interrupting him. "Take it to the nawab,
and tell him to pay it."

"The khan is robbing your majesty,"
whispered an influential courtier; " his bills are
exorbitant."

"If I choose to make the khan a rich man,
is that anything to you—to any of you? I
know his bills are exorbitant. Let them be
so; it is my pleasure. He shall be rich,"
was the king's indignant answer.

Dinner was served at nine o'clock, the
usual dinner-hour in the palace, in the
private dining-room. According to the account
of an Agrarian reporter, the visitor enters the
residence of the Brother of the Sun in the
European manner, by the door, the windows
being placed too high for the purpose. He
next finds himself—or rather loses himself—
in a hall of ludicrously large dimensions,
which he abandons for a staircase absurdly
small. Having carefully fallen up this
contrivance, he emerges, with a crushed crown,
whitened elbows, and an intelligent appreciation,
into the throne-room, where, for the
first time, he is able to view the government
of Oude in its proper light. The truth flashes
upon him for the first time. The world of
Oude is a stage, and its king and ministers
merely players. Nothing could give one a
more lively reminder of the coulisses of a
theatre than this same throne-room. There
is the same gorgeousness tempered by gloom;
the same grimy glitter, dazzling dirt, and
delicate effects which will not bear inspection.
You can scarcely put the small end of your
cheeroot (even if the lord-chamberlain would
allow you) between the jewels with which
the throne is covered; and yet this same
throne is not nearly so splendid as those
from which burlesque kings make puns any
night at the Lyceum Theatre. The jewels
have a Brummagem look, and may be
strongly suspected to be no better than they
should be. The general furniture too of the
place—or rather the particular furniture, for
the upholstery is exceptional—is all in too
admirable keeping to be otherwise than
absurd. It seems to have got there by accident,
and to remain because it was nobody's
business to put it out of the way; just as you
see a couch or an arm-chair behind the scenes
of a theatre, in company with a mossy bank,
and the diminutive bit of a cottage, beneath
the window of which the lover with weak legs
serenades the lady with strong affections.

The army materially heightened the
theatrical aspect of the place. The men were all
stage-soldiers, as far as their difference of age,
height, arms, dress and discipline is concerned.
They manifested the same fear of getting into
anybody's way which we notice in all dramatic
corps, the same dismal consciousness that they
are only supernumeraries, and that, although
they may be compelled some day to go through
a few forms of hostility, they were obliged
to perform their parts respectfully, and
not forget their own humble position. As
far as seediness and tatters go, they were on a
par, perhaps, with the army of King Richard
the Third, after a long strolling campaign,
and some five hundred performances in
barns and booths; but they exceeded these
hardy veterans in some respects.

A little before nine, his majesty made
his appearance in the ante-room, where his
guests were waiting, leaning on the arm
of his favourite, the barber, and ushered by
the foremost of the native officials, the
lord-chamberlain, with his silver staff of office—
the instrument with which he sticks at
nothing in the management of his master's
affairs. He has a subordinate (everybody in
the East has a subordinate), whose chief
peculiarity is a complicated incentive to risibility,
a remarkable turban, invented by his
enlightened sovereign for the amusement of the
Europeans, in whom he so highly delights.
His majesty was dressed in a plain black
English suit, with a dress coat, a black silk neck-tie,
and patent-leather boots. The world knows
that his majesty was a gentlemanly-looking
man, remarkable for a certain kingly grace,
and for the pleasing expression of his very
light sepia-tinted countenance. His black
hair, whiskers, and moustaches contrasted
well with the colour of his cheeks, and set off
a pair of black piercing eyes, small and keen.
He was thin, and of the middle height, much
taller than his friend the barber, who was
muscular and healthy-looking, making up in
breadth what he wants in stature. The
barber wore outward habiliments exactly
similar to those of his patron. The first
remark his majesty made was addressed to
the tutor:

"Well, master, have you brought the gold
mohurs?"

"I have, your majesty; they are below in
my palanquin. Shall I bring them here?"

"Nonsense, master, keep them. Send them
home again. Do you think I want your
money? Jones thought I wanted his. Did
you see how I made the pig eat dirt?
Wallah, but I hate him!"

The scene in the dining-room, as the royal
party took their places at the table, was a
mixture of occidental comforts and oriental
display. The king was seated in a gilt
armchair, raised a few inches above the level of
the floor. He occupied the middle of one
side of the table, and his guests sat on either
hand. The opposite side of the table was
left unoccupied, partly for the convenience of
the servants when removing and placing
dishes on the table, but chiefly that his
majesty might see without difficulty whatever
entertainments there were for the evening's
amusement. As soon as the company
had taken their seats, half a dozen female
attendants, richly dressed and distinguished
for their beauty, came from behind a gauze
curtain or screen which occupies one end of
the room. It is contrary to Lucknow etiquette
to gaze upon these ladies too curiously.