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 ANCIENT CLASSICS 
 
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 Edited by the Rev. W. LUCAS COLLINS, M.A, 
 
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 PREPARING FOR PUBLICATION. 
 UNIFORM WITH 
 
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 ENGLISH READERS. 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
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 ^ O/^^ ^ i^^^^^^y^^,^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 c^!<^c 
 
 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE
 
 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 ALEXAI^DER ALLAEDYCE 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 
 
 EDINBURGH AND LONDON 
 
 MDCCCLXXVII
 
 SA3 
 
 CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 I. THE LINGA OP DHUPNAGAR, 
 II. THREE SHELLS, THE MAHAJAN, . 
 
 III. RADHA'S THREE LOVERS, 
 
 IV. FATHER AND SON, 
 
 V. THE COUNCIL OP FIVE, 
 VI. THE PRIEST SCOTCHES A SNAKE, . 
 VIL SHAMSUDDEEN KHAN, THE SUBADAR, 
 VIII. THREE shells' CONVERSION, 
 IX. THE priest's ZENANA, 
 X. THE DIPTY CATCHES AN IDEA, 
 
 XI. eversley sahib, .... 
 XII. Krishna's letters, 
 
 XIII. HUSBAND AND WIPE, . 
 
 XIV. A GIFT PROM THE GREEKS, . 
 XV. A MORNING AT RUTTON PAL's, 
 
 XVI. BEJOY, THE GHATAK, . 
 XVII. KRISHNA AGONISTES, . 
 
 PAGE 
 1 
 
 17 
 
 34 
 
 52 
 
 72 
 
 89 
 
 100 
 
 123 
 
 141 
 
 156 
 
 171 
 
 187 
 
 207 
 
 226 
 
 243 
 
 260 
 
 285
 
 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 THE LINGA OF DHUPNAGAE. 
 
 It was the morning after the Dewali Puja, the Hindoo 
 " Feast of Lanterns," and though the sun was already- 
 high over head, not a soul was astir in the little village 
 of Dhupnagar. The waters of the big tank where folks 
 bathed the first thing of a morning, sparkled brightly 
 in the dazzling rays, undisturbed except by the noc- 
 turnal cur that, encouraged by the unusual stillness, 
 had ventured out of the jungle to drink. The bazaar 
 was tenantless. Shops, with their wares temptingly 
 exposed to any passing thief, stood open upon each 
 side of the street ; but the owners, worn out by last 
 night's excitement, were still too sleepy to think of 
 buying or selling. Even greedy Piam Lall, the oilman, 
 who was generally the first to open his shop in the 
 morning and the last to leave it at night, had not 
 
 VOL. L A
 
 2 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 made his appearance, but was still probably dreaming 
 of the profits that he had netted off last night's illu- 
 minations. The jackals were snuffing about the de- 
 serted streets, looking hungrily for garbage, and won- 
 dering what had become of the lords of the creation. 
 All over the village there were signs of the festival. 
 Each house had its row of tiny earthen lamps arranged 
 upon the window-sill, or hung from a projecting bam- 
 boo sapling. Some of the wealthier had even gone 
 so far in their devotion as to display candles in neat 
 lanterns of coloured mica. And the morning air was 
 loaded with a fetid smell of oil and burnt wick. 
 
 More than any of the other houses the great brick 
 mansion of the Lahory family, blackened with age 
 and crumbling into ruins, showed traces of Dewali 
 splendour. The verandah was hung M'ith festoons of 
 party-coloured lanterns, and the walls were clothed 
 from base to summit with a network of bamboos, 
 upon which little earthen cressets — some of them still 
 flickering faintly in the strong sunshine — had been 
 set forth in countless numbers. In front of the house, 
 a score of servants or hangers-on of the family were 
 sleeping in the open air, each stretched upon a rect- 
 angular slip of matting, with his head pillowed upon 
 his arm or upon a roll of clothing. 
 
 Pass inside and you will find the tenants and guests 
 of Baboo Kristo Doss Lahory lying upon charpais, or 
 rude four-legged couches, snatching a few hours' rest 
 after the riot and excitement of last night's festival.
 
 THE LIXGA OF DHUPXAGAR. 3 
 
 before they should set out for their homes to resume 
 the ordinary business of life. All was quiet ; no 
 breeze stirred the trees or ruffled the smooth sur- 
 faces of the tanks ; there was not even a chattering 
 parrot or a rattling woodpecker to break the silence. 
 A stranger entering Dhupnagar, "the city of sun- 
 shine," that morning, might have been pardoned for 
 thinking that he fallen into a Sleepy Hollow in the 
 plains of Bengal. 
 
 But cross the village green from the house of 
 Lahory — pass through the hedge of thorny bamboo, 
 whose straight tapering stems and delicately-feathered 
 branches form a fairer curtain for a holy place than 
 the hand of art could have designed — enter the 
 village temple, and you are sure to find the priest 
 astir, and probably occupying his favourite seat in 
 the porch or enjoying his morning smoke. The 
 temple stands in a spacious courtyard or " compound," 
 which is entered through an arched doorway, flanked 
 on each side by a small turret, and by apartments 
 for the porter and other servants of the shrine. The 
 temple is on the summit of a little knoll, and is a 
 small unpretentious building with arched door and 
 pointed roof, devoid of all architectural show except 
 a few simple mouldings upon the fagade. Two or 
 three stone steps lead up to the porch which the 
 boughs of a sacred pcejnil tree, fast rooted in the 
 temple wall above the entrance, had been trained 
 to form ; and here in the cool evenings the priest
 
 4 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 and those friends who were privileged to enjoy his 
 society, would seat themselves upon the broad stone 
 platform to smoke their hookhas, chat over the village 
 gossip, and enjoy the still beauty of the scene. 
 
 Inside the temple a small antechamber led to a 
 central room, where in a niche stood the guardian 
 genius of the place, the palladium of Dhupnagar. It 
 was not a three-headed god, or a ten-armed goddess, 
 or any of the other monstrosities of the Hindoo 
 mythology. It was simply a round pyramidal block 
 of black polished stone, standing a foot and a half 
 high, and with a slight projection at its base. This 
 was the Linga, the symbol by which men have 
 rudely expressed the creative attributes of the self- 
 existent Siva, the second member of the Hindoo triad ; 
 and it is, moreover, the ^j/<«//ms of Grecian worship. 
 But the Linga of Dhupnagar is not like other Lingas, 
 as the priest and three-fourths of the district are ready 
 to swear. The Linga of the neighbouring town of 
 Gapshapganj, for instance, or that of Bhutpore, the 
 zilla, or county, town, are, as everybody knows, noth- 
 ing more than common black stones from the Patna 
 district, which required a deal of chiselling to bring 
 them into the sacred form. But not so the Linga of 
 Dhupnagar. Three or four generations back, before 
 miracles had ceased because of the red-coated infidels 
 creeping over the land, this Linga had started up from 
 the ground at the feet of Harrinath Gossain, ancestor 
 of the present priest, as he journeyed homeward from
 
 THE LINGA OF DHUPJfAGAK. 5 
 
 a pilgrimage to Benares, where he had offered up ten 
 thousand rupees at the ]\Ianikarnika temple, and had 
 gorged to surfeit fifty of the poorest Brahmins tliat he 
 could find in the holy city. Harrinath had accepted 
 the portent as a suitable acknowledgment of his piety ; 
 and taking the Linga home with him, he built for it a 
 temple and installed himself as its priest. 
 
 When this miracle was noised abroad, worshippers 
 flocked in crowds to Dhupnagar, whose offerings 
 speedily recouped Harrinath in ten-fold degree for 
 the expenses of his pilgrimage. Priests of rival 
 shrines began to look with dismay upon the popu- 
 larity of the upstart temple. Some of them did not 
 hesitate to assert that the miracle had existed only 
 in Harrinath's imagination; while others professed 
 themselves ready to swear that he had either pur- 
 chased or stolen the stone on his way down country. 
 But Harrinath treated such slanders with merited con- 
 tempt. In vain did the priest of Bhutpore, whose 
 shrine had hitherto been the most fashionable place 
 of worship in the Gungaputra district, hire a mad 
 devotee to undergo the sliora, for the purpose of 
 exposing the imposture. But though the enthusiast 
 remained wrapped in prayer before the Linga for 
 fifteen days and nights in red garments ; though he 
 repeated the thousand sacred names of Siva ten thou- 
 sand times ; though he walked round the Linga in the 
 fashion of a triangle one thousand two hundred and 
 sixty times, prostrating himself at full length each
 
 6 THE CITY OF SUXSHIXE. 
 
 time he passed before tlie image ; — though lie did all 
 this without omitting the minutest particular of the 
 slwra, yet did not the Linga break or even bow before 
 him, as it must infallibly have done had there not 
 been divinity in the stone. Equally vain was it for 
 the priest of Gapshapganj to proclaim the miraculous 
 cure of an elephant foot, effected under the auspices 
 of his Linga. A woman, indeed, asserted that such a 
 cure had been wrought upon her, but she came from a 
 far part of the country, and nobody could be found to 
 vouch either for her elephantiasis or her veracity. 
 
 The spite of these detractors only added to the 
 prosperity of the Dhupnagar temple, and soon cures 
 were reported about which there could be no possible 
 doubt. A rich merchant of Calcutta, whose son was 
 wasting away with disease, had sent the lad on a pil- 
 grimage to Dhupnagar ; and its sacred atmosphere, 
 combined with the removal of the means of dissipation, 
 soon wrought a favourable change in the young man's 
 health. The gratefid father made over to the shrine 
 three houses in the wealthiest quarter of Calcutta ; and 
 there they stand at this hour to refute the sneers of the 
 sceptical. A neighbouring landholder, who had been 
 notorious as an oppressor of his tenantry, had set apart 
 a portion of his estates for the service of the Dhupnagar 
 temple that things might be made smoother for his 
 entry into the next world, and ever after he had en- 
 joyed peace of conscience in a remarkable degree. In 
 short, the Dhupnagar temple speedily became one of
 
 THE LINGA OF DHUPNAGAK. V 
 
 the most flourishing concerns of the kind iu Lower Ben- 
 gal ; and the income of Eamanath Gossain was to that 
 of the majority of other priests as a bishop's salary is 
 to a curate's stipend. 
 
 The present incumbent of Dhupnagar was a man 
 considerably past the prime of life. Eamanath 
 Gossain might perhaps be tifty, or even sixty years of 
 age, but his figure was still erect and active, his coun- 
 tenance fresh, and his brow unwrinkled. He had led 
 an easy, careless, prosperous life, knowing nothing of 
 the struggles for existence that were going on in the 
 outside world, and troubling himself little about other 
 people's aff'airs, so long as they did not affect his 
 own comfort. The crosses he had met with had been 
 few and trifling; his circumstances had always been 
 affluent ; his priestly office and his own amiable char- 
 acter procured him reverence from all with whom he 
 came in contact ; and he had been happy in his family 
 and his domestic relations. His only brother was 
 dwelling at Benares in the odour of sanctity as guar- 
 dian of one of the wealthiest shrines in the holy city ; 
 and being himself childless, he had adopted Rama- 
 nath's second son as his heir and successor. The 
 priest's eldest son, and only other child, a young lad of 
 great promise, was completing his studies in Calcutta, 
 whither Eamanath with pardonable vanity of the boy's 
 talents had been tempted to send him. It was not 
 until the mother of his children died that Eamanath 
 had availed himself of his countrymen's privilege to
 
 8 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 choose a second wife ; for he well knew that when the 
 wives of his bosom cast out, the husband cannot long 
 remain neutral. The only female inmates of his house 
 were his own wife — the Thakoorani or lady, as she was 
 called — a young woman of little more than half Rama- 
 nath's age, and Chakwi, the wife of his absent son. 
 In spite of her unlucky name — Chakwi signifies a 
 goose — the daughter-in-law was a gentle and amiable 
 girl, the sunshine of the priest's household. She was 
 not pretty, for her face was chubby and her eyes small 
 and weak ; and she had not even that lithe graceful 
 figure which is common to all Bengalee girls, but was 
 plump, dumpy, and almost waistless. She had, how- 
 ever, two rows of pearly teeth, unstained by betel juice, 
 which her laughing lips seldom concealed; and her hair 
 was glossy black and of a great length, although she 
 always wore it braided up into a simple knot at the 
 back of her head. The Thakoorani was indolent and 
 fond of dress ; and her time was fully taken up in 
 bathing, dressing, and perfuming her person, and in 
 eating, sleeping, smoking her silver hookha, and chew- 
 ing tobacco mixed with betel ; so that all the duties of 
 the household fell upon the industrious Chakwi. It 
 was Chakwi who rose at the false dawn and brought 
 the glii (clarified butter) and oil for anointing the 
 image to her father-in-law, as he was setting out for 
 morning worship. It was Chakwi who went over the 
 house every morning sprinkling the floors with cow- 
 dung and water to cleanse the rooms from the presence
 
 THE LINGA OF DHUPNAGAR. 9 
 
 of ghosts and demons and other spirits of evil that 
 might have intruded in the night-time. It was Chakwi 
 that had prepared the breakfast of rice and fresh milk, 
 with his favourite sweetmeats to follow, when the 
 priest came back hungry from the temple. In short, 
 whatever was done in Eamanath's household was done 
 by Chakwi's hands or by Chakwi's orders. 
 
 Chakwi was legally but not actually Eamanath's 
 daughter-in-law. The marriage ceremonies had all 
 been performed, but the young Krishna Chandra 
 Gossain had never yet received his bride from the 
 hands of his father. The marriage had been contracted 
 while both were still infants, and Krishna had never 
 seen his young mate until she was brought to Dhup- 
 nagar in the bridal procession, when he was just turned of 
 fifteen, and Chakwi had little more than entered upon 
 her teens. When Krishna first saw the girl arrayed 
 in silks and embroidery, and glittering with jewels 
 amid the blaze of torches and coloured lamps, she had 
 seemed to his heated imagination beautiful as one of 
 the Apsaras who dance before the elephant throne of 
 the god Indra. But the bridal party had scarcely 
 reached Dhupnagar before he had convinced himself 
 that Chakwi was not only not beautiful, but that her 
 features and figure were cast in the very homeliest 
 mould. From the consequent disappointment sprang 
 a feeling of positive dislike; and when Eamanath, 
 observing the young man's aversion, had suggested that 
 he might as well complete his education before the
 
 10 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 consummation of the marriage, Krishna joyfully 
 accepted the reprieve and set off for Calcutta in high 
 spirits. At every Durga Puja Krishna returned home, 
 bringing with him a load of prizes and testimonials 
 from his college, and congratulatory letters to his 
 father from all their Calcutta friends ; but though 
 he was brought into constant contact with Chakwi, 
 and he indeed treated her with quite a brotherly fond- 
 ness, not a word had ever passed his lips regarding the 
 future relationship in which they were to stand through 
 life. Though merry and spirited as a young kitten, 
 Chakwi was timid and retiring in the presence of her 
 husband, scarcely daring to let her eyes light upon 
 liim, and never raising her voice above a whisper when 
 he was beside her. The priest, who loved the girl as his 
 own daughter, had pleaded ineffectually with Krishna to 
 demean himself more affectionately towards one upon 
 whom so much of his future happiness was to depend ; 
 but though the young man promised obedience, and 
 before his father made a show of affection for Chakwi, 
 it was evident to Eamanath that the marriage must 
 turn out an ill-assorted one. 
 
 And this was not the only respect in which Eama- 
 nath had cause to be dissatisfied with his son. Al- 
 though the priest was proud of Krishna's scholarly 
 acquirements, and would never tire of telling his 
 neighbours the flattering things that the Calcutta 
 pundits had said of him, he had of late begun to en- 
 tertain serious doubts of his son's religious opinions.
 
 THE LIXGA OF DHUPNAGAE. 11 
 
 "When lie had first determined on sending Krishna to 
 Calcutta there were two disasters which the priest 
 sought to guard against: one — the danger of being 
 contaminated by profligate associates — he had averted 
 by boarding the young man with a high-caste Brahmin 
 who followed the virtuous and ascetic habits of the 
 Vedic sages ; the other — the chance of imbibing hetero- 
 dox opinions — was, as the father thought, fully removed, 
 when he had shown his son how injurious heresy 
 would be to his worldly prospects. But, though all 
 agreed that Krishna's moral character was blameless, 
 and that his conduct was an example to the whole of 
 his fellow-students, the priest was far from satisfied 
 that his son was sound in the faith. Eamanath was 
 no bigot : he was punctual in the performance of 
 his religious duties ; he professed as much reverence 
 and enthusiasm for the Linga of Dhupnagar as could 
 be expected from its guardian; and he gave just as 
 much alms and fed as many Brahmins as was proper 
 for a man in his position ; and he did no more. It is 
 possible that he may have had his own views of the 
 Linga's sanctity, but he kept tliem to himself, and if he 
 could not be called a pious man, he at least was not a 
 godless priest. He had made up his mind that Krishna 
 should succeed him in the guardianship of the Linga ; 
 and however tolerant he was disposed to be himself, he 
 dared not commit the shrine to the hands of a heretic. 
 But each time that Krishna returned home, his 
 father was grieved to see some fresh and stronger
 
 12 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 symptoms of a wavering faith. He who as a little child 
 had daily tottered in his father's hand to the temple 
 and prostrated himself in awe-struck reverence before 
 the idol while the ceremony of adoration was being 
 performed, would now return to Calcutta after a visit 
 to Dhupnagar w'ithout once setting a foot inside the 
 shrine. iMore than that, he openly sneered at Siva, 
 and at the fools who thought to win the god's favour 
 by boring their tongues or casting themselves upon 
 spikes, as pious fanatics were wont to do in the month 
 Choitra. But what was worst of all, lie had walked 
 into the temple one day during his last vacation, and 
 handling the Linga without prayer or prostration, had 
 reviled it — the sacred stone ! the palladium of Dhup- 
 nagar ! — as an " aerolitic monolith ; " of which blasphe- 
 mous expression the horrified Eamanath never dared 
 to inquire the import. Krishna's college career was, 
 however, nearly completed ; in a few mouths he would 
 have taken his degree ; and then when he had settled 
 down at home, as had been arranged, his father did 
 not doubt that his own influence and the society of 
 the pious Chakwi, who held in devout awe the Linga 
 of Dhupnagar, would soon banish such unprofitable 
 vagaries from the lad's head. 
 
 On the morning after the Dewali Puja, worthy 
 riamanath Gossain w^as stirring long before any of his 
 townsmen. He had himself seen that his dwelling- 
 house and the temple were illuminated by a sufficient 
 number of lamps ; he had put forth a basketful of rice
 
 THE LIXGA OF DHUPXAGAE. 13 
 
 still in the ear that his household might adore it as the 
 emblem of good fortune ; he had given a small present 
 to each of his servants, vdih an injunction to avoid the 
 gambling and dissipation with which the Puja was 
 geDerally wound up ; and then he had gone off to bed 
 with a clear conscience, leaving his townsmen to 
 squander away their earnings at pachisi with cards, or 
 to stupefy their senses by smoking ganja, an intoxi- 
 cating preparation of hemp-leaves. Eamanath had 
 risen in the morning with a sound head and a good 
 stomach ; had bathed and anointed the idol, crowned 
 it with flowers, placed an offering of incense and sweet- 
 meats before it ; and then having prostrated himself 
 for a few minutes in prayer, he came forth and sat down 
 on the broad stone platform outside the door to indulge 
 in a morning smoke before going home to breakfast. 
 A ^:»ec2J2'i tree which had rooted itself among the 
 broken masonry of the roof threw forward a canopy of 
 green tendrils over the priest's head, screening him 
 from the morning sun, and the aspen-like murmur of 
 its leaves soothed him into a pleasant reverie. Away 
 from the front of the temple the country fell with a 
 gentle slope towards the banks of the Gungaputra ; and 
 far beyond, the eye could travel over a wide expanse 
 where green jungle alternated with greener rice-fields, 
 with here and there the white dome of a pagoda or the 
 brown-thatched roof of a ryot's cottage to break the 
 prevailing colour. BoundiDg the view rose a low line 
 of hills clad with forest and crested with tall sal trees,
 
 14 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 the first step by which the alluvial plains rose into the 
 stony wolds and rough mountains of the Bengal high- 
 lands. The range was split into five rocky peaks, 
 which had procured it the name of Panch Pahar among 
 the natives of the valley. The scene was one that 
 might well have been familiar to Ptamanatlrs eyes, for 
 he had sat and smoked upon that stone platform at the 
 same time every morning these forty years ; and it 
 could not be supposed that his mind would dwell much 
 upon the calm beauty and picturesqueness of the land- 
 scape before him. 
 
 The crackling of the dry grass outside the temple 
 compound told of the approach of a worshipper ; and 
 soon Tin Cowry, the village mahajan, or money-lender, 
 made his appearance. Shuffling along in gaudily-em- 
 broidered slippers, which were as awkward to walk in 
 as they were ornamental to look at. Tin Cowry, or 
 " Three Shells," as his name is rendered, was a tall, thin 
 person, almost a walking skeleton, with a countenance 
 cadaverous enough to complete the ghostly allusion. 
 In demeanour Three Shells was obsequious even to 
 servility, flattering and fawning upon every one off 
 whom there was a possibility of his making any 
 money. His head was generally bent and his hands 
 clasped in respectful homage to the person whom he 
 was for the time addressing ; but those who caught a 
 glance of the twinkling eyes and hard cruel mouth of 
 the money-lender could not help feeling that they were 
 face to face with a tifier in human form : a man who
 
 THE LING A OF DHUPNAGAK. 15 
 
 would not scruple to devour them, flesh and blood and 
 bones, if ever chance should yield them to him for a 
 prey. But Three Shells passed for a pious man in the 
 village of Dhupnagar ; and indeed it was under the plea 
 of religion and reverence for the Linga that he had 
 taken up his residence there, for Three Shells was a 
 stranger from a distant part of the country. His in- 
 terest seldom exceeded fifty per cent, and he never 
 foreclosed upon a client so long as anything was to be 
 made out of him. A much-respected man was Three 
 Shells, for wherever he went, " salaams " and bent 
 heads greeted his presence. A reason for this doubt- 
 less was, that there were not twelve persons in Dhup- 
 nagar but were dipped to a greater or less extent in 
 the mahajan's books ; scarcely a shopkeeper in the vil- 
 lage whose stock the mahajan could not at any mo- 
 ment have seized upon as his own ; hardly a plough 
 or an ox among any of the surrounding peasants that 
 had not been mortgaged to defray the expenses of a 
 daughter's marriage or a father's shraad (funeral rites). 
 What though the poor wretches had redeemed their 
 pledges ten or even a hundred times over? Three 
 Shells never quitted the grasp of a client. But in every 
 village of Bengal the rapacity of the usurer is insa- 
 tiable as that of the horse-leech ; and the folks of Dhup- 
 nagar had, on the whole, reason to be satisfied that they 
 had fallen into the hands of so equitable a mahajan. 
 Three Shells was, as has been said, a man of great re- 
 ligious pretensions. Xo one in the village was a more
 
 16 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 regular worshipper at the temple ; and no one was 
 more strict to mark all the observances laid down in 
 tlie Brahminical books. AVith regard to his caste, 
 doubts had been raised when he came to Dhupnagar 
 six years ago ; but as the villagers began to borrow of 
 him their scruples vanished, and, with the exception of 
 the priest and the Lahories, who had never yet deigned 
 to drink or smoke with him — the acknowledgment of 
 caste equality — there was no one in the district who 
 could afford to treat the mahajan otherwise than as a 
 high-caste Brahmin. 
 
 Such was the man who now came forward to the 
 temple door, making many lowly salutations to Eama- 
 nath as he advanced.
 
 THEEE SHELLS, THE MAHAJAN. 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 THEEE SHELLS, THE MAHAJAN. 
 
 Three Shells stood at the foot of the steps, his body 
 bent forward and his right hand raised in salutation 
 to his forehead. " Salaam, great king," he murmured 
 in a meek, whining voice. " May your prayers of the 
 morning, which are grateful to the gods as an offering 
 of amrit (ambrosia), return upon your head in the 
 shape of heavenly blessings ! May your life be pro- 
 longed, protector of the poor ! " and the money- 
 lender, as he spoke, made a motion as if he would 
 embrace the priest's feet. 
 
 " Salaam, Three Shells," said the priest curtly, as 
 he scarcely raised his hookha from his lips to greet 
 the mahajan, and waved the new-comer with his left 
 hand to a seat on the platform. 
 
 "With much deference and affectation of humility, 
 Three Shells sat down at a respectful distance from 
 the priest. Eamanath smoked on in silence, for the 
 
 vol. I. B
 
 18 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 difference of caste did not permit him to offer his 
 hookha to the money-lender. 
 
 " It was a great festival last night in Dhupnagar," 
 Three Shells at length ventured to observe. "The 
 streets of the village were lighted up like the courts 
 of Agni, the god of fire. Ah, what a comfort it is 
 to live among respectable people who worship the gods 
 so well ! " 
 
 " You set them a good example. Three Shells," said 
 Eamanath ; " those coloured lanterns that adorned your 
 verandah were not put there for pice, I'll warrant, now, 
 that you had them from the zilla (county) town, for I 
 don't think they make such things here in Dhupnagar." 
 
 " Unworthy of your notice," responded Three Shells. 
 " They came from Calcutta, and were all that I could 
 do to show that, though a poor man, I am not ungrate- 
 ful for the favours the gods have sent me. But, 
 maharajah, you should have seen the jatra (play) at 
 Kristo Baboo's last night. No expense was spared ; the 
 young Eajah of Ghatghar's own band of music was 
 there, and there were two female dancers that have 
 been honoured by the liighest noblemen in Bengal. 
 Oh, they were lovely as Lakshmi, the goddess of pros- 
 perity, and their dancing was stately as the move- 
 ments of the moon through the heavens ! You were 
 not there, maharajah ? " 
 
 " No," grunted Eamanath. " I went to bed, which 
 better became a respectable' man than to sit gazing at 
 the lascivious posturings of such wantons, I am glad
 
 THREE SHELLS, THE INIAHAJAN. 19 
 
 tliat Kristo Baboo lias money enough to squander upon 
 play-acting and ndtclies." 
 
 " He he ! " sniggered the mahajan, casting a sharp 
 glance with his keen little eyes upon the priest's stolid 
 countenance ; " not so much, perhaps, if every one had 
 his own; who knows whose pockets supplied the 
 cost of last night's entertainments ! But the Lahories 
 are a family of good caste, and it becomes Kristo 
 Baboo to support the dignity of his house." 
 
 "Ay, if feeding all his friends and relations upon 
 ghi (clarified butter) and sweetmeats for one month, 
 and starving himself and his family upon parched rice 
 and cold water for the other eleven, will keep up the 
 dignity of any family, commend me to Kristo Baboo's 
 way of doing it. He will have to put his hands in 
 your coffers before long, I doubt. Three Shells; that 
 daughter of his must be married some day. It is a 
 disgrace to the village that a girl of her age should be 
 without a husband. I wish good may come of it." 
 
 Eamanath smoked away in grave disapprobation of 
 Kristo Baboo's laxity, for among the Hindoos nothing 
 is considered more improper than to allow a woman to 
 reach maturity before she has been provided with a 
 husband. But in marrying his daughter, the Hindoo 
 of high caste has two great difficulties to encounter. 
 In the first place, the number of eligible husbands 
 is restricted by the minute limitations of caste; and 
 secondly, the terrible expenditure upon the marriage 
 ceremonies, and the heavy dower expected with the
 
 20 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 bride, fall with great severity upon a poor and proud 
 family. It is to these considerations, which extend 
 as far as caste itself does, that the fearful progress of 
 infanticide in Hindoo society is due ; and it is these 
 feelings that tempt the haughty Eajpoot father who 
 could never afford to make a suitable settlement upon 
 his daughter, to stretch forth his hand against the life 
 of his own offspring. 
 
 "Kristo Baboo will not be easy to please with a 
 son-in-law," said the money-lender ; " he holds his 
 head higher than all the Brahmins in the district, 
 except the Eajah of Ghatghar, and the Eajah has two 
 wives already." 
 
 "A good reason why he should take a third one, 
 Three Shells," said the priest, sententiously. " When 
 a man has only two wives, each calls upon him for aid 
 against the other when they fall out ; but when he gets 
 a third, the other two turn against the new-comer and 
 leave him at peace." 
 
 " Well done ! a rare jest," sniggered the money- 
 lender, torturing his pinched features into the fashion 
 of a smile; "but were the Eajah to offer himself, 
 Kristo Baboo could never afford to marry his daughter 
 to so great a man. Why, the marriage expenses could 
 not cost less than half a lakh of rupees. And yet it is 
 a sad pity, for the girl's beauty is famed throughout 
 Dhupnagar." 
 
 " It is a pity, and that is all that can be said about 
 it, for no good conies of gossiping about other men's
 
 THREE SHELLS, THE MAHAJAN. 21 
 
 family matters," said Eamanath, becoming mindful 
 that his own household was liable to objection as con- 
 taining a virgin wife. "But let us hope that Kristo 
 Baboo may get her off his hands as soon and as 
 decently as possible." 
 
 " There is your great son, that ocean of learning, 
 who is the instructor of all the sages in Calcutta," 
 insinuated the money-lender. " Why should you not 
 take the maiden for a bride to him, maharajah ? Such 
 a match would raise the head of Kristo Baboo among 
 men again, for your caste is as noble as his own." 
 
 " My son is already mated," said Puamanath, curtly, 
 as he applied himself to his hookha more vigorously 
 than before. 
 
 "Which does not prevent him from being mated 
 again," quietly observed the mahajan. " Idle people 
 said, maharajah, that your son had cast loving eyes up- 
 on Kristo Baboo's daughter, and that he would rather 
 have taken her to his bosom than the wife whom you 
 had provided for him." 
 
 "Idle people should mind their own affairs," said 
 Eamanath, angrily, as he started up to his feet. 
 " Vishnu confound them ! is there no other young 
 man in the village, that my son must be made the 
 talk of the bazaar ? You should marry the girl your- 
 self, Three Shells, since you take so much interest in 
 her as to become her gliatak." * 
 
 * A ghatak is a professional go-between, who by dint of flattery 
 and lying upon both sides arranges the marriages of Hindoos.
 
 22 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 "Forgive me, maharajali," said Three Shells, affect- 
 ing great concern. "I meant not that my mouth 
 should speak irreverently of your honoured family ; 
 and, I pray you, couple not the maiden's name with 
 my humbleness, lest her father should be displeased ; 
 for, as you know, I am not of quite so high a caste as 
 the Lahories." 
 
 "Not quite," said Eamanath, drily; " but never mind. 
 Three Shells, let Kristo Baboo once put his fingers in 
 your purse and you will never hear of caste again. 
 He will then hold out the hand of fellowship to you 
 any day; and now, if you have got any offerings to 
 make and prayers to say, go inside and have done 
 with them, for I see my daughter Chakwi on the 
 verandah beckoning me to breakfast." 
 
 Calling one of the servants to attend the mahajan 
 throughout his devotions, Earaauath set out towards 
 his house, while Three Shells entered the temple and 
 prostrated himself before the idol. The attendant 
 peeped in, but observing Three Shells bent in prayer, 
 he decorously withdrew to the outside until the money- 
 lender had finished, when he might reasonably expect 
 that so prosperous a person would not suffer his little 
 attentions to go unrewarded. 
 
 But there was little of prayer crossing Three Shells' 
 lips. " It is all true that he says," he was muttering ; 
 "once let me get Kristo Baboo into my hands, and we 
 shall see if I be longer a dog in his presence. The 
 Mussulmans' Law says well : —
 
 THKEE SHELLS, THE MAHAJAN. 23 
 
 " ' Short since I was a weaver, 
 I am a Shaikh this year, 
 And twelve months' time shall see me a Sayyicl 
 If corn still keep dear.' 
 
 "Strong as their castes are, money is stronger, and 
 tliere is nothing on earth which it may not purchase : 
 even Kristo Baboo's daughter has her price. That 
 slave is listening. • Siva, the all-powerful one, the 
 preserver of man and beast, the fountain of life, keep 
 the head of thy suppliant ! thou who dwellest upon 
 the hills, I salute thee ! He is gone now," continued 
 the mahajan, dropping the snuffling tone which he had 
 assumed while the man was within earshot. " He will 
 expect at least four annas, for yesterday was a great 
 festival. It is an expensive thing this religion, and 
 yet it pays one. I wonder, now, how much Raman ath 
 makes in the year off this god of his ; it cannot be 
 much under a lakh of rupees between lands and 
 temple-offerings. I shall never get my hands upon 
 
 him, I suppose ; but if I did . However, there is the 
 
 son, and no one can say what he may bring the pro- 
 perty to with his extravagant Calcutta habits. There 
 was the old Eajah of Ghatghar, the stingiest churl in 
 the whole country, who would not have given away to 
 a beggar the grain of rice that he could stow in his 
 own stomach. Well, he starved himself, and ground 
 down his ryots until the poor wretches could scarcely 
 call their skins their own — and for what ? Home comes 
 his son from the Calcutta colleges, and what with
 
 24 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 feasting and dancing, play-acting and horse-racing, his 
 wives and his concubines, he has to put his hands into 
 my purse before he can keep the fifth anniversary of his 
 father's death. And who is Eajah of Ghatgharnow? 
 Not that broken-down young bankrupt, an old man at 
 five-and-twenty, with his fine house and gold-laced 
 raimeut. Ho, ho 1 here he kneels, plain Three Shells, 
 the money-lender, he is the man for whom the Ghat- 
 ghar ryots scrape their rents together. The slave 
 again approaches — from which and from all other evils 
 deliver me by thy might. glorious Siva, conqueror 
 of death, protect the humblest of thy servants in all 
 his sojournings ! " 
 
 Leaving Three Shells to complete his devotions after 
 his own fashion, we may cross the village green and 
 see what is going on at the house of the Lahories. It 
 was a huge square brick building of almost palatial 
 dimensions, but the walls were blackened with age, and 
 had in several places crumbled into ruins, which the pro- 
 prietor could never afford to repair. In front the upper 
 storey opened out to a pillared balcony, hung with chicks 
 of green bamboo to defend it from the sun's rays dur- 
 ing the daytime. The windows opening to the out- 
 side, of which there were two rows, an upper and a 
 lower, were all defended by wooden Venetians, which 
 served as well to secure the inmates from intrusive 
 eyes as to shut out the fierce glare of noonday. 
 
 The house is by this time astir, and most of Kristo 
 Baboo's many guests have gone to the great tank be-
 
 THKEE SHELLS, THE MAHAJAX. 25 
 
 hind the mansion to bathe and pray, or they are bust- 
 ling about preparing a hasty meal before they take 
 leave of their entertainer, and return to their own 
 homes. Entering through the wide doorway we come 
 into a great quadrangle, round which, on the upper 
 floor, are arranged the apartments of the family ; and 
 at the extreme end stands the idol -room or family 
 chapel, cut off from observation by only a few pillars. 
 Here old Digumbra, the family priest and pundit, is 
 making the morning oblations to the guardian deities 
 of the house of Lahory. The Lahories are highly 
 orthodox people. No suspicion of scepticism has ever 
 attached to any member of this family : no people were 
 more strict in their observance of the Hindoo ritual : 
 none fed more Brahmins, or gave a higher largess to 
 the strolling devotee : none could observe festivals and 
 ceremonies more carefully than Kristo Baboo and his 
 family. Their zeal for religion had in fact sadly im- 
 paired the Lahories' substance. The Lahory domains 
 had once been ample, including not only all Dhupna- 
 gar, but much of the surrounding district. But the 
 Hindoo law of inheritance and the joint family system 
 had wrought their usual effects. Instead of each son 
 as he grew up to manhood taking his portion in money 
 and going out into the world to seek a career for him- 
 self, he settled down upon the family property and 
 in the family mansion, married and begot a family 
 of his own, which in course of time became a still 
 further charge upon the family lands. In a few
 
 26 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 generations, the rental which had supported only a 
 single family became burdened with a little clan' of 
 Lahories ; and then the head of the family, who had 
 to maintain a position worthy of his dignity, and to 
 contribute the largest portion of the expenditure upon 
 the religious rites common to himself and his kinsmen, 
 began to feel his circumstances straitened, and was 
 obliged to cast about him for some means of increasing 
 his income. His unfortunate tenants naturally first 
 suggested themselves, and their rents were screwed 
 and screwed until the poor wretches had scarcely left 
 to them the wherewithal to keep soul and body to- 
 gether. Now, a portion of the estate must be feued to 
 defray the expenses of a daughter's marriage, and once 
 feued, the rents became nominal and unalterable. Then, 
 a father's funeral ceremonies could not be duly per- 
 formed until two or three hundred acres had been sold 
 altogether. And thus it happened that, by the time 
 Kristo Baboo became head of the family, scarcely any- 
 thing was left to support his lofty pretensions. The 
 old Eajali of Ghatghar, whose greed for land was only 
 less than his lust for gold, had bought up lot after lot, 
 until little remained to Kristo but the village and a 
 few farms round about it. One year when there was 
 a drought over all Bengal, the rice was burned up in 
 the blade : there were no crops, the ryots had fallen 
 into an-ears with their rent, and Kristo was unable to 
 pay the Government assessment, which was several years 
 in arrears. The collector saw no prospect of recover-
 
 THEEE SHELLS, THE MAHAJAN. 27 
 
 ing the dues, and after several warnings proceeded to 
 distrain a considerable portion of Kristo's estate. This 
 was bought in by the Government and presented as 
 a reward to a Pathan of&cer who had been of signal 
 service to the English during the Mutiny. Kristo 
 Baboo had never got over this disgrace. He hated 
 Shamsuddeen Khan as the author of his calamity, 
 although the Pathan had only accepted what the 
 Government offered him ; and when the latter built a 
 new mansion on the land which had once been Kristo's, 
 the Baboo had gone solemnly down on his knees before 
 the gods and prayed that the new possessor might 
 never have enjoyment of his land until the soil of it 
 covered him. 
 
 In course of time, as Kristo Baboo's circumstances 
 grew worse, his richer kinsmen drew away from him, 
 and refused to pay him the respect which they owed 
 to him as head of the family; and there only remained 
 his daughter and a host of poor cousins, who, having 
 no better means of subsistence, adhered faithfully to 
 his falling fortunes. But chief among all his troubles 
 was the condition of his daughter. Eadha had now 
 been marriageable several years, but as yet the Baboo 
 had been unable to find a suitable match for her 
 among his acquaintance. He clung eagerly to the pride 
 of his high caste, which was indeed nearly all that was 
 now left him ; but his means were so slender that he 
 shrank from encouraging the advances of any wealthy 
 suitor, who would expect to be treated to an expensive
 
 28 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 marriage ceremony and a heavy dowry. There would 
 have been no lack of lovers, for Radha was beautiful 
 as a queen, and the (jkataJcs had trumpeted her praises 
 all over the district. 
 
 Among the few that had ever been privileged to 
 catch a glimpse of the maiden was Krishna, the priest's 
 son. The young man had come unexpectedly upon 
 Radha as she had finished bathing, and \vas standing 
 by the edge of the tank wringing the water out of her 
 dark tresses, and looking in her scanty drapery lithe and 
 graceful as a nut-brown naiad. The girl fled, but not 
 before she had marked that Krishna was rapt in ad- 
 miration of her person : and Radha was too vain of 
 her own charms not to triumph at the conquest she had 
 made. From that hour Krishna was always to be 
 found sauntering about the Lahories' tank, or prying so 
 curiously at the Baboo's zenana windows, that it was a 
 wonder bow he escaped the staves of Kristo's servants. 
 Sometimes a window would be thrown open as if by 
 accident, and before it could be closed he would 
 discern Radha's retreating figure as she fled backwards 
 into tlie obscurity of the room. Once or twice a flower 
 fell from the window, which he stealthily snatched up 
 and concealed ; and these were carefully preserved as 
 his greatest treasures. But such courtship makes slow 
 progress, and three years found Krishna and Radha still 
 utter strangers to each other. But Krishna's love was 
 not the less constant ; and when his wife Chakwi was 
 brought home, it was still Radha's image that was
 
 THREE SHELLS, THE MAHAJ.VN. 29 
 
 uppermost in his heart, and he could not help loath- 
 ing his gentle partner, because of the bright vision' 
 that had crossed his path so long ago at the tank of 
 Lahory. 
 
 Kristo Baboo was standing upon the steps, in close 
 conversation with one of his guests, who was preparing 
 to mount an active little pony that a syce (groom) 
 held close by them. The Baboo was a middle-aged 
 Hindoo, of a stout, almost obese figure, but with a high 
 square forehead and fair features, indicating the pur- 
 ity of his Aryan descent. He wore only a w^aist-cloth 
 of white cotton, with a snowy muslin chadda thrown 
 loosely over his shoulder, and nothing to distinguish 
 him from the others but the massive silver hookha that 
 he held in his hand. His companion was a man of a 
 very different stamp. His skin was almost as black 
 as a negro's, and his round face, narrow brow, and 
 irregular features contrasted strongly with the aristo- 
 cratic countenance of the master of the house. He 
 was dressed in a long chcqjhan or coat, cut in a fashion 
 half oriental half European, which is much affected by 
 the Anglicised natives : he wore a pair of white duck 
 trousers, with patent-leather English boots ; a heavy 
 gold chain attached to his watch was wound in two or 
 three folds about his neck ; and a little gold-laced cap 
 was perched jauntily upon his crisp black curls. In 
 short, his whole appearance was such as may any day 
 be seen loitering about the Presidency College gate, or 
 Wellesley Square, or any of the other haunts of " Young
 
 30 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 Bengal" in Calcutta. Though only the son of Ram 
 Lall, the village oilman, Preonath had become a man of 
 greater consequence than many a person of much higher 
 birth : for he was a Bachelor of Arts of the Calcutta 
 University, and Deputy ]\Iagistrate of the subdivision. 
 The " Dipty Baboo," as he was called, was one of the 
 most earnest suitors for Badha's hand. Many thought 
 that it would be no great condescension in Kristo to 
 give his daughter to so promising a young officer ; but 
 the Baboo had never been able to bring himself to 
 sanction an alliance with a Sudra who did not even 
 belong to the nine tribes of tradesmen with whom a 
 Brahmin might drink water. Kristo was, however, 
 litigious and oppressive, and lawsuits with his neigh- 
 bours and tenants were of frequent occuiTence, so he 
 prudently kept friends with the Dipty, before whom 
 such cases would generally come in the first instance ; 
 and though he never pledged his word to Preonath, he 
 never gave him to understand that there were irre- 
 movable obstacles in the way of a marriage. On his 
 part, the Dipty spared no pains to Avin Kristo's favour. 
 He took up his quarters at the house of Lahory every 
 time he visited Dhupnagar, although he knew that his 
 old father, Ram Lall, had the little house in the bazaar 
 swept and garnished for the reception of his great son. 
 His origin and his father's status were sore trials to 
 Preonath's pride. Were it not that the old man and 
 the little shop in Dhupnagar were constantly before
 
 THEEE SHELLS, THE MAHAJAN. 31 
 
 their eyes, folk would, he fancied, soon forget that 
 Baboo Preonath Doss, B.A., and Deputy Magistrate, 
 was the son of an oil - seller. But old Earn Lall 
 would not resign the shop for all his son's entreaties 
 and promises of support; and every time Preonath 
 entered Dhupnagar, he was haunted by the dread of a 
 meeting with his father. 
 
 "And you must then go to-day, Baboo?" said 
 Kristo. " Well, we cannot detain the pillar of justice 
 with us always. AVhen may we next look for you in 
 Dhupnagar ? " 
 
 " It will not be long," replied Preonath : " the sub- 
 division has been giving a good deal of trouble lately, 
 and the Magistrate Sahib insists that I must be 
 accountable for the discovery of all these robberies 
 that have of late taken place. Sri Krishnaji ! as if 
 I could arrest a band of Sonthal highlandmen, armed 
 with axe and spear, with the aid of my court clerks 
 and half-a-dozen policemen. A likely thing indeed ! " 
 
 "Very likely," rejoined Kristo. "But what better 
 know these Englishmen ? The Magistrate Sahib should 
 come himself if he wants to rid the district of daJcaits 
 (robbers). He will find that there are Bengalees as well 
 as hillmen among the thieves." 
 
 "How?" said Preonath, pausing sharply as he put 
 his foot in the stirrup. " Whom do you mean ? No 
 one in Dhupnagar ? " 
 
 " Umph ! well, no, I don't know of any one in par-
 
 32 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 ticular," said Kristo, stammering and reddening ; " but 
 that old scoundrel Shamsuddeen Khan \vho stole my 
 land, is quite capable of stealing anything else, and his 
 ne'er-do-well of a son has come back again from the 
 army. Mind I don't say that any of them are mixed 
 up in the robberies, but I should not be at all surprised 
 if they were." 
 
 " It would never do to say such a thing to the ^lagis- 
 trate Sahib," said Preonath, reflectively. " The Pathan 
 is a favourite with the English, and he has eaten — yes, 
 actually eaten, with the IMagistrate Sahib, and at the 
 very same table ; so it is impossible that he could 
 have anything to do with the robberies. And now, am 
 I at liberty to take my departure ? " 
 
 " Go, my son, and may Vishnu be your pre- 
 server ! " said the Brahmin ; " and forget not to coun- 
 tenance me in my plea wath Gunga Sahai, the dog of a 
 money-lender from Gapshapgauj — would that an evil 
 eye might light upon him ! " 
 
 " Fear not, my father, I shall do all that I can," re- 
 turned Preonath in a whisper ; " but Eakhaldass Sen 
 has appealed to the Magistrate Sahib from my last 
 decision in your favour, and if his honour should call 
 for the record, T know not Mdiat may happen to me. 
 Think of this, Kristo Baboo, and let it make you favour- 
 ably disposed towards me in my suit for Radba." 
 
 " I do think of it, I will think of it," cried Kristo, 
 hastily waving an adieu to the Dipty, and entering the
 
 THREE SHELLS, THE MAHAJAN. 33 
 
 house to conclude a conversation which had taken an 
 awkward turn. Preonath looked doubtfully after him 
 for a moment, and then applying the switch to his 
 pony trotted off, followed by half - a - dozen ragged 
 hangers-on of his court, who, by obsequious attendance 
 on the Dipty, hoped some day to raise themselves 
 from " expectants " to the position of salaried officials. 
 
 VOL. L
 
 34 THE CITy OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 KADHA S THREE LOVERS. 
 
 Where the highroad leading from Calcutta and the 
 other towns in the Hooghly basin crosses the low 
 ridge that forms the eastern watershed of the Gunga- 
 putra, it passes through a green mango tope, beneath 
 which a shrine had once been reared to some of the 
 Hindoo deities. The little temple had long ago been 
 deserted, unless wlien a passing traveller took shelter 
 from the heat beneath its white dome, or a band of 
 belated pilgrims to the Linga of Dhupnagar passed the 
 night there. The tope had a bad name among the 
 country people. The priest had never prospered while 
 the shrine was still in existence. His children had 
 been carried off by disease ; his cows had been stolen ; 
 peojile refused to give anything to so ill-omened a 
 temple, which, they said, must have been built over 
 human bones ; and the priest had in course removed 
 his idol to some more auspicious locality. The people 
 of Dhupnagar would hurry on that they might pass
 
 EADHA S THEEE LOVERS. 35 
 
 the PagocLa Tope before niglit fell ; and if they were 
 alone they preferred to seek hospitality at some of the 
 wayside cottages rather than place themselves within 
 the power of the evil spirits that infested the ruins. 
 
