron-gray. + Then he gurgled:—“I have seen the Memsahib! I have seen the + Memsahib!” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” said Dumoise. + </p> + <p> + “Down there, walking on the road to the village. She was in a blue dress, + and she lifted the veil of her bonnet and said:—'Ram Dass, give my + salaams to the Sahib, and tell him that I shall meet him next month at + Nuddea.' Then I ran away, because I was afraid.” + </p> + <p> + What Dumoise said or did I do not know. Ram Dass declares that he said + nothing, but walked up and down the verandah all the cold night, waiting + for the Memsahib to come up the hill and stretching out his arms into the + dark like a madman. But no Memsahib came, and, next day, he went on to + Simla cross-questioning the bearer every hour. + </p> + <p> + Ram Dass could only say that he had met Mrs. Dumoise and that she had + lifted up her veil and given him the message which he had faithfully + repeated to Dumoise. To this statement Ram Dass adhered. He did not know + where Nuddea was, had no friends at Nuddea, and would most certainly never + go to Nuddea; even though his pay were doubled. + </p> + <p> + Nuddea is in Bengal, and has nothing whatever to do with a doctor serving + in the Punjab. It must be more than twelve hundred miles from Meridki. + </p> + <p> + Dumoise went through Simla without halting, and returned to Meridki there + to take over charge from the man who had been officiating for him during + his tour. There were some Dispensary accounts to be explained, and some + recent orders of the Surgeon-General to be noted, and, altogether, the + taking-over was a full day's work. In the evening, Dumoise told his locum + tenens, who was an old friend of his bachelor days, what had happened at + Bagi; and the man said that Ram Dass might as well have chosen Tuticorin + while he was about it. + </p> + <p> + At that moment a telegraph-peon came in with a telegram from Simla, + ordering Dumoise not to take over charge at Meridki, but to go at once to + Nuddea on special duty. There was a nasty outbreak of cholera at Nuddea, + and the Bengal Government, being shorthanded, as usual, had borrowed a + Surgeon from the Punjab. + </p> + <p> + Dumoise threw the telegram across the table and said:—“Well?” + </p> + <p> + The other Doctor said nothing. It was all that he could say. + </p> + <p> + Then he remembered that Dumoise had passed through Simla on his way from + Bagi; and thus might, possibly, have heard the first news of the impending + transfer. + </p> + <p> + He tried to put the question, and the implied suspicion into words, but + Dumoise stopped him with:—“If I had desired THAT, I should never + have come back from Chini. I was shooting there. I wish to live, for I + have things to do.... but I shall not be sorry.” + </p> + <p> + The other man bowed his head, and helped, in the twilight, to pack up + Dumoise's just opened trunks. Ram Dass entered with the lamps. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the Sahib going?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “To Nuddea,” said Dumoise, softly. + </p> + <p> + Ram Dass clawed Dumoise's knees and boots and begged him not to go. Ram + Dass wept and howled till he was turned out of the room. Then he wrapped + up all his belongings and came back to ask for a character. He was not + going to Nuddea to see his Sahib die, and, perhaps to die himself. + </p> + <p> + So Dumoise gave the man his wages and went down to Nuddea alone; the other + Doctor bidding him good-bye as one under sentence of death. + </p> + <p> + Eleven days later, he had joined his Memsahib; and the Bengal Government + had to borrow a fresh Doctor to cope with that epidemic at Nuddea. The + first importation lay dead in Chooadanga Dak-Bungalow. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TO BE HELD FOR REFERENCE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + By the hoof of the Wild Goat up-tossed + From the Cliff where She lay in the Sun, + Fell the Stone + To the Tarn where the daylight is lost; + So She fell from the light of the Sun, + And alone. + + Now the fall was ordained from the first, + With the Goat and the Cliff and the Tarn, + But the Stone + Knows only Her life is accursed, + As She sinks in the depths of the Tarn, + And alone. + + Oh, Thou who has builded the world + Oh, Thou who hast lighted the Sun! + Oh, Thou who hast darkened the Tarn! + Judge Thou + The Sin of the Stone that was hurled + By the Goat from the light of the Sun, + As She sinks in the mire of the Tarn, + Even now—even now—even now! + + From the Unpublished Papers of McIntosh Jellaludin. