Native Rajah (in a loud voice). "Moonshee!"

Moonshee (who is close at hand). "Maharaj,
Protector of the Poor."

Native Rajah. "Bring the petition that I
have laid before the Governor-General."

The Moonshee produces the petition, and
at the instance of the Rajah, reads, or rather
sings it aloud. The Rajah listens with pleasure
to its recital of his own wrongs, and I
affect to be astounded that so much injustice
can possibly exist. During my rambles in
India, I have been the guest of some scores
of rajahs, great and small; and I never
knew one who had not a grievance. He
had either been wronged by the government,
or by some judge, whose decision had
been against him. In the matter of the
government, it was a sheer love of oppression
that led to the evil of which he complained;
in the matter of the judge, that functionary
had been bribed by the other party.

It was with great difficulty that I kept my
eyes open while the petition—a very long one—
was read aloud. Shortly after it was
finished, I craved permission to retire, and
was conducted by a bearer to the sleeping-room,
in the centre of which was a huge
bedstead—a four-poster—but devoid of curtains.
On either side were large looking-glasses in gilt
frames; not suspended on the walls, but
placed against them. Over the bed was a
punkah, which was immediately set in
motion. The movement of the punkah served a
double purpose. It cooled the room and
drove away the musquitoes. Having thrown
myself on the bed, the bearer, who was
in attendance inquired if I would be
shampooed? This was a luxury to
which I was always partial; and, having
signified that I desired it, four men were
shouted for. Each took an arm or a leg, and
began to press it, and crack the knuckle
joints of my fingers and toes. This continued
for an hour, when I fell asleep, and did not
wake until eight o'clock on the following
morning; when I was waited upon by the
khansamah, who wished to know my pleasure,
with respect to breakfast. He informed
me that he had "Futnum and Meesum's,"
Yorkshire pie, game pie, anchovy toast,
mutton chop, steak, sardines—in short, all
that the sahib logue were accustomed to take
for breakfast.

My breakfast over and my hookah smoked,
I lighted a cheroot, and walked out into a
verandah, where I was soon joined by some
the Maharajah's favourites and dependants;
who poured into my ear a repetition of the
flattery to which I had listened on the previous
night. It is not very tedious when you
become used to it, and know that it is a matter of
course, and is applied to every European guest
of any real or supposed importance. Whilst
thus engaged, smoking and listening, I was
joined by the Maharajah, who held in his hand
the Delhi Gazette, the Mofussilite, and the
Calcutta Englishman. Of their entire
contents he had been made acquainted by a half-caste,
whom he kept (so he informed me) for
the sole purpose of translating, orally, into
Hindoostanee, the Indian journals and the
government gazettes, published in the English
language. There was no occasion for me to
read these papers, for the Maharajah gave
me a very accurate resumé of them; having
done this he asked me to play a game
of billiards? I am not a bad billiard player.
On the contrary, I have the vanity to
think that I play remarkably well; but
it was quite evident to me that the
Maharajah did not play his best, and that he
suffered me to beat him as easily as I did—
simply out of what he considered to be
politeness. All the while we were playing,
the favourites or courtiers of the Maharajah
were praising us both. Neither of us made
a stroke—good or bad—that did not bring
down a shower of compliments. My impression
is, that if I had ran a cue, and cut the
cloth at the same time, the bystanders
would have shouted in praise of my skill
and execution. I had already seen enough
of native character to know exactly how
I was to act. I feigned to be charmed
with my success—childishly charmed. Whilst
I was thus (to the delight of my host) ostensibly
revelling in my triumph, the marker
—a native, a Hindoo—took up a cue, and
began to knock the balls about. He cannoned
all over the table, went in off the red and
white, screwed back under the cushion, and,
in short, did whatever he pleased and with
perfect ease.

I could not help expressing to the Rajah
my astonishment at the Hindoo marker's
skill, whereupon he informed me that, when
he was a mere boy, he had been taught by the
best player (an officer in the Light Cavalry)
that ever came to India, and that for several
years past he had been marker at various
mess-rooms where billiards were played. The
name of this Hindoo Jonathan, was Runjeet.
He was six-and-twenty years of age, about
five feet five in height, remarkably slim, had
a very handsome face, and eyes full of fire
and spirit. He was for a long time marker
to the Horse Artillery mess at Meerut, where
I once saw him play a game with an officer
celebrated for his skill. Runjeet gave his
adversary sixty points out of a hundred,
and won easily. What with his pay, or
salary, the presents he received from gentlemen
to whom he taught the game, and the
gold mohurs that he occasionally had given
to him when he won bets for his backers,
Runjeet was in possession of some six hundred
pounds a-year; but he was so extravagant
in his habits that he spent every anna,
and died, I was told, "not worth money
enough to buy the wood to burn him."

The Maharajah, on leaving the billiard-room,
invited me to accompany him to Cawnpore.
I acquiesced, and the carriage was