 At noon-tide on the day after the Dewali Puja the 
 temple had a single occupant, who had evidently ven- 
 tured to pass the night in the haunted locality ; for the 
 strip of matting which had served him for a couch 
 was still spread out upon the floor, and by it was a 
 small bundle of clothes which he had used as a pillow. 
 He was a young man of eighteen or nineteen, whose 
 fair face and open regular features, no less than his 
 sacred cord, bespoke him a high-caste Brahmin. He 
 had just finished bathing in the ruined tank, wliich 
 was half choked up with the broad green leaves of 
 the water-lily, and the white pith-like stems of the 
 sola bushes. As he stood in the temple door adjust- 
 ing his simple toilet, his eye followed the road as it 
 wound down the valley — past hamlet and homestead 
 — now lost in a patch of jungle, now skirting the 
 green fields of some ryot's farm. Beneath him, at a 
 distance of two or three miles, lay Dhupnagar, its 
 white houses standing garishly forth 'in the blazing 
 sunshine ; and down in the bottom of the valley the 
 Gungaputra was flowing swiftly along — an unbroken 
 current of liquid silver — from the white minarets of 
 Bhutpore on the north, until hidden behind the lofty 
 terraces of the Ghatghar Palace at the other extremity. 
 Beyond, the view was bounded by the low range of
 
 36 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 lulls called, from its five peaks, " Pancli Pahar," the 
 skirts of wliicli were clothed "vvith a dense robe of 
 jungle, while on its ridges and summits gigantic old 
 sal trees waved like the plumes upon a warrior's bas- 
 net. There are few fairer scenes in Lower Bengal than 
 that which greets the traveller's eye as he gazes from 
 the Pagoda Tope into the valley of the Gungaputra. 
 The wearisome Hatness of the Gangetic plains has been 
 exchanged for undulating slopes and rich meadows: 
 a red earthy soil resting on a rocky bed, which here 
 and there throws up a craggy peak above the surface, 
 has taken the place of white sandy clays : the vegeta- 
 tion, if less luxuriant, has a hardier appearance : and 
 the population are of a stronger and manlier cast than 
 the Kthe, slim Bengalees of the Hooghly valley. 
 
 " I must face my fate, whatever be the consequen- 
 ces," said the young man, as he looked nervously in 
 the direction of Dhupnagar, " for I can delay here no 
 longer. It would be all the same if I waited for a 
 lifetime, for I should never be able to nerve myself 
 more for the task. I might just as well have gone on 
 last night ; but I felt as if I would be carrying dis- 
 cord and trouble into a scene of happiness and gaiety, 
 and I could not enter Dhupnagar upon a festival night : 
 and then when the lamps were kindled, and the village 
 shone out in one blaze of light, and sounds of music 
 and revelry came floating up from the valley, I felt that 
 I was indeed an outcast. The old temple sprang up 
 all at once into a building of flame, and a dark figure
 
 eadha's three LOVEES. 37 
 
 passed athwart the light, which I am sure was my 
 father's. My poor father ! I wonder how he will bear 
 it! He has such an easy, selfish nature, and is so 
 worldly, that it will fall a heavy blow upon him. Per- 
 haps he may curse me and throw me out of doors. 
 Well, let him : I shall then, I know, be firm in the 
 truth. It is not persecution, but silent reproach, af- 
 fectionate entreaties, and tender pleadings, that can 
 shake my resolution." 
 
 He had now completed his toilet and taken up his 
 little bundle, but he still lingered by the temple door 
 as if his heart failed him and his limbs were refusing 
 to bear him on the road. 
 
 " I saw, too, where she was last night," he solilo- 
 quised, sadly. " When they placed these coloured 
 lamps upon the terrace of Kristo Baboo's verandah 
 a slim form stood out for an instant in front of the 
 light, and then glided away towards the zenana. It 
 vjcis her, for no maiden in Dhupnagar — no, nor in 
 all Bengal — has the same sylph-like form, or moves 
 with so much grace. But why should I think of her 
 now, when she would turn from me as from a pariah 
 dog? I could never have won her as I was before — 
 far less now. Then there is my wife, Chakwi. My 
 wife ! What wife can she be to me, or what husband 
 I to her? God's curse upon Hiudooism and its customs, 
 for it has blighted my life, and the lives of every one 
 connected with me. But I, for one, have broken with 
 it, never to be reconciled. Would that I could as
 
 38 THE CITY OF SUXSIIINE. 
 
 easily cast off its taints as I can fling from me the 
 last of its emblems ! " 
 
 As he spoke he again opened the bosom of his coat, 
 and tearing off the 2'>oita or sacred cord, -which marked 
 his position as a Brahmin, he held it for an instant in 
 his hands : " It was my father who blessed it and put 
 it on me," he said, bitterly ; " little did he think that 
 the day would come when I should thus dishonour it. 
 But the Christian Teacher rightly says, ' He who loveth 
 father and mother more than me, is not worthy of me ;' 
 and how can I expect the eternal Brahma to lead me 
 to truth and everlasting bliss, if I allow my mind to 
 be warped by the fleeting affections of earth ? God is 
 my father and mankind is my brother, and thus perish 
 everything that would tend to narrow the holy rela- 
 tionship;" and the young enthusiast broke the sacred 
 thread into fragments, and flung them contemptuously 
 upon the highway, trampling them under feet as he 
 did so. 
 
 He had now wrought himself up to a pitch of strong 
 mental excitement, and he set out with firm step along 
 the road, and began to walk at a rapid pace down-hill 
 in the direction of Dhupnagar. The^ road followed 
 an easy declivity, and for some distance from the Pa- 
 goda Tope it was sheltered by clumps of tall bamboo 
 planted by the wayside. But Krishna Chandra Gos- 
 sain — for it was the priest of Dhupnagar's son, as the 
 reader has doubtless already conjectured — recked little 
 of shade or sunshine, but strode resolutely on with
 
 EADHA S THEEE LOVEKS. 39 
 
 knit brows and clenched fists. Sometimes he would 
 pause abruptly, muttering to himself, and wildly ges- 
 ticulating. Sometimes he would halt with a look of 
 uncertainty upon his face, as he half thought of turn- 
 ing back, and then again he would start with redoubled 
 speed and a more determined resolution than before. 
 It was no wonder though Krishna shrank from the 
 journey, for he was going to face death ; ay, death — 
 the death of a lifetime — the terrible civil death that 
 overtakes the Hindoo whose foot strays from the strait 
 ordinances of the Brahmins. We have our martyrs 
 in plenty — men who liave devoted themselves for their 
 faith to the most terrible deaths ; but our Western 
 imaginations fail us when we attempt to realise the 
 lifelong persecutions, trouble, isolation, and scorn which 
 beset the young Hindoo who dares to put himself in 
 opposition to the errors of his countrymen. 
 
 As Krishna came out upon the open road, his eye 
 fell iipon a rider coming up the hill, followed by five 
 or six half-clad attendants. At a glance he recognised 
 Preonath, the Deputy Magistrate, the man whom, of all 
 others, he was most anxious to shun. He knew Preo- 
 nath to be a pretender to the hand of Piadha, and he 
 could not help entertaining feelings of dislike and jeal- 
 ousy towards him. There had, moreover, been an old 
 rivalry between the two at the Presidency College, 
 where Preonath, as the senior student, would have 
 taken the wall of young Krishna, an assumption which 
 the high-caste Brahmin refused to tolerate upon the
 
 40 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 part of an oil-seller's son. It was true that when 
 Krishna's liberal instincts were aroused, and when he 
 began to see how empty a boast was the pride of caste, 
 he had sought to repair his error by treating Preonath 
 with the utmost courtesy and even respect ; but though 
 they outwardly remained good friends, Preonath never 
 could forgive liis fellow-student for being a better-born 
 man than he was, far less for having vaunted liimselfto 
 be so. In their studies, too, each had endeavoured to 
 surpass the other, but their intellects were very differ- 
 ently constituted, and rivalry between them was almost 
 impossible. Krishna excelled in literature and ethical 
 philosophy — could pen a Sanscrit sloka like Kalidasa, 
 as his pundit boasted, or turn out a very creditable 
 essay in English. It was in mathematics and law that 
 Preonath had distinguished himself. His acute but 
 superficial intellect lacked the guidance of taste in his 
 literary studies, and his mind was too selfish to seek 
 philosophical culture simply for culture's sake. Krish- 
 na had sought his friends among the little group of 
 theistical students who adhere to either of the two 
 sects of Brahmists ; while cautious Preonath kept the 
 most orthodox company in college, and never ceased 
 to extol the blessings of caste, although he liimself 
 had none that was worth mentioning. The end of all 
 this was, that Preonath, through the intluencc of his 
 Hindoo patrons, soon procured a deputy magistracy, 
 and was now on the higliroad to official promotion ; 
 while Krishna, a disgraced and a broken man, was on
 
 EADHAS THREE LOVERS. 41 
 
 his way to his father's house, which he would in all 
 likelihood find to be no longer a home for him. 
 
 Had it been at all possible to avoid Preonath, Krish- 
 na would have gladly done so ; but the Dipty was 
 close upon him, and there was not a single bush or a 
 tree by the wayside that would have screened him from 
 observation. He must face his old rival ; and with 
 this resolution the thought of his altered circumstances 
 came bitterly into Krishna's mind. He had just thrown 
 away the last relic of his caste : what grounds had 
 he now for claiming to be the superior of Preonath ? 
 Could he have gathered up and mended that cord 
 which he had dishonoured at the Pagoda Tope a few 
 minutes before, he would have been strongly tempted 
 to do so. But now the deed was done, and he must 
 abide by the consequences, whatever they might be. 
 
 " What ! Krishna Chandra here ? " cried the Bipty 
 in amazement, as he perceived him. " How is this ? 
 We had not expected to see you before March." And 
 Preonath got off his pony and greeted his old fellow- 
 student with a great show of cordiality. 
 
 " Well, Preonath Baboo, I am glad to meet you," said 
 Krishna, somewhat coldly. " You seem to have grown 
 quite a great man in the district ; I suppose I ought 
 hardly to address my old class-fellow without ' your 
 honouring ' and ' my lording ' him, now that he has 
 become a great oflQcial." 
 
 " Not so great yet that he can receive adulation from 
 his old friend and the son of Eamanath Gossain. But
 
 42 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 tell me, Krishna, how comes it that you are away from 
 college just now? Is all well with you? I know 
 your friends in Dhupnagar are in health, for I saw 
 your father last night before the festival." 
 
 " Yes, yes — all is right ; I have come home upon 
 some private business," responded Krishna, hurriedly ; 
 " and as my time may be short, you will excuse me, 
 Preonath, if I do not delay longer with you. I am 
 very anxious to see my father." 
 
 " Of course, of course," said Preonath ; " but you will 
 come and see me before you return to Calcutta. I am 
 very lonely at Gapshapganj among stupid old Ben- 
 galees, who are as ignorant as their own bullocks, and 
 positive as pigs. Will you not come and spend a few 
 days with me at my house ? You are not one who 
 troubles himself about his caste, or I should not have 
 dared to ask you to be the guest of a poor Kyasth ; " 
 and as the Dipty said this he darted a keen glance 
 towards Krishna, as if he would read in his looks 
 what he wanted to learn. 
 
 " No, certainly not ; nothing would give me more 
 pleasure," said Krishna, speaking with incoherent 
 utterance. " If I can so arrange it, I shall pay you 
 a visit before I go back to college— that is, if I do go 
 back, for really my mind is at present very unsettled." 
 
 " Just so," said Preonath, drily, as he looked doubt- 
 fully at the other. " Well, at all events your future 
 does not depend upon your taking a degree, as mine 
 did. Pious Hindoos will not tie the corners of their
 
 EADHA S THEEE LOVERS. 43 
 
 cummerhunds (waist-cloths, purses) any tighter because 
 the priest of Dhupnagar is not a B.A. of the University." 
 
 " If a man escape the shafts of Yama, the god of 
 death, he will not die," answered Krishna, shaking his 
 head sadly. " You will never see me priest of Dhup- 
 nagar, Preonath, while sun and moon endure ; at least 
 not the priest of Siva's Linga. And now, farewell ; " 
 and with a wave of the hand to the Dipty, he walked 
 rapidly down the hill to avoid fui'ther questioning. 
 
 " What in the thousand names of Vishnu is the mat- 
 ter now ? " said the Dipty to himself as he remounted 
 his pony. " What on earth can he be doing here when 
 the college examinations are just beginning ? He can't 
 have been expelled from the Presidency College for 
 misconduct. No, it's not that ; he was always too shy 
 and quiet — annoyingly quiet — for that. It is some- 
 thing about religion that is at the bottom of it. I 
 should not wonder, now, if he had got up another beef- 
 steak party as they did in the wild old days, for when 
 I left college he was always sneering and scoffing at 
 Hindooism. He can't have become a Christian. No, 
 that would be too good to be real." 
 
 Thus the Dipty continued to muse as he rode along 
 the road. He knew that there was something wrong 
 with Krishna, and he was already plotting how he 
 might turn the accident, whatever it might be, to his 
 own advantage. He was perfectly well aware of 
 Krishna's passion for Kristo Baboo's daughter, for he 
 had often seen the wild impassioned verses in which
 
 44 THE CITY OF SUNSHIXE. 
 
 the young student was wont to celebrate the beauties 
 of Radha, and which were looked upon by their class- 
 fellows as masterpieces of Bengalee poetry. And if, 
 as he did not doubt was the case, Krishna had done 
 something to compromise himself with the orthodox 
 party, he would then at least have one dangerous rival 
 removed from the field. " I would give a lota (cup) 
 of silver to the temple of Tarakeshwar, that this young 
 fool had turned Christian," he said, as he looked piously 
 up towards the sky. 
 
 Hardly had he breathed his vow when his eye fell 
 upon the shreds of Krishna's cord as they lay scattered 
 upon the road before him. " What is that ? " the Dipty 
 asked, as he pointed with his riding-switch towards the 
 fragments. Four of the attendants rushed forward, 
 knocking their heads against each other in their eager- 
 ness to pick them up. "Let me look at them," he 
 continued, holding out his hand. The first glance 
 confirmed his suspicion. " Sri-Narayan-ji" he mut- 
 tered ; " the prayer of the pious hath its answer. It is 
 —yes, it is a Brahmin's polta, and it is Krishna Chandra 
 that has offered this insult to the sacred symbol. The 
 temple of Tarakeshwar shall have its lota, if I should 
 never earn another rupee in the world. AVhat an ass, 
 and father of an ass, is he, thus to throw away his liigh 
 privileges ! " 
 
 " I shall keep this," said the Dipty to himself, as he 
 carefully rolled up tlie broken cord ; " it is riglit that 
 the Brahmins of the district should know how reli'non
 
 KADHAS THREE LOVERS. 45 
 
 is dislionoiired, aud by a priest's son too. Jaddoo," he 
 continued, turning to one of his follo^yers, " stand apart 
 here and hearken. They say that you have brains, 
 Jaddoo, aud if you will use them now in my service 
 it may well be to your advantage. You saw young 
 Krishna Baboo pass us on the road ? Well, I am told 
 upon good authority that he has become an unbeliever, 
 and an eater of beef and other abominations ; and it 
 is right that the good folks of Dhupnagar should be 
 cautioned against so dangerous a character, lest they 
 should suffer pollution in his society. Now, Jaddoo, 
 you will go into the bazaar, and when they ask you for 
 news, you will say that you have heard such things of 
 the young Krishna Baboo, but that you do not think 
 them true. You will tell them that you have heard of 
 his eating and drinking with English and other unclean 
 races ; that he despises the gods, and follows a new reli- 
 gion ; and that he has come back to Dhupnagar to de- 
 stroy the caste and creed of everybody in it. You will 
 tell them all this, and anything similar that may occur 
 to you — but only as hearsay, mind ; and do not let my 
 name pass your lips, as you value my favour. You 
 understand, do you not ? Very well, you may return 
 now, and if you manage this business properly, I 
 shall soon require an extra chaprassi about the court. 
 And stay, Jaddoo — do not go the way of Kristo Baboo's 
 with your gossip ; they will hear of it without you." 
 
 " It will be better that the Baboo should not see 
 that I have any interest in running down Krishna,"
 
 46 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 said lie to himself ; " but I shall take care to let them 
 hear of it through another channel." 
 
 The Dipty's meditations were here interrupted by a 
 violent collision, which sent both him and his little 
 pony spinning to the wayside, where they fell in a 
 heap, the one rolling over the other, until they settled 
 down into the ditch, the Dipty being undermost. His 
 ragged staff set up a howl of affected concern, and 
 rushed to extricate him ; while the cause of the acci- 
 dent, a young man in a semi-military attire, mounted 
 upon a bony Waler mare, reined up his charger and 
 began to anathematise the sufferer. 
 
 " May the Prophet confound thee, thou son of a burnt 
 father ! " cried the new-comer, speaking loudly in Hin- 
 dustani, with a north - country accent, " that ridest 
 along the highway like a bag propped upon the back 
 of a mule. Say, thou brother of a wanton sister, what 
 wouldst thou have done had my mare injured her 
 knees against thee and thy wretched tat there ? By 
 the tomb of Shah Safi, I had rather thy neck had been 
 broken!" 
 
 The speaker, a smart young Mussulman of twenty- 
 two or twenty-three years of age, handled his riding- 
 whip as if little would induce him to lay it across the 
 Dipty's shoulders. He was dressed in a dust-coloured 
 tunic, ornamented with gold embroidery about the 
 sleeves and collar, and he wore yellow leather gaiters 
 and long steel spurs. Round his close-fitting velvet 
 cap were wound two or three folds of a pagri, or scarf
 
 EiVDHA S THREE LOVERS. 47 
 
 of green silk — the favourite colour of the Prophet — 
 which, ending in embroidered fringes, hung gracefully 
 over his shoulders. He rode with the lightness and 
 ease of a Sikh or Mahratta horseman, and managed 
 his charger with the dexterity and grace of a trooper of 
 the Irregular Cavalry. 
 
 By this time the Dipty had scrambled to his feet 
 with the assistance of his orderlies, and he stood with 
 lowering brows, rubbing his aching sides, but taking 
 care to keep his attendants well between him and the 
 horseman. 
 
 "I do not know who you are, sir, and it strikes me 
 you do not know very well who I am, else you had not 
 ventured upon this insult," said Preonath, slowly. 
 " I am Deputy jMagistrate and Deputy Collector of the 
 subdivision ; and the Bengal Eegulations, as contained 
 in Sutherland's edition, lay down respecting the causing 
 of hurt or obstruction to wayfarers " 
 
 "May Shaitan choke thee, son of the one-eyed 
 and doomed to perdition ! what have I to do with thy 
 Bengal Eegulations ? Where is it written that a magis- 
 trate shall ride along the highway with his head hang- 
 ing down upon his breast, and his body swaying to and 
 fro like the head of the leading camel of a kafila 
 (caravan) for the Faithful to peril themselves upon ? 
 Why didst thou not take to the roadside when thou 
 sawest me ride up ?" 
 
 "Who are you that I should give place to you?" 
 demanded the Dipty, though in a less confident tone.
 
 43 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 for lie was conscious that his own inattention was in 
 some measure to blame for the accident. " I have yet 
 to learn that a Deputy jNIagistrate riding upon duty 
 through his own district, must give place to any rude 
 blusterer that sets himself to create a disturbance upon 
 the highroad. You shall answer for this, sir." 
 
 " By the sword of the Prophet, and that I shall, in 
 this very spot too ! " ejaculated the imperious Mussul- 
 man as he made his horse curvet towards the Dipty, 
 while he raised his whip high above his head to strike 
 the terrified official. But the Dipty was too true a 
 Bengalee to wait the descent of the blow, and he took 
 to his heels, with all his followers before him. A low 
 wall of ruined masonry that had once marked the 
 pomarium of the deserted pagoda, stood close by, and 
 towards this the Dipty retreated. When he had 
 succeeded in scrambling up to the top, his courage 
 revived a little, and he again addressed the Muham- 
 madan who sat upon horseback in the middle of the 
 road watching with a scornful smile the retreat of the 
 Bengalees. 
 
 " It is not here that you can account for this con- 
 duct, sir," cried the Dipty, in desperation. " There is 
 justice in the Englishman's court for the poor Hindoo 
 as well as for the IMuhammadan ; and if you are 
 Shamsuddeen Khan's, the Subadar's, son, my officials 
 will know where to bring you a summons. There is 
 not only the original ground of offence, the injuries 
 caused to my person and to my horse, but there is now
 
 EADHAS THREE LOVEKS. 49 
 
 superadded language and gestures calculated to provoke 
 a breach of the peace, the punishment for which, made 
 and provided for in the Indian Penal Code, Currie's 
 edition " 
 
 " I should not like to hear the language calculated 
 to provoke a Bengalee to break the peace," said the 
 stranger, with a derisive laugh ; " for it must be indeed 
 more awful than the words engraven upon the seal of 
 Suleiman, the son of Daoud, the mention of which 
 makes all the powers of evil to quake. But hearken. 
 Baboo ; thou hast thyself disproved the accusation, for 
 instead of provoking thee to a breach of the peace, my 
 language provoked thee to run away. What says the 
 Penal Code of that ? and what will the English Magis- 
 trate Sahib say to the courage of his Bengalee Deputy, 
 when thy charge comes up before him V 
 
 Preonath bit his lip and was silent, for he knew how 
 well founded was the Mussulman's taunt. Mr Eversley, 
 the Collector of the district, was a civilian of the old 
 Anglo-Indian school, who rated his native subordinates 
 very cheaply, and who was never ill pleased when 
 anything occurred to expose them to ridicule. The 
 stranger marked the impression that he had made, 
 and continued :— 
 
 " Go home, oh thou ! and thank thy abominable gods 
 — which may the Prophet speedily exterminate — that 
 thy bones are whole ; for if Pearl's knees had been as 
 much as grazed by thy carelessness, it would have been 
 many a day before thou hadst been able to take thy 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 seat in cutchcrry again. And now again begone, lest I 
 give you some real cause to sue for damages. Take 
 my advice and walk on foot in future, as every Bengalee 
 should do, for horses were made for men and for your 
 masters. Again be off, infidel ! and may the Prophet 
 convert thee to the true faith, if he should think a dog 
 like thee worth liis pains." 
 
 With this parting benediction the haughty youth 
 rode off, turning now and then to cast a threatening 
 glance backwards at his Hindoo opponents. As the 
 waving green turban of the Mussulman began to dis- 
 appear down the slopes, the Dipty's courage revived, 
 and he cursed the stranger by as many of his three 
 millions of gods as he could readily remember in his 
 agitation. When his pony had been caught, and the 
 Dipty assisted to the saddle, he proceeded to quote whole 
 pages from the Penal Code and High Court Circulars, 
 illustrative of the injuries that had been sustained by 
 his person and feelings : he conjured his attendants to 
 treasure up the minutest particulars of the encounter ; 
 he made a formal minute of the occurrence in his 
 pocket-book ; and then he rode angrily homewards, 
 racking his brains for a convenient means of revenging 
 himself upon his enemy. Little cared Afzul Khau for 
 the Dipty's threats as he descended the slope towards 
 Dhupnagar at a hand-gallop. He soon passed Jaddoo, 
 who had started off to fulfil his master's orders in the 
 village, as soon as he saw that the altercation was not 
 unlikely to end in blows, and who was now trotting
 
 EADHAS THEEE LOVEKS. 51 
 
 quickly along the road, his mind filled with visions of 
 his future greatness, when once he should become a 
 belted messenger in the Dipty's court. As Afzul 
 slackened his rein at the end of the village, he passed 
 a weary-looking wayfarer who stood half concealed by 
 the shade of a banian-tree, as if doubtful whether he 
 should venture into Dhvipnagar. It was Krishna who 
 was bracing up his nerves for the trial that awaited 
 him. 
 
 «, OF ILL LIB.
 
 52 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 FATHER AND SON. 
 
 Old Eamanath Gossain had again seated himself by 
 the shady door of his temple, and beside him still sat 
 Three Shells, the money-leader. The priest had re- 
 turned from breakfast before the end of the mahajan's 
 protracted devotions, and the two resumed their gossip. 
 Piamauath dearly loved to discuss the affairs of his 
 neighbours. It was almost his whole occupation to sit 
 by the temple door, hot weather and cold, and give and 
 receive the ne^-s of the village. There was not a soul 
 in Dhupnagar with whose family affairs Eamanath was 
 not intimately acquainted. He could tell the exact 
 number of wives in each man's family, could call all 
 the children by their proper names, and could calculate 
 to a rupee the annual income and expenditure of every 
 one around him. But with all his love for tattle 
 Eamanath was no slanderer. It was rather because in 
 his easy, good-natured way he took a fatherly interest 
 in the villagers' wellbeiuir that he loved to discuss
 
 FATHEE AND SON. 53 
 
 their domestic concerns. Nothing pleased liini so 
 much, not even a donation to the shrine, as when a 
 neighbour came to ask his advice ; and though his ex- 
 perience of the world was very limited, his natural 
 shrewdness made him a safe and cautious counsellor. 
 But there was one subject that Eamanath carefully 
 excluded from conversation, and that was the domestic 
 relations of his son and daughter. He was well aware 
 that Krishna's aversion for his wife was the talk of 
 Dhupnagar, and that many orthodox Hindoos were 
 disposed to blame himself for not stretching his 
 paternal authority to hasten on the consummation of 
 the marriage. But it was all for the best that Eama- 
 nath had acted, for he well knew that nothing would 
 be so likely to confirm Krishna's aversion for his bride 
 as any show of paternal coercion. And so, although he 
 received with great complacency all the praises that 
 Three Shells could lavish upon his son's learning and 
 high character, he promptly repressed any remarks 
 that would tend to turn the conversation towards 
 Krishna and Chakwi's ill-assorted union. 
 
 But there was no lack of free topics. There was the 
 young Eajah of Ghatghar, who, while yet a ward of 
 Government on an allowance of five hundred rupees a- 
 month, had spent five thousand, and had now got to the 
 end of his father's savings before he had been full five 
 years in possession. His father — peace be with him — 
 who was such a miser that he would have eaten the man- 
 goes and sold the stones, never thought that his money
 
 54 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 would come to an end in this fashion. The liajah kept 
 horses to run races with the Englishmen ; and madams 
 came from Calcutta and the up-country towns who 
 would soon help him to eat up the Ghatghar property. 
 His Dewan (agent), too, was making a pretty penny off 
 his master's improvidence ; people said that he had 
 already acquired estates of his own in the Backergunge 
 district. " And the ill wind from Ghatghar may blow 
 good to somebody else, eh, Three Shells ? " and Three 
 Shells meekly owned that he had had the great honour 
 of ministering to the Ghatghar Eajah's present neces- 
 sities. Then the Subadar's wild young son, Afzul Khan, 
 was come back again to the village. Folks said that 
 he had shown himself to be bold as a tiger while the 
 English were fighting in Bhootan with the square- 
 faced Budhists, but that he would not behave himself 
 in cantonments when the war was over, nor be submis- 
 sive to the Sahibs. It was a pity for his father, who 
 was a respectable man — that is, for a Muhammadan and 
 a kine-killer. It was not likely that the young feUow 
 would be long in the village before he played some 
 mischief. Had he not attempted to carry off Bel- 
 puttee the ryot of Milkiganj's daughter before he went 
 away to the army ; and when the ryot's servants 
 had driven him off with clubs, had not the wanton 
 slipped away next night of her own accord and abode 
 in the Mussulman's zenana. It was a great scandal ; 
 and though the Subadar had given the ryot two hun- 
 dred rupees to take back his daughter, silver will not
 
 FATHER AND SON. 55 
 
 lacquer disgrace. Might the gods defend all virtuous 
 women who had not a husband's protection, against 
 him and the like of him. Here Eamanath shifted 
 uneasily as conscious that Three Shells' petition was 
 directed more at his family than to the gods. Then 
 these night robberies were getting more and more 
 common. What an awakening that was for poor Peary 
 Lall, the landholder of Kadimkote on the other side of 
 the Gungaputra, to be roused by the blaze of his own 
 roofs, and to find half-a-score of armed dahaits ran- 
 sacking his house and untying his cattle ! Eesistance ! 
 How could Bengalees resist hill-men armed with sword 
 and spear and the terrible Sonthal axe ? The police- 
 men came next day, but they were afraid to venture 
 beyond the passes of Pauch Pahar ; and the Superin- 
 tendent Sahib had said that the thieves did not belong 
 to his district, and that all he could do was to report 
 them to Government. But it would be long before the 
 Government thought of compensating poor Peary Lall 
 for his eight cows and his wives' jewels worth five 
 hundred rupees. 
 
 "Take care, friend Three Shells," remarked Puima- 
 nath, drily, " that they do not call in some night to 
 help you to sum up your accounts. A wealthy maha- 
 jan like you would be better worth fleecing than a poor 
 zemindar who has nothing but what he can scrape off 
 the soil." 
 
 Three Shells smirked and said that he rested in 
 safety under the protection of the gods and the Linga
 
 56 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 of Dhupnagar; what little money he had was all in the 
 hands of clients ; and though they searched his house 
 from top to bottom, the dahaits would not find as 
 much silver as would make a nose-ring for a three-year- 
 old child. 
 
 "While the two sat in the shade of the temple con- 
 versing in this fashion, they were startled by a loud 
 exclamation from the porter, who threw down his 
 hookha in astonishment, and sprang to his feet to 
 greet his young master as Krishna entered the court- 
 yard. Eamanath sat in speechless amazement at 
 the unexpected sight, and rubbed his eyes to con- 
 vince himself that he was not dreaming. Krishna's 
 haggard aspect and jaded appearance at once informed 
 him that something was seriously wrong. His first 
 impulse was to get rid of his companion, for he noticed 
 that Three Shells' little red eyes were like to start out 
 of their sockets with curiosity, and that he was looking 
 from the one to the other for an explanation. But 
 after the first shock of surprise was over, Eama- 
 nath's countenance told no tale, and he welcomed his 
 son with dignified and affectionate gravity. Eaising 
 his clasped hands to his brow, and bending his head 
 almost to the ground, Krishna stood before his father 
 waiting for his blessing. 
 
 " You have come somewhat before you were expected, 
 but not sooner than you are welcome, my son," said 
 the priest, placing his hand fondly upon the young 
 man's head. " You are tired with your journey and
 
 FATHER AND SOX. 57 
 
 the heat ; speak not a word until you have come into 
 the house and rested yourself. Peace be with you, 
 good Three Shells," and taking his son by the arm to 
 conceal his own trembling gait, Eamanath descended 
 the steps of the temple and moved off in the direction 
 of his dwelling. 
 
 But Three Shells was not to be thrown off thus 
 easily. " Let me w^elcome you again to Dhupnagar, 
 Krishna Baboo," he said, following them closely with 
 hands respectfully clasped and head bent eagerly for- 
 ward, fawning upon the young man like a cringing 
 spaniel. " May I hope that your learning and virtues 
 will shed light upon the village for some length of time ? 
 Your propitious name has made Dhupnagar famous 
 among Calcutta pundits. I pray that all may be well 
 when you come among us thus suddenly." 
 
 " Enough, Three Shells," cried the priest, impatiently; 
 " my son is tired, and cannot stand chattering here 
 with you. Go in peace. Hai Modhoo ! attend this 
 worthy mahajan. Tin Cowry Baljoo, to the gate ; " and 
 away went the priest with his son, leaving Three Shells 
 to pocket the rebuff under a profusion of low bows and 
 salaams. 
 
 " Commend me to such courtesy," muttered the 
 money-lender angrily ; " a man may learn good man- 
 ners that has never been to Delhi. But go thy ways, 
 Eamanath Gossain; sorrow has set his foot on your 
 threshold this morning, else may I never draw a pice of 
 interest again. It is not for good that that young fel-
 
 58 THE CITY OF SUXSHIXE. 
 
 low comes here to-day in this fashion. Modhoo, my 
 f,'ood friend, Modhoo." 
 
 " Baboo," answered Modhoo, sententiously, as he 
 came slowly up to the speaker, for he did not like the 
 mahajan, who was stingy in his largesses to the temple 
 attendants. 
 
 " That gate of yours was very brilliantly lighted last 
 night, Modhoo," said Three Shells, affably ; " it was 
 quite an ornament to the village. You are a good man, 
 INIodhoo, and you will get" a great reward some day for 
 your services to the shrine." 
 
 " Umph ! some day," said Modhoo, drily, as if he 
 would have preferred a less indefinite time of settle- 
 ment, " One would need a reward, for it is poor work, 
 if all respcctahle Baboos did not give me a rupee apiece 
 when they come to the temple." 
 
 " Very true, my good Modhoo, and that reminds me 
 of my duty," said the mahajan, blandly, taking a rupee 
 from his bag and putting it into the man's outstretched 
 palm. "How glad I am to see your young master 
 again ! He has come home quite unexpectedly, has he 
 not ? " 
 
 " We did not look for him just quite so soon," said 
 Modhoo, with an appearance of reserve. 
 
 " Not quite so soon," re-echoed the mahajan ; " but 
 he was expected, then, about this time ? It is strange 
 that Ilamanath Baboo did not mention it. It will be 
 private business that has brought young Krishna home, 
 then ? "
 
 FATHER AND SON. 59 
 
 "Very private/' said Modhoo, with a mysterious 
 shake of the head. 
 
 " Very private, you say. It occurs to me just now, 
 Modhoo, that I forgot to notice you last time I was at 
 the temple. However, it is not too late yet, and here 
 is another rupee for you. And does this private busi- 
 ness that you speak of relate to your young mistress ? " 
 
 " I have not heard that it relates to my young mis- 
 tress," said Modhoo, pointedly, as if there were some 
 great secret in his possession, which was only to be 
 wormed out of him piecemeal. 
 
 " What in the name of Siva can it be then ? " said the 
 mahajan to himself. " Good Modhoo," he added aloud, 
 " I have been blind not to have noticed your obliging 
 manners before this time. Here is another rupee to 
 you ; we must be friends after this. And now, Mod- 
 hoo, tell me truly what is the cause of Krishna Baboo's 
 coming home ? " 
 
 " I know no more about it than you do," answered 
 Modhoo, curtly. 
 
 " No more about it than I do," re-echoed Three 
 Shells, angrily ; " why then, you rascal, did you tell 
 me that it was very private business ? " 
 
 " Just because I did not know anything about it," 
 said Modhoo, sturdily ; " if it had not been very private 
 I should have been able to tell you what it was." 
 
 Muttering a curse upon his grinning interlocutor, 
 the mahajan shuffled away impatiently from the temple, 
 determined to find some explanation of the mystery in
 
 60 THE CITV OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 the bazaar. " Three rupees thrown into the water," he 
 growled. " I might have known that if there was any 
 secret it would not have been intrusted to that churl- 
 ish slave. But it will be strange if I do not get an 
 inkling of it from somewhere before long." 
 
 Not a word passed between Eamanath and his son 
 as they crossed the temple courtyard and entered the 
 little wicket that admitted them into the compound of 
 the priest's house, llamanath's dwelling was a large 
 brick building, in the usual quadrangular form of 
 Hindoo houses. The Gossain family had been much 
 more numerous at the time of its erection than Eama- 
 nath's modest household, which now occupied only a 
 small corner of the house. The zenana, or female 
 apartments, took up a whole wing of the upper floor, 
 and the only other habitable apartments were the hoita 
 kliana, or sitting-room, where the priest received visitors 
 of distinction, and the rooms which had been set apart 
 as the study and bedchamber of the priest's son. The 
 latter were furnished in a semi-European style, with 
 some pretensions to taste and neatness, and they con- 
 tained a fair collection of popular English works, which 
 Krishna had picked up among the book-stalls of China 
 Bazaar. These rooms were generally shut up during 
 the young man's absence ; for, except an occasional 
 glance at an odd number of the ' Shome Prokash,' which 
 his son would send him from Calcutta, the priest never 
 read anything but Puranic books of devotion ; and the 
 ladies of the household did not know even their letters.
 
 FATHER AND SOX. 61 
 
 Before Krishna had conceived a fixed aversion to his wife, 
 he had dreamed of teaching her all that he himself 
 knew, and of making her a marvel of learning among 
 her countrywomen. But though Chakwi would have 
 been delighted by such a mark of her husband's regard, 
 and would have exerted her utmost to please him, 
 Krishna had never taken the pains to teach her any- 
 thing. Nevertheless, the poor girl kept good watch 
 over her husband's treasures. No servant was allowed 
 to enter Krishna's room except when she herself was 
 present. She saw that each book was carefully wiped 
 and replaced in its proper order ; that they were put 
 forth into the sun in the damp, rainy season, when white 
 mould gathered about the precious volumes ; and that 
 fresh leaves of the nim tree were scattered over the 
 bookcase to repel the white ants, the Indian bibliopole's 
 greatest enemies. It was out of pure devotion to her 
 husband that Chakwi undertook this task, for she her- 
 self bore no goodwill to the volumes which she had 
 come to connect with Krishna's lieretical leanings and 
 neglect of herself. Sometimes as Chakwi lifted a book, 
 she would shudder to think that it might perhaps 
 contain some blasphemous writings against the gods ; 
 might, indeed, be one of those wicked books that the 
 Padre Sahibs wrote to beguile men into the religion of 
 the white Christ. There were books, too, with pictures 
 of English ladies, at which Chakwi would look with 
 curiosity not unmingled with awe ; for it seemed to her 
 a terrible thing that women should not only dress them-
 
 62 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 selves in such a monstrous costume, but should he re- 
 presented as unhlusliingly walking arm-in-arm with 
 their husbands before the eyes of all the public. 
 Chakwi had grave doubts about the moral tendency 
 of books that were illustrated in such a fashion. But 
 whatever they might be they were her husband's, and 
 that was enough for Chakwi. 
 
 It was to these rooms that the priest now led 
 Krishna. Not a word passed between them until they 
 liad entered, and the priest sat down faintly upon a 
 couch. Krishna threw himself upon his knees before 
 him, and would have embraced his feet, but Piamanath 
 took both his son's hands in his own, and held them 
 tightly in his nervous grasp. The young man buried 
 his head in his father's lap and sobbed aloud, and the 
 priest sat with ashy face and quivering lips, his eye- 
 lids closed tightly, as if he would fain shut out the 
 scene before him. It was a moment of bitter suspense, 
 and each shrank from being the first to begin the dread 
 explanation. 
 
 At last Eamanath broke the silence. " Krishna, my 
 son," he said, gently passing his hand over the young 
 man's thick black curls, " tell me what evil has befallen 
 you, for I can see plainly that something serious has 
 happened. Let me know the worst, for I tliiuk I can 
 bear it now, whatever it is." 
 
 A stifled sob was Krishna's only rejoinder. " Cour- 
 age, my son," said the priest ; " in whom can you con- 
 fide, if not in your father ? You are all my happiness
 
 FATHER AND SON. 63 
 
 in this world — my hope of salvation in the next ; say 
 what it is, and we will bear the sorrow together." 
 
 "It is that thought which maddens me," cried Krish- 
 na, wildly. " I can bear my lot without a murmur ; but 
 what have you done, dearest father, that grief should 
 thiis be brought to your door? My father, did I say ? 
 You are my father no longer, nor am 1 your son. I 
 have discarded my faith and my caste, and with them 
 all my future prospects in life, all my present position 
 in society. I have now nothing but the possession of 
 that truth which I have sacrificed so much to obtain, 
 and the hope of that eternal reward which the one God 
 will give to him who denies himself for His service." 
 
 The priest heaved a deep sigh, it might be of relief, 
 or it might be of anguish at the announcement. " Have 
 you turned Christian ? " he asked, with a groan. 
 
 "No," said Krishna, " lam of the congregation of God. 
 We hold that the one God is our Father, and that the 
 human race is one vast family of brothers and sisters. 
 We protest against the degradation of the Eternal by 
 idolatry, and the usurpation of sacred attributes by 
 erring creatures. The whole system of caste is one 
 great pernicious lie, feigned to give the Brahmins sov- 
 ereignty over their fellows, and no one may follow the 
 God of truth while he lends himself to the mainte- 
 nance of such a falsehood. So I have renounced my 
 caste ; would, father, that you could view my conduct 
 in a true light ! Would that your eyes were opened to 
 a sidit of the truth ! "
 
 G4 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 But to this appeal tlie priest made no response. " Do 
 you follow Debendronath Baboo?" he asked, in a calmer 
 tone. 
 
 " I do not," said Krishna ; " the Adi Somaj seeks to 
 temporise with darkness, to free the mental faculties 
 M-hile they fetter man's social relations with all the old 
 chains of Hindooism, and to substitute for Nature's 
 simple ritual the affected liturgy of the Vedas. I have 
 cast in my lot with the Progressive Brahmists." 
 
 "Do the Calcutta Brahmins know of your perver- 
 sion ? " was the father's next question. 
 
 "I myself proclaimed it to them," said Krishna, 
 rising to his feet with an air of pride. " I threw down 
 my gage to the foremost pundits of the Sanscrit College, 
 and challenged them to prove the inspiration of the 
 Hindoo Shastras, offering to make a public recantation 
 of my opinions if they could convince me by their 
 arguments. But none of them came forward, and the 
 Brahmins ordered all the caste students in the college 
 to expel me from their society. Then it was that I 
 publicly freed myself from the trammels of Hindooism, 
 and joined the little band of reformers that are so 
 nobly devoting themselves to the regeneration of our 
 country. My guardian, Poorno Baboo, turned me out 
 of his house, and I had no choice left but to come and 
 tell you what I had done, and to shape my future 
 career by your decision. father," added he, again 
 throwing himself upon his knees before the old man, 
 " I cannot say forgive me, for my conscience tells me
 
 FATHER AND SON. 65 
 
 that I have chosen the right part ; but think kindly 
 of what I have done. You know how I love you, my 
 father, and consider what a price I shall pay for my 
 principles if I forfeit your affection." 
 
 "Krishna," said the old man, solemnly, "it would 
 have been lighter for me to have stood by your funeral 
 pyre on the banks of the Gungaputra, and to have 
 committed your ashes to the bosom of the sacred stream, 
 than to hear from your own lips that you have forsaken 
 the faith of your fathers. gods ! that my son should 
 be the first to cast dishonour upon the Gossains of 
 Dhupnagar." 
 
 "I have done no dishonour to our name," cried 
 Krishna, starting up indignantly : " I have taken a step 
 of which the purest Brahmins in Bengal might well be 
 proud. Who says that it is a dishonourable thing to 
 forsake all for the service of God? But forgive me, 
 my father," he added ; " I am indeed forgetting myself. 
 I who have to bear the world's reproaches, need not 
 chafe at the words of a parent." 
 
 "You have forfeited all your hereditary advantages," 
 said the priest ; " you have renounced your caste, and 
 your position among the honoured of your country- 
 men ; you have disqualified yourself for following the 
 profession of your fathers, for inheriting the family 
 possessions ; you have thrown away rank, and afflu- 
 ence, and the prospect of future wealth : tell me 
 now, son Krishna, what have you got in return for 
 these sacrifices ? " 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 66 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 "The approbation of my own conscience, and a 
 knowledge of the truth," said Krishna, boldly; "com- 
 pared with which, all the riches of Calcutta are but as 
 so much dirty dross." 
 
 " Conscience ! " echoed the priest, testily ; " will con- 
 science fill your belly when I am dead and the temple 
 gone to strangers, and you are reduced to shift for a 
 living ? Knowledge of the truth ! ay, feed upon that. 
 The truth of to-day will be the truth of to-morrow — 
 that is, if your nerves and senses remain unchanged — 
 won't it ? A little addition to the nervous current, 
 a slight disturbance of the brain's equilibrium, and 
 what becomes of the truth then ? The truth is now 
 falsehood, and something else is truth, and will con- 
 tinue so just as long as your stomach keeps its present 
 tone. Have not you yourself told me so ? Is it not 
 thus that a plain Hindoo like me reads the lessons of 
 your English masters ? Truly it is a superlative thing 
 this truth of yours, that you should make yourself a 
 beggar, and plunge your family into mourning because 
 of it." 
 
 Krishna made no answer, for he knew enough of 
 his father's disposition to be aware that the priest's 
 feelings were most easily relieved by sarcasm. Like 
 many good - natured men, Eamanath was irritable 
 enough at trifles ; but when a blow of any magnitude 
 fell upon him, he braced himself up manfully to bear 
 his troubles. His mind had already grasped the worst 
 possible consequences of Krishna's imprudence, and he
 
 FATHER AND SON. 67 
 
 was now seeking for some means of obviating tliem. 
 There still remained a gleam of hope. In the solitude of 
 Dhupnagar, away from all the heretical influences of the 
 Calcutta Brahmists, who could say what changes might 
 not come over his son ? Hindooism had, too, among 
 its resources, pleasures of which the young man knew 
 nothing ; and the best Brahmins in all ages had not 
 scrupled to employ voluptuous allurements to re- 
 strain the wavering in the ways of religion. Though 
 pure in life himself, and ashamed of the excesses of his 
 countrymen, Kamanath felt at that moment as if he 
 would willingly sacrifice his son's morals to save him 
 from apostasy. Then there was another expedient that 
 might be tried, and the priest almost started from his 
 seat as the idea flashed across his mind. Krishna was 
 stni madly in love with Kristo Baboo's daughter, and 
 as against his passion for her, his new opinions would, 
 the priest thought, count for little. Yes, that was a 
 certain remedy. Much as he disliked polygamy, he 
 would willingly promote a marriage with Eadha as the 
 price of his son's recantation. There was, to be sure, 
 poor Chakwi : it would be a heavy grief to the girl to 
 see another come between her and the coveted afl'ection 
 of her husband. But hundreds of thousands of Hindoo 
 wives had patiently to put up with the same; and 
 Eamanath, much as he loved his daughter-in-law, un- 
 hesitatingly resolved that the peace of the family 
 would be cheaply purchased at the expense of Chak-
 
 68 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 You have acted in this matter with the hot-headed- 
 ness of youth," said the priest at last, " and time and 
 reflection may bring you to a better way of thinking. 
 Surely it is not the son that I have begotten that 
 would doom my old age to misery. Consider, Krishna, 
 how much my future weal depends upon my having a 
 son to perform my funeral rites. You will think of 
 this, and think deeply, before you designedly put your 
 father's salvation in peril." 
 
 " father," cried ICrishna, " would that you could 
 see how vain are the rites you mention, and how con- 
 temptible such oblations must be in the eyes of the 
 Eternal ! There is a purer and more spiritual life 
 among the poor Theists than any that you have ever 
 experienced in this idol-tainted town." 
 
 " Krishna," said the priest, sternly, " you must not 
 speak thus to me, the bond-servant of the dread Siva. 
 I have ever allowed you too much licence in religious 
 matters, and this is the sad result of my laxity. We 
 will talk no more of this at present. Avoid making 
 any parade of your new faith, lest sooner than you can 
 anticipate, the time may come when you would wish 
 your acts undone and your words unsaid." 
 
 " Xay," said Krishna, " I must go out into the world 
 and proclaim to my benighted countrymen their de- 
 liverance from idolatry and the t}Tanny of caste. 
 Accursed be the man that would lie idle while such a 
 glorious work is waiting to be achieved." 
 
 "You quit not this house," said Ramanath, firmly,
 
 FATHER A.yj) SON. 69 
 
 " if my paternal authority is to have any weight with 
 you. What call have you to unsettle men's beliefs, 
 when you have nothing certain to offer them instead ? 
 Is it for the sake of establishing a single abstract 
 doctrine, the individuality of the Supreme, which lies 
 at the very root of our own religion, though time and 
 men's fancies may have clothed it with various dis- 
 guises ? It seems to me that you wish to roll back the 
 religious progress of two thousand years, and to reduce 
 us to the simple worship of our Aryan ancestors, who 
 could only discern in the elements and the agencies of 
 Xature the ministries of an unknown deity. Eemain 
 here, and seek a surer faith for yourseK before you 
 assail other people's." 
 
 " How can I remain here ? " said Krishna, as he bent 
 his head sadly : " you forget, mj^ f jither, that I am an 
 outcast, and may not stay here without defiling the 
 household. I have done you harm enough already, 
 without making your home a scandal among your 
 caste-fellows." 
 