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Say, is it dawn, is it dusk in thy Bower, + Thou whom I long for, who longest for me? + Oh be it night—be it—” + </pre> + <p> + Here he fell over a little camel-colt that was sleeping in the Serai where + the horse-traders and the best of the blackguards from Central Asia live; + and, because he was very drunk indeed and the night was dark, he could not + rise again till I helped him. That was the beginning of my acquaintance + with McIntosh Jellaludin. When a loafer, and drunk, sings The Song of the + Bower, he must be worth cultivating. He got off the camel's back and said, + rather thickly:—“I—I—I'm a bit screwed, but a dip in + Loggerhead will put me right again; and I say, have you spoken to Symonds + about the mare's knees?” + </p> + <p> + Now Loggerhead was six thousand weary miles away from us, close to + Mesopotamia, where you mustn't fish and poaching is impossible, and + Charley Symonds' stable a half mile further across the paddocks. It was + strange to hear all the old names, on a May night, among the horses and + camels of the Sultan Caravanserai. Then the man seemed to remember himself + and sober down at the same time. He leaned against the camel and pointed + to a corner of the Serai where a lamp was burning:— + </p> + <p> + “I live there,” said he, “and I should be extremely obliged if you would + be good enough to help my mutinous feet thither; for I am more than + usually drunk—most—most phenomenally tight. But not in respect + to my head. 'My brain cries out against'—how does it go? But my head + rides on the—rolls on the dung-hill I should have said, and controls + the qualm.” + </p> + <p> + I helped him through the gangs of tethered horses and he collapsed on the + edge of the verandah in front of the line of native quarters. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks—a thousand thanks! O Moon and little, little Stars! To think + that a man should so shamelessly.... Infamous liquor, too. Ovid in exile + drank no worse. Better. It was frozen. Alas! I had no ice. Good-night. I + would introduce you to my wife were I sober—or she civilized.” + </p> + <p> + A native woman came out of the darkness of the room, and began calling the + man names; so I went away. He was the most interesting loafer that I had + the pleasure of knowing for a long time; and later on, he became a friend + of mine. He was a tall, well-built, fair man fearfully shaken with drink, + and he looked nearer fifty than the thirty-five which, he said, was his + real age. When a man begins to sink in India, and is not sent Home by his + friends as soon as may be, he falls very low from a respectable point of + view. By the time that he changes his creed, as did McIntosh, he is past + redemption. + </p> + <p> + In most big cities, natives will tell you of two or three Sahibs, + generally low-caste, who have turned Hindu or Mussulman, and who live more + or less as such. But it is not often that you can get to know them. As + McIntosh himself used to say:—“If I change my religion for my + stomach's sake, I do not seek to become a martyr to missionaries, nor am I + anxious for notoriety.” + </p> + <p> + At the outset of acquaintance McIntosh warned me. “Remember this. I am not + an object for charity. I require neither your money, your food, nor your + cast-off raiment. I am that rare animal, a self-supporting drunkard. If + you choose, I will smoke with you, for the tobacco of the bazars does not, + I admit, suit my palate; and I will borrow any books which you may not + specially value. It is more than likely that I shall sell them for bottles + of excessively filthy country-liquors. In return, you shall share such + hospitality as my house affords. Here is a charpoy on which two can sit, + and it is possible that there may, from time to time, be food in that + platter. Drink, unfortunately, you will find on the premises at any hour: + and thus I make you welcome to all my poor establishments.” + </p> + <p> + I was admitted to the McIntosh household—I and my good tobacco. But + nothing else. Unluckily, one cannot visit a loafer in the Serai by day. + Friends buying horses would not understand it. Consequently, I was obliged + to see McIntosh after dark. He laughed at this, and said simply:—“You + are perfectly right. When I enjoyed a position in society, rather higher + than yours, I should have done exactly the same thing, Good Heavens! I was + once”—he spoke as though he had fallen from the Command of a + Regiment—“an Oxford Man!” This accounted for the reference to + Charley Symonds' stable. + </p> + <p> + “You,” said McIntosh, slowly, “have not had that advantage; but, to + outward appearance, you do not seem possessed of a craving for strong + drinks. On the whole, I fancy that you are the luckier of the two. Yet I + am not certain. You are—forgive my saying so even while I am smoking + your excellent tobacco—painfully ignorant of many things.” + </p> + <p> + We were sitting together on the edge of his bedstead, for he owned no + chairs, watching the horses being watered for the night, while the native + woman was preparing dinner. I did not like being patronized by a loafer, + but I was his guest for the time being, though he owned only one very torn + alpaca-coat and a pair of trousers made out of gunny-bags. He took the + pipe out of his mouth, and went on judicially:—“All things + considered, I doubt whether you are the luckier. I do not refer to your + extremely limited classical attainments, or your excruciating quantities, + but to your gross ignorance of matters more immediately under your notice. + That for instance.”—He pointed to a woman cleaning a samovar near + the well in the centre of the Serai. She was flicking the water out of the + spout in regular cadenced jerks. + </p> + <p> + “There are ways and ways of cleaning samovars. If you knew why she was + doing her work in that particular fashion, you would know what the Spanish + Monk meant when he said— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'I the Trinity illustrate, + Drinking watered orange-pulp— + In three sips the Aryan frustrate, + While he drains his at one gulp.