cheese was placed before me on a glass dish
belonging to a dessert-service. The cool
claret I drank out of a richly cut champagne
glass, and the beer out of an American
tumbler, of the very worst quality.

I had not yet seen "the Maharajah." It
was not until past eight that a moonshee
came and inquired if I would have an interview
with his highness. I replied that it
would give me great joy, and, was forthwith
conducted through numerous narrow and
gloomy passages to an apartment at the
corner of the building. Here, sat the
maharajah on a Turkey carpet, and reclining
slightly on a huge bolster. In front of him
were his hookah, a sword, and several nosegays.
His highness rose, came forward, took my
hand, led me to the carpet, and begged of
me to be seated on a cane-bottomed
armchair, which had evidently been placed ready
for my especial ease and occupation. After
the usual compliments had passed, the
Maharajah inquired if I had eaten well. But,
perhaps, the general reader would like to
know what are "the usual compliments."

Native Rajah. "The whole world is ringing
with the praise of your illustrious
name."

Humble Sahib. "Maharaj. You are very
good."

Native Rajah. "From Calcutta to Cabul—
throughout the whole of Hindoostan—every
tongue declares that you have no equal. It
is true."

Humble Sahib (who, if he knows anything
of Asiatic manners and customs, knows that
he must not contradict his host, but eat his
compliments with a good appetite). "Maharaj."

Native Rajah. "The acuteness of your
perceptions, and the soundness of your
understanding, have, by universal report, become
as manifest as even the light of the sun
itself." Then, turning to his attendants of
every degree, who, by this time, had formed a
circle round me and the Rajah, he put the
question, "Is it true, or not?"

The attendants, one and all, declare that
it was true; and inquire whether it could be
possible for a great man like the Maharajah
to say that which was false.

Native Rajah. "The Sahib's father is
living?"

Humble Sahib. "No, he is dead, Maharaj."

Native Rajah. "He was a great man."

Humble Sahib. "Maharaj. You have
honoured the memory of my father, and
exalted it in my esteem, by expressing such
an opinion."

Native Rajah. "And your mother? She
lives?"

Humble Sahib. "By the goodness of God,
such is the case."

Native Rajah. "She is a very handsome
woman?"

Humble Sahib. "On that point, Maharaj,
I cannot ofler an opinion."

Native Rajah. "You need not do so. To
look in your face is quite sufficient. I would
give a crore of rupees (one million sterling)
to see her only for one moment, and say how
much I admired the intelligent countenance
of her son. I am going to England next
year. Will the Sahib favour me with her
address?"

Humble Sahib. "Maharaj."

Here the Native Rajah calls to the moonshee
to bring pen, ink, and paper. The
moonshee comes, sits before me, pen in hand,
looks inquiringly into my eyes, and I dictate
as follows, laughing inwardly all the while:
"Lady Bombazine, Munnymunt ka uper,
Peccadilleemee, Bilgrave Isqueere, Sunjons
wood-Cumberwill;"  which signifies this:
"Lady Bombazine, on the top of the Monument,
in Piccadilly, Belgrave Square, St.
John's Wood, Camberwell." This mystification
must be excused by the plea that the
Rajah's intentions are as truthful as Lady
Bombazine's address.

The Maharajah then gives instructions
that that document shall be preserved
amongst his most important papers, and
resumes the conversation.

Native Rajah. "The Sahib has eaten
well?"

Humble Sahib. "Maharaj."

Native Rajah. "And drank?"

Humble Sahib. "Maharaj."

Native Rajah. "The Sahib will smoke
hookah?"

Humble Sahib. "The Maharajah is very
good."

A hookah is called for by the Rajah; and
then at least a dozen voices repeat the order:
"Hookah lao Sahib ke waste " (Bring a
hookah for the Sahib). Presently the hookah
is brought in. It is rather a grand affair,
but old, and has evidently belonged to some
European of extravagant habits. Of course,
no native would smoke out of it (on the
ground of caste), and it is evidently kept for
the use of the Sahib logue.*

While I am pulling away at the hookah,
the musahibs, or favourites of the Rajah,
flatter me, in very audible whispers. "How
well he smokes!" "What a fine forehead
he has!" "And his eyes! how they sparkle!"
"No wonder he is so clever!" "He will be
governor-general some day." "khuda-kurin!"
(God will have it so).

Native Rajah. "Sahib, when you become
governor-general, you will be a friend to the
poor?"

Humble Sahib (speaking from the bottom
of his heart). "Most assuredly, Maharaj."

Native Rajah. "And you will listen to the
petition of every man, rich and poor alike."

Humble Sahib. "It will be my duty so
to do."

* The word "logue" simply signifies people; but,
when applied as above, it is nothing more than a plural.
"Sahib logue" (sahibs) "memlogue" (ladies) "baba
logue" (children).