 "Krishna," said the old man, sadly, "though you 
 came to me with your hands red from the blood of 
 a Brahmin, you would still be my son, and my roof 
 would shelter you so long as I was beneath it. Here 
 you may abide in comfort and quietness. These rooms 
 are yours, and Bechoo, who has no caste to break, will 
 gladly cook for you and be your attendant : with your 
 advanced views you will not scruple to take food from 
 his hands; and here you wiU remain, my sou, until
 
 70 THE CITY OF SUNSniXE, 
 
 you again awake to a proper sense of your privileges 
 as a member of our holy thrice-born order. Krishna ! 
 your father will have a heavy heart until that happy 
 day arrives." 
 
 The concluding words quite unmanned Krishna, 
 whose enthusiasm was as easily quenched by kindness 
 as it was kindled by opposition. He sank down upon 
 the couch as the old priest rose from it, and burying 
 his face among the cushions, lay there for a long time 
 in an agony of tears and prayer. Eamanath carefully 
 shut the doors of his son's apartments, and went slowly 
 across the courtyard in the direction of the temple. 
 There, in his favourite seat under the porch, the priest 
 could best meditate upon what was to be done. The 
 afternoon was well advanced, and the sun was fast 
 declining towards the woody peaks of Panch Pahar. 
 Calling to Modhoo to close the temple gate for the day, 
 Eamanath sat himself down and tried to draw consola- 
 tion and counsel from his hookha. The hookha was 
 emptied and filled and emptied again that afternoon. 
 The sun went down behind Panch Pahar : the ruddy 
 crimson skies in the west changed first to a pale 
 red and then to a dusky umber, dark as the giant out- 
 line of the trees that stood out in colossal relief upon 
 the crest of the hills. Darkness set in, except wliere 
 here and there a death-pyre lit up the waters of the 
 Gungaputra, or the myriads of fire-flies illumined the 
 forest. A cool breeze came sweeping up the valley,
 
 FATHER AND SON. 71 
 
 stirring the peepul leaves above the priest's head to a 
 ghostly fitful shiver. The jackals began to peep from 
 their covers ; the pariah dogs came boldly into the 
 compound snuffing for garbage ; the night settled down, 
 but still Eamanath sat and smoked by the temple door. 
 It was the bitterest pipe that ever he had smoked.
 
 72 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE COUNCIL OF FIVE. 
 
 Jaddoo, the Dipty's "expectant," did his work welL 
 Coming into the village in a careless saunter, he 
 lounged about from shop to shop, and from house to 
 house, giving and receiving the news of the day, casu- 
 ally mentioning always that he had met Krishna, the 
 priest's son, on the highway, and had heard a current 
 report that the young man had turned a Christian, and 
 a beef -eater. This astounding intelligence speedily 
 took wing and flew over the town ; and long before 
 Jaddoo reached the further end of the bazaar, he was 
 Ratified by meeting his own story so exaggerated and 
 coloured, that he, the author, might have been pardoned 
 for disowning it. Shama Churn, the grain-seller, con- 
 fidently asserted that Krishna had not only eaten beef, 
 and drunk spirits in the company of English Sahibs, 
 but that he was in the habit of frequenting European 
 ndtchcs (balls), and of dancing like a wanton or an 
 infamous play-actor. Nitye, the village Kobiraj or
 
 THE COUNCIL OF FIVE. 73 
 
 quack doctor, who had not forgiven Krishna for ad- 
 ministering quinine to the fever-stricken peasants, two 
 years ago come the rains, had an inkling of the business 
 which brought the young man to Dhupnagar: — it was 
 nothing more or less than a conspiracy to exterminate 
 caste among the townsmen by means of European 
 medicines, into which the dust of human bones and 
 other abominations h-ad been covertly introduced ; and 
 if any one was so irreligious as to accept anything from 
 Krishna's hands after this warning, his blood was on 
 his own head and not on his, Nitye, the Kobiraj's. 
 Dwarkanath, the schoolmaster, had heard from one 
 who ought to know, that the temple of the Linga was 
 about to be turned into a Christian church, and he could 
 even lay his thumb upon the exact spot where the 
 butching-house — without which, as they were all well 
 aware, no Christian church could exist — was straight- 
 way to be erected. And Three Shells, the money- 
 lender, who on entering the bazaar had greedily caught 
 up the news, soon had his little mite of gossip to con- 
 tribute. He had heard a report that Krishna's wife 
 was forthwith to be divorced, and an offer of marriage 
 made to Kristo Baboo's daughter ; and that failing 
 the maiden and her father consenting to a Christian 
 marriage, as was very likely, the young man was to 
 bring home a fine European madam from Wellesley 
 Street, or the Bow Bazaar. He, Three Shells, had 
 heard, but could not believe, such a calumny : it was 
 too profligate, too atrocious a deed to be done in a
 
 74 THE CITY OF SUXSIIIXE. 
 
 godly town like Dliupnagar ; but a score of voices in- 
 stantly protested upon their personal knowledge that 
 Krishna was capable of even worse wickedness than 
 that. 
 
 By sunset the whole village was in an uproar. Folks 
 gathered in knots about the bazaar, or squatted upon 
 the door-steps, discussing the scandal with their neigh- 
 bours over the way. Nothing was to be heard but 
 abuse of Krishna, and of his father who had exposed the 
 young man to the contaminations of Calcutta. Every- 
 body agreed that nothing of such importance had oc- 
 curred in the district since the Chota Lord Sahib (Lieu- 
 tenant-Governor) had camped a night in the village on 
 his way to the Sonthal Pergunnahs, the year of the rot- 
 ten mangoes. Many put on their best chaddars, and went 
 with an offering to the temple in hopes of hearing fur- 
 ther intelligence ; but the gate was shut, and Modhoo, 
 who sat before it imperturbably smoking his hookha, 
 gave all comers stiffly to understand that he had no 
 orders to admit them. All attempts to elicit informa- 
 tion from the surly porter failed ; and in the evening 
 numerous little groups had assembled upon the village 
 green, to talk over the awful calamity that had be- 
 fallen Dhupnagar, and to peer through the gaps in the 
 bamboo hedge to see if they could glean anything of 
 what was going on in the temple ; but nothing was to 
 be seen but the old priest sitting smoking under the 
 porch. 
 
 In a separate corner of the green, under the shade of
 
 THE COUNCIL OF FIVE. 75 
 
 the bahiil trees (acacias), whicli a former magistrate 
 of the Gungaputra had planted for the benefit of the 
 town, the high-caste Brahmins held a solemn con- 
 clave. There were old Gangooly, the village headman ; 
 Dwarkanath, the schoolmaster ; Prosunno, the mookht- 
 year or lawyer ; Shama Churn, the grain-dealer ; and 
 Protap, the accountant and letter-writer. Three Shells 
 had properly no vote in the matter, as his own caste was, 
 to say the least, involved in doubt ; but the Brahmins 
 were his bondsmen, and could not well exclude him 
 from their counsels. The mahajan went to work in 
 his own wily fashion ; he professed to lament the 
 calamity that had befallen his friend Eamanath, and 
 while he enlarged upon the judgments which would 
 surely overtake the village if Krishna's impiety were 
 altogether condoned, he entreated the Brahmins to 
 deal leniently with the young man for his father's sake. 
 The Brahmins did not very well know what to do. If 
 the offender had been a poor man, with only a cow and 
 a ligaJh of land, they would have made short work with 
 him; but Eamanath was one of the heads of the 
 village, of a family that had been honoured in the 
 place for many generations, and he was more wealthy 
 than even Three Shells himself. But most of the 
 Brahmins were more or less at Three Shells' mercy, and 
 rather than displease him, they were prepared to pro- 
 ceed to the utmost extremities against their caste- 
 fellows. 
 
 " In the Council of Five is the voice of God," said
 
 76 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 old Gangooly, the village headman ; " my friends, let us 
 not proceed rashly in this matter. "NVe must summon 
 the Brahmins and deliberate what is to be done. The 
 gods forbid that we should needlessly lend our ears to 
 evil rumours of a brotlier. The words of a backbiter 
 are like the stream of the Gungaputra, they gather as 
 they go." 
 
 " Who talks of evil rumours and backbiters ? " cried 
 Prosunno, the lawyer, who was the money-lender's 
 factotum, and felt bound to display his zeal when his 
 master's testimony was assailed ; " you surely do not 
 say that worthy Three Shells would come to us with 
 words of falsehood in his mouth. No one is so blind 
 as he who wilfully shuts his eyes. Did not half-a- 
 score of respectable in-dwellers see the young man as 
 he slunk through the back lanes of the village towards 
 his father's house? And has not this trustworthy 
 follower of the Dipty Baboo " (here Jaddoo made a 
 low salaam to the company) " brought news from Cal- 
 cutta, which completely confirms the evil tidings ? 
 AVhy then talk of rumours unless you wish to shirk 
 your duty, Mr Headman ? " 
 
 " The gods forbid," said the perplexed Gangooly. " I 
 have been forty years headman of Dhupnagar, and my 
 father and grandfather were headmen before me, but 
 such a scandal never came before me or them. As I 
 said before, I am willing to call a ' Pauchayat ' upon 
 the business." 
 
 " It is my opinion," said Dwarkaualh, the school-
 
 THE COUNCIL OF FIVE. 77 
 
 master, sententiously, " that something should be done 
 to stop the godless teaching of the English. If Krishna 
 Baboo had been educated at my school, I warrant that 
 he had never thought of turning Christian. But what 
 can we expect when lads are sent to a college where 
 they are told that the earth is a round ball, and that it 
 is continually moving round about the sun ? — ha ! ha ! 
 What fools they must be to have eyes in their heads 
 and yet believe such stuff ! If we were to mind what 
 the English teachers tell us, we should soon be all 
 Christians and kine-killers." 
 
 "This is, indeed, the Black Age," snuffled Three 
 Shells, turning up his eyes, — " but what can we do ? 
 The evil is already committed, and punishment will 
 not mend matters. Let me entreat you to take no 
 notice of this affair, for my heart is sore for Eamanath 
 Gossain. It were much better that we should try to 
 propitiate the gods, that their wrath may not fall upon 
 Dhupnagar because of this impiety. As for myself," 
 continued Three Shells, with an affected shudder, " I 
 think I shall gather together my little property and 
 return to my own country, that my eyes may not be 
 grieved by the sight of godlessness." 
 
 At this, Protap, and Prosunno, and Shama Churn, 
 and Dwarkanath burst forth into a howl of grief, for 
 they knew that if Three Shells left the village he 
 would gather in all his debts, which meant utter ruin 
 to themselves. 
 
 " What ! the worthy Three Shells leave the town, and
 
 78 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 for such a cause ! Never should it be said that the 
 Brahmins of Dhupnagar gave offence to so excellent, so 
 religious a man by their laxity. They would do any- 
 thing he might choose to direct. They would hold a 
 Panchayat,aud put Krishna out of caste that very night. 
 They would make such an example of the priest's family 
 that the name of heresy should never again be breathed 
 in Dhupnagar. But Three Shells must never speak of 
 leaving. It would be a less calamity were the sun to 
 desert the firmament, than that Three Shells, who had 
 been a father to the village, should turn his back upon 
 his children." 
 
 Even old Gangooly, who had less cause to fear the ma- 
 hajan than any of the others, joined in their entreaties, 
 and expressed his willingness to call a council of the 
 Brahmins. To this the faction of Three Shells gladly 
 assented, and messengers were despatched throughout 
 the district to summon the few Brahmins who had a 
 right to be present, and to invite Kristo Baboo and the 
 Eajah of Ghatghar, to sit upon the Panchayat which 
 was to take place next afternoon at the house of Gan- 
 gooly, the village headman. It was also necessary 
 that a summons should be served upon Krishna and 
 his father, for the Panchayat could not venture to de- 
 cide against persons of their standing without first 
 hearing what they had to say in their defence. None 
 of the Brahmins were willing to undertake the errand 
 to Eamanath. Respectable men like Gangooly felt for 
 the priest in his trouble, and were unwilling to be the
 
 THE COUNCIL OF FIVE, 79 
 
 means of adding to liis affliction by further ill news ; 
 and the others did not wish to bring down upon 
 themselves the wrath of so influential a man. When 
 at last it was apparent that no one would volunteer 
 his services, Gangooly made choice of Prosunno, the 
 lawyer, ostensibly because he was the best business 
 man among them, but really because he and all his 
 townsmen hated Prosunno as a sneaking, officious 
 mischief-maker, the cause of more than half the dis- 
 cord in the village, and a spy and tale-bearer to the 
 money-lender. Prosunno would fain have declined the 
 mission, but the other Brahmins, each of whom was glad 
 to escape the unpleasant task, unanimously confirmed 
 the choice; and the dread of exciting Three Shells' 
 anger deterred the lawyer from returning a flat refusal. 
 The announcement of this resolution served to quiet 
 the public curiosity, and the people began to move 
 away in the direction of their houses. It was little 
 marvel though they talked, for a case of heresy in 
 Dhupnagar was more than a nine days' wonder. All 
 the Eajah of Ghatghar's wickednesses, all the excesses 
 of young Afzul Khan, the Subadar's son, even the raids 
 of the Sonthal dakaits were as nothing compared to 
 the perversion of the priest's son. Violation of caste 
 was a scandal hardly known in Dhupnagar. Some- 
 times a Brahmin would so far forget himself as to in- 
 dulge in a liaison, or even to marry, with a woman of 
 low caste or no caste at all. And instances had been 
 seen of a twice-born Hindoo emerging from the shop
 
 80 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 of Piutton Pal, the kulwar or spirit-seller, with an un- 
 steady gait and idiotic demeanour which too clearly 
 indicated that the restraints of caste had been tempo- 
 rarily forgotten. But prompt submission, a fine or so, 
 and a feast to the Brahmins, had caused such slips to 
 be glossed over, and the regulations of caste had been 
 maintained without the necessity of a public example. 
 But this was a different case. A\Tien the matter went 
 before a Panchayat it could no longer be hushed up, 
 and the people amused themselves by conjecturing how 
 Eamanath and his son would ward off the terrible 
 doom of excommunication. It would cost them the 
 bulk of half a lakh of rupees, Eam Lall, the oilman, 
 was ready to warrant ; but what mattered it, since they 
 were well able to afford the money ? It was fortu- 
 nate for Krishna that Eam Lall's caste did not entitle 
 him to a seat on the Panchayat, for the old man 
 heartUy shared the hatred of his son the Dipty. Nitye, 
 the quack doctor, was doubtful whether the liigh-caste 
 Brahmins would, after all, fall out among themselves. 
 If the offender had been a poor man there would have 
 been little doubt of his being punished ; but had they not 
 winked at old Hem Chunder when he married the rich 
 leather-seller's daughter, of whom he begot Prosunno, 
 the lawyer ? Bah ! what Brahmin ever saw a speck of 
 dirt upon another Brahmin's dJioti (waist-cloth) ? 
 
 At sunrise next morning, Three Shells and Prosun- 
 no met together before the gate of the temple. Al- 
 though the hour of morning worship had arrived, the
 
 THE COUNCIL OF FIVE. 81 
 
 door was still locked, and IVIodhoo did not seem to be 
 in any hurry to respond to their loud knocks. The 
 money-lender carried a garland of brilliant flowers, in 
 which the bright blossoms of the champak mingled 
 gaily with the white flowers of the hundoo and the blue 
 petals of the water-lily, as an offering to the Linga. 
 Confident that he had a good excuse in this offering for 
 seeking admission. Three Shells knocked loudly at the 
 gate, and reviled the memory of the ancestors of INIod- 
 hoo, the porter, who lay in bed like a lazy fellow while 
 the sun was mounting to mid-heaven, and whose sloth 
 prevented devout worshippers from paying their morn- 
 ing devotions. Modhoo having reconnoitred his visitors 
 through a slit in the gate, leisurely set about his toilet, 
 which consisted chiefly in stretching and shaking him- 
 self and in binding his long red turban round his head. 
 The porter suspected that the early visit of these two 
 worthies betokened no good to his master, and so he ad- 
 mitted them with curt civility, scarcely deigning them a 
 stiff salaam as they walked past him towards the temple. 
 Early as it was, Eamanath was before them engaged in 
 the ceremony of morning w^orship; and the money- 
 lender and Prosunno did not venture to intrude them- 
 selves upon his devotions. Whether the trouble that had 
 befallen him had rendered Eamanath more pious than 
 ordinary, or whether he had observed his visitors and 
 conjectured their motive, it is certain that his prayers 
 occupied him a good hour longer than usual ; and Three 
 Shells and Prosunno were left to stand sweltering in the 
 VOL. L F
 
 82 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 sun, for they could not venture to come under the shelter 
 of the temple porch until the priest had invited them. 
 Meanwhile Modhoo, who had seated himself at his ease 
 in the shade to enjoy his morning smoke, scarcely con- 
 cealed his exultation at their embarrassment, and the 
 position of the confederates was not rendered any more 
 comfortable by the porter's broad grins. At length 
 Ramanath's prayers and the envoys' patience were 
 alike exhausted. Slowly the priest rose to his feet 
 and placed an offering of rice and ripe plantains before 
 the idol, accompanying each act with. a. mantra (prayer) 
 which Three Shells thought might well have been dis- 
 pensed with ; and it was not until he had deliberately 
 gone through the minutest injunctions of the ritual, that 
 the priest came to the temple door and acknowledged 
 the presence of his visitors by an affable salaam and an 
 invitation to enter. After the usual greetings had been 
 interchanged. Three Shells slipped into the temple with 
 his offering, leaving Prosunno a fair field for delivering 
 his message. But though he prostrated himself before 
 the Linga in the attitude of prayer, the usurer kept 
 his ears open to catch every word that passed between 
 Prosunno and the priest. 
 
 " These are evil times," said Prosunno, with a sanc- 
 timonious sniff, as he accepted the priest's invitation 
 to sit do^v^l. " The judgment of the gods must be near 
 at hand when mankind disowns their power and im- 
 purity is openly committed in the sight of heaven." 
 
 " Umph ! " said the priest, who knew what was com-
 
 THE COUNCIL OF FIVE. 83 
 
 ing, and was determined to do battle with Prosnnno ; 
 " I don't know that the world is any worse than it used 
 to be. Your father, Hem Chunder — may his memory 
 be x^reserved — was, in my way of thinking, just as good 
 a man as you are, Prosunno." 
 
 " Hem ! " said Prosunno, drily; " there is an evil spirit 
 abroad upon the land. The English teachers are cov- 
 ertly sowing the seeds of irreligion, and who knows what 
 the crop may be like ? I say foul befall the Brahmin 
 who countenances those that would sap the foundations 
 of our most holy faith ; and three-fold woe to those 
 who expose the young of their families to the con- 
 tagious influence of Christians and kine-killers." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Eamanath, calmly, as he smoked 
 away at his hookha without ever offering a whiff to his 
 visitor, a sure affectation of superiority which did not 
 fail to increase Prosunno's discomfort. " You did not 
 think so, friend Prosunno, when you went to learn law 
 from the English Sahibs at Hooghly. I have heard, 
 too, that after you came home you boasted of being 
 the only lawj^er in the Gungaputra district that had 
 learned the Sahibs' law from the Sahibs themselves. 
 Did the Christians and kine - killers do you much 
 harm that time ? " 
 
 " I spoke not of law teachers," said Prosunno, some- 
 what discomposed, " but of those who teach systems of 
 philosophy and religion contrary to the Shastras ; and 
 many of your friends in Dhupuagar think that you 
 have erred with respect to your son Krishna Baboo."
 
 84 THE CITY OF SUXSHLSTL 
 
 "Oh, they think that I have erred, do they?"' said the 
 priest, sarcastically. " And have they sent you to tell 
 me so, Prosunno ? It is surely a propitious day for my 
 family when the good folks of Dhupnagar have sent 
 their sharpest lawyer to aid me in managing my do- 
 mestic affairs. This kindness is all the greater that it 
 is entirely imsooght on my part I hope my wife and 
 daughter-in-law are included in your commission ? " 
 
 Prosunno's wrath was kindled by this taunt, for it 
 ■was not long before that the Brahmins of Dhupnagar 
 had been obliged to restrict his marital powei-s of inflict- 
 ing chastisement upon the ladies of his zenana. " Jest- 
 ing may do for the Hoolie festival, maharajah, but to- 
 day is a day of earnest words," he said, testily. " I have 
 come to summon you to answer before a Panchayat of 
 your townsmen for the character of your family." 
 
 " You have come to summon me ! " cried Eama- 
 nath, losing all self-control ; " you, the grandson of a 
 vile leather-seller, summon Eamanath Gossain whose 
 Brahmin's blood runs as pure in his veins as it did 
 in those of his forefathers when they first came to 
 Bengal forty-five score years ago. Hound ! it would 
 only be the meet desert of your insolence if I were to 
 have you driven from the temple with clubs. What 
 can I or my family be to Sudras like you ? " 
 
 "I crave your pardon," said Prosunno, cowering before 
 the priest's anger ; " I crave your honour's pardon if I 
 have offended you. Remember, if you please, that I 
 am only delivering a message from my fellow-towns-
 
 THE COUyCrL OF FIVE. S5 
 
 men ; and I pray you also that you mil recoUect hovr 
 the Brahmins, yourself among the rest, have condoned 
 the hlot in my pedigree and confirmed me in all the 
 privileges of my father's caste." 
 
 "But they couldn't put a Brahmin's heart in a 
 Sudra's hody," said the priest, turning away haughtily ; 
 " they could not make you anything hut the haK-hred 
 sneak that you are. Begone, sir I and teU those who 
 sent you that I wiU be at their Panchayat, and that 
 some of them wiU wish that they had sat down upon 
 red-hot iron before they seated themselves to try the 
 caste of Bamanath Gossain and his son. Modhoo ! 
 attend this Baboo to the gate." 
 
 "You will repent this violence, Baboo," cried Pro- 
 sunno, whose rage was now fairly kindled, but who 
 nevertheless took the precaution of moving away half- 
 a-dozen paces before he ventured upon a retort ; " your 
 language, sir, is actionable, and I shaU. make you pay 
 for it The Penal Code, Chapter XV. clause 5, see 
 Mayne of ^Madras's edition, expressly says, " Whoever 
 with the deliberate intention of wounding the religious 
 feelings of any person utters any word, or makes any 
 sound in the hearing of that person, or places " 
 
 " By the three heads of Siva I " cried the priest, in- 
 terruptiQg him, "if you stand there gi^ing me back 
 answers, you shall have something to sue for. Here, 
 Modhoo, Bechoo, Piam Singh, quick with your httc^s 
 (quarter - staves) and drive this fellow outside the 
 bounds of the temple."
 
 86 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 Modhoo caught up his club with ahacrity, but the 
 lawyer did not wait to add an assault and battery to 
 his proposed action against the priest. He took to his 
 heels with such goodwill, that although first one and 
 then another of his loose native shoes fell from his feet 
 as he ran, he never stopped to take them up, nor paused 
 in his flight until he had reached the village green, 
 where several of the townsmen were already assembled 
 waiting for his return. 
 
 " Fling his shoes over the hedge after him, Modhoo," 
 said the priest, " and never allow that spawn of a 
 Sudra to pass my temple doors again." 
 
 Modhoo picked up the shoes with much affectation 
 of disgust, and flung them over the hedge with so just 
 a regard to the laws of projectiles that one fell with a 
 thud upon Prosunno's sconce, and the other plumped 
 into the ample stomach of Protap, the accountant, 
 ^Yith such force as caused the fat Baboo to double him- 
 self up in a contortion of pain. This signal of defi- 
 ance, coupled with the exaggerated accounts which 
 Prosunno gave of the priest's insolence, excited the 
 popular anger in a tenfold degree against Piamanath ; 
 and even old Gangooly vowed that the Panchayat 
 would make him bitterly repent his effrontery. But 
 Three Shells had yet to come out, and so the Brah- 
 mins hung about the green, waiting to hear what fur- 
 ther news the money-lender would bring them. But 
 Three Shells was apparently in no hurry. The Brah- 
 mins were much disconcerted at the sober countenance
 
 TPIE COUNCIL OF FIVE. 87 
 
 which they had received in the prosecution. The 
 needy Eajah of Ghatghar had long been scheming to 
 obtain a loan from the wealthy priest, and would not 
 damage his chances of accommodation by taking part 
 in a hostile meeting, but he civilly excused his attend- 
 ance upon the plea of ill health. Kristo Baboo, whose 
 voice would have gone a great way in determining the 
 decision of the village council, was less polite. Mind- 
 ful, perhaps, that his own domestic arrangements were 
 ojDen to censure, and perhaps grateful for old kind- 
 nesses done to him by Eamanath, he returned for 
 answer that the villagers were ever too ready to meddle 
 with the affairs of their betters, and that there was 
 none among them of good enough caste to try Eama- 
 nath Gossain. Kristo's reply disconcerted the Brah- 
 mins more than they cared to admit, for they had 
 made themselves sure of the co-operation of a man 
 who prided himself so much upon his orthodoxy. 
 Gangooly would fain have seized the opportunity to 
 urge that the matter should be dropped or postponed, 
 but Prosunno threatened him with the vengeance of all 
 the Brahmins in Bengal, and the possible loss of his 
 office, until the pacific Gangooly was obliged to pro- 
 ceed with the business. Then a controversy sprang 
 up as to whether Three Shells might not be permitted 
 to sit upon the Panchayat. Although the money- 
 lender was generally very reticent about his caste, he 
 laid some pretensions to Brahminical dignity ; and the 
 village Brahmins when they had once borrowed his
 
 88 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 money could not well refuse to meet him upon an 
 equal footing. Prosunuo the lawyer, and Protap the 
 accountant, were ready to vouch for him being a good 
 Brahmin. Shama Churn, the grain-dealer, who was 
 to some extent in Three Shells' power, but was still a 
 conscientious man, held his peace. Dwarkanath, the 
 schoolmaster, who was just about to redeem the mort- 
 gage upon his house and garden, openly demurred, 
 unless Three Shells could establish his caste upon bet- 
 ter evidence than verbal assertion. And old Gangooly, 
 the village headman, settled the discussion by flatly 
 declaring that no one should join the Panchayat who 
 was a stranger to the place, and of more than doubtful 
 antecedents. A wordy warfare sprang up, in which 
 the lawyer and accountant fought a stout battle on be- 
 half of their patron, and argued the point so keenly 
 that the minority were beginning to yield. But what 
 was detaining the money-lender himself all this time 
 in the temple ?
 
 THE PRIEST SCOTCHES A SNAKE. 89 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE PRIEST SCOTCHES A SNAKE. 
 
 After the priest had routed his first opponent he again 
 sat down quietly to his hookha. Tliree Shells, still 
 prostrate before the idol, was now praying in a loud, 
 whining tone, repeating the names and attributes of 
 Siva, and pleading for preservation from all sorts of 
 danger, both likely and unlikely. The money-lender 
 had marked Prosunno's discomfiture, and fearing lest 
 the angry priest might be disposed to treat him as an 
 accomplice, he had some difiiculty in summoning up 
 courage to face Eamanath. At last, when he could in 
 decency pray no longer, and when he had spent an 
 unconscionable time in arranging his offering of flowers, 
 Three Shells came forth, concealing his apprehensions 
 under his usual fawning demeanour. AVith a low 
 salaam and a fervently-ejaculated prayer for the con- 
 tinuance of the priest's life and prosperity, Three 
 Shells would have gone on his way, but the priest 
 beckoned him to stay.
 
 90 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 " Three Shells, my friend," said Eamanath, affably, 
 " sit ye down ; I have a few words to say to you." 
 
 Three Shells took his seat on the other side of the 
 temple door in considerable surprise. " Aha/' thought 
 he, " Eamanath Baboo, like a wise man, is going to so- 
 licit my assistance in this matter, but he shall pay for 
 it, I promise him ; " and, pleased with his new import- 
 ance, Three Shells made a ridiculous attempt to inflate 
 his skeleton of a body into consequential and dignified 
 dimensions. 
 
 " Speak on, Ramanath Baboo," said he, with an air 
 of lordly condescension ; " anything that I can do for 
 you will be gladly performed. There is, of course, my 
 duty to society and to religion, which a holy man like 
 you will not expect one to transgress." 
 
 "Certainly not, Three Shells — certainly not," cheerily 
 responded Eamanath ; " your duty to society and re- 
 ligion — it is quite proper that you should regard both ; 
 I am only going to tell you a little story." 
 
 " Indeed ? " said the mahajan, looking straight before 
 him with half-closed eyes and his face puckered up 
 into a contemptuous smile ; " and what may it relate 
 to ? Say on, Father Eamanath." 
 
 " Two years ago come the next Jagannath Puja," the 
 priest began, " there came three Hindustani pilgrims 
 to the temple door, telling me that one of their com- 
 pany was lying sick unto death at the Pagoda Tope. 
 He was a poor Brahmin who had been at Puri, had 
 spent all his money, and had caught jungle-fever by
 
 THE PltlEST SCOTCHES A SNAKE. 91 
 
 the way, and he was now lying in that ruined temple 
 without a friend to comfort his last moments — without 
 a hand to close his dying eyes. Well, taking Modhoo 
 with me, I set out for the Pagoda Tope, and, sure 
 enough, there was the man lying upon a strip of tat- 
 tered matting in the vestibule of the old temple, per- 
 ishing of thirst and hunger. Modhoo broke a coco-nut 
 and poured the milk down his throat, and the poor 
 wretch revived a little. We tended him all that day, 
 and as the heat declined the fever left him ; so we 
 called three or four kindly ryots, and placing him on 
 a cliarpai (four-legged wicker bedstead), bore him to 
 my house. But Yama, the god of death, had laid his 
 hand heavily upon him. The luckless creature raved 
 the whole night, and died a little after sunrise next 
 morning." 
 
 " Peace be with him ! You did well, very well, Father 
 Eamanath, to show compassion to a helpless stranger," 
 said Three Shells, with an air of patronising benignity. 
 " Verily the gods will reward you manifold. But as 
 touching this matter of your son Krishna which you 
 doubtless wished to speak to me about " 
 
 " He raved, as I said, the whole night," interrupted 
 Eamanath ; " ah ! it is an awful thing. Three Shells, 
 when the gods deprive the guilty of their reason. This 
 man had been a terrible sinner. There was hardly a 
 crime in the power of man to commit which this poor 
 wretch did not lay to his own charge. He spoke of 
 drugging lonely travellers with the deadly dhatura ;
 
 92 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 of despatching with his knife the wayfarer that had 
 taken shelter beneath his roof ; of robbing the widow 
 of her ornaments and the maiden of her honour ; worse 
 than all, he talked of a priest butchered at the altar, and 
 the shrine of the gods plundered of its wealth. This 
 man was a Brahmin of Lootna, a village on the higher 
 waters of the Soane, a place you may perhaps have 
 heard of. — But what ails you, Three Shells ? You look 
 as if you were going to faint. The sun is too strong 
 for you, eh ? Sit a little farther back into the shade, 
 man." 
 
 A terrible change had come over Three Shells' aspect 
 His face had turned of an ashy-grey paleness, his eyes 
 were distended until they seemed to have started from 
 their sockets, his lower jaw had fallen as if paralysed, 
 and a gurgling inarticulate sound in his throat failed 
 to find expression in words. 
 
 " Sickness had brought the poor wretch to repent- 
 ance," continued the priest, turning away his head care- 
 lessly in the other direction, " and he set out on a pil- 
 grimage to Jagaunath to seek rest for his conscience ; 
 but he might have gone to the world's end before a 
 soul like his could have found any peace but what the 
 gods in their goodness had provided for him at 
 Dhupnagar — the peace of death. An hour or two be- 
 fore he died, his senses returned to him, and he told me 
 his sad history. He had led a terrible life, had that 
 Brahmin ; but he told me of an accomplice who was even 
 more steeped in crime than he was. This person was
 
 THE PRIEST SCOTCHES A SNAKE. 93 
 
 — dog, and son of a dog !" exclaimed Eamanatli, starting 
 to his legs, as Three Shells with a howl of despair 
 prostrated himself before him and attempted to kiss 
 his feet, "polhite not with your unhallowed lips the 
 feet of a pure Brahmin. Back, wretch, lest I blast thee 
 with a look ! " 
 
 " Mercy, mercy!" groaned the usurer, as he raised his 
 hands in supplication. " Protector of the poor ! upon 
 thee, upon thee ! Your slave is your protected ! 
 Asylum of the Universe !• defile not your sacred foot 
 by crushing a mean worm. Have mercy upon me, 
 holiest of priests ! have mercy upon me ! " 
 
 " Aha, Three Shells ! you have heard my little story 
 before," said the priest, looking down with a glance of 
 scornful loathing at the wretch who lay writhing before 
 him, " I will spare you the repetition of it then, and 
 come to the hasil (moral), which you will find to be as 
 pithy a one as is in all the fables of Pilpay. It is this 
 — mind your own business and let your neighbours' 
 alone. And now begone, and never set your foot within 
 this temple again, if you would rather have whole bones 
 than broken ones. I need hardly tell you that if this 
 Panchayat takes place to-day, I shall have matters to 
 lay before the members that they little anticipate. 
 They will scarcely be prepared to learn that you have 
 not left them an undefiled Brahmin in the village, but 
 Kristo Baboo, to hold a Panchayat upon Eamanath 
 the priest. Moreover, I shall have a messenger going 
 express to the English Magistrate Sahib at Bhutporo,
 
 94 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 as soon as the Panchayat is over. Can he execute any- 
 little commission for you, friend Three Shells, in that 
 quarter ?" added Eamanath, tauntingly. 
 
 " There will be no Panchayat, maharajah," said Three 
 Shells, humbly ; " no indignity shall befall your honoured 
 family that I can prevent. Am I not your bond-slave? 
 Do you not give me life ? maharajah, overlook my 
 error towards you ! " 
 
 " Begone then," said the priest, sternly, " and take 
 care how you again intrude yourself into my presence. 
 Yet, stay a moment, Three Shells," he continued, as the 
 mahajan was sneaking away humbly from the temple: 
 "it may prevent mistakes if I tell you that I have 
 written down this little story we talked of, and given 
 a sealed copy to a trusty friend, w^ho will j)lace it in 
 the hands of the Magistrate Sahib if anything unusual 
 •were to happen to me — that is, if I were to be suddenly 
 found dead, or the like. You understand me. Three 
 Shells ? Ah, I see you do. Peace be with you. Three 
 Shells." And the priest bestowed a derisive salaam upon 
 the retreating money-lender. 
 
 Three Shells slunk quietly out of the temple gate 
 and passed along the back of the thorny bamboo hedge, 
 beyond which he could see the elders impatiently 
 waiting his arrival on the village green. He paused 
 for an instant, but his mind misgave him, and he 
 hurried off by a back lane in the direction of his house, 
 and was seen no more of the villagers for several 
 days.
 
 THE PRIEST SCOTCHES A SNAKE. 95 
 
 The threatened Panchayat never was held for the 
 trial of Eamanath and his son Krishna. While the 
 Brahmins loitered about the village green waiting 
 for the appearance of Three Shells, IModhoo came forth 
 and summoned the village headman to wait upon his 
 master. When alone with old Gangooly, Eamanath 
 was able to show the headman excellent reasons why 
 his family should not be made the subject of public 
 interference. His son w^as no Christian : of that the 
 priest would assure them ; and his house was his own, 
 and his son was welcome to remain there as long as he 
 pleased. But let the villagers beware how they med- 
 dled with Eamanath Gossain's domestic matters. The 
 temple was his own, the Linga was his own, and what 
 prevented him from doing with them as he thought 
 fit? The folks of Gapshapganj would only be too glad 
 if he would transfer his shrine to their town ; and 
 Eamanath himself owned lands in Bhutpore where he 
 could build a temple. This threat was sufficient for 
 the headman. Dhupnagar owed all its prosperity to 
 the popularity of the Linga, and to the crowds of pil- 
 grims that resorted to it. If, as Gangooly afterwards 
 told his fellow- townsmen, they drove away the priest in 
 disgust, they might as well yoke the donkey's plough* 
 and sow salt upon the site of Dhupnagar, for the ruin of 
 the village would be certain. The priest did not dis- 
 
 * Gadke Tea hal (the donkey's plough) was driven over the site of a 
 captured town as the emblem of degradation and ruin, and salt was 
 sown in the furrows.
 
 96 THE CITY OF SUXSHIXE. 
 
 miss Gangooly until he had convinced him of the folly 
 of trusting to popular rumour, and made the headman 
 thoroughly ashamed of the ingratitude of himself and 
 his fellow-townsmen towards a family to whom the 
 village stood so much indebted. 
 
 Dwarkauath the schoolmaster, and Shama Churn the 
 grain-seller, readily seconded Gangooly's proposal that 
 the matter should be quashed in spite of the outcries 
 of Three Shells' dependants, who called all the gods to 
 witness that the Brahmins of Dhupnagar were com- 
 pounding sacrilege against their holy order. Prosunno, 
 the lawyer, who had his own private insults to avenge, 
 was especially vehement, until reminded by old Gan- 
 gooly how slender was his own claim to caste considera- 
 tion, and that those who had made him a Brahmin 
 would have little difiiculty in unmaking him. The 
 village elders speedily agreed that they had acted upou 
 insufficient information, that the priest's son had not 
 become a Christian and a kine-killer, that no breach of 
 caste had taken place, and that those who had raised 
 such reports were liars and dullals (brokers, a common 
 term of abuse). Jaddoo, the Dipty's expectant, who still 
 loitered about the village in the hope of being able to 
 carry his master the news of Krishna's condemnation, 
 was observed by old Gangooly sneaking about the 
 village green, endeavouring to pick up scraps of the 
 elders' conversation ; and the old lieadman, not sorry 
 perhaps to find a convenient scapegoat, gave orders 
 that he should be driven from the town as a liar and
 
 THE PEIEST SCOTCHES A SNAKE. 97 
 
 a mischief-monger. A magistrate's hanger-on is as un- 
 popular a character in a Bengalee village, as a sheriff's 
 officer, or process-server, is in an Irish hamlet. And 
 the townsfolk willingly seized clubs and slippers to 
 fulfil the headman's behest. Jaddoo protested his in- 
 nocence, and menaced them with his master's wrath, 
 but all to no purpose. His voice was drowned by the 
 thud-thud of slippers upon his sconce, his bones were 
 nearly broken by the whacks of cudgels, his clothes 
 were torn off his back, he was thrown into the gutter, 
 and rolled over the gravelly road ; and finally, he made 
 his escape from the village, more dead than alive, 
 never pausing to examine his injuries until he reached 
 the crest of the ridge and the shelter of the Pagoda 
 Tope. 
 
 But the villagers, ever ready to grumble at the doings 
 of their betters, were far from satisfied with the deci- 
 sion of the Brahmins. They had looked upon Krish- 
 na's excommunication as certain, and now they felt as 
 if they had been unjustly balked of a sensation. If 
 Krishna had been a poor man, they argued, instead of 
 the son of a rich priest, his caste-fellows would not 
 have scrupled to throw him off; but what wonder was 
 it though men forsook the gods and the customs of 
 their country when twice-born Brahmins durst not say 
 to such that they were doing wrong. The lower castes, 
 jealous of the Brahmin's position and privileges, are 
 sharp critics of the latter's shortcomings, and though 
 they would gladly welcome any relaxation of the Brah- 
 
 VOL, I. G
 
 98 THE CITY OF SUXSHDfE. 
 
 minical restrictians that woald admit themselves to a 
 closer intimacy with the fayoared class, thev are ever 
 the first to tannt the BrahmiDS with toleratiiig laxity 
 in any other form. 
 
 Bam LaU, the oilman, who hated Krishna on his son 
 the Dipty's account, and would have gladly seen the 
 young man degraded, was one of the mouthpieces of 
 popular discontenL When the Dipty's expectant was 
 driven from the village, the old man had retired to 
 sulk in his shop, and to pray that no signal judgment 
 might Ml upon Dhupnagar because of the impiety of 
 its inhabitants. Moreover, Bam Tjtll that same even- 
 ing, although notorious as parens deoruni adtor et tV 
 fnquems^ made an offering of a two-pound measure of 
 flour and half-a-dozen ounces of clarified butter, together 
 with a huge basket of flowers, which cost only the 
 trouble of gathering, to the clumsy pillar-stone at flie 
 east end of the village, which stood for the gram dtota, 
 or gaoMs loci, of Dhupnagar. By this unwonted mani- 
 festation of piety the oilman meant to show, not so 
 much his reverence for the gram cUota, as his contempt 
 for Bamanath and the linga of Dhupnagar. But Bam 
 LaU's ostentatious devoutness only caused a hearty 
 laugh to the Brahmins, who were well acquainted with 
 the old man's penuriousness, and who jestingly said 
 that surely the gods would be good to Dhupnagar since 
 Bam Lall had spent eight annas in their worship. But 
 Bam Lall, as weU as the rest of his townsmen, was quite 
 aware that the prosperity of the village depended upon
 
 THE PE1E5T SCOTCHES A SNAEZ. 99 
 
 the temple, and tliat if they drove Bamanath and liis 
 idol away by their scandal-mongering, their craft was in 
 danger to be set at nonght ; for no pilgrinis would then 
 repair to Dhupnagar — there would be no yearly mela 
 or market at which the tradesfolk might reap a golden, 
 or at least a silver, harvest — and rich devot^ees, with 
 their trains of attendants, would no longer frequent the 
 village at festal tides. Xo doubt religion was a matter 
 of great importance — so, also, was the preservation of 
 caste ; but it was more especially the Brahmins' busi- 
 ness to attend to these things ; and the good folks of 
 Dhupnagar had no intention of breaking with their 
 livelihood in their zeal for orthodoxv.
 
 100 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 SHAMSUDDEEN KHAN, THE SUBADAE. 
 
 A FEW hundred yards out of tlie village, by the side 
 of the road leading down to the fords of the Gunga- 
 putra, stood a large house, of a style not often seen in 
 the Lower Provinces. The walls were compactly.built 
 of brick and lime, but without verandahs, witli narrow 
 stanchioned windows, and with small turrets surmount- 
 ing each angle of the building. The aim of the archi- 
 tect had apparently been to combine the semblance of 
 an up-country chieftain's muhil, or citadel, with the 
 conveniences of a peaceful dwelling-house. Another 
 novel feature was the tastefully laid out gardens that 
 flanked tlie mansion upon either side, and filled up the 
 background as far as the commencement of the jungle. 
 Shamsuddeen Khan, the proprietor, had seen the im- 
 perial gardens of Delhi and Agra, and in spite of his 
 rough profession he had always cherished a passion for 
 flowers ; and now that he was an old man, and no 
 longer able to sit firmly in the saddle, he was well
 
 SHAMSUDDEEN KHAN, THE SUBADAE. 101 
 
 content to turn his sabre into a pruning-knife, to 
 spend his days among his roses and passion-flowers, 
 and to smoke and dream of old times under the tulip- 
 loaded boughs of the dliag tree by the side of the little 
 marble fountain that dropped a tiny jet of water into 
 the basin at his feet. 
 
 Shamsuddeen Khan had well earned his repose and 
 the reward which the British Government had bestowed 
 upon him for his services. "When the Pindarry bands 
 of Kurreem Khan were routed near Gungraur in Malwa, 
 a little boy was found among the prisoners, with whom 
 no one would acknowledge relationship until a kind 
 British officer took the waif into his own household. 
 The young Shamsuddeen was brought up in his bene- 
 factor's regiment, and became a trooper almost as soon 
 as his legs could straddle across a saddle. His patron, 
 Captain "Walesby, attended to his military education, 
 and made him the best swordsman and " tent-pegger " 
 in a crack corps of irregular cavalry ; while old Ahmed 
 Khan, Captain Walesby's butler, superintended the 
 lad's religious instruction, and brought him up as a 
 stanch Muhammadan of the Shiyia persuasion. The 
 young Shamsuddeen rapidly became a favourite in the 
 regiment, both with his English officers and native 
 comrades. The latter made him the spokesman of all 
 their little grievances, and the former were always glad 
 to oblige so active and respectful a soldier. If a man 
 wanted furlough, it was Shamsuddeen who was deputed 
 to beg it from the colonel ; if the colonel wanted a batch
 
 102 THE CITY OF SUySHIXE. 
 
 of lusty recruits, it was Sliamsuddeen who was sent to 
 beat up for them. In war Shamsuddeen Khan's repu- 
 tation was no less favourable than in peace. In the 
 Afghan campaign, where, as everybody who reads Sir 
 John Kaye's delightful history will remember, ^Vales- 
 by's Horse did such distinguished sen-ice, Shamsud- 
 deen won a commission by his determined bearing in 
 every engagement ; and his promotion was accompanied 
 by an eulogium in General Orders upon his long ser- 
 vice and good conduct. At the same time Shamsud- 
 deen had an opportunity of clearing off his debt of 
 gratitude to his commandant. In the night attack 
 upon Sale's brigade in the Kliurd Cabul valley, Colonel 
 TValesby was recognised as he rode from the Political 
 Agent's tents to join lus regiment, wounded, and car- 
 ried off a prisoner by the traitorous Afghans who had 
 obtained admission into the camp ; and there is little 
 doubt that he would have been reserved for cold- 
 blooded butchery, had not Shamsuddeen, without orders, 
 and heedless of Sale's " assembly " bugles, followed up 
 the retreating Ghilzyes with a score of troopers, until 
 they were compelled to abandon Walesby in their 
 flight. All through "Walesby's Ulness, in the miserable 
 Afghan winter, Shamsuddeen tended his patron ^^•ith 
 the carefulness of a son and the tenderness of a 
 woman; until the colonel declared that he had been 
 repaid tenfold for his early kindness to the Pindarry 
 orphan. 
 
 In course of time Shamsuddeen remained alone in
 
 SHAilSUDDEEX KIL-LN^, THE SUBADAR. 103 
 
 the regiment. Of the early comrades of liis youth the 
 bones of some lay bleaching in the Afghan passes ; 
 others had found a grave in the sandy plains of the 
 Sutlej, and those who had survived the wars had long 
 since retired to spend their pensions in their native 
 villages. Though General Walesby was dead and buried 
 in Cheltenham churchyard, Walesby's Horse was still 
 Walesby's Horse, and Shamsuddeen Khan was now 
 Subadar-major of the regiment, with many streaks of 
 silver in his black hair and beard. Then came the 
 Mutiny ; and when the troopers of Walesby's began to 
 growl about greased cartridges and interference with 
 their faith, and to listen to the lying agents of the 
 Badshah of Delhi and the Xana of Cawnpore, Sham- 
 suddeen Khan remained faithful to the salt, and did 
 his best to strengthen the wavering allegiance of his 
 comrades. And when Walesby's troopers held a mid- 
 night muster upon the Pultunpore parade-ground for 
 the purpose of shooting their officers, and declaring for 
 the Moghal, Shamsuddeen Khan had dashed into their 
 midst, pistoled Eeissaldar Ahmad Buksh, the ring- 
 leader, at the risk of his own life, and made such an 
 eloquent appeal to the loyalty of the men that eighty 
 of the best soldiers in the regiment came to his side 
 and assisted him in escorting their officers safe to head- 
 quarters. For his fidelity Sliamsuddeen was made a 
 Khan Bahadoor in the Order of British India, and the 
 Government further rewarded him with a small estate 
 rent free in the vicinity of Dhupnagar, which had come
 
 104 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 into the hands of the District Collector from the dis- 
 traint of Kristo Baboo's property. 
 
 In quitting the regiment in which his life had been 
 spent, Shamsuddeen Khan felt like a man who has 
 broken off all the associations that bound him to earth. 
 His heart was still in his old corps, and it was still his 
 pride to know every officer and every trooper in Wales- 
 by's. Eegularly as the Durga Puja came round, Sham- 
 suddeen paid a visit to Walesby's Horse, no matter 
 how far off they were stationed ; and his coming was 
 welcomed with all the honours that would have been 
 paid to the general commanding the division. It was 
 good to see the old soldier receiving the salutations of 
 the beardless recruits with whose fathers he had ridden 
 side by side in the Afghan and the Punjab wars, and 
 to hear the words of encouragement and counsel which 
 he addressed to them. The troopers felt that Shamsud- 
 deen Khan was an honour to their regiment, and would 
 proudly boast that the commander-in-chief. Sir George 
 Blitzen Sahib, who would hardly look at an English- 
 man under the rank of a field-officer, was wont to shake 
 their old Subadar cordially by the hand whenever his 
 Excellency met him. 
 