—' +</pre> + <p> + and many other things which now are hidden from your eyes. However, Mrs. + McIntosh has prepared dinner. Let us come and eat after the fashion of the + people of the country—of whom, by the way, you know nothing.” + </p> + <p> + The native woman dipped her hand in the dish with us. This was wrong. The + wife should always wait until the husband has eaten. McIntosh Jellaludin + apologized, saying:— + </p> + <p> + “It is an English prejudice which I have not been able to overcome; and + she loves me. Why, I have never been able to understand. I fore-gathered + with her at Jullundur, three years ago, and she has remained with me ever + since. I believe her to be moral, and know her to be skilled in cookery.” + </p> + <p> + He patted the woman's head as he spoke, and she cooed softly. She was not + pretty to look at. + </p> + <p> + McIntosh never told me what position he had held before his fall. He was, + when sober, a scholar and a gentleman. When drunk, he was rather more of + the first than the second. He used to get drunk about once a week for two + days. On those occasions the native woman tended him while he raved in all + tongues except his own. One day, indeed, he began reciting Atalanta in + Calydon, and went through it to the end, beating time to the swing of the + verse with a bedstead-leg. But he did most of his ravings in Greek or + German. The man's mind was a perfect rag-bag of useless things. Once, when + he was beginning to get sober, he told me that I was the only rational + being in the Inferno into which he had descended—a Virgil in the + Shades, he said—and that, in return for my tobacco, he would, before + he died, give me the materials of a new Inferno that should make me + greater than Dante. Then he fell asleep on a horse-blanket and woke up + quite calm. + </p> + <p> + “Man,” said he, “when you have reached the uttermost depths of + degradation, little incidents which would vex a higher life, are to you of + no consequence. Last night, my soul was among the gods; but I make no + doubt that my bestial body was writhing down here in the garbage.” + </p> + <p> + “You were abominably drunk if that's what you mean,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “I WAS drunk—filthy drunk. I who am the son of a man with whom you + have no concern—I who was once Fellow of a College whose + buttery-hatch you have not seen. I was loathsomely drunk. But consider how + lightly I am touched. It is nothing to me. Less than nothing; for I do not + even feel the headache which should be my portion. Now, in a higher life, + how ghastly would have been my punishment, how bitter my repentance! + Believe me, my friend with the neglected education, the highest is as the + lowest—always supposing each degree extreme.” + </p> + <p> + He turned round on the blanket, put his head between his fists and + continued:— + </p> + <p> + “On the Soul which I have lost and on the Conscience which I have killed, + I tell you that I CANNOT feel! I am as the gods, knowing good and evil, + but untouched by either. Is this enviable or is it not?” + </p> + <p> + When a man has lost the warning of “next morning's head,” he must be in a + bad state, I answered, looking at McIntosh on the blanket, with his hair + over his eyes and his lips blue-white, that I did not think the + insensibility good enough. + </p> + <p> + “For pity's sake, don't say that! I tell you, it IS good and most + enviable. Think of my consolations!” + </p> + <p> + “Have you so many, then, McIntosh?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; your attempts at sarcasm which is essentially the weapon of a + cultured man, are crude. First, my attainments, my classical and literary + knowledge, blurred, perhaps, by immoderate drinking—which reminds me + that before my soul went to the Gods last night, I sold the Pickering + Horace you so kindly lent me. Ditta Mull the Clothesman has it. It fetched + ten annas, and may be redeemed for a rupee—but still infinitely + superior to yours. Secondly, the abiding affection of Mrs. McIntosh, best + of wives. Thirdly, a monument, more enduring than brass, which I have + built up in the seven years of my degradation.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped here, and crawled across the room for a drink of water. He was + very shaky and sick. + </p> + <p> + He referred several times to his “treasure”—some great possession + that he owned—but I held this to be the raving of drink. He was as + poor and as proud as he could be. His manner was not pleasant, but he knew + enough about the natives, among whom seven years of his life had been + spent, to make his acquaintance worth having. He used actually to laugh at + Strickland as an ignorant man—“ignorant West and East”—he + said. His boast was, first, that he was an Oxford Man of rare and shining + parts, which may or may not have been true—I did not know enough to + check his statements—and, secondly, that he “had his hand on the + pulse of native life”—which was a fact. As an Oxford man, he struck + me as a prig: he was always throwing his education about. As a Mahommedan + faquir—as McIntosh Jellaludin—he was all that I wanted for my + own ends. He smoked several pounds of my tobacco, and taught me several + ounces of things worth knowing; but he would never accept any gifts, not + even when the cold weather came, and gripped the poor thin chest under the + poor thin alpaca-coat. He grew very angry, and said that I had insulted + him, and that he was not going into hospital. He had lived like a beast + and he would die rationally, like a man. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, he died of pneumonia; and on the night of his death + sent over a grubby note asking me to come and help him to die. + </p> + <p> + The native woman was weeping by the side of the bed. McIntosh, wrapped in + a cotton cloth, was too weak to resent a fur coat being thrown over him. + He was very active as far as his mind was concerned, and his eyes were + blazing. When he had abused the Doctor who came with me so foully that the + indignant old fellow left, he cursed me for a few minutes and calmed down. + </p> + <p> + Then he told his wife to fetch out “The Book” from a hole in the wall. She + brought out a big bundle, wrapped in the tail of a petticoat, of old + sheets of miscellaneous note-paper, all numbered and covered with fine + cramped writing. McIntosh ploughed his hand through the rubbish and + stirred it up lovingly. + </p> + <p> + “This,” he said, “is my work—the Book of McIntosh Jellaludin, + showing what he saw and how he lived, and what befell him and others; + being also an account of the life and sins and death of Mother Maturin. + What Mirza Murad Ali Beg's book is to all other books on native life, will + my work be to Mirza Murad Ali Beg's!” + </p> + <p> + This, as will be conceded by any one who knows Mirza Ali Beg's book, was a + sweeping statement. The papers did not look specially valuable; but + McIntosh handled them as if they were currency-notes. Then he said slowly:—“In + despite the many weaknesses of your education, you have been good to me. I + will speak of your tobacco when I reach the Gods. I owe you much thanks + for many kindnesses. But I abominate indebtedness. For this reason I + bequeath to you now the monument more enduring than brass—my one + book—rude and imperfect in parts, but oh, how rare in others! I + wonder if you will understand it. It is a gift more honorable than... Bah! + where is my brain rambling to? You will mutilate it horribly. You will + knock out the gems you call 'Latin quotations,' you Philistine, and you + will butcher the style to carve into your own jerky jargon; but you cannot + destroy the whole of it. I bequeath it to you. Ethel... My brain again!... + Mrs. McIntosh, bear witness that I give the sahib all these papers. They + would be of no use to you, Heart of my heart; and I lay it upon you,” he + turned to me here, “that you do not let my book die in its present form. + It is yours unconditionally—the story of McIntosh Jellaludin, which + is NOT the story of McIntosh Jellaludin, but of a greater man than he, and + of a far greater woman. Listen now! I am neither mad nor drunk! That book + will make you famous.” + </p> + <p> + I said, “thank you,” as the native woman put the bundle into my arms. + </p> + <p> + “My only baby!” said McIntosh with a smile. He was sinking fast, but he + continued to talk as long as breath remained. I waited for the end: + knowing that, in six cases out of ten the dying man calls for his mother. + He turned on his side and said:— + </p> + <p> + “Say how it came into your possession. No one will believe you, but my + name, at least, will live. You will treat it brutally, I know you will. + Some of it must go; the public are fools and prudish fools. I was their + servant once. But do your mangling gently—very gently. It is a great + work, and I have paid for it in seven years' damnation.” + </p> + <p> + His voice stopped for ten or twelve breaths, and then he began mumbling a + prayer of some kind in Greek. The native woman cried very bitterly. + Lastly, he rose in bed and said, as loudly as slowly:—“Not guilty, + my Lord!” + </p> + <p> + Then he fell back, and the stupor held him till he died. The native woman + ran into the Serai among the horses and screamed and beat her breasts; for + she had loved him. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps his last sentence in life told what McIntosh had once gone + through; but, saving the big bundle of old sheets in the cloth, there was + nothing in his room to say who or what he had been. + </p> + <p> + The papers were in a hopeless muddle. + </p> + <p> + Strickland helped me to sort them, and he said that the writer was either + an extreme liar or a most wonderful person. He thought the former. One of + these days, you may be able to judge for yourself. The bundle needed much + expurgation and was full of Greek nonsense, at the head of the chapters, + which has all been cut out. + </p> + <p> + If the things are ever published some one may perhaps remember this story, + now printed as a safeguard to prove that McIntosh Jellaludin and not I + myself wrote the Book of Mother Maturin. + </p> + <p> + I don't want the Giant's Robe to come true in my case. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Plain Tales from the Hills, by Rudyard Kipling + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAIN TALES FROM THE HILLS *** + +***** This file should be named 1858-h.htm or 1858-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/5/1858/ + +Produced by Donald Lainson, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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