 There was no house in all tlie Lower Provinces 
 where an old soldier was made so welcome as at 
 "Walesbyganj, for so Shamsuddeen had named his 
 house, in memory of his benefactor and the old corps. 
 Troopers of Walesby's going and coming between 
 Calcutta and Upper India would make a long detour
 
 SHAMSUDDEEN KHAN, THE SUBADAR. 105 
 
 to pass a night under Shamsuddeen's roof, and to hear 
 his stories of the storming of Ghizni, and the charge 
 at Sobraon. Eetired Rajpoot officers of other corps 
 taking a trip for their sias to the shrine of Jagannath 
 at Puri, or the Linga of Dhupnagar, never failed to pay 
 their respects to the old man as they passed through the 
 valley. Zealous Mussulman as he was, the " Service " 
 overrode all sectarian feelings in Shamsuddeen's mind, 
 and the Hindoo was as cordially welcomed at Walesby- 
 ganj as the Muhammadan, provided he was a soldier. 
 The Subadar did not, however, carry his tolerance be- 
 yond the limits of the army, and treated the civilians, 
 his Hindoo neighbours, with the utmost hauteur and 
 contempt. There was no other Mussulman near Dhup- 
 nagar except the broken-down landholder who dubbed 
 himself the Nawab of Panch Pahar, in virtue of some 
 post which his ancestor held about the Nazimat Court 
 of Murshedabad, and who affected to look down upon 
 the Subadar as an upstart and a parasite upon the 
 British. On his part, the Subadar was nowise anxious 
 for the intimacy of so disreputable an old spendthrift, 
 who had spent all his belongings, down to the bare 
 walls of his paternal mansion and the few ligahs of land 
 that surrounded it, upon brandy and dice and loose 
 company, in a way that could not but bring the holy 
 faith of Islam to discredit among the surrounding in- 
 fidel. Bhutpore, at the head of the valley, had once 
 been a populous Muhammadan town in the days of 
 the Moghals ; but, as the number of ruined mosques
 
 106 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 testified, the Faithful had fallen upon evil times, and, 
 except one or two grey-bearded Moulavis, the ^lussul- 
 mans had all sunk into a menial condition. Conse- 
 quently Shamsuddeen was almost wholly cut off from 
 the society of his co-religionists. 
 
 When the Subadar quitted Walesby's Horse he took 
 with him his orderly, Agha Khan, an Afghan from 
 the Khyber, who had been in his service since the army 
 of retribution had returned from the burning of Ca- 
 bul. The Subadar's fondness for Agha was one of 
 those attachments that no one could explain. The 
 Khyberee was a loutish, unshapely soldier, wdiose 
 insubordinate temper was perpetually bringing him 
 into quarrels with his comrades. From the hour of 
 his enlistment Agha had never been out of trouble ; 
 and his duffadar (corporal) used jestingly to calcu- 
 late that all the entries against him in the defaulters' 
 book would alone fill an ordinary-sized volume. The 
 adjutant had pronounced him incurable, and Col- 
 onel Walesby had threatened to have him drummed 
 out of the regiment the next time that Agha was 
 brought before him. But the Gwalior war soon broke 
 out, when discipline was less strictly enforced, and 
 those officers who had been hardest upon Agha's short- 
 comings, could not but admire the daring recklessness 
 with which he had broken his ranks and galloped up to 
 the mouth of the Sindhia's guns at Maharajpore. The 
 Subadar took him for his servant immediately after 
 the action, and quite melted the rough Khyberee by
 
 SHAMSUDDEEN KHAX, THE SUBADAE. 107 
 
 his kindness. Shamsuddeen was eating in his tent 
 when the trooper came to him, and when he had "com- 
 mended his bravery and told him of the promotion in 
 store for him — the first words of kindness and sym- 
 pathy that Agha had heard since he quitted his native 
 hills — the man dashed his hand rudely in Shamsud- 
 deen's salt-dish, swallowed a mouthful, made a low 
 salaam, turned on his heel and strode out of the tent 
 without a word of thanks. Shamsuddeen perfectly un- 
 derstood the significance of this act ; and well did 
 Agha fulfil his profession of fidelity. He had received 
 a great slash across the shoulder from a Sikh sabre as 
 he was dragging his master from the bloody mud of 
 the Sutlej in the grand charge which Walesby's Horse 
 made at Aliwal, and he had received in his own tliigh 
 a thrust from a bayonet which a sepoy had meant for his 
 master when the troops at Pultunpore mutinied in the 
 Tifty-seven. These injuries had improved neither the 
 symmetry of Agha's appearance, nor the equanimity 
 of his temper ; and it was rarely that he ever opened 
 his mouth to say anything civil even to his master. 
 Strange to say, the Subadar, who had the reputation 
 of a martinet as far as every other person was con- 
 cerned, never allowed himself to be disconcerted by 
 Agha's insubordinate language. The wags of Walesby's 
 had a joke that the Subadar was afraid of Agha, and 
 that the Khyberee was thus the real commandant of 
 the regiment, for the Subadar ruled the colonel, and 
 Agha the Subadar. Facetious young subalterns took
 
 108 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 a delight in dubbing the old curmudgeon " commandant 
 sahib," until the Khyberee was like to handle his dag- 
 ger for very passion. 
 
 There was one, however, with whom Agha never 
 lost his temper, and whose caprices he was never tired 
 of humouring. Shamsuddeen had married a Pathaui 
 wife when Walesby's Horse were serving under Sir 
 Harry Fane in the Army of the Indus, and in due 
 time a little boy made his appearance in the Subadar's 
 tent. Agha had been tlie little Afzul's nurse almost 
 from his birth, and the ungainly trooper would stalk 
 about the bazaar with the infant in his arms quite 
 composedly, in spite of the jeers of his comrades at 
 his awkwardness as an ayah. The trooper would walk 
 from one end of the cantonment to the other to hu- 
 mour the child's slightest whim, and would cheerfully 
 stint his own expenditure that he might buy toys and 
 sweetmeats for him in the bazaar. The boy grew up 
 to know his power, and lorded it over Agha right 
 despotically ; and the poor man would hardly have 
 dared to call his life his own if Afzul had thought fit 
 to require it. While a child Aizul was trained to 
 arms, and before he had entered his teens he was as 
 fearless a rider as any trooper in the regiment. Agha 
 taught him to ride and to "tent peg," to hurl the 
 quoit like the Sikh Alkali, and to wield the lance like 
 a ]\Iahratta horseman. But there were some of Agha's 
 instructions of a less edifying character. Though with 
 his comrades he had maintained a taciturn reserve,
 
 SHAMSUDDEEN KHAN, THE SUBADAE. 109 
 
 and had never let out any of his antecedents. previous 
 to joining the regiment, he opened his whole heart to 
 the boy, and never tired of telling him of the wild 
 life which men lived beyond the frontier, — where there 
 was no red -coated infidel to keep the sons of Islam in 
 bondage ; where each man righted his own wrongs by 
 the sword ; where men were not fettered by laws writ- 
 ten on paper ; and where a stout heart and a strong 
 arm were of more avail than miles of land or lakhs of 
 rupees. He had stories, too, to tell of the terrible blood 
 feud handed down through half-a-dozen generations, 
 each of which had vainly shed its quota of blood to ap- 
 pease the family quarrel ; of the plunder of villages and 
 the abduction of virgins ; of conspiracies, intrigues, and 
 the other lawless and romantic phases in the wild life 
 of the trans-Indus tribes. The effect of such a train- 
 ing upon an impulsive young lad may easily be con- 
 ceived. Afzul grew up to hate the restraints of law 
 and discipline, to revile English rule, and to long for 
 some field where more licence was allowed to strength 
 and passion. He had more than once proposed to 
 Agha that they should run away to join the Afghan 
 tribes ; but a sense of duty to the Subadar steeled the 
 trooper against the temptation, and for once in his 
 life he had warned the father of his son's intentions. 
 
 It was Shamsuddeen's greatest ambition to see his 
 son take the place in Walesby's Horse which he him- 
 self had filled so long ; and so, when he quitted the 
 service, Afzul was left behind him in the ranks of the
 
 110 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 regiment. Agha would fain have stayed with his 
 young master, but the Subadar would not hear of such 
 a thing. A private trooper had no use for a servant : 
 he himself had never had one until he became an 
 officer ; and his son must learn to wait upon himself 
 until he won his commission. But when his father 
 had left the regiment the lad's conduct became less 
 guarded. He associated with the wildest and most 
 dissolute men in the corps, and gave himself no trouble 
 to conciliate the good opinion of his superior officers. 
 ^Much would have been, and much was, pardoned to 
 his father's son, but the discipline of the service could 
 not be infringed with impunity, and the young man 
 had been more than once before a regimental court- 
 martial for wildness and insubordination. When the 
 regiment was sent to Bhutan, during the brief cam- 
 paign against the insurgent chiefs of that country, a 
 remarkable change came over Afzul. So long as the 
 regiment was in the field, it did not contain a more 
 zealous and orderly soldier than the Subadar's son, 
 and none so eager to undertake any duty that involved 
 fatigue or danger. The officers were delighted with 
 Afzul's alacrity and bravery, and his speedy promo- 
 tion was looked upon as a certainty. Old comrades of 
 his father, w^ho had hitherto held their peace or shaken 
 their heads gravely when Afzul Khan's name was 
 mentioned, never ceased now to sound his praises ; and 
 the Subadar's retirement was cheered by glowing de- 
 scriptions of his son's good qualities from liis former
 
 SHAMSUDDEEN KHAN, THE SUBADAE. Ill 
 
 friends and officers. But when the times of " piping 
 peace" returned, and the regiment was sent back to the 
 plains, Afzul speedily effaced these good impressions, 
 and was reported to the commandant as more insub- 
 ordinate and ungovernable tlian before. The colonel, 
 an old officer who had served with Shamsuddeen, and 
 respected his bravery and probity, was unwilling that 
 his son should be made an example of in the corps ; 
 and so he sent for Afzul and told him plainly that he 
 must either reform or quit the regiment. Afzul haugh- 
 tily took him at his word, applied at once for his dis- 
 charge, and threw old Agha into a cold sweat by ap- 
 pearing before him one morning dusty and wayworn 
 at the gate of Walesbyganj. Agha concealed and fed 
 the young prodigal until the Subadar was prepared 
 for the bad news, and a pardon obtained for Afzul's 
 misconduct. Shamsuddeen was almost heart-broken 
 at the failure of his hopes, but he never as much as 
 said to his son that he had done wrong. Not so Agha, 
 who did nothing from morning to night but harp upon 
 Afzul's profligacy, although the young man gave little 
 heed to his rebukes. Although he was rich enough to 
 make his son independent of any profession, Shamsud- 
 deen was bitterly disappointed that he should have 
 left in disgrace a service where he himself had obtained 
 both honour and rewards. He considered the army 
 the only honourable career for a Muhammadan gentle- 
 man, and the favour of the British Government the 
 highest distinction which any native could obtain. He
 
 112 THE CITY OF SUXSHIXE. 
 
 had fondly hoped that Afzul would revive the good 
 reputation which he himself had left in the army, and 
 that liis loyalty and bravery would increase the patri- 
 mony which he would inherit at his own death. 
 Now that all these prospects were blasted, the old man 
 thought it mattered little what Afzul did. 
 
 Afzul Khan was no stranger in Dhupnagar when he 
 came there after leaving the army. During two fur- 
 loughs he had already succeeded in scandalising the 
 quiet inhabitants. He had carried off Bel-puttee, the 
 ryot of Milkiganj's daughter, and beaten the girl's 
 brother within an inch of his life. He had almost 
 ridden over old Gangooly, the village headman, in the 
 middle of the bazaar in broad daylight, thus offering 
 a wanton insult to the representative of public author- 
 ity. He had borrowed money from Three Shells at 
 seventy-five per cent, and had treated the mahajan to a 
 sound bambooing when he came to claim his interest. 
 He was perpetually getting into some trouble or 
 other with the \'illagers, and the Subadar was con- 
 stantly annoyed by complaints of his son's riotous con- 
 duct. Shamsuddeen took these matters, however, very 
 coolly. If a man behaved himself inside the lines, he 
 must be allowed some licence among the civil popula- 
 tion. After all, the offended parties were only Hindoos, 
 and it was doubtful whether to torment them was not 
 a meritorious act for a true Muhammadan. As for 
 the carrying off of the girl, young men woidd be young 
 men, and he had seen many a wench taken away from
 
 SHAMS UDDEEX KHAX, THE SUBADAE. ]13 
 
 her friends across the crupper in his old campaigning 
 days. He paid Three Shells' claim, and threatened the 
 usurer with personal chastisement from his own hands 
 if ever he lent his son another anna. But when Afzul 
 one day announced to his father that he was bent upon 
 having Kristo Baboo's daughter to wife, the old man 
 saw that this was a more serious caprice than any that 
 the lad had yet taken into his head. Kristo was a 
 Hindoo of high caste and consideration, and his family 
 could not be dishonoured with the same impunity as 
 the poor ryot of Milkiganj's. Then the difference of 
 creed prevented all prospect of securing an alliance by 
 fair means. Shamsuddeen did his best to drive the 
 passion out of the lad's head ; but Afzul was obstinate, 
 and swore by the tombs of Hassan and Hussein at 
 Kerbela that he would not live another twelve months 
 without the girl though he were to be made Lord Sahib 
 of Bengal. The Subadar knew the young man's head- 
 strong nature too well to hope that advice would in- 
 fluence his conduct, and so he contented himself with 
 ordering Agha to keep the child out of mischief. 
 But Agha was the worst possible mentor that a fiery 
 young man could be put under. Advancing years and 
 wounds had not yet tamed the native lawlessness of the 
 Khyberee, and he was ever more ready to abet than to 
 check the irregular conduct of his young charge. 
 
 On the same morning as Prosunuo and Three Shells 
 had paid their visit to the priest, Shamsuddeen Khan 
 was seated in his little arbour, breakfasting upon a 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 114 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 simple repast of sliced hilsa fish and custard apples. 
 Behind him stood Agha, who still deigned to wait upon 
 his master's meals, although he would not have done 
 a similar service to a Lieutenant-Governor. Both 
 master and man still retained some traces of their old 
 calling. Though his uniform had been laid aside for a 
 loose coat of striped silk, the Subadar still clung to the 
 gaiters and the flowing turban of the Irregular trooper, 
 and from sheer force of habit he carried his long 
 cavalry sword with him wherever he went. Shamsud- 
 deen Khan was still erect as an arrow, and his grey 
 hairs and long flowing white beard gave him an ap- 
 pearance of great dignity. The naturally unshapely 
 figure of Agha had been still more contorted by his 
 wounds ; and his broad shoulders were so bent as 
 almost to give him the appearance of being hump- 
 backed. He wore his coarse black hair long, in the^ 
 Afghan fashion ; his surly features were disfigured by the 
 loss of an eye, which had been knocked out in a bazaar 
 brawl ; and a c}Tiical sneer had for many years been 
 stereotj-ped upon his large mouth. Agha was always 
 dressed in a cast-off suit of the Subadar's regimentals, 
 in the tarnished embroidery of which he took no little 
 pride. At his girdle he wore a long straight dagger, 
 with an antiquely-shaped silver hilt, in which was con- 
 cealed a lock of hair belonging to Sayyid Saflia Shah, 
 a celebrated saint of Agha's own tribe. In the potency 
 of this relic, whether for defence or attack, Agha placed 
 implicit confidence ; and whether or not the holy Sayyid
 
 SHAMSUDDEEN KHAN, THE SUBADAE. 115 
 
 nerved Agha's arm in the hour of need, it was certain 
 that he never had occasion to strike twice. 
 
 " These roses," said the Subadar, looking up from his 
 plate, " are the richest that we have yet had at "Wales- 
 byganj. I never saw finer in the Shalimar. You 
 remember the roses of the Shalimar, Agha ? " 
 
 " Am I a malice (gardener) ? " was Agha's tart reply. 
 "I remember Madam Dilnawaz's house behind the 
 Shalimar well enough, but I never saw any roses 
 except on the cheeks of her and her damsels," 
 
 " A soldier has no business to know anything of such 
 wares," said the Subadar, shaking his head ; " but you 
 were ever prone to mischief, Agha. Is the child at 
 home?" — among themselves the two old soldiers always 
 spoke of Afzul as "the child." "At what hour did he 
 return from Panch Pahar last night ? " 
 
 " He did not return from Panch Pahar last night," 
 answered Agha, curtly. 
 
 " Is he at home now ? " demanded the master. 
 
 Agha nodded. 
 
 "It was this morning, then, before he came," said 
 Shamsuddeen, with a sigh. " When I was at his time 
 of life, if I had stayed outside the lines after the last 
 post I would have tasted of the guard-house, as sure as 
 my name was Shamsuddeen." 
 
 " And a good thing it was for you too," said Agha, 
 sneeringly. 
 
 " But I shall keep better discipline with you all after 
 this ; I am determined on that," said the Subadar,
 
 116 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 somewhat nettled by Lis follower's remark. " I shall 
 muster the house every night at ten and lock the gate 
 with my own hand, and if any one is outside after that, 
 he may remain there till daybreak." 
 
 " You have said so a hundred times before, but you 
 never did it yet," was Agha's comment. 
 
 " You grow impudent, thou !" cried the Subadar, in 
 a rage. " I shall have to send you back to your hills 
 again ; " and seeing Agha inclined to grin at this terrible 
 threat, which he had heard uttered half-a-dozen times 
 a-day for the last six years, he bawled out, " 'Tenshun ! 
 Silence in the ranks !" At the word of command Agha 
 clapped his hands to his thighs, drew himself stiffly up 
 behind his master's chair, and stood still as a mute, 
 waiting to hear what the Subadar had to say farther. 
 
 " I do not approve of the child's going so much to 
 Panch Pahar," said Shamsuddeen ; " he will learn no 
 good from that bankrupt old scoundrel who calls him- 
 self a Nawab. If the falcon is shot among a flock of 
 kites, who can blame the archer ? If a horse run away 
 with a herd of wild asses he will soon try to bray like 
 them. They drink abominations which the Prophet, 
 upon whom be peace, has interdicted, and the Xawab's 
 house is the resort of gamblers and dancing courtesans. 
 It is no place for a young soldier. I would rather my 
 son had been thrust through with a Bhutia's spear in 
 the last war, than that lie should live to become a low, 
 cheating debauchee like the Panch Pahar man." 
 
 The Subadar turned half round to Agha, as if expect-
 
 SHAMSUDDEEX KHAN, THE SUBADAE. 117 
 
 ing him to make some remark ; but the trooper still stood 
 at " attentiou," with his lips firmly pressed together. 
 
 "And now he has got some vagary in his head about 
 the daughter of this Hindoo Lahory," continued the 
 master, " and there is sure to some mischief come of it. 
 "Was there no maiden of Islam fair enough for him that he 
 must seek to mate with this she-infidel ? I do not ap- 
 prove of young soldiers marrying, for a man who wishes 
 to do his duty will have no time to trifle away with 
 women ; but now that he has left the service, I should 
 have no objection to his marrying three or four decent 
 girls of his own faith. But nothing less will serve his 
 highness than a high-caste Brahmini, who will be 
 almost as easily won by a IMussulman as a Peri from 
 Paradise. He is making my old age miserable, Agha. 
 Why don't you answer me, sirrah ? " 
 
 " Answer you what ? " returned Agha, imperturbably. 
 
 " What am I to do with the child ? He is getting 
 wilder and \vilder every week, and each new fancy that 
 he takes into his head is more extravagant than the one 
 that went before. His bickerings and excuses are 
 wearying my life out as well as my substance. What 
 would you do, Agha, if you had such a son?" 
 
 "Slay him," said Agha, in a snappish tone of 
 decision. 
 
 " Ah, Agha ! it is easy for you to say that," said the 
 Subadar, in a lachrymose tone, at which the trooper 
 made a ludicrous grimace ; " you know nothing of the 
 feelings of a father. Whatever may be his faults.
 
 118 THE cm' OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 A£zul is my only son, and who would lay ray grey head 
 in the grave if he were gone ? Allah is my witness that 
 there is no reasonable licence which I would withhold 
 from him. You know I never said a harsh word to 
 him about the Milkiganj girl. But what's to be done 
 about this daughter of Kristo Baboo's ? I do not see 
 any prospect of the child's obtaining her." 
 
 " I would burn down the house and carry her off by 
 the strong hand," said Agha, after a short pause, dur- 
 ing which he seemed to be absorbed in deep reflection 
 upon the case. 
 
 "Ay, and be thrown into Bhutpore jail next day 
 for it," said the Subadar, impatiently. " Tush, Agha ! 
 speak sense. AVhy will you always forget which side 
 of the frontier you are standing on ? If we were in 
 Afghanistan, now, it might be a just and honourable 
 way of settling the difficulty ; but it does not become 
 persons who are so much indebted to the English 
 Sircar (Government) as me and my son to do anything 
 against their laws. Not that I consider there is anything 
 morally wrong in a true believer carrying off a Hindoo 
 damsel ; it might even be the means of bringing an 
 infidel to the faith of Islam. But it's no use speaking 
 of such a thing in the Lower Provinces here." 
 
 " Let us go to Afghanistan then," said Agha, in a 
 more serious tone than he had hitherto used. " There 
 is little good in staying here in subjection to Nazarenes. 
 Once beyond the border and Afzul may have any wo- 
 man that he is stronjj enough to take."
 
 SIIAMSUDDEEN KHAN, THE SUBADAR. 119 
 
 " Don't speak nonsense, man," said the Subadar, im- 
 patiently ; " we should be just as likely to get all our 
 throats cut. I have lived sixty years under English 
 rule, and never found any restrictions upon liberty 
 but what was for the good of the public. Just think, 
 if you had a daughter, how you would like Kristo 
 Baboo to come and take her away from you." 
 
 " I have no daughter, and if Kristo Baboo took her 
 away I would bury my dagger in his fat paunch," 
 retorted Agha, with slight regard for logic, but with 
 an emphasis which showed that he had little belief in 
 the application of the moral law to the intercourse of 
 JMuhammadans with the infidel. 
 
 " You will get yourself into trouble yet with your 
 bullying, swaggering manners," said the Subadar ; 
 " if the men of Dhupnagar had the spirits of pariah 
 dogs they would give both you and Afzul skinsful of 
 broken bones some dark night. But tell me, Agha, 
 what has the child been saying to you about the Hin- 
 doo girl ? " 
 
 " Nothing ; what, in the name of Eblis, have I to do 
 with him and his wantons ? " 
 
 " 'Tenshun ! speak respectfully, fellow," cried the 
 Subadar ; and Agha, thus admonished, fell once more 
 into a stiff military attitude. " Well, I want you to find 
 out what schemes the child has in view about Kristo's 
 daughter. He tells you everything, and you must tell 
 me, so that between us we may keep him from harm's 
 way. After all, we must pardon something to youth,
 
 120 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 and not allow the child to come to grief for lack of 
 good advice. Where is he now ? " 
 
 " In bed : where else would he be ? You know he 
 won't rise for these good two hours," replied the 
 trooper. 
 
 " ;More is the shame, Agha, — more is the shame. I 
 must really do something to bring you all back to dis- 
 cipline. You will order the garrison — the household, 
 I mean — that after this they must turn out every 
 morning at sunrise. Late hours are an unsoldierly 
 habit, and an ungodly habit ; for have not set times of 
 prayer been appointed by the Prophet, upon whom be 
 peace ? " 
 
 " So I may tell them," said Agha, witli a contemp- 
 tuous sniff; " and if you had a duffadar with a heavy 
 bamboo to beat sleep out of them you would likely be 
 obeyed ; but it is folly to expect people to get up at 
 sunrise who only go to bed at the false dawn." 
 
 " Don't bandy bat-chit with me, slave, but go and 
 do as you are bid," cried the Subadar, losing his pa- 
 tience ; " and mind that you report to me at breakfast- 
 time to-morrow what the child is saying about the 
 Hindoo girl 'Tenshun ! 'Bout face ! Mar-ach ! " 
 
 Agha never ventured to gainsay an order delivered 
 in military fashion, and he stumped away with the 
 eye-side of his head turned up towards the sky in a 
 queer expression of cynical amusement. The trooper 
 knew his master's weakness and his own power, and 
 did not give himself much trouble about the Subadar's
 
 SHAMSUDDEEN KHAN, THE SUBADAK. 121 
 
 rebukes. Though in the regiment Sliamsuddeen had 
 shown himself an admirable disciplinarian, he was 
 perfectly unable to govern a private household. All 
 the duties of his previous life had been regulated by- 
 military formulas, which were in a manner self-enforc- 
 ing, and which, at any rate, could be applied without 
 much mental exertion. The Subadar had always re- 
 garded the life of a civilian as one that could have 
 but few cares and anxieties ; and when he had settled 
 down at Walesbygauj, it was with the determination 
 that worldly troubles were to give him no more annoy- 
 ance. A household of a dozen servants and a score 
 of tenants would, as he thought, need no supervision ; 
 and so he contented himself with laying down strin- 
 gent rules for their guidance, never doubting that they 
 would dare to disobey his instructions. But the ser- 
 vants soon began to get lazy and slight their work, 
 except in the stables, which were under Aglia's spe- 
 cial supervision ; and the tenants began to' be back- 
 ward with their rents, and to pester their landlord 
 with their quarrels among each other. It was then 
 that Shamsuddeen saw how powerless he was to en- 
 force his orders, and that he could no longer support 
 his authority by the guard-room and a court-martial. 
 Discipline was once broken through, and the Subadar 
 felt that he had not the energy to put it in force ; and 
 so he contented himself with forming resolutions to 
 keep better order, which were never by any chance 
 put into execution. The household would have gone
 
 122 THE CITY OF SCXSHIXE. 
 
 to rack and ruin but for Agha's ill-temper. Both ser- 
 vants and ryots had a wholesome fear of the trooper, 
 ■who had indeed a rough-and-ready way of putting things 
 to lights which kept the timid Bengalees in a constant 
 dread of offending him. "When two of the Subadar's 
 tenants came bawling for mutual justice, Agha would 
 liear both their cases with the gravity of a Eadaman- 
 thus ; and if both were wrong, as was almost always 
 the case, he would order plaintiff and defendant to be 
 seized and bambooed until the soles of their feet were 
 as soft as a jelly. In spite of Agha's churlish habits 
 he was invaluable to the Subadar, and without his 
 presence the affairs of the Walesbyganj household 
 must very soon have come to a dead-lock.
 
 THREE shells' CONVERSIOX. 123 
 
 CHAPTER VIIT. 
 
 three shells' conversion, 
 
 "When the meeting of the village elders broke up after 
 they had come to a resolution that the matter against 
 the Gossains was to be set aside, Prosunno, the lawyer, 
 left the green in disgust at the apathy of his caste- 
 fellows, and went strutting angrily through the bazaar 
 in the direction of his own house. He for one had 
 made up his mind that the prosecution against Krishna 
 should not be dropped. Provided they got a market 
 for their wares, these grovelling traders cared nothing 
 for the purity of religion ; but Prosunno's practice lay 
 in the Gapshapganj court, and it was nothing to him 
 though the village should go to wreck and ruin. His 
 own influence in Dhupnagar would not avail him much 
 against a person of the priest's standing; but with 
 Three Shells' assistance he might still hope to compass 
 his revenge. The mahajan could at least excite a 
 popular commotion by means of his many debtors, and 
 when the attention of the other Brahmins throudiout
 
 124 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 the district had once been attracted to Krishna's per- 
 version, Prosunno had little doubt that the excom- 
 munication of the priest's family would speedily follow. 
 There were Lingas, moreover, at Bhutpore and Gap- 
 shapganj, whose priests would give their ears to get 
 a handle against Ramauath ; and Prosunno mentally 
 resolved that before many hours passed he would lay 
 the matter before them. 
 
 As tlie lawyer walked along, engrossed in liis vin- 
 dictive reflections, Gopi, the usurer's clerk, plucked 
 him by the chaddar, and summoned him to his master's 
 house, where the worthy Baboo Three Shells was anx- 
 iously awaiting him. Prosunno turned and retraced 
 his steps to the money-lender's dwelling, wondering 
 how Three Shells could have slipped out of the temple 
 unobserved, and wliat had been the issue of his inter- 
 view with the priest. The mahajan's residence was a 
 compact little house of cntcJia masonry — that is, it was 
 built of brick and mud instead of brick and lime. 
 The walls were of great thickness, the few windows 
 opening to the outside were narrow and barred with 
 iron, and the door was made of heavy planks of teak- 
 wood, strengthened with bolts and plates of metal. 
 Three Shells did not keep many servants, and the vil- 
 lagers could glean but little information regarding 
 what went on in the interior. The money-lender's 
 food was brought to him at stated hours, and he ate 
 it in his little open sitting-room facing the doorway. 
 Gopi, his clerk, and Prosunno, the lawyer, were the
 
 THREE shells' CONVEKSION. 125 
 
 only persons wlio had the entree to the house, and nei- 
 ther of these had much opportunity of prying into 
 the mahajan's private affairs. Three Shells invariably 
 received them in a little office off" his sitting-room, 
 and he had given them sharply to understand that 
 when they did not find him there, it was darwaza 
 hund* Strange stories were told in the village of the 
 interior of Three Shells' dwelling. Some would have 
 it that he sat all day surrounded by coffers of pearls 
 and rubies ; others were sure that his zenana con- 
 tained beauties of surpassing loveliness from Persia 
 and Kashmere ; while a third party was not less 
 confident that scenes were enacted there which would 
 make the blood curdle and the hair turn white to wit- 
 ness. Lights might be seen streaming through the 
 narrow windows night after night until the morning 
 watches; and what else could Three Shells be doing 
 sitting up so late, but endeavouring to bring back by 
 magic exorcisms and the aid of demons the 2^<-i'>'tts 
 patthar, or philosopher's stone, which a holy Brahmin 
 had, ages before, thrown into a bottomless pool of the 
 Gungaputra ? But whatever shapes the popular con- 
 jecture might assume, the villagers took good care 
 not to obtrude them upon the mahajan's ears. 
 
 On this occasion, much to Prosunno's surprise. Three 
 Shells was not to be found in the sitting-room or office. 
 " Go straight before you and ascend the stair," the 
 
 * Darwaza bund — literally, the door is shut ; the native equivalent 
 to "not at home."
 
 126 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 clerk said, in a nervous whisper, " and take care what 
 you say, for the Baboo's liver is boiling." 
 
 " Oh ho !" said Prosunno to himself, while he groped 
 his way along a narrow dark passage, " Three Shells 
 must have heard that the Panchayat has broken down ; 
 I do not wonder that he is in a passion. But so much 
 the better ; I shall have the less difficulty in persuad- 
 ing him to extreme measures. He is the only man 
 in Dhupnagar who can lay the pride of these cursed 
 Gossains." 
 
 Prosunno cautiously stepped up a rickety stair, 
 every step of which creaked beneath his tread. He 
 peered cautiously through the darkness as he went, for 
 some sign of the splendour with which rumour had 
 fitted up the money-lender's apartments ; but the stair- 
 case might have been of ivory and sandal-wood for all 
 that Prosunno could see. He felt his way to the 
 landing and stood there, undecided as to where he 
 should turn himself. If he were to advance another 
 step he might find himself in a forbidden apartment, 
 and then the angry mahajan would very likely turn 
 his passion upon him. After a few minutes' deliber- 
 ation, Prosunno ventured to announce himself by a 
 forced cough ; but still no answer was returned, nor 
 could he see any indication of the mahajau's presence. 
 
 Presently he heard a low wail issue from the adjoin- 
 ing apartment — a wail such as the hungry cheetah ut- 
 ters when forcibly torn off his prey. Picmembering the 
 stories he had heard of Three Shells' habitation, Pro-
 
 THKEE SHELLS CONVERSION. 127 
 
 sunno's hair began to stand on end ; but his curiosity 
 almost mastered his fears, and though he was trem- 
 bling like an aspen, he eagerly inclined his ear in the 
 direction of the sound. 
 
 "Would to the gods that I were either dead or 
 avenged upon him !" Prosunno heard uttered in tones of 
 heartfelt agony. " Fool that I was, ever to have come to 
 Dhupnagar ! And yet who could have thought that Prem 
 Singh would come here to die, when I had sent him 
 thousands of miles away into the Deccan ? It is the 
 gods' doing : it is their doing, undoubtedly. What is it 
 that always tempts me, wretch that I am, to put forth 
 my hands against their servants ? blessed Kali, my 
 mother and protectress ! keep my head in safety 
 and from shame, and a Brahmin shall henceforth be 
 to me as sacred as my father. But no, I will be 
 revenged upon that priest : I must, for while he lives 
 my life is not my own. Yishnu Vaikuntha, the 
 destroyer of sorrow ! must I then dye my hands once 
 more in holy blood ? gods ! my wealth is yours, all 
 yours, down to the uttermost cowrie — not one pice 
 shall my nearest and dearest deprive you of; only, 
 only let me live my allotted days and die in peace 
 at last." 
 
 Prosunno could hear the wretch beating his bosom 
 with his hands, and dashing his forehead against the 
 floor or the wall. The lawyer would fain have listened 
 to further revelations, but these fragmentary confes- 
 sions had not tended to increase Prosunno's confidence
 
 128 THE CITV OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 in his patron. So he again coughed loud enough to 
 attract the money-lender's attention. But Three Shells 
 ■was too much immersed in his own guilty reverie to 
 heed the interruption. The lawyer heard him again 
 burst forth into a torrent of passionate exclamations, 
 but they were uttered so rapidly in a strange Hindu- 
 stani patois, that Prosunno could make nothing of 
 them. He was still listening eagerly, and was so much 
 absorbed in thinking of what he had just heard, that 
 he did not mark the money-lender's movements, until 
 Three Shells sprang out from the room and caught him 
 by the throat. Prosunno made an effort to free him- 
 self, and the two rolled over on the floor, each locked 
 in the other's embrace. The struggle lasted but an 
 instant, for the puffy and effete Bengalee was no match 
 for the spare, sinewy, up - country man ; and Three 
 Shells soon had his long lean fingers buried in the 
 flesh of Prosunno's fat neck, while the other feebly 
 attempted to gasp out a supplication for mercy. 
 
 " Wretch ! I would strangle you where you lie, if it 
 were not that I would be doing you a kindness," hissed 
 Three Shells in the lawyer's ear; "but live — live to be 
 my slave, my tool, my fetch-and-carry cur, and I shall 
 give you crumbs or kicks as you deserve them. But 
 mark me, seek not to pry into my secrets, or your curi- 
 osity will meet with a more terrible reward than you 
 think of." 
 
 So saying. Three Shells dragged the lawyer to his 
 feet, and thrust him head-foremost into an adjoining
 
 THREE shells' CONVERSION. 129 
 
 room. Prosimno reeled forward like a drunk man, 
 gasping for breath, and with his eyes rolling sight- 
 lessly in his head. His progress was arrested by a 
 pile of cushions, over which he stumbled and fell head- 
 long on the floor; and there he lay, stunned with the 
 fall and his fright. When he ventured at last to open 
 his eyes, he saw Three Shells sitting cross-legged on a 
 couch, and smoking furiously at a huge silver hookha. 
 A window had been thrown open, and the light now 
 streamed full upon the mahajan's countenance. An 
 expression of forced composure was stamped upon 
 Three Shells' features ; his eyelids drooped, but now 
 and then his small bloodshot eyes flashed forth with 
 a quick, angry glare, his thin hard lips quivered im- 
 patiently, and he ground his teeth savagely, as he 
 struggled to keep back the torrent of rage and despair 
 that was rending his bosom in search of an outlet. 
 Prosunno felt himself in the position of one who, with- 
 out knife, or rifle, or prospect of succour, has brought a 
 tiger to bay. He continued to lie speechless on the 
 floor, only holding up his clasped hands before the 
 mahajan in abject entreaty for mercy. 
 
 " Sit up," said Three Shells, curtly, as he pointed to 
 a low seat before him. Prosunno scrambled iip hur- 
 riedly enough, and took a seat among the cushions. 
 "Compose yourself," was the money-lender's next 
 order. This command was not so easily obeyed, but, 
 nevertheless, Prosunno did his best to assume a confi- 
 dent bearing. He sat upright, and endeavoured to look 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 130 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 the niahajan fixedly in the face, but he cowered and 
 quailed as often as Three Shells bent one of his keen 
 angry glances in liis direction ; and his hands seemed 
 to be unaccountably in his way, his legs refused to 
 bend easily beneath him, and his neck appeared to 
 have grown too weak to support the weight of his head. 
 Two large horse-pistols lying on the couch, with which 
 Three Shells' hands kept nervouslyplaying, did not assist 
 Prosunno in regaining his assurance. " Compose your- 
 self," again said Three Shells, spitefully, as he marked 
 and gloated over the terrors he was exciting ; and he 
 fingered the butt of a pistol, while Prosunno again raised 
 his clasped hands in mute entreaty for mercy. And 
 thus the two continued to sit, the mahajan still smok- 
 ing, and keeping his eyes steadily fixed upon the 
 lawyer, whose increasing uneasiness seemed to have the 
 effect of allaying his own fury ; while Prosunno squat- 
 ted with downcast eyes and parched mouth, his frame 
 motionless, except w^hen a convulsive shiver showed 
 the apprehensions under which he was labouring. 
 
 " Speak ! " cried the mahajan, at length, contemp- 
 tuously puffing a mouthful of smoke in the direction of 
 Prosunno ; and seeing that the latter did not stir, he 
 said again, sternly, " Speak, slave." 
 
 Prosunno shifted himself uneasily upon the cushions, 
 made a mouth as if he would speak, and lost heart 
 again as he saw the money-lender's hand still grasping 
 the pistol : at last he stammered out — 
 
 " Sir, believe me, sir, I could not help it. All that
 
 THREE SHELLS CONVEKSIOX, 131 
 
 I could do was done, to stir up the Bralimins against 
 Ramanath and his son. How can I answer for their 
 obstinacy ? And am I not here, your slave, ready to 
 obey each and all of your commands ? What does it 
 please you that I should do ? Shall I go forth and 
 stir up the people to take staves against these unclean 
 dogs of Gossains ? " 
 
 The mahajan's answer was to hurl first one pistol and 
 then another in rapid succession at the lawyer's head. 
 Prosunno was, however, on the alert ; and the first 
 missile was avoided by an adroit duck of the head, but 
 the second grazed his poll, inflicting a slight wound 
 iipon the scalp. Prosunno threw himself forward with 
 a howl, and lay extended at full length before the 
 mahajan. 
 
 "Prosunno," said the money-lender, in slow and 
 emphatic tones, " if you venture to raise as much as a 
 finger against my most excellent and honoured friend 
 Piamanath Gossain, or any of his family, I shall murder 
 you myself, and throw your body to be devoured by the 
 jackals of Panch Pahar." 
 
 The lawyer started up at this unexpected intima- 
 tion, and scanned the mahajan's face anxiously, to see 
 whether he was speaking in jest or in earnest. But 
 Three Shells' countenance wore a look of grim deter- 
 mination, which showed that he was not to be trifled 
 with, and so the lawyer could only bow his head 
 silently in token of assent. 
 
 "And hark ye, Prosunno," continued the money-
 
 132 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 lender, " you will go out into the bazaar and take steps 
 to stifle all gossip about this affair of Krishna Chandra 
 Gossain. Wheu you hear a trader speak an evil word 
 of the lad or his father, you will ask them if they are 
 desirous that I should reclaim my money, principal and 
 interest, at a day's warning. You will give everybody 
 to understand, moreover, tliat the priest and I are 
 greater friends than ever, and that if they offend liim 
 they offend me beyond forgiveness. You will take 
 heed to do all this, Prosunno, and what is more, you 
 will contrive that the priest shall learn all that I am 
 doing in his behalf" 
 
 Prosunno acquiesced by a gesture, and the money- 
 lender went on : — 
 
 " For the insult you offered him to-day at the temple 
 you will apologise upon your knees, and render, besides, 
 any other atonement that the priest may desire. Shall 
 I have to order twice ? " he added, as Prosunno showed 
 his unwillingness by an impatient gesture ; but the 
 lawyer hurriedly raised his hands to his forehead in 
 token of submission, "It is well; and now attend 
 to your other instructions. I wish to know in whose 
 hands Eamanath Gossain has placed a sealed packet of 
 great importance. You will make private inquiries 
 until you liave found out this, Prosunno, and when 
 you have discovered it you will instantly let me know. 
 Go now, and return to-morrow at sunrise and report 
 the news of the bazaar." 
 
 The lawyer rose, and after salaaming almost to the
 
 THREE SHELLS CONVERSION. 133 
 
 ground, was slouching out of tlie house when the 
 money-lender's voice recalled him. 
 
 " Stay, Prosunno," said Three Shells : " I believe I 
 could have you transported for life to the Andamans if 
 I pleased. Forgery aggravated by perjury is punished 
 by the Magistrate Sahib in that way, isn't it ? Ah ! I 
 thought so : but it is not enough — I must be able to 
 hang you, Prosunno — d'ye hear, to hang you ? Not that 
 1 would do it, for you are much too useful to me for 
 that ; but I must have you in my power. However, 
 we can devise some means for arranging that after- 
 wards. Go now, Prosunno — go in peace." 
 
 Prosunno staggered forth from the money-lender's 
 house with these terrible words ringing in his ears. 
 He was faint and sick at heart, and would have been 
 hardly able to walk the length of his own house had not 
 his bosom friend Protap, the accountant, been passing 
 that way and lent him assistance. Prosunno gave out 
 that he had been suddenly taken ill on his way home 
 from the temple, and said nothing of his having been at 
 the money-lender's. He was indeed ill, but it was in 
 mind, and not in body : and he kept his house for the 
 remainder of the day, soothing his feelings by beating 
 his wife Dossee on the pretence of the rice at breakfast- 
 time having been over-seasoned with chillies, and rack- 
 ing his brains as to the real purport of his late conver- 
 sation with the usurer. 
 
 Three Shells still sat where Prosunno had left him, 
 agitated by a torrent of contending passions. The
 
 134 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 temporary relief which he had experienced in the law- 
 yer's humiliation soon died away, and the remembrance 
 of his interview with the priest, of Eamanath's threats, 
 and of the dangerous position in which he had placed 
 himself, came back with all its terrors. At the very 
 height of his prosperity, at the time when he fancied 
 himself most secure from recognition, the Nemesis of 
 his past life had swooped down upon him, and borne 
 him off to the dizzy verge of ruin. "Well might Tliree 
 Shells recoil from looking over into the dark abyss 
 of the calamitous future, for pale ghosts hungry for 
 vengeance were hovering under, ready to seize him, 
 and the weight of former crimes hung heavily about 
 him to accelerate his fall. He burrowed his head 
 among the cushions of the couch as if he would hide 
 himself from memory, but his restless spirit gave him 
 no peace. At last, as if struck by a sudden idea, he 
 sprang to his feet, and tearing open an almira (cup- 
 board) he took from it another hookha and filled it 
 from a parcel of dried-hemp leaves ; and sitting down 
 again, began to smoke furiously. As the fumes of the 
 ganja mounted to his head, the pale agony of the 
 money-lender's features changed to an expression of 
 settled savage ferocity, and he clenched his fists and 
 struck angrily at the side of the couch as if he were 
 assailing an enemy. He was rapidly becoming intoxi- 
 cated, and as his spirits rose the sense of danger 
 lessened, and he became more able to lay plans for 
 saving himself. Eamanath was the only man in
 
 THREE SHELLS CONVERSIOX. 135 
 
 Dhupnagar who possessed the power of harming him, 
 and if he could be removed, and the sealed packet of 
 which he had spoken secured, Three Shells might face 
 the Magistrate Sahib as calmly as any man in Dhup- 
 nagar. But how was this to be accomplished? There 
 were difficulties in the way of no ordinary magnitude, 
 and the money-lender felt that he must go cautiously 
 to work. 
 
 " And this is the justice and providence of the gods ! " 
 said Three Shells to himself, angrily. " I do not believe 
 that there was a more religious man in Dhupnagar, or 
 a more respectable, than I was until this morning. I 
 gave more money to the Liuga than any one in the 
 village, and I never sent a Brahmin from the door 
 without a bellyful. And this is my reward. I am 
 compelled to become as bad as ever, or my life is not 
 worth a four-anna bit. The gods never give a man a 
 chance in this world, and what's the use of spending 
 money on their worship ? Why, it is not longer than 
 two days ago that I gorged a Kanouje Brahmin with 
 curds and sweetmeats until the rogue was not able 
 to crawl out of the courtyard from sheer surfeit four- 
 and-twenty hours after, and this is my reward ! But 
 I'll none of that trusting in them longer. I'll save 
 myself by killing that cursed priest ; and then, when 
 once I am safe, may dogs devour me if ever I spend as 
 much as another cowrie upon temple or priest ! But 
 softly. Three Shells; keep weU with the gods until you 
 are in sure ground : it will be time enough to turn your
 
 136 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 back upon them when you are out of this scrape, i 
 must be more pious than ever, and more liberal to the 
 Linga to conceal my intentions towards the priest. I 
 wonder if Kalee would aid me against Eamanath if I 
 prayed her assistance, and gave a costly present to her 
 temple at Bhutpore. I shouldn't wonder, for the god- 
 dess could not be very friendly at heart to so popular 
 a shrine as the Linga and to its priest. But that will 
 take more money. I shall be beggared by this devo- 
 tion. And there are these lazy blackguards eating 
 up all my substance, and doing nothing for it. But 
 I must make them work. It is easy for them to idle 
 so long as they get me to fill their bellies. Qui hye ? 
 (who's there ?) 
 
 "Salaam!" responded a deep voice from a remote 
 apartment ; and in a few minutes a tall muscular 
 Hindustani, with a swarthy face and small lowering 
 forehead, entered the room and saluted the money- 
 lender. 
 
 "Well, Mohun," said the mahajan, making an 
 attempt at affability, "and how is the time passing 
 with you ? You must be dull, Mohun, in these hard 
 times when so little is doing ; it is about time Panchoo 
 and you were thinking of another job." 
 
 " Yes, Baboo," replied Mohun ; "but we were thinking 
 that we had just done enough in this place. Since the 
 affair at Peary Lall's, over the water, the police are keep- 
 ing such a sharp watch upon the country-side, that we 
 may as well walk into the zilla (county) jail at once
 
 THREE shells' CONVERSION. 137 
 
 as show our faces outside after nightfall. Panchoo 
 and I have been thinking of going home to our own 
 country." 
 
 " What ! " cried Three Shells, starting up in wrath ; 
 " going home to your own country without settling the 
 debt of five hundred rupees which you have owed me 
 since you came first to the valley, and the interest, 
 which makes it one thousand two hundred ! Slaves ! 
 shall I have to give the hint to the Dipty Baboo who 
 are the Sonthalis that are plundering in his sub- 
 division ? " 
 
 " Nay, Baboo," said Mohun, composedly, " you will 
 not do that for your own sake. Eemember that it was 
 you who suggested the robberies and received the loot 
 (booty) ; the English Sahibs would be as hard upon you 
 as upon Panchoo and me." 
 
 " Fool ! don't you know that I could purchase my 
 own pardon by informing upon you ? " said the maha- 
 jan, maliciously; "but don't be afraid, Mohun ; I would 
 never try such a trick — that is, so long as you made 
 yourselves obedient and useful to me. But never speak 
 of going away. I shall have such work for you as you 
 little dream of before long, and then you may go back 
 to your country with your waistbands stuffed with gold 
 mohurs. And to show you how friendly I am, I will 
 put you up to a trick. The ryot of Gaogong comes to- 
 day for two hundred rupees which he has borrowed 
 from me. The man is a coward, and his house is hid- 
 den in the jungle, and Panchoo and you will have no
 
 138 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 difficulty ill breaking in and carrying ofT the hag. And 
 as a proof of my liking for you both, I shall only ask 
 the half for my share. There — you won't find such a 
 generous master in every place." 
 
 Mohun salaamed his thanks, but still he seemed 
 dissatisfied. " But one might as well be in prison as 
 shut up here," he grumbled ; " we never get out of 
 doors night or day unless to do mischief. I had rather 
 be with Bhugvan Dass and his men in the jungle than 
 cribbed up here." 
 
 " Tuts, Mohun !" said the mahajan; " keep up your 
 spirits. Bethink you how much better you are under 
 shelter of a good roof, with as much food as you can 
 eat, than shifting for yourselves among the jungles of 
 Panch Pahar, without a full meal once in a week's 
 time. Wait until after nightfall and we shall send 
 along to Button Pal's for a gallon of arrack, and that 
 will make the time pass more merrily ; and now go 
 and prepare Panchoo for his evening's work." 
 
 The man left the room, and Three Shells again re- 
 sumed his pipe oi f/anj'a. He was now more than half 
 intoxicated, and his spirits were as extravagantly high 
 as they had been depressed before. "Who need be 
 afraid when he has such fellows as these in hand," he 
 chuckled, " and can manage them as I can ? That 
 fellow, Mohun, will do anything, if he is only properly 
 worked. He shall kill Ramanath, for I dare not do 
 it myself. No, I could never carry another priest on 
 my conscience ; and then I'll poison Mohun — I don't
 
 THREE SHELLS CONVEESIOX. 139. 
 
 mind that ; there can be no sin in putting such a 
 scoundrel out of the world. Sin ! the gods should 
 reward me for it. And then when all that is settled, 
 I, Three Shells, shall be king of Dhupnagar. I shall 
 foreclose upon the Ghatghar property, and turn that 
 young blackguard of a rajah out neck and heels. I 
 shall build a female school, and make a imlclM (mac- 
 adamised) road between the village and the ferry of 
 the Gungaputra, and get the thanks of Government 
 and the Kumpshiner Sahib (Commissioner) as a model 
 landlord, and perhaps be made a Eae Bahadoor — who 
 knows ? Then where wovild Kristo find such a matcli 
 for his daughter as Baboo Tincowry Dass Eae Bahadoor, 
 the zemindar of Ghatghar ? Oh ho ! I trow they will 
 lick their lips at me then ; and Ramanath will salaam 
 to the ground, and come to meet me at the gate when- 
 ever I go near his temple. But stay, Eamanath will 
 not be there ; where will he be ? Ah, let me see : he 
 will be killed. And I will build a temple — such a 
 temple ! the Linga's temple would not be a kitchen to 
 my temple. What's that ? Is that the Linga standing 
 there in the middle of the floor ? I'll just say my pray- 
 ers -before it and go home. Can't think what is become 
 of Eamanath this afternoon. Oh, I know now ; he 
 is killed — killed — ay, killed by the South al dakaits. 
 Well, I must just say my prayers without him. Obei- 
 sance, obeisance to the glorious, the everlasting 
 Siva, whose alms-dish is a skull ! But stay, there's a 
 priest : gods ! it's the priest of Lootna, and his breast
 
 140 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 is all bloody. Gopi ! ^lohun ! Panchoo ! save me ! 
 save me from him ! " 
 
 The mahajan fell forward upon the floor in an agony 
 of drunken sickness, and Mohun and Panchoo, alarmed 
 by his outcries, entered the room and laid him to sleep 
 upon tlie couch. These worthies improved the occa- 
 sion by searching for some key to the place where the 
 money-lender kept his treasures ; but Three Shells was 
 too experienced a person not to have taken due pre- 
 cautions against any such accidents. They rummaged 
 the raahajan's room from top to bottom, and found 
 nothing worth pillaging except a small bottle of French 
 brandy, which at once approved itself to their palates, 
 and with which they retired to their own room to drink 
 and play cards until sunset.
 
 THE PRIESTS ZEXAJs^A. 141 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE PRIEST S ZENANA. 
 
 That eventful day passed veiy quietly away in Eama- 
 natli's household. Krishna kept his room in obedience 
 to his father's orders, and no one saw him save old 
 Bechoo, his attendant, who had long been a servant of 
 the house, and who gave himself little trouble about 
 religion or caste. The priest had as yet made no re- 
 marks to the ladies about his son's return, but it was 
 impossible that Krishna could remain long in the house 
 without their knowledge. The Thakoorani was too 
 apathetic to trouble herself about the matter, further 
 than to inquire whether her stepson had brought his 
 usual present of Belatee mithai (European sweetmeats) 
 from Calcutta, a. delicate attention which Krishna had 
 this time unfortunately overlooked in his perplexity. 
 But Chakwi naturally took a deeper interest in the mat- 
 ter. "When the poor girl heard of her husband's return, 
 she put on her finest clothes, and her most costly orna- 
 ments, perfumed herself witli attar of roses and sandal-
 
 142 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 wood powder, and sat down in the zenana to wait for 
 a summons to her husband's presence. But Chakwi 
 waited in vain. Day broke upon her as she sat shiver- 
 ing in the cool morning breezes within an embrasure 
 of the zenana window, her pale cheeks and eyes red 
 with weeping, contrasting sadly with the gay flowers 
 in her hair and the flash of jewels about her dusky 
 neck. She had looked across the court to her hus- 
 band's windows the livelong night, feeding lier eyes 
 upon even his shadow, as he chanced to come between 
 her and the lamp, and listening breathlessly to every 
 footstep that fell upon her ear. 
 
 " He is busy with his books and his learning, and 
 forgets how the time passes," Chakwi kept saying to 
 herself ; " but he will come yet for all that — he will 
 come." But when the light was put out in Krishna's 
 room, the light of hope was also extinguished in Chak- 
 wi's heart. " I had better have been a widow in real- 
 ity," sobbed Chakwi, flinging herself upon a couch in a 
 torrent of tears, " than to be thus tortured with false 
 hopes. It were better I had never loved at all, than to 
 have my love thus put to scorn." 
 
 Still Chakwi hoped against hope, and sat through 
 the long dark watches praying the gods that her hus- 
 band's love might be inclined towards her. Surely he 
 could not be so heartless as to desert her altogether. 
 Was she not his wife, and as such lawfully entitled to 
 claim his love ? Why, the very Brahmins would take 
 her part if she were to complain to them ; but it was
 
 THE PEIESTS ZENANA. 143 
 
 love freely tendered from the heart, and not a forced 
 show of affection, that Chakwi pined for. Had Krishna 
 become enamoured of some Calcutta damsel, that he 
 thus continued to slight his wife ? Surely she herself 
 was not so ugly that he need loathe her; and if a 
 warm heart could make any husband happy, Krishna 
 need not seek after strange women. Hark ! that was 
 a step coming in this direction. Such a firm elastic 
 tread could only belong to Krishna ; and Chakwi began 
 to tremble, and put her hand upon her side to help her 
 to breathe ! Poor fool ! it was only Eamanath going 
 to bed — slow-footed and heavy-hearted enough, doubt- 
 less. Surely that was Krishna's door that creaked. 
 A long breathless pause, — until a repetition of the noise 
 shows that it came only from a loose Venetian on the 
 opposite verandah. She counts the howls of the jackals 
 prowling about the compound, hoping that he would 
 come before she counted fifty — a hundred — two hun- 
 dred — a thousand. At last, at last, he comes ! She 
 would have known his step among the tread of an 
 army, said Chakwi to herself, as she sprang up and stood 
 with clasped hands in the middle of the room shivering 
 with anxiety. Alas I it is only poor old Doorgee, the 
 dhye (waiting- woman), whose rheumatismkeeps her from 
 rest at night, hobbling along the passage. But still 
 Chakwi hoped on, and waited on, until the flush of the 
 false dawn lightened the court for a few minutes, and 
 she knew that morning was at hand. " I wish I were 
 dead," said Chakwi ; " I wish he were dead, and I would
 
 144 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 make myself 5rt^i for him, though all the Sahibs in Ben- 
 gal tried to keep me from the pile, and then he could 
 not help loving me in heaven. Oh me ! but my heart 
 is sore;" and the poor weary watcher laid her head 
 against the cold damp wall, and in a few minutes had 
 forgotten her sorrows in sleep. 
 
 But her slumbers did not last long. Already the 
 sun was up and sliining fiercely into the window, and 
 Chakwi, mindful of her household duties, sprang to her 
 feet. She pushed back the thick black tresses which 
 hung in dishevelled locks about her face and neck ; 
 she took the white rosebuds, now, alas ! faded and 
 shrivelled like her own hopes, from her hair, and put 
 them into a little vase of water, that they might per- 
 chance revive a little ; and she stealthily divested her- 
 self of her rich dress and jewellery, and slipped on the 
 simple white muslin raiment which she ordinarily wore. 
 It was less easy to remove those tell-tale traces of tears 
 which clung to her cheeks and eyelids, defying alike 
 water and towel. But Ramanath was in no mood that 
 morning to notice Chakwi's appearance, and when he 
 had saluted her in his usual affectionate way, he took 
 up the offerings and went away to tlie temple. It was 
 with a heavy heart that Chakwi set about the ordering 
 of the house and the preparation of the morning meal ; 
 but labour lightens sorrow, and she tried so zealously 
 to engross herself in the work, that the servants won- 
 dered at her unusual sharpness and activity, and im- 
 puted her briskness to joy at her husband's return.
 
 THE PraESTS ZENANA. 145 
 
 After breakfast Cliakwi went to her own room and 
 sent for old Doorgee, her nnrse, to whom alone the 
 girl could freely open her heart. But Doorgee could 
 tell her nothing about what she most wished to know, 
 although the old woman shook her head and said that 
 all could not be right, for Krishna Baboo was strictly- 
 confined to his own rooms and saw nobody but Bechoo, 
 his attendant. Was there any other news in town ? 
 the girl had asked, half dreading to hear that Krishna 
 had come home to marry Kristo Baboo's beautiful 
 daughter, for she knew the village gossips had talked 
 of such a match. Doorgee, however, could tell her 
 nothing, though she thought there was something un- 
 usual going on by the stir about the village green ; but 
 she was just going into the bazaar to buy rice, and 
 would give her young mistress all the news on her 
 return. 
 
 AVhile Doorgee trotted away upon her errand, 
 Chakwi again attempted to forget her cares in bustling 
 about the house. She had seen that the breakfast that 
 morning had contained a large supply of those dishes 
 which she knew to be her husband's favourites, and 
 had made Bechoo take him a quantity large enough to 
 satisfy two men of moderate appetites. She went her- 
 self to the tank and drew a pitcher of cool water from 
 the shady side upon which the sun's rays had not yet 
 fallen, and wrapping a wet napkin round the jar, had 
 set it forth in the sun to cool for her husband's refresh- 
 ment. She might even have carried her complaisance 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 146 THE CITY OF SUNSUIXE. 
 
 SO far as to pour it into the big silver jug called a filter 
 which Krishna had brought home among other new- 
 fangled contrivances, although Chakwi had serious 
 misgivings about the orthodoxy of water prepared in 
 such a fashion ; but then the jug stood in her hus- 
 band's rooms, and there she might not enter unbidden. 
 She would have liked to muster courage enough to 
 question the priest about Krishna, but Kamanath was 
 still at the temple; and so she fidgeted about until 
 Doorgee's return, hiding a heavy heart under an active, 
 cheerful demeanour. She had occasion frequently that 
 morning to pass the windows of her husband's room, 
 and actually saw Krishna standing in an abstracted 
 reverie looking out into the courtyard ; but the young 
 man's thoughts had little connection with the poor 
 girl to whom an untoward fate had linked him. 
 Poor Chakwi ! your misfortunes are but too common. 
 "What cares little Rama for Sita when they are made 
 to take up house together? They were but infants 
 when the bonds of marriage were fastened upon them, 
 and the key of the padlock given to death to keep. Sita 
 is a nice playfellow, but then there is this disadvantage, 
 that she does not go away when Eama gets tired of her. 
 Let them live as turtle-doves or as game-cocks : it is 
 all one under this happy dispensation. Love indeed ! 
 a fico for love if it were not a nice thing to read about 
 
 in a song or a story ; but in real life Is there any 
 
 word of love in the work of ;Manu, king of men, who 
 came down from heaven to dve laws to mortals, and to
 
 THE PRIEST S ZENANA. 147 
 
 set society on its legs ? I trow not. It is only in the 
 pages of crack-brained poetasters like Vyasa and Kali- 
 dass that we read of such an absurdity. The Hindoos 
 are a practical people, let them thank the gods for it, 
 and manage their marriages much better than we silly 
 Englishmen, who leave green heads to settle a matter that 
 would be so much more wisely arranged by grey ones. 
 
 " How shocking is all this ! " says Mrs Mayfair, who 
 has done me the honour to skip thus far over these 
 humble pages ; and who, having married her eldest 
 daughter to Sir Invoyse St Leger, the eminent banker, 
 in spite of Miss Frances's passion for her penniless 
 cousin, Jack Churchmouse the curate, can speak with 
 authority upon the subject. " How I pity these wretched 
 Hindoos and their unhappy marriages ! nothing done 
 to consult the poor things' feelings, nothing left to the 
 heart — no place given to sentiment or affection. It is 
 really so distressing, that I must remember to give a 
 ten-pound note to the India Mission next May meet- 
 ings. I must go to Exeter Hall at any rate, to see that 
 Clara is sufficiently civil to Mr Smelters, the rich iron- 
 master, who has become quite serious of late, and to 
 keep that young pauper Liuesley of the Temple from 
 dangling at her heels. I'm sure the minx must give 
 him some encouragement, or he would never persist so. 
 Ah, well! these poor Hindoos and their unhappy unions 
 . — my heart quite bleeds for them." 
 
 Go now, dear Mrs Mayfair, and drop in your shekel 
 with a clatter upon the plate, that everybody may know
 
 143 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 you don't give a mite when there is good to be done ; 
 or, better far, put your name in a conspicuous place 
 upon the subscription-list, that men may see your good 
 works, &c. Your offering will be blessed — I know it 
 will. 
 
 There is a river in ]\Ioumouth and a river in Mace- 
 don. Bengal and Belgravia both begin witli a B ; and 
 marriage is an institution in both. But to resume: 
 When Chakwi saw Doorgee coming back from the vil- 
 lage as fast as her old legs could bear her, she knew by 
 the nurse's tremulous gait and dejected looks that there 
 was bad news to be told. " It is as I thought," said 
 Chakwi to herself; "he has come to marry Piadha 
 Lahory. Well, it is all one to me whom he marries, 
 for he will never lay his love upon me. And why 
 should I wish him to be miserable as well as myself? 
 It is enough that one should bear the sorrow. But if he 
 would spare me only a little portion of his love, for I 
 will not need it long— I feel that;" and stifling her 
 sobs, Chakwi sat down upon a couch and prepared 
 herself to hear the tidings that Doorgee had to tell her. 
 
 Doorgee unburdened herself of the gossip of the 
 bazaar with very little reserve, told Chakwi that her 
 husband had become both a Christian and a kine- 
 killer, and assured lier that a Panchayat was about to 
 (.■xcomnumicate him for ever from the Brahmin caste. 
 This news was so startling, and so diflerent from what 
 Chakwi had expected, that she hardly knew how to re- 
 ceive it ; but there was one faint gleam of light issuing
 
 THE PRIESTS ZEXAKA. 149 
 
 from the dark cloud, to which the girl eagerly turned 
 her eyes. If Krishna had become a Christian he 
 could never marry Eadha Lahory ; and what prevented 
 her from changing her faith as well as her husband ? 
 She would be put out of caste likewise ; but what was 
 caste to Chakwi, compared with the love and society of 
 her husband ? She might be punished in another life, 
 but she was certain that she would be happy in this one. 
 Chakwi was almost horrified to find how easily she 
 could stifle the scruples of religion by the promptings 
 of love, and she began to fear that some evil spirit 
 must be putting such ideas in her head. 
 
 It was late in the evening when Eamanath came 
 home from the temple, for he had avoided the house 
 all day on purpose that he might not be troubled by 
 his wife and daughter-in-law with awkward questions 
 regarding Krishna's return. The victory over Three 
 Shells and Prosunno had raised the priest's spirits, but 
 he knew that a still more difficult task had to be 
 achieved before he could reclaim his son from heresy. 
 His hopes of success rested chiefly upon the young 
 man's passion for Eadha Lahory, and he was now will- 
 ing to make any sacrifice to bring about the match. 
 The Lahories were of excellent caste, and of as long 
 standing in Dhupnagar as the Gossains themselves : 
 and though they were poor, Krishna had no need to 
 seek for a wealthy wife. He himself would clear off 
 Kristo Baboo's debts, and quietly lend him a hand with 
 the marriage expenses ; and there was little doubt that
 
 150 THE CITY OF SUXSHI>-E. 
 
 Kristo would be glad to get clear of his daughter in so 
 honourable and convenient a fashion. But then there 
 was Chakwi — and the priest's heart sank at the thought 
 that his plans could not be carried out without causing 
 sorrow to his daughter-in-law, for, next to Krishna, 
 Kamauath loved Chakwi better than any one on earth. 
 But what was a woman's tears against the honour of 
 the Gossains, and the prosperity of the Linga of Dhup- 
 nagar? It was, as Ramanath tried to assure himself, 
 a matter of the highest religious importance, in which 
 family affections could not be taken into account ; for if 
 Krishna persisted in his perversion, there was a serious 
 danger that the service of the Linga might be inter- 
 rupted at his own death. True, he might adopt a son, 
 or might even appoint an orthodox Hindoo trustee 
 for the temple worship ; but Eamanath chose rather 
 to ignore these simple remedies, and to assure him- 
 self that the course upon which he had set his mind, 
 was also the one that would be most agreeable to 
 the gods. Besides, many a wife had to put up with 
 the same, and why not Chakwi ? It might even come 
 to pass that Krishna would love her better after his 
 second marriage than ever he had done before. Beauty 
 was only skin-deep ; and when his son was disenchanted 
 of Eadha Lahory's charms, the patient gentleness and 
 pure loving heart of Chakwi could not fail to make 
 an impression upon him. It was right, however, that 
 Chakwi should be protected against the new wife ; and 
 he, Ramanath, would take care that his favourite's
 
 THE PRIESTS ZENANA. 151 
 
 interest came to no harm in the marriage contract. 
 He even made np his mind that the ample dower 
 which Chakwi had brought with her should be placed 
 at her own absolute disposal, and that would enable the 
 poor girl to hold her own in the family against the pen- 
 niless beauty. Many in his position would think such 
 an arrangement to be foolishly liberal, but the Gossains 
 of Dhupnagar were too high-hearted to be mercenary. 
 
 While Eamanath was endeavouring to persuade 
 himself that he was doing everything for the best, and 
 to silence any objections that conscience might suggest 
 upon the score of Chakwi, the door of the room was 
 softly pushed up and Chakwi stood before him. The 
 priest opened his eyes at the change in her personal 
 appearance. She was dressed in a plain white sheet of 
 coarse cotton, her jewels were all laid aside, she had 
 put away her rings and bracelets, she had strewed 
 ashes upon her hair, and had adopted all the other signs 
 of Hindoo widowhood. Her face was deadly pale, and 
 she trembled in every limb as she stood before the 
 priest. Eamanath knew what was coming, and strove 
 to nerve himself for the scene. 
 
 " Chakwi, my daughter, what ails you that you have 
 dressed yourself in these weeds?" said Ramanath, 
 gently, as he drew the girl towards him. " Your 
 friends are all alive and well ; why then should you 
 thus forebode calamity? Eemember that they who 
 sorrow before they need, sorrow always more than 
 there is need."
 
 152 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 " Oh, father ! how can I be but sorrowful," cried the 
 girl, burying her face in the priest's hands, " when 1 
 know not whether I am wife or widow at this moment ? 
 though a widow I have been, and a widow I shall be 
 all the days of my married life. But tell me, father, 
 wliat have they done to my husband ? have they put 
 him out of caste ? " 
 
 " Why should my son be put out of caste ? " asked 
 the priest, evasively. " There are few Brahmins in 
 Dhupnagar that can afford to make light of the caste 
 of a Gossain, far less to refuse him hooklia-imni (smok- 
 ing and drinking)." 
 
 " But has not Krishna fallen away from the gods, 
 and turned a white Christian ? " asked Chakwi, looking 
 up searchingly in the priest's face. 
 
 "The gods forbid," said Ramanath, fervently. 
 " Krishna is no Christian, nor will he ever be one. In 
 the course of a few weeks he will show the world that 
 there is not a better Hindoo in Dhupnagar. Poor 
 girl ! " added the priest, as he recollected at whose ex- 
 pense Krishna's orthodoxy was to be demonstrated ; 
 " would that my boy only knew your worth half as 
 well as I do ! " 
 
 " How, then, did they dare to talk in the bazaar of 
 my husband's perversion, and to speak of exconnnuni- 
 eating him ? " said Chakwi, indignantly. " "What can 
 have made them venture to take such a liberty with 
 our family ? " 
 
 " Evil hearts speak with evil tongues, my daughter ;
 
 THE PRIEST S ZENAXA. 153 
 
 but what has a good girl like you to do with the chat- 
 ter of the old randis * and clieating dealers that meet 
 to make noise in the bazaar? It were as profitable 
 an occupation to listen to the wrangling of two she- 
 parrots. Persons of our caste and station must not 
 heed what the envious rabble says about them." 
 
 " Alas ! then," said Chakwi, " I had almost dared to 
 hope that my husband had been excommunicated, for 
 then I might have gone forth with him, as Sita did 
 with Eama, to cheer and comfort him in his banish- 
 ment. There is no poverty, no trial, no scorn, tliat I 
 would not gladly endure for his sake*; I W(juld follow 
 him through the world like his slave or his dog for 
 only a dog's share of his master's regard. I might 
 have compassed his love in adversity, but in his 
 father's house what wants of his can I supply ? Oh, 
 father ! tell me how I may w4n my husband." 
 
 "The gods help you, Chakwi, my child," said Eama- 
 nath, wiping his eyes with one hand while he em- 
 braced the girl's neck with the other. " It was an evil 
 hour for you when I sought you from your dead father. 
 But cheer up ; all may turn out well yet, for I have 
 a scheme which may melt this stubborn husband of 
 yours, and secure you at least a share of his love. Ask 
 t not what it is," he added, as Chakwi looked up in his 
 face with a glance of eager inquiry, " for I must keep 
 
 * Randi is a term of abuse applied to females. Query, Is it con- 
 nected with the Scotch "randy," to which it exactly answers in 
 meauinK ?
 
 154 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 my own counsel in the matter ; but trust me, my poor 
 little lotus-bud, that I will do all for you a father 
 can do." 
 
 The priest pressed a kiss upon Chakwi's brow, and 
 gently put her out of the room, bolting the door be- 
 hind her. 
 
 " What demon of mischief sent her here to unsettle 
 all my plans just as my mind was fully made up ?" said 
 Eamanath, impatiently. " I believe, if that poor little 
 thing came crying to me, I should break off the mar- 
 riage with Eadha even after I had tabled the money. 
 I cannot think why I should be so foolishly soft- 
 hearted. Now my dear father — peace be "with liim — 
 would beat his wives until the zenana rang with wail- 
 ing like a burning-ghat at burial-time ; but I could 
 never bear to see a woman cry all my life. The faint- 
 est whimper was always enough to turn my scolding 
 into coaxing, and they can wheedle me out of anything 
 directly they begin to snivel It is a shame that a 
 man should be so weak. I believe I should have done 
 my duty as a husband better, had I made more use of 
 the bamboo ; and yet I never had anything to com- 
 plain of. I w^ould almost as soon give up my life as 
 vex poor Chakwi ; but what can I do ? A marriage 
 with Eadha is my only resource for saving the boy ; 
 and if that fails me, I believe I shall have to turn him 
 out of doors after all." 
 
 Eamanath rose, yawned, and paced up and down the
 
 THE PRIESTS ZENANA. 155 
 
 room two or three times with the air of a man who has 
 quite made up his mind. "I had better go to bed 
 now," he muttered. "The Thakoorani will be sleep- 
 ing, that is one comfort, and I shall not be bothered 
 with her queries. I used to grumble at her drowsi- 
 ness, but it is an ill quality that is not serviceable 
 sometimes."
 
 Iii6 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE DUTY CATCHES AN IDEA. 
 
 In the centre of the town of Gapshapganj stands a 
 large prison-looking building, distinguished by some 
 pretensions to architecture from the aiicJia houses and 
 mud huts which surround it. The doorway is guarded 
 by a Bengalee policeman, in red turban and faded 
 blue jacket, who slopes his baton over his shoulder 
 with an imposing air of authority. Other members of 
 the force, in a deshabille approaching more or less 
 nearly to perfect nudity, lounge or loll about the 
 doorway. It is here where the deputy-magistrate 
 for the subdivision of Gapshapganj and Dhupnagar 
 holds his court; and the groups of people that we 
 see pressing round about the door are lawyers with 
 their clients, suitors or complainants, who have come 
 in from the country with their pieces of stamped 
 paper, to seek for justice at the feet of that Xoushirwan 
 of the nineteenth century, our old friend Baboo Preo- 
 nath Dass, " the Dipty." The Dipty is the great man
 
 THE DIPTY CATCHES AN IDEA. 157 
 
 of Gai)shapgaiij, and the amla or officials of his 
 court are persons of scarcely less consideration. That 
 fat consequential-looking native who elbows his way- 
 through the throng with so little ceremony is the 
 nazir or sheriff, who receives as many salaams as 
 might have sufficed for the Padshah of Delhi. Here 
 stands the court interpreter, listening with half-closed 
 eyes and vacant countenance to the pitiful tale of 
 wrong and oppression which a poor ryot pours into 
 his ear, in the hope of securing a friend in court when 
 his complaint is taken up. Chaprassis, or belted 
 messengers, are bustling in and out of the court-house, 
 summoning now one and then another of the litigants. 
 Smug-faced and sharp-eyed Bengalee lawyers are there 
 in plenty, handling their bundles of papers, declaim- 
 ing among themselves in loud tones, and now and 
 then stopping to whisper into a client's ear. Notice 
 among others our friend Prosunno, standing in eager 
 converse with a wealthy landlord from the Dhupnagar 
 valley. Prosunno is held in great estimation by the 
 landlords of the district for his cleverness in rebutting 
 their tenants' charges of rack-renting and oppression, 
 and for the command which he always has of ex- 
 culpatory evidence. Less successful pleaders did not 
 hesitate to say that Prosunno gave more employment 
 to the professional perjurers who skulked about in 
 the vicinity of the court-house, than all the other 
 lawyers in Gapshapganj put together. But all suc- 
 cessful men have to put up with calumnies ; and so
 
 158 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 long as his witnesses were unchallenged by the magis- 
 trate, Prosunno did not trouble himself about such 
 aspersions. 
 
 Inside the court-house a more animated scene was 
 going on. Upon the bench, a railed-iu platform raised 
 a few feet above the level of the ground, sat Preonath 
 in all the dignity of a deputy-magistrate. Before him 
 sat or stood half-a-dozen of court officials, clerks, or 
 police inspectors, each endeavouring to make as much 
 noise as he could under pretence of keeping silence in 
 court. In one corner some half-dozen decree-holders 
 were asssailing a clerk for documents ; and the official 
 on his part was enumerating all obstacles, possible and 
 impossible, in the way of making out the papers, in 
 the hope of extracting a fee from tlie pockets of the 
 impatient litigants. Preonath's court was no excep- 
 tion in respect of venality to other tribunals of the 
 same grade. Silver was the " open sesame " to every 
 official's good graces, from the old registrar to the 
 latest - appointed policeman ; and if Preonath was 
 above temptation, it was because he knew that honesty 
 was the best policy for a man in his position, and not 
 on account of any abstract scruples about the purity of 
 public justice. Jaddoo, the late "expectant," stood 
 with folded arms behind his master's chair, grave 
 and dignified as became a paid orderly and a member 
 of the uncovenanted Civil Sen-ice. A belt and badge 
 had now repaid the bruises which the enraged villagers 
 of Dhupnagar had inflicted upon him as a tale-beai'er.
 
 THE DIPTY CATCHES AN IDEA. 159 
 
 Jaddoo was now Preonath's head orderly, an office which 
 was most conveniently filled by the man who had the 
 least scruple about doing dirty work, and who could 
 best forward any private objects that the magistrate 
 might have in view for the time being. There were 
 several circumstances which had recommended Jad- 
 doo to the magistrate's notice. He was not only a 
 poor relation — for there was some cousinship between 
 Jaddoo's father and old Earn Lall, the oilman — but 
 he was the stanchest and most ingenious liar in the 
 whole of the subdivision. Jaddoo's brother, more- 
 over, was a servant in the house of Kristo Baboo ; 
 and the Dipty, who took into account every circum- 
 stance that might advance his suit for -Eadha, had 
 calculated upon Jaddoo's connection being convertible 
 to his advantage. 
 
 To-day Preonath is engaged in police business. 
 Here is old Gangooly, the headman of Dhupnagar, 
 come to report another aggravated robbery within 
 his jurisdiction. The tenant of Gaogong — a spare, 
 hard-faced farmer, who, unused to the presence of 
 justice, keeps well in the rear of the headman, and 
 seldom ventures to speak louder than a whisper — was 
 robbed last night of two hundred rupees ; and his wife 
 and daughter had lost all their jewellery. By the 
 mouth of his spokesman, Gangooly, the ryot deponed 
 that he and all his family had been sleeping, when 
 two robbers burrowed a hole through the mud walls 
 of his cottage, and one had seized him by the throat
 
 160 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 and held him down, while the other rifled the house, 
 and stripped the terrified women of their ornaments. 
 When the robbers liad taken everytliing of value, 
 they went away swearing that they would shoot any 
 one who dared to lift a head before sunrise, and the 
 ryot and his family had lain in bed expecting every 
 minute to be murdered, until daylight came in, when 
 the head of the house had gone to Gangooly and re- 
 ported the robbery. Gangooly and the Dhupnagar 
 policemen, two venerable watchmen of the Dogberry 
 and Verges type, testified that they had gone to Gao- 
 gong, and examined the hole through which the 
 thieves had entered ; that they had found no other 
 traces of them there or anywhere else ; and that they 
 had no hope of being able to discover the depredators 
 but in his worship's wisdom, which was like that of 
 Yrihaspatti, the teacher of the gods, and in his judg- 
 ment, which was as a turner's lathe making all things 
 even ; adding thereto many flattering compliments to 
 the magistrate's learning and sagacity. Then began 
 the cross-examination. It was the magistrate's cue 
 to bully the village authorities into some admission 
 which would give his officers ground to work upon, 
 and the village police in their turn did all they could 
 to shift the responsibility from their own shoulders. 
 
 How could the complainant be sure that there were 
 exactly two hundred iiipees in the bag ? was the first 
 question put by the Court, 
 
 Sure ! how could the complainant be otherwise than
 
 THE DIPTY CATCHES AN IDEA. 161 
 
 sure ? Had he not the very day before hypothecated 
 his crop of betel and two oxen to the worthy Baboo 
 Three Shells, the money-lender, that he might raise 
 the expenses of his son's betrothal ? Sree Krishnajee ! 
 why should he tell a falsehood ? lying would not bring 
 back his money. 
 
 "And you suspect nobody, Mr Headman? Come 
 now, no trifling with me," said the Dipty, who never 
 missed an opportunity of hectoring the archon of his 
 native village. " Is there no one in Dhupnagar who 
 was likely to have done this ? EecoUect your duty to 
 the Government, and do not attempt to .screen your 
 townsmen." 
 
 Gangooly called the waters of the Ganges and the 
 holy Linga of Dhupnagar to witness that he was not 
 the man to conceal an offender or to trifle with the 
 administration of justice. But who was there in 
 Dhupnagar that would have done such a thing ? The 
 Huzoor (honour-magistrate), who well knew the people 
 of his native town — and surely Dhupnagar was hon- 
 oured in being the birthplace of so wise, so dis- 
 tinguished, so beneficent a ruler — knew also that 
 there was no one there who would plunder a neigh- 
 bour's house. 
 
 "And was there nothing about these robbers that 
 could serve to identify them ? " asked the Dipty, 
 turning towards the complainant, " Can't you tell 
 us something about their appearance or their voice 
 that would lead to their detection?" 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 162 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 Tlie farmer of Gaogong whispered into Gangooly's 
 ear that he had been too frightened to look at them. 
 Their faces were muffled up, as lie thought, and th^ 
 one who spoke did not speak like a Bengalee. His 
 tongue was like that of an up-country man. 
 
 "An up-country man. I suppose you mean a 
 Hindustani or a ]\Iussulman," said Preonath, his face 
 lighting up with a gleam of spiteful intelligence as he 
 eagerly caught at the remark. " Think again, Head- 
 man ; are there no IMussulmans about Dhupnagar who 
 could have committed this robbery ? " 
 
 Gangooly again called the gods to testify that there 
 were no thieves in Dhupnagar, The only IMussul- 
 mans in the village were Shamsuddeen Khan the 
 Subadar, and his family ; and the gods forbid that the 
 magistrate's slave should say a word against a man 
 who stood so high in the favour of the English Sahibs, 
 although he was a kine-killer. There were turbulent 
 and evil-disposed Mussulmans in the retinue of the 
 Nawab of Panch Pahar; but the ferrj^man on the 
 Gungaputra swore that no one had crossed the river 
 that night, so they could not have been the offenders. 
 If Gangooly, the humblest of the magistrate's menials, 
 might-be permitted to make a representation, he would 
 say that the robbery was doubtless committed by 
 Sonthals from beyond the passes of Panch Pahar, 
 who had so often molested the peaceable people of 
 the valley. 
 
 P>ut the Dipty had got hold of an idea and would
 
 THE DirXY CATCHES AN IDEA. 163 
 
 not willingly abandon it. "What sort of men are 
 the Subadar's family? Are they all regular, well- 
 disposed persons, or are there any badmashes (black- 
 guards) about "Walesbyganj who bear a troublesome, 
 unruly character, and who would be likely to want 
 money? Come now, headman, give me a straight- 
 forward answer." 
 
 Gangooly hummed and hawed, blushed up to his 
 eyes, and then turned pale. He knew that it was 
 running a great risk to tamper with the reputation of 
 the Subadar and his son, and he knew also that there 
 were many facts which circumstantial evidence could 
 twist to the disadvantage of young Afzul Khan. But 
 it was hard that a peaceable man like him should 
 be thus innocently embroiled with a truculent young 
 swash-buckler like the Subadar's son. 
 
 " A liar's face is black, but the man who speaketh 
 truth shall prosper," said the proverbial Gangooly in 
 desperation, when he saw that the Dipty was not to 
 be put off with evasions ; " and the Muhammadan's son 
 is an up-handed youth, who drives us Hindoos before 
 him as if we were dogs or lepers. He is, moreover, 
 a spendthrift and a waster, for he gambles with the 
 Nawab of Panch Pahar, and frequents the company 
 of naughty women. But how could it be otherwise ? 
 Man or beast will after kind, and the leopard will as 
 soon cease to thirst for blood as the Mussulman to 
 give over oppression. But remember, Dipty Sahib, 
 that I have not said anything against the youth in
 
 1G4 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 this matter of the robbery, for the man who secretly 
 slanders his neighbour, sows brambles which will 
 entangle him as he returns the same way." 
 
 " That is as much as to say that you are kept from 
 speaking your mind through fear of this Afzul Khan. 
 Now hear me, Mr Headman ; these robberies are 
 bringing the subdivision into disrepute, and the Magis- 
 trate Sahib has given a huTchm (order) that they must 
 be put down. You have confessed that there is a dis- 
 reputable young man in the village, and you hint also 
 that you are afraid to say what you know of him be- 
 cause of bodily injury which might be done to you on 
 that account by this Afzul Khan. Kow no magistrate 
 could tolerate such a state of things ; and I warn you 
 that, unless you give me some certain information re- 
 garding these thefts, another headman will have to be 
 appointed to Dhupnagar." 
 
 " My fathers have been headmen of Dhupnagar since 
 the English Sahibs obtained the stewardship of Bengal, 
 Behar, and Orissa, but it must be as the gods will it," 
 said Gangooly, beginning to whimper. " I have always 
 tried to be a faithful servant to the Government and 
 my townsfolk, and it is no shame to a man tliat he is 
 not a seer. Question on them, your honour, and I will 
 tell you everything I know against the lad." 
 
 In a short time all the evil reports that scandal had 
 ever breathed of young Afzul Khan were wormed out 
 of the timorous headman, who between the fear of the 
 Subadar's vengeance and the threat of losing his office.
 
 THE DIPTr CATCHES AN IDEA. 165 
 
 "was in a state of no ordinary perplexity. He saw 
 clearly that the Dipty was anxious to get up a case 
 against the young Muhammadan, and though he was 
 quite certain that Afzul had no connection with the 
 thefts, he knew also that his irregular habits and law- 
 less bearing gave some colour of likelihood to suspi- 
 cion against him. So he raked up the old stories about 
 the ryot of Milkigauj's daughter, and other scandals of 
 the same type, the beating of Three Shells, the orgies 
 at Panch Pahar, Afzul's visits to the shop of Eutton 
 Pal, the spirit-seller, and his riotous and unseemly car- 
 riage on foot and on horseback by street and by high- 
 way, and the offence which was thereby given to the 
 decent and orderly lieges of Dhupnagar, Preonath 
 knew all those stories before, for his father Eam Lall 
 kept him well posted up in the gossip of his native 
 town ; but he shook his head with an air of sad gra- 
 vity as the headman repeated each successive enormity, 
 and made frequent entries in the note-book which lay 
 open before him upon the desk. 
 
 " It is really a very serious and deplorable case," 
 said the Dipty, shaking his head with an afiectation of 
 melancholy solemnity, " when a young man of respect- 
 able parentage and considerable substance embarrasses 
 himself by extravagance and improper conduct, so that 
 to maintain his pleasures he is obliged to resort to un- 
 lawful means of obtaining money. There is no crime 
 so wicked, no deed so audacious, that such a person 
 will not be tempted to commit. Nay, even the law
 
 IGG THE CITY OF SUN'SHIXE. 
 
 itself, in the persons of its officers, they will contemptu- 
 ously set at defiance," added the Dipty, indignantly, as 
 he remembered how Afzul had ridden himself down 
 at the Pagoda Tope. " 1 know nothing of this young 
 man — it is probable that I may never have set my 
 eyes upon him ; but from what this worthy headman 
 has deponed, I have no hesitation in saying that he is 
 a most suspicious and dangerous character." 
 
 A murmur among the amla and the lawyers ap- 
 plauded the Dipty 's eloquence and the justice of his 
 remarks. A queer twinkle might have been observed 
 in the eyes of Jaddoo as he stood behind the magis- 
 trate's chair, for the astute orderly had no difficulty in 
 conjecturing why his master should be so anxious to 
 get up a case against the Muhamniadan. The Dipty 
 had taken no further notice of his rencontre with Afzul 
 at the Pagoda Tope, but he was not the man to dismiss 
 an insult thus readily from his recollection. 
 
 " As yet I see no grounds for proceeding against the 
 suspected party," continued the Dipty, " but it is a 
 great matter to have got a clue. "We must give this 
 Muhammadan and, his accomplices their swing for a 
 AvhUe, Mr Headman, and keep a strict watch upon all 
 his movements. AVhen he goes out at night you or 
 your policemen must keep him constantly in sight, 
 and come to me next day with a report. If this be 
 done we shall soon put a stop to these robberies, and 
 have the thieves fast in Bhutpore jaiL"
 
 THE DIPTY CATCHES AN IDEA. 167 
 
 But Gangooly had another protest to make. Did his 
 honour the Dipty think that he and his policemen had 
 wings, that they could keep sight of the swiftest horse 
 and the fastest rider in all the country ? The only horse 
 among them was his own pony, which only went four 
 miles an hour, except when Lutchmun was behind 
 with a stick to belabour it, when it could manage five. 
 Why, even Eversley Sahib Bahadoor could not ride so 
 fast as the Muhammadan, and how could they be ex- 
 pected to keep him in sight ? His honour the Dipty 
 should bethink himself how such orders were to be 
 executed ; for as the law said, " He that devised impos- 
 sible tasks for another devised only " 
 
 " Now, headman, don't argue with me," interrupted 
 Preonath, angrily ; " it has been evident to me from 
 the first that you are some way interested in screen- 
 ing this malefactor. But mark what I tell you : if 
 you do not get me a conviction for these thefts be- 
 fore the month is out, there Mill be a change in the 
 headmanship of Dhupnagar." 
 
 "The gods' will be done," said Gangooly, sulkily; 
 " a man can do but his begt. My fathers have been 
 headmen of Dhupnagar since the British got the 
 stewardship of Bengal, Behar, and Orissa, and they 
 were never asked to run against a race-horse." 
 
 The Dipty struck his desk with his clenched fist, 
 and was making an angry rejoinder, when a breathless 
 messenger dashed into the court, covered with sweat and
 
 (mferHjy, lee fii^il 
 
 lac fflEEBBoB t fflnrp ffiiiifmlUM a ^b tffllC 
 9B) tffloElit 9u* .
 
 170 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 from the nearest policeman. Brijo, the perjurer "in 
 largest practice," made off for the jungle as fast as he 
 could; sweepers were sent ofl" to clean and water the 
 streets ; and everybody in Gapshapganj could see by 
 the bustle and hubbub about the court-house that the 
 " Big Sahib " had come to the village.
 
 EYERSLEY S.IHIB. 171 
 
 CHAPTEK XL 
 
 EYEKSLEY SAHIB. 
 
 Mr Eyersley, the Collector of the Gungaputra district, 
 was an official of a type that has almost passed away. 
 He had been brought up in the strictest traditions of 
 the Haileybury school, and had adhered through all 
 his life to the conservative principles of " old civilian- 
 ism." His deepest conviction was that the service was 
 " going to the devil," and that every fresh change which 
 was made in its constitution was merely an extra ac- 
 celeration to its downward progress. "When the " com- 
 j)etition wallah " came in, Eversley foresaw certain ruin 
 to the English interests in India ; and to this day he 
 firmly believes that the introduction of the new system 
 was mysteriously connected with the Sepoy IMutiny, 
 which followed after a short interval. " Competition 
 wallahs ! " he was wont to exclaim ; " as well put the 
 country under a commission of schoolmasters at once. 
 But we'll lose the country with all this Greek and 
 Latin ; take my word for it, we'll soon lose the couu-
 
 172 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 try." Mr Eversley \vas very sparsely imLucd with 
 these classical languages, aud his contemporaries at 
 Haileybury say that it was a marvel how the Court of 
 Directors ever allowed him to come out to India at all. 
 He had never been able to make a hexameter in the 
 whole course of his life, and there is grave reason to 
 doubt that he was ignorant of even the barest elements 
 of the Greek accidence. But he had acquired a mar- 
 vellous colloquial familiarity with the Eastern ver- 
 naculars, and he knew the habits and feelings of the 
 Bengalees better than any other officer in the Lower 
 Provinces. He could cross - examine a ryot in the 
 patois of his own village, and repay with interest the 
 slang of a bazaar shopkeeper. There was no chance of 
 Eversley falling into such a blunder as that which was 
 laid to the charge of Muffiugtou Prig, the magistrate 
 of the neighbouring district of Lallkor, who once, in 
 taking the deposition of a witness in a criminal case, 
 had expressed his displeasure that evidence of such 
 importance should be given on the authority of a 
 third person, and ordered the police to take care that 
 " Fidwi " should be brought before him.* But for all 
 that, Mr Muffington Prig was a rising man in the 
 service, and had obtained as much promotion in 
 twelve years' time as Eversley had in twenty. True, 
 
 * Mr Muffington Prig's little mistake is a well-known Indian joke. 
 The witness in a respectful way gave his evidence in tlie third person, 
 saying instead of "I saw," or "I heard," " /'a/id (your slave) saw 
 or heard this or that."
 
 EVERSLEy SAHIB. 173 
 
 he never could understand what a Bengalee said to 
 him ; he could no more sit a horse than he could have 
 ridden upon a griffon ; and his enemies even whis- 
 pered — for the charge was too serious a one to be 
 openly advanced — that he had once in a sporting mood 
 gone out " pig-shooting," the enormity of which offence 
 could only be paralleled by the butchery of a fox in an 
 English hunting county. But then he wrote leaders 
 in the ' Bengal Peon ; ' he was known to be the author 
 of at least one article in the ' Chowringhee Eeview/ and 
 he had edited an edition of the ' Mofussil Magistrate's 
 Manual ; ' all of which eminent literary undertakings 
 clearly marked him out for advancement. Eversley, 
 on the contrary, had difficulty enough in making decent 
 English of an official report, and pert young under- 
 secretaries at the Bengal office took a delight in girding 
 at his orthography and syntax. Mr Muffington Prig's 
 judgments had been more than once spoken of with 
 high encomiums by Mr Justice Tremor in the Appeal 
 side of the High Court ; but Mr Eversley's law never 
 came before the Bench except to be reprobated. Law- 
 yers complained that he did not know even the rudi- 
 ments of the Codes ; but there was no magistrate in the 
 Lower Provinces whose decisions were received with 
 more general satisfaction, or from whose judgments 
 there were fewer appeals. The magistrate of the 
 Gungaputra's rough and ready way of settling cases 
 was better relished by the natives than the elaborate 
 findings of the Lallkor archon, which were generally
 
 174 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 unintelligible to the suitors until they had fee'd their 
 lawyers to tell them which side had gained. The 
 people knew that Eversley would do what he saw to 
 be right independent of Act or Code, and they had' 
 more confidence in his sense of justice than in the 
 written law. But in spite of all these drawbacks Mr 
 Eversley's name was well mentioned in high places, 
 for the Government knew that he was a trustworthy 
 and energetic officer, who could well be relied upon to 
 meet an emergency. 
 
 It was clearly understood, however, that the magis- 
 trate of the Gungaputra was not a man who was 
 likely to receive further promotion. So far was he 
 from courting favour in Calcutta, that he had never 
 hesitated to non-suit or decide against the Government 
 itself when it came into his court with a weak or an 
 illegal plea, notwithstanding a hint from the Board of 
 Eevenue that the magistracy of Colrapore would likely 
 be soon vacant by death, as it was now nearly six 
 weeks since the present incumbent had taken up his 
 appointment. But neither Colrapore nor Sanger Island 
 would deter Eversley from doing justice when on the 
 Bench, and the Board was fain to leave him alone, for 
 fear of a public outcry. But it was little wonder 
 then though Mr Eversley's official reputation was 
 thrown far into the shade by jNIr jMuffington Prig, for 
 that excellent official had not only never decided 
 against the Government in a single suit, but had al- 
 ways succeeded in showing that the law was clearly
 
 EVEESLEY SAHIB. 175 
 
 in its favour. It only remains to be added that Mr 
 Eversley was a mighty hunter, a pillar of the Tent 
 Club, and a patron of the turf, although he had never 
 betted sixpence upon horse-flesh since he came to 
 India. His exploits among the " wild pigs " were the 
 favourite talk of the Bengal and the United Service 
 Clubs ; and he had shot as many tigers in his time as 
 " Tiger Brown" of the Jungly wallah Cavalry, or Bounce- 
 by of the Toshakana Office, whose feats, moreover, 
 mainly rested upon their own personal assertions. He 
 preserved the tigers in his district as strictly as a 
 Norfolk squire guards his pheasants ; and great was 
 his indignation at the scandalous conduct of Muff. 
 Prig of Lallkor, who determined to stamp out beasts 
 of prey, and had offered a reward of five rupees for 
 every tiger's head brought to his office. When it came 
 out that the artistic natives of Lallkor had taken to 
 the manufacture of tigers' heads, and that Mr Prig had 
 paid away several hundred rupees for clever imitations, 
 composed of glass eyes, bamboo splits, and tiger-skin, 
 Eversley was as much delighted as if he had been pro- 
 moted to a Commissionership. The news of a tiger 
 was the signal for the instant adjournment of the 
 Gungaputra court, no matter how important might 
 be the business before it. Styles, the great wit of the 
 Calcutta bar, used to tell how he had managed Evers- 
 ley when pleading before him in a criminal case, which 
 the magistrate refused to remand to give the prisoner's 
 counsel more time to collect evidence. Styles had
 
 176 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 slipped out of court and given a countryman a rupee 
 to tell the Magistrate Sahib that there was a tiger in 
 the Panch Pahar jungles; and before ten minutes had 
 passed, Eversley was on horseback and galloping down 
 the valley at full speed with a dozen bearers behind him. 
 But then Styles was not always remarkable for veracity 
 when he himself was the hero of his own narrative. 
 
 Everybody salaamed down to the ground as the 
 magistrate entered the Gapshapganj court-house, and 
 the Dipty came down from the Bench and advanced 
 with many bows to welcome his superior officer. Evers- 
 ley gave him his hand, and threw himself unceremoni- 
 ously into a chair, calling out as he sat down for a 
 light to his cigar. Half-a-dozen fire-stands were ob- 
 sequiously proffered, and the magistrate smoked away 
 in silence until the Dipty had adjourned his court 
 and cleared the room of officials. There only remained 
 the Dipty's clerk and old Gangooly with his two 
 watchmen, who had been hustled into a corner when 
 the magistrate's arrival was announced, and who now 
 stood as far away from the great man as possible, 
 anxiously waiting for the Dipty's permission to de- 
 part. The Dipty, however, was too much engrossed 
 in attending to Mr Eversley to be conscious of their 
 presence. " Well, Baboo, and how is work going on ? " 
 the magistrate was saying ; " as many cases upon your 
 files as usual ? This subdivision of yours is more 
 litigious than all the rest of the district put together ; 
 and no wonder, for I am sure that I counted more
 
 EVERSLEY SAHIB. 177 
 
 than a dozen pleaders hanging about your cutcherr?/. 
 I wish to heaven they would not let loose so many 
 blackguards to prey upon the people ! I would rather 
 any day have ten dakaits (highwaymen) than one law- 
 yer in my district." 
 
 " He, he ! your honour is jesting surely," sniggered 
 the Dipty ; " but there are lawyers from Dhupnagar as 
 well as Gapshapganj attending my court ; one of them 
 was pleading before me in an important rent case when 
 your honour arrived." 
 
 " But talking of Dhupnagar," interrupted the ma- 
 gistrate, " what about these robberies ? Something 
 must be done, and that immediately ; for these con- 
 founded papers in Calcutta are crying out about them, 
 and urging the Government to send a special officer 
 to the district. Special officer indeed ! much good 
 would a special officer do in my district. It is that con- 
 founded soor Muffington Prig who wrote that article 
 in the ' Peon.' I know it was : no other fellow could 
 have been so spiteful," added the magistrate sotto voce; 
 and then aloud, " Have you got any clue to the depre- 
 dators yet ? " 
 
 " There was another robbery the night before last at 
 Gaogong," said Preonath. The magistrate uttered an 
 exclamation of annoyance, and began to smoke with 
 short, fierce puffs. 
 
 " And has nothing been discovered yet ? What is 
 the use of your police ? I'll suspend every man Jack 
 of them if they don't get me a conviction within a 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 178 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 week's time. You must stir them up. Baboo — you 
 must stir them up, even if you should have to shut up 
 your court, and go and stay upon the spot until some 
 of these scoundrels are captured." 
 
 " I have received some information to - day," said 
 Preonath, gravely, " which throws suspicion upon a 
 new and altogether unsuspected quarter. The head- 
 man of Dhupnagar tells me that he suspects one Afzul 
 Khan, a son of Shamsuddeen, the retired Subadar." 
 
 " If the humblest slave of the Huzoor — may his 
 lordship live for a thousand years and his favour in- 
 crease in the land ! — might make a respectful represen- 
 tation, he would say that his honour the Dipty Baboo 
 has mistaken his words," interposed old Gangooly, 
 sidling forward into the magistrate's presence with pro- 
 found salaams. 
 
 " What, fellow ! how came you here?" cried Preonath, 
 reddening at the interruption. " The headman, sir, is 
 overawed by the young Mussulman, and it was with 
 the greatest difficulty that I could get any information 
 out of him. I would respectfully suggest, your lionour, 
 that a more efficient headman should be appointed to 
 Dhupnagar." 
 
 " My fathers have been headmen of Dhupnagar 
 since the English Sahibs got the stewardsliip of Ben- 
 gal, Behar, and Orissa," said poor Gangooly ; " but a 
 man cannot see beyond eyeshot, nor hear where there is 
 no sound. The gods know that I am neither diviner 
 nor soothsayer. How, then, can I find out the robbers?"
 
 EVEKSLEY SAHIB, 179 
 
 " By keeping your eyes open and your wits about 
 you, headman, as you will have to do a little better if 
 you wish to remain in your present post," said the 
 magistrate ; " and now. Baboo, tell me what is this 
 about Afzul Khan ? " 
 
 " They will /lat-e it so then," said Gangooly to him- 
 self, with a sigh of resignation, " and the best thing 
 will be to give them their own way, for there is little 
 good comes of contending with one's masters. How- 
 ever, / wash my hands of false witnessing. And, after 
 all, the lad is only a Muhammadan, so it does not 
 matter quite so much whether he gets justice or 
 not;" and consoling himself with this reflection, Gan- 
 gooly held his peace, and allowed the Dipty to re- 
 hearse to Mr Eversley all the articles of impeachment 
 against the character of Afzul Khan. 
 
 The magistrate listened gravely to the various 
 charges. " But all these things," he said, " have no 
 bearing upon the case in point, although they might 
 help to strengthen a suspicion. Tell me, headman, 
 what reason have you for thinking that Afzul Khan is 
 mixed up with these robberies ? " 
 
 " May it please your honour, I did not think that 
 the Subadar's son was a robber," responded Gangooly, 
 brightening up again. " I have always said, as the 
 whole village says, that the robbers are Sonthals from 
 above the passes ; and what can I and my two watch- 
 men do against half-a-score of men armed with axe 
 and spear ? It was his honour the Dipty Baboo who,
 
 180 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 ill the depth of his great wisdom — of which we, his 
 townsmen, may well be proud — discovered that the 
 Muhammadan must be the robber." 
 
 " Indeed ! and what grounds of suspicion have you 
 against him ? " inquired the magistrate, turning a 
 searching glance upon the Dipty. 
 
 " Sir, your honour !" cried Preonath, eagerly, colour- 
 ing up to the eyes in spite of himself, " I told you this 
 man was under intimidation of the Muhammadans. 
 It was with the utmost difficulty that I could draw 
 any information out of him regarding this person's 
 character. Besides, I had a hint from a most respect- 
 able Hindoo in Dhupnagar that the Subadar's family 
 ■was connected with the robberies." 
 
 " And who may this most respectable Hindoo be, 
 pray ? " asked the magistrate, doubtfully, as he began 
 to suspect that the Uipty had some personal interest 
 in criminating AfzuL The aphorism " cui bono " was 
 one of Eversley's few judicial maxims, and it was one 
 that he never lost sight of when dealing with native 
 cases. 
 
 "It was Baboo Kristo Doss Lahory," replied the 
 Dipty, after some hesitation, for he was not sure that 
 Kristo's words would warrant him in putting such a 
 construction upon them. " He said to me that he 
 should not be at all surprised if the Subadar and his 
 son were at the bottom of these robberies the very last 
 time I saw him." 
 
 "Now, Baboo, did you — who are a lawyer, and a
 
 EVEESLEY SAIIIB. 181 
 
 clever one too — actually give heed to what Kristo said 
 of the SuLadar's family ? You know quite well that 
 Kristo has never forgiven Shamsuddeen Khan for ob- 
 taining a part of his family estates, and that there is 
 no ill turn which he would not do the Muhammadan 
 if he could get off with it ; and now, answer me plain- 
 ly and truly, have you any personal quarrel with Afzul 
 Khan ? " 
 
 " What quarrel could I have with him, your hon- 
 our ? " said the Dipty, confidently. " So far as I know, 
 I never saw the man in my life, and I have never 
 heard anything of him except the information which 
 has been lodged against him this morning. I trust 
 you do not think, sir, that though I had any quarrel 
 with him, I should allow it to influence my feelings as 
 a deputy-magistrate ? I am sorry that your honour 
 should have formed so unfavourable an opinion of my 
 character ; " and Preonath put on an air of injured 
 innocence as he looked Mr Eversley full in the face. 
 
 " Well, well, I hope not," said the magistrate, doubt- 
 fully, " but it is best to be careful. And after all," 
 he muttered to himself, " it may be just the Dipty 's 
 officiousness and anxiety to fix the robberies upon 
 some one of another faith." " And what do you pro- 
 pose to do 1" he added aloud ; " how do you intend to 
 act upon this supposed information ? " 
 
 " That will be for your honour to decide," replied 
 the Dipty; " as you consider our suspicions unfounded, 
 I suppose we had better take no further notice of
 
 1S2 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 them. I may, however, venture to remind your hon- 
 our that the officers in the Sonthal Pergunnahs are 
 positive that the robberies were not committed by men 
 from their district. Shall I cancel this information 
 against Afzul Khan ? " 
 
 " No, certainly not," said the magistrate ; " heaven 
 forbid that I should allow my own prepossessions to 
 interfere with the course of justice ! and I would give 
 heavy odds that the lad has no connection with these 
 thefts. I have hunted with him in the Panch Pahar 
 jungles, and I never saw any one that was a scoundrel 
 ride so straight up to a boar." This comment was 
 addressed rather by the magistrate to himself than for 
 the Dipty's edification. " However, just keep a close 
 watch upon him. If he is an honest man he will be 
 none the worse for being under surveillance ; and if he 
 isn't, the sooner we send him to the Andamans the 
 better. But who is to look after him ? Do you mean 
 to intrust the duty to these energetic officials ? " look- 
 ing towards Gangooly and his two ancient assistants. 
 
 " No, sir ; I have an orderly who is a very clever de- 
 tective, and I shall send him to Dhupnagar for this 
 business. I suppose you think that we had better 
 keep the matter secret until our suspicions are veri- 
 fied?" 
 
 "Certainly," returned the magistrate, "for the lad's 
 father's sake, who, at all events, is a most e.tcellent and 
 loyal man. So take care of your tongues, my good fel- 
 lows, when you go back to Dhupnagar, or if I hear of
 
 EVEESLEY SAHIB. 183 
 
 any gossiping about this business, there will be a va- 
 cancy in the village headmanship." 
 
 Gangooly swore by the thousand names of Siva, 
 by the waters of the Gungaputra, and the thrice-holy 
 Linga of Dhupnagar, that not a word should cross the 
 lips of him and his watchmen ; adding, also, that his 
 fathers had been headmen of Dhupnagar since the 
 English Sahibs had obtained " 
 
 " Are there any tigers about Panch Pahar nowadays, 
 headman ? " interrupted the magistrate. 
 
 " By your honour's favour they are all exterminated," 
 said Gangooly, with a low salaam : " the wild beasts of 
 the jungle can no more face your lordship's presence 
 than an antelope can look upon a hunting leopard. The 
 mothers of Dhupnagar tell their children every day how 
 the great ^lagistrate Sahib killed the big man-eating 
 tigress at the Ghatghar ford, five years ago come the feast 
 ofKalee. Dothey not,Hurree? dotheynot,Lutchmun?" 
 
 Hurree and Lutchmun, the aged guardians of the 
 peace of Dhupnagar, bowed almost to the ground, and 
 whispered a chorus to their headman's eulogium on 
 the magistrate's exploits. Mr Eversley sucked his cigar 
 with a mollified air, for even district magistrates are 
 mortal, and the Collector of the Gungaputra was not 
 a little vain of his reputation as a sportsman. 
 
 " Well, headman, I am coming to Dhupnagar in a 
 fortnight, and I shall w^ant some sport upon the other 
 side of the river. You will manage to provide a score 
 or so of beaters for me, won't you ? "
 
 184 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 "Your lordship shall have the whole village, man 
 and child, if you require them," said Gangooly, de- 
 lighted with the commission; "and if any one dares to 
 refuse, I will tie him by the great toes to the small end 
 of a green bamboo, and let him hang there until he 
 learn to reverence the Government." 
 
 "Nay, nay; 'ware the torture clause in the Penal Code," 
 cried Mr Eversley, laughing ; " eight annas a-head will 
 be a more legitimate inducement. And do not forget to 
 keep quiet about Afzul Khan, and to keep a good look 
 about the village until you catch the real culprit." 
 
 Gangooly took his leave delighted with the magis- 
 trate's afifabnity, and promising that his orders should 
 be strictly obeyed ; and the magistrate and the Dipty 
 addressed themselves to the other business of the sub- 
 division. It was not without a purpose that Eversley 
 had conciliated the headman, for he had a sincere regard 
 for Shamsuddeen, and would gladly have spared him 
 any scandal regarding his son. The magistrate men- 
 tally resolved not to confide too much in the Dipty in the 
 matter, but to take an early opportunity of investigat- 
 ing the robberies on the spot ; for Eversley was one of 
 those civilians who had little confidence in the integ- 
 rity of natives, and who had incurred no smaU odium 
 by steadily setting his face against their admission to 
 offices of trust and authority. However, the public ser- 
 vice lost little by Eversley's narrowness ; for liis distrust 
 of his native subordinates only made him far more 
 careful and energetic in the discharge of his own duties.
 
 EVEESLEY SAIIIB. 185 
 
 and less ready to accept evidence at second hand than 
 other officials who were more liberal in their sentiments. 
 
 " If a dog made a pilgrimage to Kasi (Benares), he 
 is still but a dog when he comes back again," said old 
 Gangooly to his two henchmen, as his pony jogged 
 slowly up the road towards the Pagoda Tope. " Our 
 Dipty, though he has got all the learning that the Cal- 
 cutta Sahibs can put into him, is still no more of a 
 gentleman than his old father Eam Lall, the oilman. 
 You noticed, Hurree — you saw, Lutchmun — how polite- 
 ly the Huzoor Magistrate Sahib Bahadoor spoke to me. 
 He is a great man, and of a good caste of Englishmen, 
 and knows what proper manners are. But when had 
 an upstart like the Dipty proper respect for his elders 
 and betters ? It is a bad thing for the country when the 
 English Sahibs put low-caste men in authority." 
 
 " What better do they know ? they are ignorant of 
 the blessing of caste. English society is like the king- 
 dom of liarbong, where greens and sweetmeats are sold 
 alike at a pice a seer. They have no proper orders ; 
 the sweeper, they say, may sup with the priest, if he 
 has only money enough," said Hurree, sententiously. 
 
 " But we needn't trouble ourselves about the Dipty 
 so long as we can retain the favour of the English Ma- 
 gistrate Sahib," said Gangooly. "You will take heed, my 
 brothers, that his honour's orders about secrets are re- 
 membered. You are not to go into the bazaar and sit 
 down and gossip with folks about Afzul Khan being 
 blamed for the robbery, or that the Dipty's orderly is
 
 186 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 coming to Dhupuagar to watch him. But if you want- 
 ed any news to give the villagers, I do not know that 
 there would be any harm of speaking thus to them : — 
 lo, you ! what a great and good man is our magistrate, 
 and how he respects our old headman, Gangooly ! He 
 treats our headman with as much courtesy as he does 
 the Dipty Baboo, and trusts as much to his word as if 
 he were the holy Hurrish Chunder himself, who never 
 told a lie. — This much ye may say, my children, with- 
 out doing harm." 
 
 " But surely we may tell the wdves and friends of our 
 families about the ]\Iuhammadan," said the watchmen ; 
 " there could be no wrong in that, Mr Headman ?" 
 
 " Nay, nay ! the gods forbid that I should tie your 
 tongues under the thatch of your own cottages ! " re- 
 sponded the easy-going Gangooly, " for he who hides in 
 his breast a secret from his friends, sits upon burning 
 coals until he yield it up ; I know that myself. I shall 
 teU my own wife, and you may tell yours ; but com- 
 mand them not to tom-tom it over the bazaar, for the 
 orders of the Magistrate Sahib must be strictly obeyed. 
 Beat up the pony, Lutchmun ! " 
 
 Hurree and Lutchmun promised compliance ; but it 
 could hardly be wondered at that, in spite of Gangooly's 
 interdict, the bazaar of Dhupnagar should be full of 
 Afzul Khan's guilt before four-and-twenty houi*s had 
 passed over, and that the Subadar's family were the 
 only persons in the village who had not heard of what 
 had transpired in the Gapshapganj court-house.
 
 KEISIIXAS LETTERS. 187 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 KRISHNAS LETTEES. 
 
 Krishna sat in his room wiiting letters. Since his 
 arrival he had not quitted his father's compound, and 
 had confined himself closely to his own apartments, ex- 
 cept when he went forth to bathe in the tank at early- 
 morning, or when he ascended to the top of the house 
 to walk up and down its terraced roof for exercise 
 after nightfall. He had spoken to none of the inmates 
 save his father and old Bechoo, his attendant ; and 
 the young man's spirit was beginning to chafe at 
 the solitary life. A hundred times a-day he would 
 wish that he were up and doing something, however 
 humble, for the regeneration of his countrymen, in- 
 stead of purposelessly frittering away his time within 
 four walls. Krishna had not as yet wavered in his 
 purpose of becoming the deliverer of his country from 
 idolatry and superstition. Something within seemed 
 to tell him that he was not as other men were : that a 
 great work was waiting for him in the world to do ; and
 
 188 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 that fame and honours, brilliant as they were remote, 
 were destined to crown his earthly career. Enthusiasm 
 had in fact got the mastery over the young man's 
 mind, and he owed it to the accident of education 
 that his enthusiasm had been directed into a right 
 channel Had he not been sent to a Calcutta col- 
 lege, he might have laid aside his Brahminical cord 
 and his caste as his uncle Shib Chunder had done 
 when a young man, to become a Sunyasee or wander- 
 ing mendicant, devoted to the service of Siva ; but 
 Krishna now would have scouted such an idea as 
 ridiculous. He was sure that nothing could move 
 him, but a firm belief in the True and the Eight, and 
 that his motives were of the purest and most disin- 
 terested character. And yet it is to be feared that 
 the actuating principle of these feelings was ambition, 
 an ambition not the less active that it was well dis- 
 guised under the aspect of self-denial and generosity. 
 And yet in all Krislina's visionary projects for the 
 deliverance of his countrymen, self played a very 
 important part. "When he tried to fill his mind with 
 the golden age which would dawn upon India when 
 the idols were broken, superstition banished, and the 
 people converted to the worship of the One, liis thoughts 
 persistently turned to what rewards, what honours, 
 would be showered upon him who had wrought this 
 great work. And he dreamed of a day when the name 
 of Krishna Chandra Gossain would be spoken admir- 
 ingly by every Indian tongue, and when men would
 
 KRISHNA S LETTERS. 189 
 
 make pilgrimages to Dliupnagar to look with respect 
 upon the birthplace of so illustrious a character. But 
 in proportion to the extravagance of such hopes, the 
 fits of despondency which frequently overtook him, 
 depressed his spirits ; and at such times seclusion 
 would begin to work the effects upon which Eama- 
 nath had calculated. Why, Krishna would then ask 
 himself, should he thus voluntarily exile himself from 
 the society of his family and his friends for a mere 
 matter of belief which he might well keep to himself, 
 and nobody be any the wiser ? What call had he to 
 become a martyr for Theism ? And would his coun- 
 trymen be any happier though they were all Theists 
 to-morrow ? Had knowledge made himself happy or 
 the reverse ? Then he would wish that he had never 
 troubled his head about religion, that he could believe 
 as devoutly in the Linga as Modhoo the porter did, 
 or that he could accept the popular faith in his father's 
 unquestioning spirit. Then he would ask himself, why 
 should not this be so ? He had merely to make a 
 fashion of conforming to orthodox Hindooism, and he 
 would be a rich, respected, and happy man during the 
 rest of his life. Respected he might be, but w-ould 
 he respect himself? And what would the Brahmists 
 say if he, who had been the boldest speculator, the 
 most determined iconoclast among them, were to set 
 up as the priest of an idol temple ? No, no ; he could 
 never do it : lie had made deliberate choice of the 
 light, and would no longer abide in the darkness.
 
 190 THE CITV OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 Then his pride would rise again at the thought that 
 his belief, or his scepticism rather, had placed him 
 far above the level of the vulgar masses ; and his 
 present position as a sufferer for a noble and un- 
 popular cause, was not without its strong potion of 
 vainglory for an ardent young mind. A glance at 
 Krishna's correspondence will perhaps help us better 
 to understand his state than any description would do. 
 The first was written in Bengalee, and was superscribed, 
 " To THE FORTUNATE Baboo Bholanath Thakoor, my 
 friend, loved as my own life, I write as follows : — 
 
 " Though the promise I made to you at the Howrali 
 station has been ever in my mind, it is only now that 
 I am able to fulfil it. Need you ask why ? Surely the 
 heart of friendship can divine that it is because I have 
 no good news to give you. Know, then, that my father 
 has not cast me off, and that I am still living in his 
 house, but apart from the family. But what of that ? 
 I cannot continue to stay here in idleness, and the 
 time is at hand when I must break through the bonds 
 of family love and go forth into the world to do the 
 work. I need not tell your tender heart how hard it 
 is for me thus to offend my father. I shall need all 
 the strength that my prayers and yours can procure 
 for me, to nerve me for the struggle. Bholanath ! 
 would that I had you or some of our other friends 
 by me to aid me with their counsel! for at times 
 I feel the ground of my faith slipping from under 
 my feet. If I were only out in the world where
 
 KRISHNAS LETTEKS. 191 
 
 "bqdily temptations assail one, I think I could with- 
 stand them — at least I should wrestle with them ; but 
 my own mind is a far stronger tempter than I can get 
 the better of. Sometimes an evil spirit asks me, 
 Why throw away all your worldly advantages, your 
 position as a twice-born Brahmin, your ancestral wealth, 
 and your father's love, for an idea? At such times, 
 Bholanath, I am sore bested ; and but for prayer, and 
 the thought of your sympathy and that of the brethren, 
 I should assuredly fall away. Would that I were 
 \Aith you, Bholanath ! I say again. Each day will be 
 as a long year until I return to the society of you 
 and our other friends. Think then of me, Bholanath, 
 especially at prayer-time. What more can be said by 
 your affectionate friend and fellow-Brahmist, 
 
 "Krishna Chandra Gossain. 
 
 "But I must tell you of her, — not tlie wife to whom 
 an untoward fate has linked me in name — though why 
 should I complain of it, since that chiefly of earthly 
 influences hath opened my eyes to the errors of 
 Hindooism ? — but of her to whom I have so long been 
 secretly devoted. I have seen her again, Bholanath — 
 seen her again face to face, as I did when she slew 
 me with a single glance. Last night I was walking 
 up and down my father's compound, when some irre- 
 sistible influence led me to look upon the sacred spot 
 where I had first beheld her. I wrapped my chaddar 
 round my head so as to conceal my features, and stole
 
 192 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 quietly through the temple grounds until I reached 
 the Lahories' ruined tank. The waters sparkled 
 brightly in the moonlight, and the fire-flies' lamps 
 glowed in the dark shade of the thick boughs which 
 hang over the basin of the tank. It was such a night 
 as our idolatrous countrymen might well have chosen 
 for paying their homage to Kamdeo, the god of love. 
 I leaned against a broken wall, M'ell concealed by 
 a thick clump of bamboos, and was unconsciously 
 humming to myself a stanza of the Urdu song, which 
 you may remember some of our Mussulman students 
 used to sing : — 
 
 * Like soft -wind's ripples upon beauty's stream, 
 So fall thy tresses ; and their dazzling gleam, 
 More golden than the fountain of the sun. 
 Sheds purer light than noontide's brightest beam.' 
 
 Just then I heard a rustling among the leaves, and 
 Eadha with her maid appeared on the other side of 
 the tank. I crept forward, and from behind the 
 shadow of an acacia -tree, I could see her quite 
 distinctly as she came down to the water's edge and 
 stood straight before me in the moonshine. If my 
 pen could only describe the charms I saw, you would 
 forgive me, Bholanath, for loving her. Eadha's figure 
 is fuller and more womanly than when I last saw her, 
 but her face still wears that look of childish guile- 
 lessness which has been engraven upon my heart all 
 these weary years. Once as she turned her face up- 
 wards, a yellow glow of moonlight fell upon her
 
 KRISHXAS LETTERS. 193 
 
 features, smiling upon her red lips, playing about her 
 dainty nose, silvering her high square forehead, and 
 sparkling in her large liquid eyes, while her black 
 hair seemed almost blue as the soft moonbeams played 
 iipon it. Ah, Bholanath ! it was a glance of heavenly 
 beauty such as one only sees once in a life-time. 
 
 "'Kamdeo (Cupid) with the golden locks be pro- 
 pitious to thy handmaid,' said she, as she took from 
 the attendant a small chip of wood, upon which a tiny 
 wax-light was burning. ' Shall we say this is the Kajah 
 of Ghatghar, my Sukheena ? ' she asked, as she gently 
 launched the chip upon the bosom of the tank. ' Very 
 well ; a fair voyage to your highness. But see ! what 
 is this ? I declare he is going to sink already ! The 
 Eaj all's passion is soon cooled, my Sukheena;' and 
 as she spoke, the chip was overturned by the weight 
 of the taper, which had not been placed fair in the 
 centre, and it disappeared among the waters with a 
 hiss and a splutter. 
 
 "'Let this be old Ganga Prasad, the rich land- 
 holder of Gapshapganj, who wants me for his fourth 
 wife,' she said, as she launched another. 'Well done, 
 Ganga ! you sail away steadily as if you were used to 
 marry ; but what is this ? ' Here a little fish sporting 
 in the moonlight leaped up, oversetting the taper. 
 ' So, so,' said Eadha ; ' Ganga is soon disposed of If 
 that is an omen, his suit will come to an unexpected 
 end.' 
 
 " ' Quick, Sukheena ! quick with another ! ' she cried 
 VOL. I. N
 
 194 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 hurriedly, as a breeze swept the surface of the tank. 
 ' Let this be my own, my only, my nameless lover, for 
 it is over no smooth waters that his bark must float.' 
 As the third light was blown over the ripply surface, 
 and as the tiny wavelets tossed it higher and high- 
 er, threatening every minute to swallow up the frail 
 bark, Eadha clapped her hands with childish delight. 
 See, Sukheena ! ' she cried ; ' watch how nobly it is 
 sailing towards the other bank ! Nothing can swamp 
 the bark of true love, and our passion will guide us 
 safely to love's haven, in spite of the many hindrances 
 that come in its way. See, it touches the bank ! I must 
 catch it ; ' and as she spoke, the light-hearted maiden 
 came running round to the side where I was con- 
 cealed. She gave one shriek as she saw me, and 
 turning quickly, bounded off to the house like a fright- 
 ened antelope, while I made my escape as quietly as 
 possible. Was it not strange that the third love-bark 
 should come safely to shore through so many dangers ? 
 You will think me silly, Bholanath, but my heart 
 instinctively told me that the maiden wliispered my 
 name as she launched the third taper." " K. C. G." 
 
 Krishna's second letter was -addressed to one of the 
 leading reformers of the Calcutta Brahmo Somaj, and 
 it was less frank in tone than the preceding. It was 
 written in Bengalee also. 
 
 " Baboo Krishna Chandra Gossaix, to the most 
 
 REVEREND AND HONOURED BaBOO 
 
 "The only relief your former disciple finds in the
 
 KRISIINAS LETTERS. 195 
 
 midst of his manifold afflictions is the thought of your 
 sympathy and friendship, and that of the brethren. 
 
 my preserver and protector, let your prayers ascend 
 to the Supreme Brahma for me ! I am detained in 
 parental bonds, and I lack the strength to break 
 through them ; although my condition here is far more 
 harassing to the soul than the world's scorn, or hos- 
 tility, or temptations could be. I am shut out here 
 from all society except that of my books and my own 
 thoughts ; and the latter are my most deadly enemies. 
 
 1 have followed your counsels, and striven to conquer 
 evil suggestions by prayer; but it is heartless work 
 praying in this Black Age, when the mind is racked by 
 doubts, and when no hand is put forth from heaven to 
 raise the suppliant. But think not, my father, that I 
 murmur at my lot, or that I mistrust the Supreme 
 Brahma's care for those who truly seek to serve Him. 
 I know that He is ordering all this affliction for my 
 good ; I only fear that there may be still some trial in 
 store for me which I shall sink beneath. Advise me 
 what to do. I M^ould fain go out into the world to pro- 
 claim war against idolatry, and rescue our countrymen 
 from the thraldom of caste ; but you know how strong 
 are the ties that bind a son to a father. Counsel me also 
 in the matter of my wife. I was married to her when an 
 infant, and we have never lived together. She is an 
 insipid, narrow-minded woman, wholly sunk in super- 
 stition, and unable to see the beauty of our holy faith. 
 I would be glad if our union could be dissolved, giving
 
 196 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE, 
 
 her, of course, an ample portion of my worldly wealth ; 
 but to do this I must have the sanction of our brethren. 
 Can I trouble your kindness to put this matter before 
 them in a quiet manner ? I would be ashamed to force 
 such an affair upon their notice, did I not feel that my 
 usefulness is fettered, and my life embittered, by my 
 relationship to this woman. Thenceforward I would 
 live without wife or family to distract my attention 
 from the service of the Supreme." 
 
 It can hardly be said that these letters set forth the 
 whole of Krishna's mind without reserve. He had 
 alluded to doubts and temptations, but he had not 
 frankly acknowledged that his passion for Eadha was 
 the greatest trial that he had to encounter. The acci- 
 dental meeting which he had described to his old class- 
 fellow had fanned the smouldering flame into a blaze. 
 His new faith now occupied but a secondary place in 
 his thoughts, and when he did think of it, it was chiefly 
 as the barrier between him and his love. The time 
 which he had been wont to spend in prayer and reli- 
 gious meditation was now devoted to the composition 
 of Sanscrit sloJcas in praise of Eadha's beauty, or in 
 scribbling love-sonnets in Bengalee. Night after night 
 he paced up and down the house-top, watching Eadha's 
 windows until long after every light had been put out 
 in the house of Lahory ; and whenever a shadow 
 passed between him and the light in Eadha's apart- 
 ments, his heart would begin to palpitate, and his frame 
 to tremble, as he sought to trace the outlines of Eadha's
 
 KRISHNA S LETTERS. 197 
 
 figure. Krishna ! could you have known that the 
 shadow which seemed to you so lithe and slender was 
 cast not by Radha's shapely form, but by the lean and 
 withered skeleton who had been the maiden's nurse, 
 how you would have loathed the foolish stupidity that 
 made you go down on your knees and waft kisses 
 across the darkness ! But which of us has not made 
 love to a shadow in our time as well as the priest's son ? 
 Krishna sat at his table, embarrassed by a crowd of 
 contending feelings. The letters were written, and lay 
 sealed before him, but his mind was filled by a vague 
 sense of misgiving, which made him wish that they 
 were unwritten, and he felt irresolute about despatch- 
 ing them. Had he not been too frank with Bholanath ? 
 And yet if he could not confide in him, whom could he 
 trust ? What were his feelings and trials to the men 
 of the Brahmo Somaj, who were too busy with their 
 own affairs to waste their sympathy upon him ? He 
 remembered how he had vaunted his own firmness, 
 how harshly he had judged the weakness of others ; and 
 he trembled at the thought of how men would scoff and 
 sneer at his own instability. There were many of his 
 fellow-Brahmists who sneered at him as a visionary, 
 and turned into ridicule his great schemes for the re- 
 generation of his country ; but these men would jeer 
 at him now as a weak-minded enthusiast, a dreamer 
 who had never the courage to put his Utopian schemes 
 into execution. But he would take care that they 
 should not scoff at him ; and he felt that he could
 
 198 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 almost persist in his design to become an apostle of 
 Brahmisni, if for no other purpose than that he might 
 deprive his enemies of the pleasure of sneering at his 
 recantation. He was conscious that he was not alto- 
 gether loyal to his new faith, and this consciousness 
 soon suggested a suspicion of the sentiments of his 
 fellow - Brahmists towards him. He was sure that 
 several heads of the society were jealous of his talents, 
 and would be glad to hear that he had fallen ofi' from 
 the faith ; but he would take care that their wishes 
 were not gratified at his expense. Xo : he would at 
 once go forth and begin the great work which was to 
 regenerate his countrymen and raise himself to a higher 
 niche in the temple of fame than any Hindoo had 
 reached since the heroic ages. And warming in his 
 enthusiasm, Krishna started to his feet and began to 
 pace the room with short, impatient steps. 
 
 But why did he pause so often opposite that window 
 which looked forth upon the viQage green? Over 
 against him stood the house of Lahory, its huge pile of 
 masonry seeming in the waning moonlight to be even 
 more grey and ruinous than it actually was. A few 
 lights glimmered here and there in the building. There 
 was Kristo's reception-room, where he would be sitting 
 and smoking with his poor relation and gossip, Jotendro, 
 or with liadhakaut, the Ghatghar liajah's steward, who 
 was said to encroach upon Three Shells' profession, 
 and who was known to have more than once accom- 
 modated the needy head of the Lahory family. But it
 
 KRISHNA S LETTERS. 19.0 
 
 was those windows that looked towards the Gunga- 
 putra and Panch Pahar that riveted Krishna's atten- 
 tion, for they belonged to the zenana, where the lovely 
 Eadha was immured. How many times a day had 
 Krishna studied that angle of Kristo Baboo's building ! 
 One might have thought that it was with the black 
 moss-grown bricks, or the unpainted weather-beaten 
 Venetians, that he was in love, for these were all that 
 he could feed his eyes upon. But the glance of love 
 can penetrate deeper than the unaided vision of ordi- 
 nary mortals, and a brick wall in Bengal is as little 
 a barrier to the imagination as a bedroom blind in 
 Britain. So Krishna looked and loved by day and 
 night, feeding his feverish passion upon shadows and 
 other such unsubstantial manifestations, but taking no 
 direct steps to gain the maiden's affection. His love 
 was a dream, and he was not sure in his present posi- 
 tion that he would be pleased to have it turned into a 
 waking reality. 
 
 As he stood looking out at the open windows, tlie 
 cool night air came blowing in, chafing his hot temples, 
 and rousing the restless spirit of impatience within 
 him. The moon was driving rapidly downwards 
 through fleeces of white gauzy clouds towards the 
 western horizon, and the black shadow of the trees 
 and houses was perceptibly lengthening. The light 
 was so mellow and inviting as to woo one to come 
 forth ; and Krishna, after a few attempts to shake off 
 the influence of the " potent night," wrapped a cloak
 
 200 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 about his shoulders and stole forth from the house. 
 No one saw him ; for Modhoo, the porter, was too sound 
 a sleeper to be roused by a footfall in the compound ; 
 and Ramanath, his father, had long since finished 
 evening worship at the temple, and returned to his own 
 apartments. The temple door stood wide open; for 
 what thief in all the valley would be so impious as to 
 put forth a hand against aught belonging to the Linga 
 of Dhupnagar ? Krishna regarded both temple and 
 Linga with utter abhorrence, but on this occasion his 
 thoughts were too tender for feeling angry even with an 
 idolatrous shrine. The temple, he even thought, looked 
 rather picturesque in the moonlight ; and the pecpul 
 tree growing up from the roof, and sending down ten- 
 drils all round about the building, was decidedly beauti- 
 ful. But it was not to admire the temple that Krishna 
 had come out so late at night. Eather than waken 
 Modhoo he scrambled over the compound wall, and 
 stole stealthily across the village green, keeping well 
 under the shadow of the trees until he reached Kristo 
 Baboo's grounds. Kristo's compound was quite in 
 keeping with the ruinous condition of the family man- 
 sion. The grass was long and rank, bamboo and jungle 
 scrub were springing up all over the place, and the 
 tanks were almost choked up with silt and vegetable 
 decay. The compound wall was a mere heap of ruins, 
 over M'hich Krishna could stride almost, as he made 
 for the old tank, where Radha had launched the love- 
 tapers. He concealed himself under the acacia-trees,
 
 KEISHNAS LETTERS. 201 
 
 and hoped, perhaps, that he might again see Eadha 
 steal down to the water's edge. Surely since she loved 
 him she might divine that he would be there. But 
 Eadha came not, and Krishna lingered until the sil- 
 very surface of the tank became changed to a sullen 
 black, and darkness set in around him. He was cold 
 and nervous, but still he could not go home until he 
 had feasted his eyes upon the place where his idol 
 was enshrined. 
 
 As he stood in the shade of a clump of bushes, look- 
 ing up in rapt admiration towards the zenana windows, 
 a Venetian was thrown open, and Eadha looked forth into 
 the moonlight. The moon was just then setting behind 
 Panch Pahar, and her beams came straight over the 
 tree-tops, striking evenly upon the casement where the 
 maiden stood. Her shoulders were bare, except where 
 her rich, heavy hair, no longer confined by its plaits, 
 fell down, and a tress or two, like the tendrils of a 
 young vine, straggled over her bosom. Eadha peered 
 cautiously forth into the darkness, as she half concealed 
 herself behind the jill-mills, and seemed to be looking 
 for some one appearing among the shrubbery beneath. 
 Krishna stood and gazed at the beautiful vision until 
 he could contain himself no longer; and he rushed 
 forward, throwing himself on his knees before her, and 
 raising his clasped hands towards the window. Eadha 
 threw him a chaplet of flowers and hastily retreated, 
 and he could hear the window shut and barred behind 
 her. He remained for a minute entranced upon his
 
 202 THE CITY OF SUKSHINE. 
 
 knees, looking sometimes at the flowers, sometimes at 
 the window where the vision had disappeared, as if 
 half hoping she would again return ; and then taking 
 up the flowers he kissed them and placed the garland 
 upon his temples. It was a wreath such as is worn on 
 festival days, or at the worship of an idol, and a slight 
 shudder passed through Krishna's frame as he thought 
 that he was thus tampering with the accursed thing. 
 But though it had been the symbol of all the heathen 
 idolatries and abominations in Hindustan, Eadha's 
 hand had sanctified it to him ; and as the chaplet 
 pressed his temples, he felt a thrill in the thought that 
 perchance but a few minutes before it had rested upon 
 Eadha's hair, and that the sweet odours of her person 
 still clung to it, overpowering the natural perfume of 
 the flowers. 
 
 Krishna now no longer doubted that his love was 
 returned. He had received two clear intimations that 
 the maiden loved him in secret ; and what better assur- 
 ance could man desire until he heard the sweet confes- 
 sion from her own lips ? When she had launched the 
 taper on the ruffled bosom of the tank, it was of course 
 to see if their mutual love could outlive the storm 
 which the customs of society, religion, and jealousy 
 were raising about them. He had marked, too, how 
 Eadha rejoiced when the frail chip reached the op- 
 posite bank in safety. And if any lingering doubt 
 could have remained that he was deceiving himself, 
 was not this chaplet a certain token of love? The
 
 Krishna's letters. 203 
 
 heavy odour of the flowers seemed to have intoxicated 
 Krishna as he walked rapidly back towards the priest's 
 house. A thousand thoughts seemed to be fighting in 
 his brain for priority of expression, but nothing came 
 of them, for his head was filled with the two great 
 ideas of his love for Eadha and his resolution to pos- 
 sess her. There was a great gulf between these two 
 ideas, but Krishna's mind was then too excited to think 
 of obstacles. It all seemed easy enough. What a fool 
 he had been to distract his brains with idle specula- 
 tions : to think of renouncing his caste and position, and 
 to go forth into the world a beggar to beggar others ! 
 He might as well think of turning a mendicant devotee 
 like his silly uncle Shib Chunder, and of trudging over 
 the country, from shrine to shrine, supported by the 
 alms of charity. In his father's house he might live in 
 pleasure and affluence all his days with Eadha as his 
 wife, and no earthly cares to molest them. But then 
 there was Chakwi — bah ! what of her ? A Hindoo's love 
 is not limited to one woman, and Cbakwi must make 
 up her mind to see another wife brought into the house. 
 How lucky it was that he had never given the girl any 
 encouragement, and that her feelings could not be very 
 seriously hurt by his marrying a second time ! There 
 was his faith also, his" belief in the Supreme Brahma, 
 his avowed enmity to orthodox idolatry. WeU, what 
 of that ? Theism did not impose any obligations of 
 martyrdom upon its followers ; and he could keep his 
 own belief to himself, and allow others to do the same.
 
 204 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 Xo : his duty to his father and his family, wliich he had 
 so shamefully neglected, clearly showed that he must 
 dismiss such folly. It was a pretty religion, forsooth ! 
 that must needs break up family ties, and set the son 
 at variance with the father. Providence had placed 
 him in a certain condition, and had brought him up in 
 a certain creed, and it would be little short of impiety in 
 him to change his religion upon no surer ground than 
 intellectual convictions. The Supreme Brahma might 
 convert his countrymen when He saw lit, and it would 
 only be arrogance in a mortal to attempt forestalling 
 His work. And how did he know that his countrymen 
 were fit for Theism ? A grosser belief satisfied the 
 masses, and it was very doubtful if a purely intellectual 
 creed, colourless and symbol-less as Brahmism was, 
 would take any hold upon them. Krishna felt that he 
 had been too hasty, and that it was high time to retrace 
 his steps. What hindered him from making his father 
 happy by accompanying the old man to the temple to- 
 morrow ? It was, after all, but his duty. 
 
 In this reckless fashion Krishna indulged his fancy; 
 but how different would have been his reflections if he 
 could have seen what was passing within a few yards 
 of him? Afzul Khan, the Muhammadan, had been 
 lurking behind the bushes when Krishna had picked 
 up the flowers, and had marked the impassioned atti- 
 tude of the young Hindoo. Afzul ground his teeth, 
 and handled his dagger ; and it was by a strong exercise
 
 KRISHNA'S LETTERS. 205 
 
 of self-coutrol that he abstained from rushing forward 
 and killing his rival upon the spot. Stealthily, as a 
 cat watches its prey, he followed Krishna out of the 
 Lahories' compound, until the Hindoo had passed the 
 village green, and disappeared in the darkness of the 
 temple precincts. Then he returned and took up his 
 old position before Radha's window ; but all the lights 
 were extinguished, and only the feeble glimmer of a 
 night-lamp showed where the maiden's bedchamber 
 was. 
 
 " A plague upon the presumption of these Hindoo 
 swine!" muttered Afzul angrily to himself: " are there 
 no drabs in Dhupnagar that he must raise his ill- 
 omened eyes to a huri of Paradise ? I wonder how I 
 kept my hands off him. The girl must be blind, to 
 have mistaken yon loutish, puffy Bengalee for a tight 
 sowar (cavalier) like me. By Allah ! I thought I could 
 have stabbed him when I saw him beslobber the gar- 
 land with his filthy kisses ; but I care not, provided he 
 gets nothing more precious than a bunch of flowers. 
 But I must keep my eyes on that fellow : he is the 
 Kaffir priest's bookish son, and would be an accept- 
 able suitor to the girl's friends. She comes not, and 
 I am tired with watching. Confound the wanton ! is 
 it not honour enough to her that the son of Sham- 
 suddeen Khan keeps guard while she slumbers ? But I 
 shall make her one of Islam ere all be done, and she 
 shall see this impudent Hindoo, who has dared to lift
 
 206 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 his eyes to her face, and all her other heathen kindred, 
 cast into scorching blasts and scalding water, and the 
 shade of smoke in the Day of Separation. Amen ! 
 Blessed be the Prophet." And with a feeling of self- 
 satisfaction at his own devoutness, Afzul went down 
 the road to Walesbyganj, and began to knock at the 
 door and bawl for Atiha to admit him.
 
 HUSBAND AXD WIFE. 207 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 
 
 The cool night air which came blowing over the peaks of 
 Panch Pahar, out of the pale, silver rift where the moon 
 had just disappeared, brought no calmer thoughts to 
 Krishna's fevered brain. He shrank from returning 
 to the quiet of his own chamber, which seemed like a 
 prison, and where his books, his papers, the very letters 
 which he had written that afternoon, might rise up be- 
 tween him and his thoughts of Piadha ; so he walked 
 rapidly up and down the grassy compound before the 
 priest's house, revolving aU sorts of projects for gratify- 
 ing his passion, and smoothing down the obstacles which 
 reason raised between them. How long his promenade 
 lasted he knew not, and his reverie might have con- 
 tinued till daybrealc but for a great speckled cobra 
 which crawled across his path. The snake's red eyes 
 sparkled in the darkness, his hood was angrily spread, 
 and his head raised to strike, when Krishna noticed the 
 reptile, and bounded rapidly backwards. Foiled in his
 
 208 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 first spring the cobra glided quietly away among the 
 grass, and Krishna drew a long breath at the thought of 
 how narrow an escape he had had. The shock recalled 
 the young man to himself, and to the lateness of the 
 hour ; but how was he to get into the house ? He 
 found the door locked, and the noise that would waken 
 so sound a sleeper as the porter would also alarm every 
 soul in the house. He now felt for the first time that 
 the wind was chill, and he did not like the prospect of 
 passing the rest of the night upon the grass in such dis- 
 agreeable company as the cobra he had just encountered. 
 He knocked once or twice at the door, but Kumbak- 
 harna * was about as easily roused as Eamanath's porter. 
 He looked up, but all the house was in darkness except 
 the windows of his own apartment, where a lamp still 
 burned. Krishna was young and active, and, like all 
 his countrymen, an excellent climber. Seizing a pro- 
 jecting brick in one hand, and planting a foot firmly 
 against the wall, he gave himself a great swing, 
 until the other hand caught hold of the verandah 
 railing. The rest was easy, and in another minute 
 he had reached the window of his room. A night- 
 light shed a dim glimmer] from a side-table, and on 
 his writing-desk in the centre of the room stood a 
 large oil-lamp, which was burning low down into the 
 socket. 
 
 * Kumbakharna was the brother of the demon Eavana, king of 
 Lanka. This monster slept six months at a time, and could only be 
 roused by driving a herd of wild elephants over his body. He was 
 slain by llama of Ayodhya during his famous invasion of Lanka.
 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 209 
 
 " I shall go to bed at once," said Krishna to himself; 
 " my mind will be more composed to-morrow. How 
 lucky I had not sent away these letters ! " he muttered, 
 as his eye fell upon the two unsealed epistles on the 
 table, and a twinge of remorse passed through him ; 
 " I shall write others in a more cautious style to-mor- 
 row. Eadha ! what is there that I would not do 
 for thy love ? " 
 
 The young man's passion again returned in all its 
 former violence, and he strode up and down the room, 
 muttering wildly to himself, and pausing now and then 
 as he passed the window, from which he could see the 
 house of Lahory looming large and black among the 
 trees. He could not see Radha's room, but a faint 
 reflection of light from the side where the zenana was, 
 sufficed to feed his flame, and his mind was full of the 
 image of his love as she stood in all her unadorned 
 beauty looking forth into the night. Again he at- 
 tempted to calm himself; and turning towards the 
 bookcase, where his little library was kept, he was 
 about to take down a volume when his glance fell 
 upon Chakwi. 
 
 Yes, Chakwi, who sat in a chair fast asleep, with her 
 head leaned back against the side of the bookcase- 
 The duster which she still held in her hand told how she 
 had been employed ; and having sat down to sigh over 
 her grief when her work was finished, she had fallen 
 fast asleep. Her cheeks still bore traces of tears, and 
 her face, even in sleep, wore an expression of subdued 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 210 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 sadness. The contrast between this plain little woman 
 and the vision of loveliness which he had just beheld, 
 raised angry feelings in Krishna's mind. Unfoilunate 
 wretch that he was, to be linked to a creature that had 
 no more beauty than a hen, and no more soul than the 
 goose whose name she bore ! What evil had ever he 
 done, to be thus mis-mated ? It was Hindooism that 
 had done it — Hindooism that had cursed him with such 
 a wife — ay, the very Hindooism with which he was now 
 about to make a base peace, and to which he was going 
 to sacrifice both his conscience and his honour. Krishna 
 almost tottered under the sense of his own weakness, 
 and he would have liked to fall upon his knees that 
 instant and pray for strength against temptation. 
 
 " Sree Vishnu-jee !" muttered Krishna, forgetting his 
 Theism ; " what can have brought her here ? It is a trick 
 of the wanton to foist herself upon me ; or could my 
 father have thus advised her ? What shall I do ? Shall 
 I rouse her and send her away, or shall I go to bed and 
 take no notice of her ? " 
 
 He sat down upon a chair opposite Chakwi and 
 shifted the lamp so that the light fell full upon her 
 face. After all, the girl was not bad-looking. Plain 
 she was, but her face did not lack expression ; and her 
 figure, though inclined to dumpiness, was rounded and 
 graceful, 
 
 " She is winsome enough in her own way," thought 
 Krishna, " and might be lovable, too, under other cir- 
 cumstances. Poor girl ! I wonder if she cares much
 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 211 
 
 about me now ? I remember how fond she used to be 
 when I would make love to her in a childish way about 
 the time our marriage was celebrated. I used to think 
 her both pretty and amiable in those days, and I dare- 
 say we might have been living happily enough as man 
 and wife, had I not fallen in love with Eadha. I won- 
 der if I should waken her ? " 
 
 He screwed up the lamp, and made a slight noise 
 upon the table, but Chakwi still slept on. 
 
 " There is as much difference between her and Eadha 
 as there is between two orders of beings. A man might 
 worship Eadha with little danger of idolatry, for there 
 must be some spark of divinity in one so beautiful. 
 Chakwi, here, is a creature of earth ; to mind the house 
 and bear children is her sphere : but it seems to me 
 almost sacrilege to associate such ideas with Eadha. 
 If she were mine, I would worship her with veiled face 
 at a distance, until the goddess repaid the devotion 
 of her votary by the beatific vision of her perfections. 
 This creature has no soul, no sensibility." 
 
 A change came over Chakwi's face, and for a mo- 
 ment the girl looked absolutely beautiful. A smile 
 played upon her lips, showing her pearly teeth, and a 
 laughing dimple lurked in each of her smooth, round 
 cheeks. " Krishna ! how could you have neglected 
 me so long," she murmured, in her sleep ; ''but it will 
 only make our love sweeter now — will it not, my hus- 
 band ? " 
 
 Krishna turned away his head and smothered a sigh
 
 212 THI CZTT OP S OS H IS K. 
 
 tbanlkadiiB^gined; tliere was £ollimg Vnt her kire 
 
 onfy aafiexe^ tihogi, from tliis accmsed toquod. Hofw 
 liaffpf she ani^ liave been if die had ooofy golt a hns- 
 hand oT her onra stamps This mkn with SadDha will 
 nake her ^tOl more miscxaUeL Woold to God I saw 
 aome wi^ oadt of n;f poplesdlies !" 
 
 Al that momenl^ as if in answer to his p i ayca c s , 
 Chakwi opened her ej&, and loofced wiUfy about hex. 
 "Wbt is lOus? where am I? how came I here?' 
 cried d&e hasttiltf, while cnrnfflnn btood crowded to her 
 dasfcy cheeJB as her gaae Ml upon her httdiand 
 
 ade no answo; Idie giH b^u 
 
 TBaiently^ and to cast nnensf gfamcca to- 
 
 'IwiIlgoawajr,"shesud; *I did not 
 
 jon were here. I mnst hate fiUen aaileep in the 
 
 ! in to pnt yoBT loom !itf laiglit ;* and
 
 ''m 
 
 if shelni 
 Hjnnel er^ 
 
 
 
 IfiathcT':
 
 214 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 way suffer from your relationship to me, that I have 
 not sent for you before this time." 
 
 "A wife has no caste but her husband's," sobbed 
 Chakwi ; " if you were to become a beggar, I would 
 follow you, happier in your love, than if I were made 
 consort to the Padshah of Delhi. But why should I 
 say that ? It is not my part to proffer my love to you, 
 and it is not right that I should be here now. You 
 may think that I have come on purpose to see you, 
 but ^Mother Gunga is my witness that I had no such 
 intention." 
 
 " Go then, Chakwi," said Krishna, releasing her, " for 
 my mind is too troubled and too uncertain at present 
 for me to know what I should say to you, or what I 
 should leave unsaid. Believe me, I shall do what I 
 think best for both our happinesses. Go, and do not 
 be a stranger in my rooms any more." 
 
 So saying, he dismissed her with a kiss, and Chakwi 
 went away to her room with a lighter heart than she 
 had known for many a day. Krishna's demeanour had 
 seemed to her more kind and grave than ever she had 
 noticed it before, and she did not doubt that before 
 long he would return her love. So she fell asleep and 
 dreamed again the dream of blissful reconciliation with 
 her husband which she had dreamed a little before 
 under her husband's eye. Poor Chakwi ! the only so- 
 lace for the sorrows of her blighted young life was to 
 be found among the confused joys of dreamland. 
 
 "Still deeper in the mire," muttered Krishna to him-
 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 215 
 
 self, as he paced rapidly up and down his chamber; 
 " where is all this to end ? Just at the very moment 
 when my heart was burning for love of Kadha, comes 
 this girl to torture me. And yet I could not speak 
 unkindly to her, and the poor fool goes away puffed 
 up to the skies with hopes that can never be realised. 
 Well, after all, she is my wife ; and even if I were mar- 
 ried to Eadha, she would still be my wife, and entitled 
 to a share of my regard. I must speak more kindly to 
 the poor child for Eadha's sake as well as for my own, 
 for it must be upon the ground of her love for me that 
 I shall beg her to put up quietly with a second mar- 
 riage ;" and when he had sufficiently perplexed his brain 
 by thinking over and over again upon the untoward 
 condition of his love affairs, Krishna flung himself on 
 his couch and at last found refuge in sleep. 
 
 The sun was high in the heavens before Krishna 
 was astir next morning. After the excitement of the 
 previous night, he felt as one who rises from a debauch : 
 his temples were racked by headache ; his veins throb- 
 bed with an irregular, feverish heat; his tongue was 
 parched, and clave to the roof of his mouth ; and his 
 brain was dizzy, and incapable of thought. He was 
 utterly miserable, but he could not well tell why. Was 
 it because he had the assurance of Eadha's affection ? 
 No, for this was what he had set his heart upon be- 
 yond all things on earth. Was it because he felt him- 
 self wavering in the faith, and because his zeal for the 
 theistic creed was rapidly melting away ? If it was
 
 216 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 this, he had not yet gone too far, and he could easily 
 retrace his steps. But he could not tell whether he 
 wished to break with Ilindooisni or with Theism that 
 morning. He looked from the window, and saw the 
 woody valleys of Panch Pahar, so green, and cool, and 
 refreshing, that he wished he might go and live in 
 the recesses of the forest, away from all these cares that 
 were chafing him, like a Ptishi of olden days. The Gun- 
 gaputra came gliding slowly down the bottom of the 
 valley, sweeping with its waters now the one side now 
 the other, as the robes of a queen are tossed from side 
 to side as she paces the palace hall ; throwing up huge 
 mounds of silt as it slowly doubles the corner of Mil- 
 kiganj ; then taking breath, as it were, and gathering 
 strength for a dash upon the bathing-ghats of Dhupna- 
 gar ; pausing at the Kalee point to undermine a little 
 more of the crumbling rock upon which stands the 
 deserted pagoda, looking as if it were almost ready to 
 topple over into the stream ; and, finally, hurrying with 
 a swift ripple and an inviting murmur over the treach- 
 erous fords of Ghatghar, until it disappeared behind the 
 Eajah's palace. The waters sparkled so limpidly and 
 clearly in the sunshine that Krishna felt an uncontrol- 
 lable desire to bathe in the river. Bathing in the Gun- 
 gaputra is s'o much of a religious ceremony among ortho- 
 dox Hindoos that Krishna had purposely abstained from 
 doing it, performing his ablutions in a deserted tank 
 that occupied a sequestered corner of the priest's com- 
 pound. Oh why, of all the millions of his countrymen
 
 HUSBAXD AND WIFE. 217 
 
 who had washed away their guilt in the holy waters of 
 the Gungaputra, was he the only one who could not 
 " from sin and dark pollution free, hathe in its blame- 
 less waters clear ? " But still the river wooed him as it 
 glided past, and eager to seek some respite from his 
 thoughts, he started up, and calling upon Bechoo to 
 attend him, walked briskly down the slope towards the 
 water-side. 
 
 The walk, the free morning air, the twittering of the 
 birds, the murmur of the trees, and the sweet smell of 
 flowers, soon raised Krishna's spirits. It was the first 
 time that he had been out of doors by day since his mem- 
 orable return to Dhupnagar, and he felt like a captive 
 who has regained his liberty after a weary confinement. 
 The women coming home from the river, each with a 
 pitcher of water gracefully balanced upon her head, 
 looked askance at the handsome young man, and 
 coquettishly drew their sarrees over their faces. Krishna 
 had been so little about Dhupnagar for the last four or 
 five years that few of the villagers would have known 
 him, but for old Bechoo, who trotted at his heels. As 
 he passed the gate of Walesbyganj, Afzul Khan, who 
 was outside watching the grooming of his favourite 
 mare, eyed him with a jealous scowl, and turning 
 round whispered something, with a scornful laugh to 
 Agha, who was sitting behind him smoking. Krishna 
 noted this rudeness, but could only account for it as a 
 piece of insolence peculiar to bigoted Muhammadans. 
 As yet he had no conception that the Mussulman re-
 
 218 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 garded him as a possible rival, or that a high-caste 
 Brahmini maiden could be aught in the eyes of an un- 
 clean kine-killer. But Krishna knew not how little 
 Afzul recked of the distinctions of religion or caste 
 when his passions were to be gratified. 
 
 The bathing-ghat of a sacred river is one of tlie 
 most curious and picturesque of Indian scenes. In the 
 stream, and upon the banks, are groups of Hindoos of 
 all ages and sexes. Here is a religious mendicant who 
 has measured the road from Dhupnagar to the river 
 upon his hands and knees for some sin, real or imagin- 
 ary, and will continue tp do so every day as long as his 
 wretched life is spared. Mark how feebly, how abjectly, 
 he creeps down to the water's edge, and how lightly he 
 springs to his feet after the first plunge, as if his guilt 
 had been all washed away. There stands a sorrowful 
 crowd of mourners around the charjmi (four-legged 
 couch) of an old Brahmin who has been brought down 
 to the river to die. Already the domes are gathering 
 the wood and digging the pit for his funeral pyre, but 
 the old man never llinches or removes his eye from 
 the river. "To the water," he mutters — "to the 
 water. He who dies fasting with his members im- 
 mersed in the holy tide is never born again, and attains 
 equality with Brahma. To the water with me, my 
 sons." And cautiously looking round to see that no 
 policeman is watching, the sons tenderly lift the old 
 man and hold him with the lower part of his body im- 
 mersed in the water until his latest breath is drawn.
 
 HUSBAND AND "WIFE. 219 
 
 Slim Hindoo maidens stand up to the waist in water, 
 or dive boldly into the depths ; others are wringing the 
 moisture from their long black tresses, and casting arch 
 coquettish glances at a knot of young bathers of the 
 opposite sex, who ogle them in turn, and startle them 
 by diving down and reappearing suddenly in the midst. 
 Heedless of this folly, a stately Brahmin, with fair skin 
 and lofty forehead, who has walked all the way from 
 Gapshapganj to pay his morning's homage to the 
 Gungaputra, stands in an ecstasy of devotion, his eyes 
 fixed so steadily upon the crystal stream flowing rapidly 
 past that he is lost to all sense of what is going on 
 around him. Up and down the bank strut three or 
 four young libertines, distinguished by their perfumed 
 locks and foppish garments, whose only business seems 
 to be to watch the gracefully-moulded forms of the 
 girls as they come up from the river, their wet gar- 
 ments scarcely serving to conceal the charms of their 
 persons. These young fellows belong to the dissolute 
 household of the Ghatghar Eajah ; and the decent vil- 
 lagers scarcely seek to dissemble their disgust at such 
 conduct, and would gladly beat them away from the 
 ghat with bamboos, if it were not for fear of the Eajah's 
 vengeance. 
 
 As Krishna approached the ghat, all eyes were turned 
 upon him in astonishment. A few of the loungers 
 made way for him with a salaam, and stood with 
 lengthened countenances to watch how one so strongly 
 suspected of heresy would comport himself. The
 
 220 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE, 
 
 girls suddenly became grave as the whisper reached 
 them, "'Tis Krishna, the priest's son." The young 
 men on the bank assumed an air of inquisitive 
 gravity, the mourners raised their eyes for an instant 
 to look at him, and even the pious Brahmin ceases 
 from his orisons to eye the impious man who had 
 shaken off the old gods. "Was ever such impiety seen, 
 as for an unbeliever thus to pollute the holy river 
 with his presence ? What w^onder would it be though 
 the goddess in her wrath were to clutch him in her 
 arms and drag him down for ever into her fathomless 
 abysses ? Yet it was a pity that so goodly a young 
 man should have gone so far wrong; for he was a 
 goodly young man, as everybody acknowledged, and as 
 he waded into the centre of the current, and exposed 
 his broad chest to its full force, the spirit of the 
 stream might well have fidlen in love with him as 
 with the grandfather of Bishna of old. " Will he do 
 puja (worship) ? " whispered each to the other as they 
 saw him enter the water ; but no '[nija did Krishna do. 
 On the contrary, without prayer or prostration, he threw 
 himself boldly into the middle of the current, and 
 struck out stoutly against the stream. All Bengalees 
 swim like water-dogs, and Krishna had all the skill, 
 and more than the daring, of his countrymen. As he 
 buffeted the stream his spirits rose with the exercise, 
 the lassitude left him, and he felt like a new man by the 
 time that he pulled up out of breath opposite Milkiganj. 
 He was now out of eyeshot of the worshippers, and felt
 
 HUSBAND AND "WIFE. 221' 
 
 more at ease; and so he scampered out to the bank 
 and began drying himself, although the exuberance of 
 his animal spirits was such that he could scarcely keep 
 himself from plunging again into the tide. 
 
 " No wonder though they worship the river ! " he 
 ejaculated in his enthusiasm ; "who would not feel his 
 heart stirred within him at the sight of so noble a 
 stream ? The fires of hell were but even now gnawing 
 my heart, and after a plunge in the water I feel as if 
 all pollution had departed from me. Of course I can 
 account for the change upon physical grounds ; but 
 who can wonder that the ignorant should attribute 
 their refreshment to divine properties in the river ? In 
 which of his works is the majesty of the Creator more 
 apparent than in the endless flood that rolls before me ? 
 
 Daughter of the Mountain ! " added he, falling un- 
 consciously into the language of his childhood's prayer, 
 " I had rather be a dweller in thy waters than a 
 monarch, the sound of whose war-steeds' bells scatter 
 kings in consternation." 
 
 "Well done, sir!" cried a voice behind him; "may 
 your prayers be grateful as amrit (ambrosia) to the gods ! 
 
 1 wish I had my hands upon those blackguards and 
 brokers who said that my old friend Eamanath's son 
 had turned Christian ; I would soon make them eat 
 dirt. Give me your hand, Krishna, and let me 
 welcome you back to Dhupnagar. I heard of the rough 
 reception which these churls of Sudras gave you ; but 
 never mind them — these dogs can never forgive us for
 
 222 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 being of better caste than themselves. But I am glad 
 that you have not fallen from the old faith, for who 
 will remain a Hindoo, if the Brahmin becomes a mktcha 
 (a foreigner, an outcast) ? " 
 
 And Kristo Baboo, for it was he who spoke, cordially 
 grasped the young man's hand. The Baboo had been 
 coming along the bank from visiting one of his tenants, 
 when he overheard the idolatrous exclamation which 
 Krishna had inadvertently let slip from him. 
 
 Krishna was too much surprised and confused to 
 make a distinct reply, far less to correct the mistake 
 into which the Baboo had naturally fallen. Besides, of 
 all men, Kristo was the one before whom he was least 
 anxious to parade his new religion ; for not only was the 
 Baboo a Hindoo of bigoted orthodoxy, but what w^as 
 more, in Krishna's mind, he was the father of Eadha. 
 So Krishna muttered an inaudible reply, and in a 
 louder tone hoped that the Baboo aud all his family 
 were well. 
 
 " Well ! ay, as well as people can be who stand be- 
 tween a grasping Government and a beggarly tenantry. 
 May Yama choke me if I don't think the landlords were 
 better under the old Moghals than under the English 
 rule, with all its fuss about justice and equity ! Pro- 
 vided they got their money, the ^Moghals never asked 
 how it was collected ; but the last time I bambooed a 
 ryot who was backward with his rent, the Magistrate 
 Sahib made such an uproar that it cost me the build- 
 ing of a female school before I was safa-kai-rded (white-
 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 223 
 
 washed). But come along, Krishna, and give me your 
 good company up the road to Dhupnagar." 
 
 And taking the young man's arm, the Baboo walked 
 on, unburdening himself as he went of his many griev- 
 ances, which were all reducible to two heads, his own 
 impecuuiosity, and the presumption of his more wealthy 
 though lower-born neighbours. Upon this theme Kristo 
 could talk by the hour ; nor was Krishna sorry that he 
 was not called upon to put in a word, for he felt that 
 he ought to correct the Baboo's mistake about his 
 orthodoxy, and yet he strangely lacked courage to be- 
 gin. AVas he the man, he kept asking himself, as he 
 blushed up to his ears at the thought, who had burned 
 to publish his faith in the faces of hostile thousands, 
 and yet was afraid to confess it to one mild Hindoo, 
 who at the most would ouly go away from him in dis- 
 gust? But he was thankful Kristo's tongue never 
 halted to give him an opportunity of saying anything 
 about himself 
 
 " Ay, ay, there they go ! ride on, and may you never 
 pause till you gallop over the brink of Patala (hell) ! " 
 cried Kristo, apostrophising Afzul Khan, as the young 
 Muhammadan cantered past them on his way to the 
 Ghatghar ford ; " it is my two hundred acres of rice 
 land that you have got your legs astride of If the 
 gods took the slightest interest in this world nowadays, 
 they would throw down that kennel about the ears of 
 these kine-killing dogs. If folks grow irreligious, the 
 gods are mostly to blame for it themselves, for they
 
 224 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 don't do half the miracles that they used to do in the 
 old times. I'm sure it wouldn't be much trouble to Siva 
 to glorify himself by inflicting some notable calamity 
 upon those accursed mletchas (foreigners) who took 
 away my land, and it would be as good as the conver- 
 sion of half the Gungaputra district. But for all that, 
 I'm heartily glad, my son, that you have not gone 
 astray among their new-fangled religions. It is all 
 very well for these hjasilis and chamars (writers and 
 shoemakers) who have got no caste worth keeping, to 
 make a merit of giving it up ; but the Gossains of 
 Dhupnagar are not such crack-brained fanatics. I felt 
 as glad, for my old friend Eamanath's sake, when I 
 heard you at your prayers this morning, as if you had 
 been my own son." 
 
 Again Krishna essayed to set the Baboo right, but 
 still his courage failed him, and he endeavoured to make 
 some commonplace remark about the genial weather 
 and the favourable prospects of the horu, or winter 
 crops. This set Kristo off into a tirade of invectives 
 against his tenantry, who, though they were fattening 
 upon his land, and making fortunes out of good har- 
 vests, would hardly pay a pice of rent until they were 
 taken into court for arrears; while the Government 
 Collector would neither want the laud revenue nor 
 allow him to put forth his hand to help himself to his 
 own. This subject was quite sufficient to engross the 
 Baboo's attention for the rest of the way ; and he was 
 still declaiming when they reached the temple gate.
 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 225 
 
 Old Eamanath, sitting smoking in his usual place, be- 
 held the two in company with great inward satisfac- 
 tion, and chuckled to himself as he saw his plot in a 
 fair way to be accomplished. He hastened down to 
 the gate, and greeted Kristo and his son with the 
 greatest cordiality, giving the latter his morning bless- 
 ing, and entreating the Eaboo to come up and rest in 
 the shade of the temple porch. Krishna escaped to his 
 own room, but he could see from the window that the 
 seniors were carrying on a very agreeable conversation ; 
 and before Kristo Baboo took his leave, Eamanath had 
 occasion to pay a visit to the house, and returned to 
 the temple with a heavy weight in the corner of his 
 waisf-cloth. From which Krishna had little difficulty 
 in concluding that a monetary transaction had been 
 effected between the rich priest and the impecunious 
 Baboo.
 
 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A GIFT FROM THE GREEKS. 
 
 Prosunno, the lawyer, was hurrying through the bazaar 
 in the early morning towards the house of Three Shells, 
 the money-lender. Since he had fallen under Three 
 Shells' displeasure, on the day when their attempt to 
 excite the Brahmins against the priest's family had so 
 signally failed, Prosunno had not ventured into the 
 mahajan's presence — not that Three Shells had not fre- 
 quently sent for him, but Prosunno had found it con- 
 venient to stay for a week at Gapshapganj, where he 
 had many briefs in the Dipty's court, and to be other- 
 wise engaged abroad when the money-lender required 
 his presence. But the time had now come, Prosunno 
 thought, wlien he might safely present himself before 
 his patron. Three Shells' wrath must have cooled 
 by this time ; and the lawyer knew that the money- 
 lender would have as much difficulty in dispensing 
 with his services as he himself would have in parting 
 with Three Shells' patronage. Each was mutually use-
 
 A GIFT FEOM THE GREEKS. 227 
 
 ful to the other, and there were secrets between them 
 which could not be confided to the ears of a third per- 
 son. So Prosunno had screwed up his courage to the 
 point of facing the money-lender, all the more easily 
 that he had something of importance to communicate ; 
 and he had set out at sunrise for the mahajan's house. 
 Even at that early hour the good folks of Dhupnagar 
 were mostly astir. Some were hastening to the tanks 
 to perform their ablutions and morning devotions, while 
 others, more religiously disposed, were setting out for 
 the Gungaputra to wash away the sins of the past 
 four-and-twenty hours in its sacred waters. Many sat 
 in the doors of their houses enjoying their hookhas, and 
 looking too indolent and sleepy to return the lawyer's 
 greetings. Active housewives were coming back from 
 the tanks, each balancing a pitcher of water upon her 
 head with one hand, while with the other she supported 
 a child upon her side in the awkward Indian fashion. 
 Some women were plastering the mud walls of their 
 houses with cow-dung, which would serve as fuel to 
 cook with when dried, and others were busy grinding 
 rice for the breakfast with pestles kept in motion by 
 the foot. Business had hardly commenced in Dhup- 
 nagar, for the tradesfolk were either dressing or 
 bathing. Only greedy Eam Lall, the oilman, who never 
 missed a chance of turning an anna, had opened shop, 
 and was sitting among his jars looking out for a cus- 
 tomer. The oilman greeted Prosunno with a salaam, 
 which the lawyer, wishing to have the old man's
 
 228 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 good word with his son, the Dipty, ceremoniously 
 returned. 
 
 Prosunno, finding the money-lender's porter astir, 
 despatched him to inquire if his master was visible ; 
 and in a minute after, Gopee, the mahajan's clerk — an 
 ugly, mis-shapen Bengalee, with no neck, and a face 
 that seemed to be looking constantly askance at the sky 
 — came forth and invited Prosunno into Three Shells' 
 presence. Gopee was not permitted to enjoy a large 
 share of his master's confidence. He kept the regular 
 accounts between Three Shells and his clients, acted 
 as his master's deputy in transacting small advances, 
 collected interest, and kept a sharp look-out that the 
 borrowers made away with none of the hypothecated 
 property. But Three Shells kept many accounts that 
 were not for Gopee's inspection, and it was one of the 
 clerk's great grievances that the mahajan should have 
 so many secrets which he could not succeed in pene- 
 trating. Gopee, however, concealed his curiosity under 
 an affectation of indifference; and Three Shells gen- 
 erally spoke of him as a negligent lad, who took no 
 interest in his work, although he could be careful 
 enough when he pleased. Although Gopee's stated 
 salary was a trifle, his perquisites were very consider- 
 able. No application for money to the master would 
 succeed unless the man had been previously propitiated 
 by a present. Out of every loan Gopee squeezed his 
 dasturi (commission), and took a percentage upon every 
 payment of interest that came through his hands.
 
 A GIFT FROM THE GREEKS. 229 
 
 When a "borrower was unmindful of Gopee's interest, 
 the clerk would pay him a visit, and hint that Three 
 Shells was requiring his principal at an early date ; or 
 he would object to such and such property upon which 
 money had been advanced being employed in such and 
 such a way. A present would at once occur to the 
 debtor as the readiest method of getting rid of the 
 clerk ; and Gopee would pocket the bakshish, and return 
 home well satisfied with the results of his stratagem. 
 
 " Well, Gopee, what is doing, and how is the mas- 
 ter's mizaj (temper) this morning ? " asked Prosunno. 
 " Is the worthy Three Shells in any better humour 
 than when I saw him last 1 " 
 
 " The master is well contented," said Gopee, " and 
 begs you to come to him immediately. He has asked 
 frequently for you, Baboo, and said he was sorry you 
 had gone to Gapshapganj without telling him, as 
 there were some things he wanted done in the Dipty's 
 court." 
 
 Prosunno was ushered through the money-lender's 
 office into the little room beyond, where Three Shells 
 sat busied with his papers. The mahajan's greeting 
 was as cordial as if no difference had ever occurred 
 between them. 
 
 " Why, Prosunno Baboo, what a stranger you are ! " 
 said Three Shells, jocosely ; " you have not been away 
 on pilgrimage to Benares, have you ? I sent for you 
 two or three times, but your servants always said you 
 were from home."
 
 230 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 " I WcOS obliged to be at Gapshapganj, where I had 
 several great rent cases to plead," answered Prosunno, 
 in an apologetic tone, as he wondered in his own mind 
 whether it was possible that the furious demon whom 
 he had last seen could be identical with the smooth- 
 tongued person who was sitting before him with half- 
 closed eyes and bland countenance. Somehow Pro- 
 sunno could not help thinking that the former expres- 
 sion was the one that sat most naturally upon the 
 money-lender. " But I was not forgetful of your busi- 
 ness, sir," he added. " I have made the inquiries you 
 wished respecting that packet." 
 
 " Gopee," said the money-lender, raising his voice, 
 " the quarterly interest upon the Nawab of Pancli 
 Pahar's bond is due to-day ; go and give my respects 
 to his highness, and say that you have come for pay- 
 ment. And, Gopee, you had better take the porter 
 with you, for the Panch Pahar people are often readier 
 with their cudgels than with tlieir purses. Xot that 
 the prying scoundrel would be much worse for a good 
 beating," he added in a lower tone. 
 
 " And now, Prosunno, what of the packet ? where is 
 it, and how did you hear of it ? " asked Three Shells, 
 eagerly, as soon as the clerk was out of hearing. " I 
 hope you did not let out that I was interested about it 
 in your inquiries." 
 
 " You see, sir," began Prosunno, " old Gangooly, the 
 village headman, was attending the Dipty's court at 
 Gapshapganj about the Gaogong robbery, and we both
 
 A GIFT FHOM THE GREEKS. 231 
 
 fell a-talking about the priest and his son Krishna 
 Baboo. Gangooly has always fawned upon these Gos- 
 sains, and he began to boast about his intimacy with 
 old Eamanath. 1 had just been saying that the priest 
 carried his head higher than his neck would well 
 stretch, and that he counted the Brahmins of Dhupna- 
 gar as little better than his dogs. 
 
 " ' Speak for yourself/ said the father of asses ; ' I 
 have known Eamanath Gossain for forty years, and I 
 never heard him say an evil word against a good neigh- 
 bour. But he is a wiser man than to choose his friends 
 among you law kites. It was only last night that Ea- 
 manath sent for me to the temple and asked me to 
 take charge of an important packet of papers ; but you 
 won't catch him putting such confidence in any of you 
 lawyers.' 
 
 " ' And what might these papers be about ? ' asked I, 
 pretending to make light of them. ' Some serious 
 matter, I warrant; the title-deeds of a katha * of jungle- 
 land, or the rights of some tumble-down, clay hut.' 
 
 " * Nay,' said Gangooly ; ' but they are papers of the 
 utmost importance, and Eamanath said the packet was 
 not to be opened until his death, and that the contents 
 should then be dealt with according to the enclosed 
 directions. I am to take the greatest care of them, and 
 keep them among the village papers, and they are to be 
 handed over to my successor if I should die in the 
 
 ♦ A Tcatha, the unit of Benjijalee land measure, is equal to 320 square 
 cubits. Twenty of these kathcis make a bigha.
 
 232 TIIK CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 meantime. So I have put them in my great teak chest, 
 and told my son, Gopal Chunder, to take as good care 
 of the papers as if they were the pottahs (deeds) of his 
 ancestral property ; and Eamanath said, too, that I was 
 not to gossip about them, so you must never mention 
 the packet.' 
 
 " ' And a most trustworthy person you are, babbling 
 to me all this time,' said I ; ' if you go on chattering, 
 it will be no more of a secret in Dhupnagar before 
 sunset than the rape of Sita.' 
 
 '• ' Xay, but,' said Gangooly, ' I have only told it to 
 you, who are a discreet person, and to my own wife, 
 who is as free from gossip as any woman in Dhupna- 
 gar. The gods forbid that I should be a tale-bearer, 
 for, as the holy writings say, it is better to take a 
 vow of silence than to make mischief by babbling.' Of 
 course," concluded Prosunno, " he will go on in this 
 way until he has told the whole town ; but if you 
 want to know what is in the packet, Gangooly can tell 
 you no more about it than I can. Still some way 
 might be devised, if you were very anxious." 
 
 " Not at all," said the mahajan, carelessly; " I only 
 wanted to assure myself that Eamanath had not 
 neglected a little matter about which we were talk- 
 ing. We had a monetary transaction together, and 
 Eamanath wished to place some bonds in my hands 
 as security ; but I thought it would look better if they 
 were deposited with a third party, as they relate to the 
 temple lands. The bonds are assigned to me, if any-
 
 A GIFT FROM THE GREEKS. 233 
 
 thing were to befall our excellent friend Eamanath, 
 which I sincerely pray the gods to avert." 
 
 " The gods avert it ! " echoed Prosunno, marvelling in 
 his own mind what had occurred to make the mahajan 
 all at once so friendly to the priest ; " but still, sir, I 
 think I could manage to get a look at the documents 
 if you wished it. I could take an impression of the 
 seal, and close the packet up again so neatly that no 
 one would ever know it had been opened." 
 
 " I forbid you to think of such a thing ! " cried Three 
 Shells, angrily, " unless you wish to part with my 
 patronage altogether. What ! shall you or I presume 
 to doubt the word of so holy a man as Eamanath 
 Gossaiu ? But what about the robbery you were talk- 
 ing of? " 
 
 " Two men broke into the ryot of Gaogong's house, 
 and carried off a bag of two hundred rupees, which the 
 ryot had borrowed from you the day before. The 
 fellow kept his bed half dead with fright, and allowed 
 the robbers to escape with their plunder." 
 
 " And I shall lose my money," said Three Shells, 
 quietly ; " well, it can't be helped, and I have a bill of 
 sale upon his oxen. And what said the Dipty about 
 the robbery ? Has that mirror of wisdom and foun- 
 tain of justice been able to find out the thieves ?" 
 
 " Nay," said Prosunno, "he has got it into his head 
 that young Afzul Khan, the Subadar's son, is the cul- 
 prit, because one of the thieves spoke with a Hin- 
 dustani accent. I took the liberty of representing to
 
 234 THK CITY OF SUXSHINE. 
 
 the Dipty that it was more likely Sonthals from 
 above the passes ; but he is too conceited in his own 
 opinion to notice good advice." 
 
 " And you were a fool to do anything of the sort, 
 Prosunno," said the money-lender, testily ; " the Dipty 
 knows better tlian you do. Is not that whelp of the 
 Muhammadans a notorious hadmash ? Did he not beat 
 me — me, with a bamboo when I went to crave my in- 
 terest from him ? Is he not a night-walker, and a 
 gambler, and a drinker of arrack (native rum) ? and 
 who is more likely to commit robbery than such a 
 fellow? You ought to know that as well as I do, 
 Prosunno." 
 
 "What a fool I was not to have remembered the 
 young man's bad character!" Prosunno readily an- 
 swered. "Now that I think of it, I have not the 
 slightest doubt but he is the robber." 
 
 " I should think not, Prosunno," said Three Shells, 
 rubbing his hands ; " the matter is plain enough to any 
 one who has his wits about him. And what is the 
 Dipty goingto do?" 
 
 " Nothing at present, except to watch Afzul Khan's 
 movements. Jaddoo, the Dipty's orderly, is coming 
 privately to Dhupnagar for that purpose." 
 
 "Ah, it would be well that you should see this 
 Jaddoo, Prosunno, and strengtlien his suspicions against 
 Afzul Khan," said the mahajan in an indiflerent 
 tone. " Tell him to keep his eyes closely upon the 
 young fellow, and not to go about fancying he sees
 
 A GIFT FROM THE GREEKS. 235 
 
 thieves in every honest townsman who is abroad of 
 a night. And you may give him a couple of rupees 
 as bakshish from me, for there is no one in Dhupnagar 
 more interested in the capture of these robbers than 
 I am, or has more danger to fear from them. A poor 
 lonely man like me, that has generally money lying 
 about, and that keeps only a few servants, is biit too 
 good a prey for such housebreakers." 
 
 Prosunno promised to attend to these orders, al- 
 though he was astonished at the readiness with which 
 the mahajan had caught up the suspicion against 
 Afzul Khan. Hitherto Three Shells had persisted 
 that Sonthal dakaits were the perpetrators of the numer- 
 ous robberies that had been committed throughout 
 the district, and had flown into a passion when any one 
 dared to insinuate that the guilty parties might be 
 found nearer home. "The thief thinks himself the 
 only honest man in the world," the money-lender 
 would say to such persons ; " and let those who would 
 cast suspicion upon a neighbour look that there is no 
 chor grass upon their own waist-cloths." 
 
 But a still greater surprise was in store for Prosunno, 
 when Three Shells went on to unfold his intention of 
 dedicating to the shrine of Dhupnagar a golden vessel 
 worth two thousand rupees, to be used in the worship 
 of the Linga. He was pricked in his conscience, Three 
 Shells said in explanation, heaving a deep sigh; for 
 he had imagined evil against the guileless son of a 
 Erahrain, and he was now desirous of anticipating the
 
 23G THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 displeasure of the gods by this act of religious merit. 
 " Alas !" said Three Shells, shaking his head in depre- 
 cation of Prosunuo's praises, " I am a weak sinful 
 man, only too prone to fall from the paths of religion, 
 and to be ensnared by the desire of wealth. And wliat 
 saitli the ' Panchatantra ' ? ' "Whose are the riches that 
 are disposed of neither in alms nor in useful deeds — 
 are they mine or thine ? ' It is the nature of money 
 to corrupt the heart. If it were not that so many 
 people would be distressed thereby, gladly would I 
 gather all my substance together, and, repairing to 
 Benares, spend the rest of my life in meditation and 
 prayer within its holy walls. 0, Prosunno ! when we 
 are well and strong, our religious duty rests Lightly upon 
 us as a festal garland ; but when we are lying at the 
 last gasp on the banks of the Gungaputra, each petty 
 neglect will hang upon us like a fetter of iron to clog 
 our souls in their ascent to Paradise." 
 
 " Ah, sir," said Prosunno, unconsciously pitching his 
 voice in the sing-song snuffle that the money-lender 
 liad adopted, " would that I had your piety ! But it is 
 not every one that can afford to gratify the gods in the 
 same way as you do. I hope that I myself am not so 
 unmindful of my religious duties as some are. In my 
 humble way I gave fifty rupees in silver to the Dhurma 
 Thakoor's slirine at Gapshapgauj, under whose holy 
 protection I have placed myself, only a fortnight ago. 
 May my offering find acceptance ! " 
 
 " And when does the Dhurma Thakoor's rascally
 
 A GIFT FROM THE GREEKS. 237 
 
 priest intend to redeem the mortgage I hold upon his 
 property ? " asked Three Shells, sharply, in his natural 
 voice ; " I cannot afford to have so much money lying 
 out all these years at only fifteen per cent. As good 
 make him a present of it at once. I shall sell him out 
 to the bricks and mortar before long." 
 
 Prosurmo ventured to interpose that it was difficult 
 to distrain temple property. 
 
 " But he has family lands of his own, then," snapped 
 Three Shells ; " we must have the debt transferred to 
 them. Give him a little more tether, Prosunno — a 
 little more tether, and I warrant he will go to the full 
 length of the chain ; and then, wdien we have his pro- 
 perty fairly under our hands, we shall milk him, Pro- 
 sunno, so long as the skin covers his bones." 
 
 " Certainly, sir," said Prosunno, chuckling at the 
 idea of fleecing the priest of the Dhurnia Thakoor, not- 
 withstanding he himself was a devotee of the shrine ; 
 " I shall soon arrange all that to your satisfaction." 
 
 "And there are those papers about the houses at 
 Bhutpore to be attended to," said Three Shells. " You 
 must really try, Prosunno, to get some one to swear 
 to the dead man's signature. Without witnesses, the 
 money is as much lost as if it had been thrown into 
 the Gungaputra." 
 
 " Oaths are up," said Prosunno, mournfully, " ever 
 since the Magistrate Sahib transported Nando, the bar- 
 ber, for swearing about the sudden death of his father- 
 in-law. I could hardly get a witness in Gapshapganj
 
 238 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 last week when I was defending the Nawab of Panch 
 Pahar in a charge of deforcement. Old Hurrish, who 
 has done business for me since I began to practise, has 
 made a little fortune, and begins to cry out about his 
 conscience if I offer him less than ten rupees in a civil 
 case." 
 
 " Well, well, do your best," said Three Shells, benig- 
 nantly, " and you needn't make any secret about the 
 golden goblet that I am going to give to the temple. 
 The cup is coming up from Calcutta in a day or two, 
 and the townsfolk may as well hear of it from you as 
 from any other body. Not that I wish my gifts to be 
 blazoned abroad in the bazaar, for it is the favour of 
 the gods, not the praise of men, that I desire. The 
 hypocrite, Prosunno, is as the crocodile, who, while 
 pretending to sleep on the sunny bank, slyly keeps a 
 watchful eye fastened upon his prey; but the truly 
 virtuous man who gets no credit for his good actions, is 
 dead even while he liveth. What would it profit the un- 
 worthy Tin Cowry, the mahajan, though his neighbours 
 should say, ' Lo ! how religious a man, how charitable 
 to the poor, how pious to the gods ! ' if he felt that his 
 face was black before the shining ones ? Nevertheless, 
 Prosunno, it would ill become me to say to a faithful 
 servant like you, tell this, and conceal that ; so I leave 
 you free to say what you list about the matter, remem- 
 bering ever that nothing tends^so much to stir up good 
 works among men as the quiet, unostentatious example 
 of a neighbour."
 
 A GIFT FROM THE GKEEKS. 239 
 
 Prosunno took his departure, laudiufj loudly the 
 good fortune that had made him the means of convey- 
 ing to his fellow- townsmen the first news of the maha- 
 jau's munificence. The lawyer's brains were in a state 
 of hopeless perplexity as he came forth into the 
 bazaar. He did not know what to think of his patron's 
 altered demeanour ; nor could he conjecture to what 
 the change was due, or wliat would be the result so far 
 as he himself was concerned. " Let me see," said Pro- 
 sunno, standing up before a shop-door and thoughtfully 
 scratching his head ; " he has either begun to fear the 
 gods, or lie is shamming : that is safe so far. Well, if he 
 has begun to fear the gods, he has committed some 
 crime. But what could that crime be? He could 
 hardly have murdered anybody here without my 
 knowledge. And why should he trouble himself thus 
 to dissemble before me ? And why should he spend 
 so much as two thousand rupees, when two hundred 
 spent in the same way would make a saint of the 
 greatest sinner in Dhupnagar ? And why — but what 
 is the use of raising questions that cannot be answered ? 
 Such a change from the swearing, murderous rakshasa 
 (demon), that was ready to take my life the other day, 
 to the sleek pietist who looks as if he would not sneeze 
 without invoking the name of Eama — I can't believe 
 it ; surely I must be dreaming ! Will any one slap me 
 on the back that I may know if I am awake ? " 
 
 Prosunno uttered this last ejaculation aloud, and was 
 rolling his eyes vacantly about him as if in search of
 
 240 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 somebody to solve his doubts, when a smart blow with 
 a bamboo quarter-staff across the shoulders sent him 
 reeling among Ram Lall, the oilman's, pots and jars. 
 Gathering himself angrily up, he checked the torrent 
 of imprecations that rose to his lips when he saw that 
 his assailant was the ex-trooper, who, swaggering along 
 the bazaar in attendance on his young master, had 
 heard the lawyer's exclamation, and had only been too 
 glad to gratify his request. 
 
 " Bakshish, master lawyer, for the blow," said Agha, 
 with a grin, as he held out his hand ; " surely a gentle- 
 man like you would never bid a poor man work for 
 nothing. If I did not lay on hard enough to satisfy 
 you, have at you again with all my heart." 
 
 " You saw him, Eam Lall — you saw the Muhamma- 
 dan knock me down," said Prosunno, appealing to the 
 oilman ; " you w411 swear to the assault when called 
 upon," 
 
 " And you will swear, Afzul Baba, that you heard 
 the fellow bid me," said Agha, laughing in the loud 
 Afghan fashion, which more resembles the neighing 
 of a horse than the cachinnations of a human being. 
 " You are like the man that cried, * Come, sweet Death!' 
 when Death was beyond the mountain ; but * Begone, 
 fell demon ! ' when Azrael looked in at the door. Let 
 this be a warning to you not to cry out for being 
 knocked down another time unless you M'ish to be 
 taken at your word." 
 
 And the two Muhammadaus went striding down the
 
 A GIFT FROM THE GREEKS. 241 
 
 street with their dragoon swagger, laughing like mis- 
 chievous children at the lawyer's annoyance, and elbow- 
 ing everybody out of the way with cool insolence. 
 Quiet Hindoos crossed the street to avoid them, and 
 such women as had any pretensions to prettiness 
 covered up their faces, or shrank trembling into the 
 doorways. They formed a curious contrast, the tall 
 and slim, but muscular and well-formed youth, and 
 the elderly trooper, whose back was bent and neck con- 
 torted by the wounds he had received from the Sikh 
 lancers. But old as he was, Agha delighted in mis- 
 chief as much as a schoolboy, and he was chuckling 
 with glee at the success of his practical joke, utterly 
 regardless of the- offence he had given to the revengeful 
 Bengalee lawyer. 
 
 liam Lall did his best to soothe Prosunno, brushing 
 the dust off his clothes, and trying to console him with 
 the reflection that the rascals w-ere only Muhamma- 
 dans, and knew no better. But Prosunno was not to 
 be appeased. He made a formal entry of the assault 
 in his memorandum-book, and carefully minuted the 
 evidence of Earn Lall and the other bystanders. All 
 w^ere indignant at the disgraceful treatment of a Brah- 
 min by foul Mussulman mletchas, and said that it was 
 enough to bring a judgment upon the aggressors. 
 Brijo, the butterman, however, who was an inveterate 
 joker, and had lately lost a plea by Prosunno's exer- 
 tions on behalf of his adversary, deponed that be could 
 swear to nothing but that he had heard the lawyer iu- 
 
 VOL. L Q
 
 212 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 viting somebody to strike him, and that he was just 
 thinking of obliging liim himself when the Afghan in- 
 terposed to save him the trouble. To this Prosunno 
 retorted that the speaker was a liar, and a broker, and 
 the brother of a naughty sister; that his wife was a pro- 
 curess of abortion ; and that his grandfather had been 
 guilty of incest ; and Brijo responding by similar 
 calumnies against the lawyer's relations, a wordy duel 
 arose, and the neighbours speedily began to quarrel 
 among themselves in their zealous attempts to recon- 
 cile the disputants. In the midst of the uproar, Pro- 
 sunno, remembering that his professional dignity was 
 compromised by taking part in such a squabble, and 
 also that in case of blows he would be more likely as 
 a neutral to be retained as counsel for one or other of 
 the parties, stole quietly away to his own house. 
 
 " They are going to Eutton Pal, the spirit-seller's," 
 said Prosunno, as he saw the ^luhammadans at the 
 end of the village ; " but never mind, that young gen- 
 tleman may go down the street of Dhupnagar with a 
 policeman on each side of him before many cold wea- 
 thers come and go. If I were his counsel on the trial 
 he should hang for it. It might nearly be worth my 
 pains to make friends with him, on the chance of get- 
 ting the management of his defence. But I must go 
 home and think over Three Shells' conversion."
 
 A MORNING AT EUTTON PAL'S. 243 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A MORNING AT RUTTON PAL's. 
 
 AVe must now follow the two Muhammadaus on their 
 morning visit to Button Pal's spirit-shop, where neither 
 Agha nor his young master was a stranger. The Mus- 
 sulman soldier, habituated to the loose morals of a 
 cantonment town, has less regard for the Prophet's pro- 
 hibition of stroug liquors than the Muhammadan civil- 
 ian, whose faith in the Koran has not been shaken by 
 contact with foreigners; and both Agha and Afzul 
 would unblushingly take their seats under the thatched 
 verandah before Button's shop, and quaff the abomina- 
 tion called rum under the eyes of all the respectable 
 inhabitants of Dhupnagar. The Subadar was greatly 
 distressed when he heard of this practice, and issued 
 a stringent " garrison " order against resorting to Rut- 
 ton's ; but the " troops" — that is, Afzul and Agha — paid 
 little attention to the old man's injunctions. As for 
 Agha, he defended himself by urging the opinion of a 
 Maulavi or Muhammadan doctor of divinity, who had
 
 244 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 assured liira that the Prophet's ^jrohibition — the peace 
 of God be upon him and rest — did not apply to Indian 
 arrack (rum), about which, not being brewed in Arabia, 
 the Sent of Allah could have known nothing. But, 
 had added the reverend casuist, as the practice of 
 drinking even arrack partook of the semblance of 
 transgression, he himself would take in hand the ob- 
 taining of a pardon for an annual consideration of a 
 few rupees and a night's quarters whenever he should 
 come the way of Walesbyganj. Fortified by this 
 ghostly counsel, Agha went daily to Eutton's for his 
 ration of spirits, and it only too frequently happened 
 that his young master was disposed to bear him 
 company. 
 
 Eutton Pal's shop stood at the end of the bazaar, 
 near where the Gapshapganj road enters Dhupnagar. 
 It was a large tumble-down house, or rather a collection 
 of huts, full of all sorts of odd holes and corners, and 
 wretched drinking-rooms lighted by narrow, iron-barred 
 windows. Eutton not only sold spirits, but provided 
 his customers with pipes of the still more intoxicating 
 f/ayija and opium. The victims to the latter vice were 
 easily distinguishable by their dull, leaden eyes almost 
 buried in the sockets, their blanched and withered 
 cheeks, and the careless, though careworn, aspects of 
 their countenance. There were always three or four 
 such debauchees squatted about Eutton's shop in a 
 state of greater or less intoxication. To these poor 
 wretches life was kaif, "the savouring of animal
 
 A MORNING AT EUTTON PAL'S. 245 
 
 existence, the passive enjoyment of mere sense," as 
 Captain Burton well renders it: a pleasant dream 
 which would have been all happiness but for the 
 recurrence of a waking nightmare, brought on by lack 
 of the Lethean drug, and for the necessity of purchas- 
 ing future pleasure by present toil. From being a 
 resort for such persons, Kutton Pal's shop bore a bad 
 character in Dhupnagar. Some drunken wretch with 
 his head turned by the frenzy of ganja would occa- 
 sionally rush forth into the street, armed with hook, 
 or hatchet, or whatever other weapon came to hand, 
 and, running amuck, would slay or wound such of the 
 lieges as he encountered, until some one plucked up 
 courage enough to shoot or cut him down. More than 
 one robbery had been traced to Eutton's lodgers, 
 among whom were numbered very doubtful characters 
 of both sexes ; and the respectable villagers often 
 complained that so bad a house was tolerated by the 
 authorities. But there was some cousinship between 
 Eutton and old Earn Lall, the oilman, whose son the 
 Dipty may have remembered the relationship when 
 complaints came up before him. But though the 
 Dhupnagar Brahmins inveighed loudly against Eutton 
 and his calling, not a few of them quietly availed 
 themselves of the private entree to his premises. The 
 fact was that in Dhupnagar, as in too many other 
 Hindoo villages, the high-caste Brahmins were among 
 Eutton Pal's best customers, and tlieir patronage was 
 all the more lucrative that they paid for secrecy as
 
 246 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 well as for the strong liquors which they drank : 
 and Eutton Pal, like a judicious man, was never known 
 to betray a patron. 
 
 Button, a bull-headed, frog-necked Hindoo, whose 
 obese and greasy person was the fitting envelope of a 
 bloated and slippery moral nature, placed a low stool 
 for the two soldiers in a shady corner of the verandah, 
 for he knew them to be customers who did not court 
 concealment. Rutton Pal was less obsequious than 
 his countrymen generally are, for he had a monopoly 
 of the means of vice in the village, and his patrons 
 cared little for politeness provided they were promptly 
 served. But he greeted the two Muhammadans with 
 a respectful salutation, for they were not only liberal 
 paymasters, but violent and hot-tempered fellows, who 
 were ever as ready to bestow a buffet as to settle a 
 score. So the spirit-seller abandoned his other guests to 
 the care of an assistant, and hastened in person to set 
 a measure of liquor beside the troopers, and to fill a 
 pair of his largest hookhas for their use. After sipping 
 a little arrack, the two began to smoke in silence', 
 Afzul lolling carelessly against the wall, and Agha 
 sttting with his cynical face turned intently upwards, 
 as if he were immersed in a deep study of the black- 
 ened joists and rafters wdiich supported the roof of 
 Rutton Pal's verandah. The Sikh lancer's stroke at 
 Aliwal had distorted the muscles of Agha's neck so 
 that the axis of his face formed a constant angle of 
 forty-five degrees with the level of his right shoulder ;
 
 A MORNING AT RUTTON PAL'S. 247 
 
 and a scar upon his left cheek — inflicted by private 
 Ameer Jan of Walesby's Horse with a knife-hilt, in 
 a debate concerning the respective merits of the clans 
 of the Khyber Pass and of the Eusufzye valley — had 
 ■WTithed his mouth into a perpetual sneer, to which 
 his innate ill-nature had given forcible expression. 
 As he smoked, the older trooper drank draught after 
 draught of the arrack, until his little eyes were be- 
 ginning to twinkle with a fiery redness ; nor did he, 
 like Afzul, wash down each libation with a mouthful 
 of cold water, as is the manner of oriental topers. 
 
 " And how fares your suit for the daughter of the 
 infidel?" asked Agha, suddenly laying down his 
 hookha, and turning his head stiffly in the direction of 
 his young master. 
 
 " Bravely," replied Afzul, with a laugh ; " my love 
 comes about as much speed as the nightingale's M^ooing 
 of the rose-tree. She came to the window last night 
 and looked out into the moonlight, but her eyes never 
 rested upon the slave of love, though she saw clearly 
 that I was there. She carelessly dropped a sprig of 
 champak blossoms just at my feet, and then turned 
 coldly away to her room." 
 
 " And what idiotcy may a champak sprig portend ? " 
 said Agha, with a contemptuous whiff. 
 
 "May Allah make it clear! AMiat know I about 
 flowers ? What was her tongue given her for, unless 
 to speak ? and there was no one to hear." 
 
 " I knew a man in the clan of the Wuzeer Khevls,"
 
 248 THE CITY OF SUXSHIXE. 
 
 said Agha, musingly, and speaking rather to himself 
 than to Afzul, "who could speak the language of 
 flowers, and tell what the birds said to each other 
 wlien they chirped among the boughs. AVhen any 
 man got a flower from a maiden, he went to this 
 Wuzeerie, Karim Khan, to find out what it signified ; 
 and Karim would tell them the meaning in a rhyme, 
 pat enough, I warrant you. Oh, he was a mad fellow, 
 continually going about through the country maunder- 
 ing to himself and making verses. He once fell into 
 the hands of a tribe with whom the Wuzeeries had 
 a blood-feud, and the clansmen, of course, were going 
 to kill him. But Karim took his lute and sang to 
 them of the deeds of their forefathers, which so stiiTed 
 up the spirits of their young men, that they snatched 
 up their swords and ran ten miles into the Sikh terri- 
 tory to burn a couple of villages ; and, what was more, 
 they escorted Karim back in honour to his own clan, 
 with a present of the two best cows taken in the 
 foray." 
 
 " "Wonderful man ! I wish we had him here to fiddle 
 old Kristo Baboo out of his daughter. Couldn't you 
 send for him, Agha ? " 
 
 " But he came to grief among the same people soon 
 after," Agha continued. " He thought his music might 
 stanch the blood -feud between them and his own 
 clan, and so he made up a fine new song and set out 
 to sing it in the enemy's village. But liis pains were 
 not so well paid this time, for they called him a
 
 A MORNING AT RUTTON PAL S. 249 
 
 meddling spy, and broke his lute across liis sconce, 
 until the poor wretch forgot his lay through fright, and 
 was as mute as a parrot with its tongue cut out. So, 
 when they saw that, they knocked out his brains with 
 an axe, which was, on the whole, a wrong thing to do, 
 for those who make verses are fools, and Allah him- 
 self guides people to whom he has not given sense 
 enough to guide themselves. And you have never yet 
 spoken to the infidel woman ? " 
 
 " I have never had a chance," said Afzul, gloomily. 
 " How can I speak to her with twenty feet of brick 
 wall between us, unless I wished all who dwell in the 
 Baboo's house to hear my love-speeches ? May Shai- 
 tan confound all Hindoo fathers who lock up their 
 daughters on an upper flat ! If I could only get to the 
 girl's ear, I warrant she would listen to me fast enough, 
 for I know by her looks that she loves me. But one 
 may wait some half-score of years without ever getting 
 a chance of speaking to her." 
 
 " And by that time she will be an old woman, or the 
 bed-fellow of some filthy Hindoo. Give her up, ]\Iiah, 
 and your father and I will marry you to two or three 
 Muslim damsels, who have more beauty in their little 
 fingers than this Bengalee wench has in her whole 
 body. Give her up : it is a shame for a Muham- 
 madan and a trooper to bother his head about such a 
 slave. I have seen a fairer sold in Cabul for half the 
 price of an Afghan gelding." 
 
 " No, never, by Allah !" cried Afzul, jumping to his
 
 250 THE CITV OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 feet, and striking his fist passionately against a pillar 
 of Eutton Pal's verandah. " I would sooner see all 
 your Muslim damsels in Jeliannum. I never loved, 
 and never will love, woman as I love this Hindoo girl ; 
 and I'll have her yet, though I should carry her off 
 with the sword's point against all her kinsmen. I tell 
 you, Agha, I shall die without this Eadha." 
 
 " Exactly what you used to say about the ^Milkiganj 
 girl," said Agha, with a sneer, as he drained out his 
 liquor and knocked upon the floor with the pitcher for 
 a fresh supply ; " and you continued to be madly in 
 love with her for whole six weeks after you carried her 
 off. Then you quarrelled with her the sixth — was it 
 the sixth or the seventh week? — and the week after 
 you were only too glad to get rid of her when your 
 father sent her back with money to her people. It 
 would be just the same if you had this one." 
 
 " No ; by the soul of the Prophet and the tombs of 
 the Blessed at Kerbela, I would love this girl to my 
 latest day, and never another woman ! " 
 
 " Oh, ay, of course you would," grinned Agha ; " how 
 often have you sworn the same to others when you 
 were away with the regiment ? But, ^Miah, you may 
 just as well fall in love with the moon as with this 
 high-caste Brahmani. Wliy, man, what would the 
 Hindoo dog her father say if you went and asked 
 him for his daughter ? I trow he would soon call for 
 quarter-staves and have you beaten from his house." 
 
 " And I should cut him down before a slave could
 
 A MORNING AT KUTTOX PAL'S. 251 
 
 lift a hand to obey him ! " cried Afziil, furiously ; " now, 
 Agha, give me good counsel for once ; you are always 
 advising when no one wishes you. What would you 
 do about this girl if you were in my place ? " 
 
 " If I were in your place, I would not bother my 
 head about her," responded Agha, contemptuously. 
 "Who am I that I should make myself the slave of 
 a sari (female garment) ? Bah ! wait till you have 
 lived as long in the world as I have, and you will see 
 clearly the mischief and wickedness that lie under 
 black eyes and soft cheeks. I once brought home a 
 Persian girl with me from Turkistan when I went 
 there with the Amir's troops before I came to serve 
 the English Sahibs. I was as proud of her as a hen 
 with one chicken, and was constantly bragging of how 
 much more beautiful she was than the swarthy wives 
 of my own clansmen. I thought nothing of going 
 forty miles to plunder a necklace or some other jjretty 
 trinket to adorn her. Well, there was one night that 
 my brother and I and half-a-dozen other horsemen 
 went down into the Khyber to stop a company of rich 
 merchants coming from Jellalabad to Peshawur; but 
 the weather was stormy and the kafila (caravan) did 
 not start. So when we grew tired of riding backwards 
 and forwards among the blinding snow-drift, we gal- 
 loped home again empty-handed, and cold and hungry, 
 I had been thinking all the way, how the warm wel- 
 come at home would make up to me for my cheerless 
 ride ; and whom should I find with my wanton of a
 
 252 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 wife but Sekandar Khan, the chief of my village, I 
 shot Sekandar through the shoulder as he fled, but 
 ray nerves failed me when I turned round to kill 
 Souda. I raised my sword to strike her ; but as she 
 knelt before me, with her little head thrown back, her 
 soft tresses, which were fairer and more silky than 
 those of any maid in the valley, hanging down to the 
 ground, and her soft hands clasped about my wrist, I 
 thought how often that head had been pillowed on my 
 bosom, and grew as weak as a girl. 1 tried several 
 times to strike her, but my arm was witched by the 
 piteous look of her pale face, and I fled from the house 
 and passed the night in rushing wildly about among 
 the drifty glens. I was not a whit stronger next day ; 
 and when my brother and kinsfolk told me that I 
 must either wipe out the disgrace by killing my wife 
 or flee the country, I thought it would be much easier 
 for me to go away. I rode that night to Loodiana 
 upon the chief's best charger, having burned down his 
 houses and killed his two brothers, who were the only 
 males of his family I could fall in with, before I set out. 
 After all, poor Souda had a worse fate than if I had 
 killed her, for Sekandar took her home to his house, and 
 she is now the slave of his other three younger wives, 
 and does all tlie drudgery of the family. Allah the 
 merciful, what is fated is fated ! " 
 
 " And what in the name of Eblis have I to do with 
 your long-winded stories ? I don't wonder at your wife 
 taking up with another man, for she could never have 
 cared for an old wolf of the Khyber like you. You in
 
 A MORNING AT KUTTON PAL'S. 253 
 
 love ! I could as well imagine a frog catching cold. 
 A pretty Mejnun you must have made to this Tur- 
 kistani Leila ! But come, Agha, my brother, do advise 
 me what I am to do." 
 
 "Well," replied Agha, as he drowned his matri- 
 monial reminiscences in a huge gulp of spirits, "if 
 you ^vill have the maiden, it must be by foul means, 
 for fair ones won't work ; and what is more, they must 
 be by safe means, for there would be no use in carrying 
 off the girl one week, to be thrown into prison and 
 banished across black water the next. Am I right?" 
 
 Afzul, busy with his hookha, nodded assent. 
 
 " Then we must carry her quietly off some night, 
 and keep her out of the way until the tufan (storm) 
 blow over ; and then, when her caste is fairly broken, 
 her Hindoo relations will disown her, and will be too 
 much ashamed to make an uproar about her." 
 
 " Excellently suggested, Agha. But how am I to 
 keep suspicion off myself? These Hindoo dogs would 
 get me arrested at once," doubtfully remarked the 
 young man. 
 
 " Umph," said Agha, " we must guard against that, 
 and fasten the suspicion upon some other quarter. 
 Ah, I know a plan," he added, after a moment's reflec- 
 tion ; " suppose we dress ourselves like Sonthal bandits, 
 and break into the house with spear and torch. The 
 Bengalees Avould be frightened to follow us in the 
 direction of the passes, and we may easily conceal our- 
 selves in the jungle until we can place the girl in some 
 secure concealment. Won't that do ? "
 
 254 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 " Capitally," said Afzul, rubbing his hands in glee ; 
 " the Nawab of Panch Pahar is a true man, and would 
 never betray one of the Faithful to the Bengalees. I 
 shaU keep the girl in his house until the danger is 
 past, and I can take her with safety to my father's. 
 And we can give out, Agha, that I am gone to Pul- 
 tunpore on a visit to the regiment." 
 
 A fresh measure of liquor was ordered in to aid them 
 in maturing their lawless enterprise ; and the more 
 they discussed it, the less difficult did it seem. Afzul 
 was only too glad to catch at any suggestion that pro- 
 mised him the realisation of his passion ; and with the 
 unthinking rashness of youth, he was prepared to 
 brave any danger that stood between him and his love. 
 As for the Khyberee, he took a natural delight in mis- 
 chief, provided there was a dash of romance or daring 
 in the transgression. Agha's ethics had been formed 
 in a somewhat arbitrary school among the wild frontier 
 tribes. He would have deemed it a heinous sin to 
 pilfer his purse from a sleeping man, or to rob a poor 
 ryot of his cow ; but there was no turpitude in robbing 
 with the strong hand, or in driving off a herd of cattle 
 from a rich landholder. Laws designed for the protec- 
 tion of property were in Agha's eyes rather a disgrace 
 than an honour to a nation, for they presupposed im- 
 potence or cowardice on the part of the possessor, and 
 tended to the encouragement of these base qualities, 
 and to the destruction of whatever was free and manly 
 and noble. Nor had Afzul's mind entirely escaped
 
 A MORNING AT EUTTON PAL S. 255 
 
 the contagion of these ideas. The Ivhyberee's tales 
 had produced upon his imagination an efiect analogous 
 to that which is wrought upon the uneducated youth 
 of England by the lower jets of sensational literature. 
 No undergraduate of St Giles' or Whitechapel ever per- 
 used his pennyworth of blood and murder with a keener 
 relish than that with which Afzul listened to Agha's 
 trans- frontier experiences. And what was that they 
 were now proposing to undertake but the fulfilment 
 of his boyish dreams of carrying off a bride, the cap- 
 tive of Ms spear, as the warriors of old had been wont 
 to woo ? and the difficulties and dangers that beset the 
 adventure were only additional enticements to him to 
 put his fortune to the touch. 
 
 They drank off the remains of their liquor and strode 
 back through the bazaar towards Walesbyganj — not 
 quite so steadily, perhaps, as they had come — jostling 
 the quiet townsfolk out of their path, and terrifying 
 the shopkeepers by their loud talk and fierce gestures. 
 The troopers saw and enjoyed the nervous demeanour 
 of the Dhupnagar villagers; and their natural inso- 
 lence was designedly exaggerated for the purpose of 
 frightening the people still further. Wickedness and 
 arrogance were inbred in a Muhammadan, argued the 
 Bengalees ; but these two were more vicious and 
 oppressive than all the Mussulman tyrants put to- 
 gether, from the days of Muhammad the idol-breaker 
 to the time of Nawab Suraj-ud-daulah. 
 
 " See how unblushingly they walk through the
 
 25G THE CITY OF SUXSDINE. 
 
 streets to Rutton Pal, the spirit - seller's !" remarked 
 Protap, the accountant, who was himself not altogether 
 unsuspected of being one of Euttou's private patrons. 
 " It was perfectly intolerable that men whose hands 
 were red with the blood of sacred kine should be 
 allowed thus to annoy the town's - folk," observed 
 Dwarkanath, the village schoolmaster; "and if the 
 headman would only do his duty, some order would 
 be taken with these blusterers to keep them from 
 putting honest folk in peril of their bodies." 
 
 But old Gangooly shook his head, and averred that it 
 was a foolish thing to rouse a sleeping tiger ; it would 
 be time enough to cry out when anybody was beaten. 
 Though the nim tree were watered with syrup, its 
 leaves would still be bitter: so would a Mussulman 
 be always a tyrant wherever he dwelt. His, Gan- 
 gooly's, advice to his townsmen was to take care of 
 themselves, for the Magistrate Sahib Eversley was 
 friendly to the old Subadar ; and the gods forbid that 
 the villagers of Dhupnagar should blacken his honour's 
 face by complaints of his honour's favourites. But 
 since Afzul had fallen under suspicion of the robberies, 
 the abuse of the villagers had grown more unmeasured, 
 and the peaceful counsels of Gangooly less eflectual ; 
 and though the Dhupnagar Hindoos might have to put 
 up with Afzul's domineering ways while the young man 
 stood well in the magistrate's favour, matters were 
 very diflerent now that he was in disgrace. Thanks 
 to Gangooly's talking propensities, and the gossip of
 
 A MOKNING AT RUTTON PAL's. 257 
 
 the two watchmen, there was not a house in Dhup- 
 nagar, except Walesbyganj, where the cliarge hanging 
 over Afzul remained a secret. And so, as he and Agha 
 w^ent home from Paitton's that day the Hindoos re- 
 garded them with sulky looks and scowls of hardly- 
 concealed defiance, although each was prudent enough 
 to avoid any provocation that would break the Avand 
 of peace upon his own person. 
 
 No sooner had the Muhammadans departed from 
 Button's than Jaddoo, the Dipty's orderly, crawled 
 out from behind an old deal box in a corner of the 
 verandah, and began to rub and chafe his legs and 
 arms, which were cramped by lying so long coiled wp 
 in a snake-like posture. Jaddoo's face wore an air of 
 triumph, indicating his appreciation of the news Avhich 
 he had overheard. Here was a discovery, not exactly 
 what either he or his master had expected, but still a 
 plot which would be quite sufficient to secure a con- 
 viction against the Muhammadan. Eutton Pal came 
 gloomily in to take away the stools and jugs, and 
 Jaddoo in his delight gratified the spirit-seller with a 
 rupee in return for the means of eavesdropping which 
 Eutton had afforded him. 
 
 Eutton took tlie coin and rang it upon the lloor. 
 " I didn't want to see either your face or your money. 
 Master Orderly," said he, securing the coin iu his 
 Avaist-cloth. " It is the first time that ever Eutton, 
 the son of Gopal, sold a patron or a neighbour, and 
 he hopes it will be the last. If anything befall the 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 258 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 ^Miiliaiiimadan, your dirty takka (rupee) will scantily 
 repay me for the loss of their custom." 
 
 " You might chance to be put to a greater incon- 
 venience, brother Rutton, than the loss of a customer," 
 said Jaddoo, with a grin, " if his honoiu" the Dipty and 
 I were to order a search of your premises. You will 
 take care that no one hears of my being in your house, 
 if you wish to keep my favour." 
 
 Rutton changed countenance at this threat, and 
 bowed the great man's great man submissively out by 
 the back door. Jaddoo sauntered away carelessly in 
 the direction of the bazaar, and spent the day chatting 
 and smoking with his acquaintances, and enjoying the 
 hospitality which everybody readily proffered to one 
 who enjoyed so large a share of the Dipty's confidence. 
 Jaddoo, however, took good care to say nothing of the 
 business which brought him to Dhupnagar, although 
 more than half the village could easily guess his 
 errand. His honour, the Dipty, had given him a few 
 days' leave, Jaddoo said when questioned ; and wliere 
 could he spend his holidays better than among his 
 friends and relations ? As for business, he had enough 
 of that at the Gapshapganj Court, where he could not 
 avoid it ; and he knew a better way of employing his 
 leisure than by meddling with their police matters. 
 And though the shopkeepers knew that Jaddoo's state- 
 ments were all a hanao (hatch-up), they did not care to 
 call them in question, but sought rather by bribes and 
 flattery to secure Jaddoo's influence with the Dipty on
 
 A MOPvNING AT RUTTOX PAL'S, 259 
 
 behalf of their little lawsuits and grievances. And 
 the first day of his sojourn in Dhupnagar, Jaddoo fin- 
 gered so many largesses from persons who wished to 
 purchase his favour, that he began to think there were 
 more unpleasant tasks in the life of an orderly than 
 such " special duty " as had fallen to his lot. 
 
 Jaddoo had little difficulty in making up his mind 
 that it would be prudent for him to keep the discov- 
 ery which he had just made a little longer to himself. 
 " For," he argued, " if I report what I have heard to 
 the Dipty, he will think it quite sufficient ground for 
 placing the matter in the hands of the regular police. 
 But I am much better here, going about, ray own 
 master, with plenty of money for haraj (expenses) in 
 my pocket, where nothing costs me a pice, and where 
 everybody worships my feet. No, no ; I don't get 
 such a case every day, and must make it spin out. So 
 I had better report to the Dipty that I have got no 
 evidence as yet, but that I am daily expecting to fall 
 in with a clue."
 
 260 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 
 BEJOY, THE GHATAK. 
 
 One morning all Dhupnagar became alive to the im- 
 portant fact that Bejoy, the fjhatah, had been sent for 
 by Eamanath Gossain, and there was nobody so simple 
 as not to know what this foreshadowed. It was Be- 
 joy 's business to arrange all the Brahmins' marriages in 
 the place, to settle the question of dowry and nuptial 
 expenses between the high contracting parties, and 
 generally to keep a list of all the marriageable boys 
 and girls in Dhupnagar, with their prospects, their 
 pedigrees, their personal attractions, and every other 
 quality desirable in a husband or wife. Bejoy was a 
 most useful man in the village, and the depositary of 
 many grave domestic secrets ; but no one had ever 
 known him violate a client's confidence. Bejoy was 
 an important man in the community, and he some- 
 times presumed upon his importance to take liberties, 
 which in the case of any other person would have been 
 rewarded with a bamboo or a slipper. If a Brahmin
 
 BEJOY, THE GIIATAK. 261 
 
 was SO far forgetful of his duty as to allow liis daughter 
 to grow up into girlhood without having chosen a hus- 
 band for her, Bejoy would put on his best clothes, re- 
 fresli his memory from his list of unmarried boys, wait 
 upon the negligent parent, and gravely remonstrate with 
 him upon his want of natural affection. Bejoy could 
 expatiate by the hour upon the impropriety of allow- 
 ing girls to attain womanhood before they were settled 
 in life, of the dangers which might thence result to the 
 reputation of the family, of the grief with which the 
 souls of deceased ancestors saw the chance of posterity 
 thus cut off; and then he would artfully shift his theme 
 to the good qualities of such and such a family, their 
 pure Brahminical descent, their comfortable circum- 
 stances, aud the amiable character and good looks of 
 the oldest unmarried son. If the father was reluctant, 
 and hinted at his inability to make a suitable settle- 
 ment, Bejoy would assume another tone, would talk of 
 the religious obligations which bound a parent to pro- 
 vide for his family's welfare, quote scripture by the 
 page to convince the poor man of his sinful conduct, 
 and end by pretending to take his departure in pious 
 horror at his host's godless and unnatural conduct. 
 But paterfamilias cannot afford to have his character 
 blackened to all his neighbours, and his domestic affairs 
 perhaps brought before the village council ; so he calls 
 Bejoy back, with much concern that any offence should 
 have been given him ; and the ghatak's kind interest 
 is repaid with a fee, and a half-permission may be
 
 2G2 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 wormed out of paterfamilias to make inquiries regard- 
 ing the boy and his family — just for mere curiosity, in 
 a private way, and without liability to either party, 
 upon Bejoy's word. So Bejoy goes away to the other 
 family and tells the converse of his former story, is 
 fee'd and feasted, and perhaps empowered to conclude 
 a definite alliance ; and then he goes home and books 
 the match, calculates the net fees which it will bring, 
 and casts his eye down the list in search of another 
 eligible couple. ^lany a match is entered in Bejoy's 
 books of which the families concerned can have little 
 anticipation. Have the Fates, for instance, ever decreed 
 the marriage of little Dossee, who was born on Satur- 
 day, with Khetter, who is now beginning to walk in 
 leading-strings, and to lisp the names of his father 
 and mother ? I cannot say ; but they are already 
 coupled in Bejoy's ledger, and unless the Fates call 
 death or disease to their assistance, the ghatak stands 
 a fair chance of carrying out his own project. 
 
 I have often thought that the glmtak is an institution 
 which some of us good Christians might well conde- 
 scend to borrow from heathenism. Start not, my most 
 respectable reader ! I am not going to say that our Brit- 
 ish marriages are not the most perfect, the most happy, 
 
 the most disinterested, the most pure — with this 
 
 which you may fill up with any other superlative that 
 expresses your views of M'hat a marriage ought to be — I 
 repeat, the most perfect, the most happy, &c., unions 
 possible in this iniquitous world, where, nowadays, the
 
 BE JOY, THE GHATAK. 263 
 
 decrease of marrying sons, the alarming increase of 
 marriageable daughters, the competition for women of 
 property, the upstart of new capitalists, the poverty of 
 eligible aspirants, the ineligibility of rich candidates, 
 the influence of society, that Board of Trade which 
 looks so sharply after our domestic weights and mea- 
 sures, and many other aM^kward and untoward circum- 
 stances, are, I am assured upon good authority, every 
 day threatening to bring business upon the matrimo- 
 nial exchange to a complete dead-lock. But excellent 
 as our matrimonial system is, I am not at all sure that 
 it might not be mended. AVe do not sell our shares 
 and stocks ourselves ; indeed, some of us who think not 
 little of our own cleverness, would make but a sorry bar- 
 gain if we went into the City for that purpose; and why 
 should we buy and sell our own flesh and blood when 
 Bejoy, the ghatak, would do it so much better for us ? 
 Consider what humiliations my friend, Mrs Fisher, has 
 undergone during these nine years since her eldest 
 daughter became marriageable; how she has bowed 
 and flattered, smiled and tibbed, gone out in evening 
 dress when her rheumatism ought to have kept her at 
 home, neglected her husband, and allowed her house- 
 hold to go to rack and ruin ; and yet in spite of the 
 exertions of that devoted mother, we all say that Miss 
 Fisher is no more likely to get a husband than her old 
 aunt. Miss Witherington. Ah, my good lady, they 
 order these things better in Bengal. Had your daugh- 
 ter's name been in Bejoy's list, I believe Helena would
 
 264 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 have been settled years ago ; at least you would Lave 
 been spared no end of trouble and mortification. And 
 how much more pleasant would it be for poor Tom 
 "SVesterall if he could only make love by proxy to that 
 raddled, bony Miss Silverley, who is forty at the least, 
 but who has a fortune that would clear off all Tom's 
 creditors, and set him on his legs again with the world 
 — poor Tom ! who has carried a faded little photograph 
 of penniless ^Maggie Gordon, his sister's Scotch gover- 
 ness, in his pocket-book for the last ten j-ears, until the 
 likeness has become quite dog's-eared and dirty ! Send 
 for Bejoy, Tom, and if the lies must be told, don't tell 
 them yourself; and then if she will have you, marry 
 her, in heaven's name, pay off your debts, and deal as 
 kindly with her as you possibly can. But there is so 
 much to be said in favour of the ghatak that I shall 
 keep the subject until some time when material is more 
 scanty. Our French neighbours have their bureaux de 
 confiance ; but the French are a vain nation, unhappily 
 inclined to make light of serious subjects ; and my 
 friend, Captain Slack, late of the Bengal Junglywallah 
 Cavalry, who spends much of his time in the Parisian 
 capital, as a change from Boulogne, has cautioned me 
 that these institutions are seriously abused hy mauvais 
 sujets of both sexes. The Bengalees are, however, a 
 serious and sober race, who view domestic institutions 
 in as sacred a light as the greatest Pharisee who ever 
 boasted of Great Britain as his birthplace possibly 
 could do; and we may safely enough take a lesson
 
 BEJOY, THE GHATAK. 265 
 
 from them. How I longed last Sunday, while escort- 
 ing my friend Mrs Fisher from church, when that ex- 
 cellent lady made the remark apropos of the sermon 
 — man's first disobedience and its fruit, had been the 
 preacher's tlieme — " How little trouble our first parents 
 must have had in marrying their sons and daughters," 
 — it was the poor lady's highest conception of primeval 
 bliss, and a very natural one too, — how I longed, I say, 
 to recommend her to adopt the Bengalee ghatah, and 
 thereby set an example to other British matrons, for 
 which a grateful posterity would bless her name ! 
 
 But enough of Mrs Grundy ; and really after her and 
 her ways the primitive savagery of the City of Sunshine 
 is a sort of relief. The villagers were at no loss to 
 guess what was on foot when Ramanath Gossain sent 
 for Bejoy, the ghatak. Bejoy lost no time in obeying 
 the summons, although he had an old grudge against 
 the priest, for Ramanath had not only married his 
 second wife, but had also arranged his son's unfortu- 
 nate match with Chakwi without Bejoy's intervention. 
 Bejoy was, however, delighted to forget all this in the 
 prospect of securing so good a client as the priest, and 
 he put on his best clothes, assumed a pretentious ex- 
 pression of professional gravity, and hastened to the 
 temple to make his bow to the priest. Ramanath was 
 sitting on his usual seat in the temple porch ; his 
 hookha had gone out unnoticed in his abstraction, and 
 his head was bent upon his breast in a reverie, when 
 a rustling of primly-starched cotton garments, and a
 
 266 THE CITY OF SUXSIIINE. 
 
 heavy perfume of nmsk and sandal-wood, aroused him 
 to the fact that Bejoy was salaaming before him. Be- 
 joy's duties led him not unfrequently into female cir- 
 cles, and a little foppishness was excusable, and even 
 requisite, in his profession. 
 
 " Salutation, Bejoy," said Eamanath, cordially, as he 
 motioned the ghntak to a seat and proffered him the 
 hookha. " Why, man, it is as good as an offering of 
 incense to the gods, when you come to the temple. 
 I suppose you can't guess why I have sent for you ? " 
 
 " Though I am no reader of riddles, I yet think I 
 may venture," replied Bejoy, with a smirk. " I have 
 long said to myself, ' What a wonder it is that a lusty, 
 hearty man like his worship, the priest, who can so 
 well afford an establishment, should be content with 
 one wife ! ' I warrant now you will want a young girl 
 to nurse you in your old age. The Eajah of Ghatghar 
 has a sister w^io is just turned of twelve, an Apsara* 
 of loveliness : her face is round as the full moon, her 
 waist slender as a cuckoo's throat, her ankles " 
 
 " Nay, nay, friend Bejoy," interrupted Eamanath, 
 with a laugh, " say no more of her charms, or I shall 
 be as foolish as to fall in love with her at my time of 
 life. I have been married enough for this world, and 
 if I had wanted another I would have wooed one for 
 myself — no offence to you, however, my good friend." 
 
 Bejoy made a grimace and a bow. He had known 
 this weU enough, but he thought Eamanath would 
 • The celestial females who dance in paradise before the god Indra.
 
 BEJOY, THE GHATAK. 267 
 
 feel pleased to be complimented upon liis youth, and 
 lie had made the mistake on purpose. And certainly 
 there was no accent of anger in the priest's voice as 
 he continued : — * 
 
 " No, Bejoy, it is my son Krishna who wants to make 
 a fool of himself You can't put an old heart in a 
 young body ; and I don't mind telling you, who are a 
 discreet man, in confidence, that there is little love lost 
 between him and Chak%vi ; and a pity it is, for she is 
 a good girl. But the lad has set his heart upon Kristo 
 Baboo's daughter, and I have thought it best to let 
 him have his own way. So I am going to put the 
 case in your hands, and if you manage it well, I pro- 
 mise you it will be the best match for you that was 
 ever made in Dhupnagar." 
 
 Bejoy grinned and rubbed his hands, and then burst 
 forth into a torrent of blessings upon the priest's 
 wealth and liberality, and vowed that if he did not 
 make up the marriage before a month was over, he 
 would never attempt another in Dhupnagar. The 
 case was a difficult one ; but Bejoy, like the barrister 
 who is delighted at being entrusted with a cause celkbre, 
 was duly sensible of the importance which he acquired 
 in undertaking it, and was determined to stake his 
 professional reputation upon the issue. Kristo Baboo's 
 daughter had long been a standing reproach against 
 Bejoy in his own eyes. Eadha's father could not have 
 been more chagrined at his daughter's ill-fortune than 
 was Bejoy, who looked upon a maiden so well-born
 
 2G8 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 and so beautiful, but yet unmarried, as a professional 
 disgrace to himself. But be it told to Bejoy's credit 
 that Eadha's spinsterhood was no fault of his. The 
 (jhatah had proposed all manner of matches, both likely 
 and unlikely, until Kristo Baboo had lost patience, and 
 had told Bejoy not to trouble him farther upon that 
 subject, though he acknowledged the gluitaTcs concern 
 for liis daughter's welfare by a heavier largess than 
 he could well afford. So far-seeing a man as Bejoy 
 had of course observed how suitable a match Krishna, 
 the priest's son, would be for Kristo Baboo's daughter ; 
 but the Gossains had never been clients of his, and 
 Bejoy had no faith in any marriages that were not of 
 his own making. But now the case was altered, and 
 Bejoy felt as if he should like to begin work that very 
 minute. 
 
 But the priest had to moderate his ardour. There 
 were many things that must be taken into account 
 before a formal proposal could be made to the Lahories. 
 The young man might not impossibly raise some 
 scruples about a second marriage, although he was 
 madly in love with the girl, for he had picked up a 
 lot of whimsical notions among the English Sahibs 
 at Calcutta. Bejoy shrugged his shoulders contemp- 
 tuously at the idea of any man having scruples about 
 marrying a girl of such beauty and of so high a caste 
 as Radha. Moreover, Eamanath must not have the 
 izzat (reputation) of his family compromised by ex- 
 posing his son to a chance of being rejected by the
 
 BEJOY, THE GIIATAK. 269 
 
 Lahories. Bejoy rubbed his hands impatiently, as 
 much as to say that Eamanath might trust him to 
 take care of that. So Bejoy must go to work cau- 
 tiously, and sound Kristo upon the subject, before he 
 gave the Baboo to understand that he had any powers 
 to treat with him; and above all he must keep the 
 villagers from getting wind of the matter, until it 
 was definitely settled ; and he could hint to Kristo, 
 added Eamanath in a dignified way, that the mar- 
 riage expenses need not be any drawback, for though 
 Piamanath Gossain need not pay a pice to get the best 
 Lahory in Bengal for his son, yet he would take care 
 in a neighbourly way that his old friend Kristo should 
 be put to no loss by the marriage, and that there 
 would be no want of funds to provide a ceremonial 
 suited to the rank of both families. 
 
 " Bas (enough), has" cried Bejoy, jumping to his 
 feet — " say no more, sir ; the marriage is made ! " and it 
 was all the priest could do to prevent him from rush- 
 ing across to the house of Lahory, and broaching the 
 matter to Kristo Baboo that very minute. 
 
 It was astonishing how many of the villagers were 
 congregated about the green after the news went out 
 that Bejoy, the (jhatak, had been sent for to the 
 temple. The shadow of a jackass had fallen between 
 Dwarkanath and his pupils while they were busy 
 at lessons, and the pious schoolmaster could not pos- 
 sibly proceed with his work after such a portent. 
 Shama Churn, the grain-dealer, left his shop to meet
 
 270 THE CITY OF SUXSHINT:. 
 
 an imaginary merchant, whom he had engaged to see 
 upon the village green, the Rialto of Dhupnagar. And 
 what could have brought Prosunno, the lawyer, and 
 Protap, the accountant, there at that moment ? Some 
 pressing business, no doubt. Protap's house was hard 
 by, and Prosunno had recollected himself that he 
 must talk with Gangooly, the \'illage headman, who 
 was of course quoting proverbs in the centre of the 
 group. Each seemed to imagine that he himself, and 
 no other, had a right to be there at that time ; and when 
 a new-comer sauntered up to the party, he had to put 
 up with a host of c}Tiical queries as to what he could 
 be doing there just then. And then the great topic of 
 the day would be introduced It was no doubt on 
 Krishna's behalf that Bejoy's services had been called 
 in ; but who was the girl ? Protap, the accountant, who 
 would gladly have given his own immarried daughter 
 to the priest's son, but who knew also that Krishna 
 would never seek her, pitied the poor thing, whoever 
 she was, and said that a woman might as well marry 
 a mletcha (barbarian) or an Englishman as a Hindoo 
 who had no religion. 
 
 Old Gangooly must have his joke, that a man who 
 had been once burned should again plunge his hand 
 into the fire, and was sharply rebuked by Dwarkanath, 
 the schoolmaster, who had three wives himself, and 
 who detected an irreverent allusion to the sacred insti- 
 tution of polygamy in the headman's remark. Shama 
 Chum was mentally calculating the expenses which
 
 BEJOY, THE GHATAZ. 271 
 
 ■«-ould be incurred by people of the Gossains' quality, 
 and how much grain would be required to feed the 
 Brahmins, and whether it would not be worth his 
 pains to be a little more regular in his devotions at the 
 temple, in order to get the conti-act Xitye, the village 
 doctor, was understood to say that no good could come 
 of marrj-ing a man who used European medicines ; they 
 tainted the blood, and his children would consequently 
 be predisposed to leprosy and cholera. To which 
 Gangooly responded that they would be all the better 
 patients to him then ; but the old charlatan shook his 
 head, and said that physic did little good to a dead 
 man, and English doctors were worse than Hindoo 
 devils, for the latter might be driven away by chaims ; 
 but when a man took medicine from the former, he 
 made a covenant with Yama, the god of death. And 
 Prosunno, the lawyer, speaking from the brief he held 
 for Three Shells, said that the Gossains were excellent 
 people — most excellent and honourable people ; that an 
 alliance with them would be an honour to any one in 
 the place ; and that he was surprised — nay, grieved 
 even — that people should have allowed their tongues 
 to cast aspersions upon Krishna's orthodoxy, when 
 that good young man was bearing so clear a testimony 
 to his Swadharma* by taking to himself a second 
 wife. "Whereupon the elders stared at Prosunno in 
 amazement and held their peace ; but that ornament 
 
 * Stcad?iarma is the creed in which one has been bom and 
 brought up.
 
 272 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 of the legal profession never lost control over a muscle 
 of his countenance. 
 
 AVhen Bejoy, the ghatak, made his appearance, there 
 was a general movement to meet him ; but that gentle- 
 man was too full of the importance of his mission and 
 of professional responsibility to pay much heed to their 
 greetings. He came stepping daintily up, his well- 
 polished shoes creaking jauntily beneath him, and his 
 stiffly-starched chaddar thrown with studied careless- 
 ness over his shoulder. His face was half turned 
 aside, his eyes fixed upon the ground ; and his face 
 wore an air of pensive contemplation, as if it would 
 say, " See here, how I am drudging for the happiness of 
 you and your families ! It is little wonder though we 
 ghataks be melancholy men. Ah ! if you only knew 
 the toil, the care, the anxiety it gives us to arrange 
 your domestic affairs, you would be more grateful to 
 your benefactors." With a courteous wave of his hand 
 and a sad smile, Bejoy acknowledged the salutations of 
 his townsfolk, and declining, with a solemn shake of 
 the head, Gangooly's laughing invitation to come and 
 revive his friends with a smell of him, he passed along 
 the green until almost in front of the house of Lahory, 
 while all eyes anxiously watched his progress. It may 
 be that Kristo Baboo was not without his share of the 
 popular curiosity, for that worthy gentleman, who was 
 standing at his own door, started when he saw B<'joy 
 coming towards him, and went hurriedly inside. But 
 Bt'joy had no intention of troubling Kristo at that
 
 BEJOY, THE Gil ATA K. 273 
 
 time. He walked slowly across the green until he 
 came to the road which led along the village, and 
 turning to the left, passed on, apparently engrossed in 
 thought, until he reached his own house, and was hid 
 from the anxious view of the Dhupnagar public. 
 
 " Well, well," said Gangooly, " if he makes a mar- 
 riage it can't be in the dark, and we shall doubtless hear 
 of it in time. And Bejoy, the gliatak, is none the 
 worse that he does not gossip about other people's 
 business. One loose tongue will make more mischief 
 in a minute than twenty can mend in a month. What 
 think ye would be the consequences if / were to chat- 
 ter about every matter that came before me as your 
 headman ? " The village elders, who had good reason 
 to distrust Gangooly's commendations of his own 
 prudence, shrugged their shoulders, and went their 
 several ways. There were divers conjectures put forth 
 in the bazaar that day regarding Bejoy's mission. 
 Some had it that Eamanath, provoked by his sou's 
 heresy, had made up his mind to disinherit Krishna, 
 and to marry another wife in the hope of having male 
 issue. Others were sure that Bejoy had been com- 
 missioned to bring a European madam from Calcutta 
 as a wife to the young man, and hence it was no 
 wonder though the gliatah did not like to speak about 
 so disgraceful a job ; they wondered that so respectable 
 a man as Bejoy would have had anything to do with 
 these Gossains and their dirty work. Chand, the l)ar- 
 ber, who was the great authority upon the Brahmini- 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 274 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 cal side of all public questions, was astonished that 
 people could fabricate such stories. He had been most 
 credibly informed tliat Bejoy's visit to the priest was 
 nothing more than a mere friendly call. Of course, 
 when so clever a fellow as Bejoy got his hands upon a 
 man, there was no saying what would occur, and it 
 was just possible that a marriage might come of it; 
 but any such announcement would be premature at 
 present. However, there were more things of which the 
 folks of Dhupnagar might assure themselves, and they 
 were these — that the Gossains would only ally them- 
 selves with a family of the very best caste ; and that if 
 there was a bridal, it would be the grandest affair of 
 the kind Dhupnagar had witnessed for many a day. 
 Bonoo, the broker, who was the organ of the opposition, 
 inveighed loudly against the corruptions of Dhupnagar 
 Brahminism ; they would hardly bestow a glance upon 
 a person of lower caste than themselves, and they were 
 ever ready to excommunicate any poor man who inter- 
 married with a Sudra ; but they had no scruple about 
 smoking and drinking with a rich heathen and a beef- 
 eater like Krishna, the priest's son ; surely the latter 
 days of the Black Age were come, when the twice-born 
 caste thus forgot themselves. Moreover, Bonoo warned 
 the townsfolk to keep a sharp eye upon the priest and 
 his family ; they had already introduced heresy into the 
 village, and the gods only knew what they might do 
 next. AVhereupon Chand, the barber, the conservative 
 exponent, expressed himself in witiiering scorn of the
 
 BEJOY, THE GHATAK, 275 
 
 opiuions of Bonoo, the radical, and wondered that no 
 judgment befell a man who had ventured to open his 
 mouth in disparagement of the holy caste ; but what 
 could be expected of such an insignificant, ill-condi- 
 tioned fellow, who got his information at second-hand 
 from the cow-dung wives in the bazaar? The un- 
 daunted Bonoo stoutly replied that his opponent was 
 an old crow and a father of fools, that he folloAved the 
 Brahmins as a kite follows a sick bullock, in the hope 
 of picking something up from off them, and that he 
 knew nothing about the matter in question. Then, of 
 course, Chand would abuse Bonoo, and Bonoo vilify 
 Chand, until the townsmen took sides and a clamour 
 arose. But why detail the progress of the controversy ? 
 Is Bengal the only country where Chand and Bonoo 
 bespatter one another for the public amusement and 
 their own profit ? 
 
 There were not many people the wiser that evening, 
 when Bejoy slipped out at his back door after dusk, 
 and took his way through the deserted lanes of Dhup- 
 nagar to the house of Lahory, Was it entirely a lucky 
 accident that the ghatak found Kristo Baboo just 
 about to sit down to supper, upon which more than 
 ordinary care had been taken ; or had the Baboo 
 divined that Bejoy might possibly look in upon him? 
 This point I cannot pretend to settle ; but it is certain 
 that Bejoy received a warm welcome, and being a 
 man of good caste he was instantly set down to share 
 the Baboo's meal. The rice was served up smoking
 
 2TC THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 hot and boiled to perfection ; the curry and chillies 
 were so hot that -you coukl hardly hold them in your 
 mouth, and yet so sweet that you scarcely felt the heat ; 
 the mango fish were deliciously sour, and almost float- 
 ing in melted butter ; there was also mango phul, or 
 the fruit of the mango-tree beaten into custard ; piles 
 of sweetmeats ; and, to crown the whole, a couple of 
 bottles of "European water," which we English call 
 by the name of soda, the last of a dozen which Kristo 
 had received in a present from a Calcutta friend. 
 The production of this wonderful liquor denoted the 
 importance which the Baboo attached to Bejoy's visit, 
 for it was only to great personages, like the Eajah of 
 Ghatghar, and Preonath, the " Dipty " magistrate, that 
 a similar attention had been shown. So Kristo and 
 the ghatak gorged themselves upon the good things, 
 and fed each other with the choicest delicacies, until 
 the servants came to remove the dinner-carpet, and 
 brought in the Baboo's massive silver hookha, when 
 both, fairly surfeited, leant back upon their respective 
 cushions, and waited there in patient endurance of 
 the pleasure of repletion, too indolent to speak or even 
 to think, until they had privacy for the discussion of 
 business. Then began the contest, the ghatak, on his 
 part, endeavouring to probe Kristo's real feelings re- 
 garding his daughter's marriage, without committing 
 his client to a definite proposal, and the Baboo doing 
 his best to appear indifferent to the subject. They 
 talked of all the gossip of the village, and how frequent
 
 BEJOY, THE GIIATAK. 277 
 
 robberies were becoming, and how young Afzul Khan 
 was likely to get into trouble about them, and how 
 many thousand rupees the Kajah of Ghatghar had 
 squandered among the English Sahibs at the last Pul- 
 tunpore races. 
 
 " May Siva blast him and his whole generation ! " 
 growled Kristo, at the mention of Afzul Khan. 
 " When his father robbed me of my land, I always 
 said these ]\Iuhamraadan dogs would come to the 
 gallows. Ill-gotten land never thrives with such 
 people, liejoy ; and I should not wonder though the 
 Government were to take back the grant from them, 
 now that they are become Thags and Dakaits." 
 
 " You speak the truth, Baboo," said Bejoy. " There 
 is little good in these Muhammadans. They have no 
 order or decency in their marriages. I have heard 
 that they will take a slave-girl for their head wife, if 
 she is pretty, as readily as a woman of their highest 
 caste." 
 
 " If they would be content with their wives," cried 
 Kristo, indignantly, " it would not matter so much ; 
 but I tell you, Bejoy, there is not an unmarried 
 woman or a widow in the district safe from that 
 young blackguard. You have heard, of course, how 
 he behaved to the ryot of Milkiganj's daughter ?" 
 
 " It must be a serious thought to you, sir, to have 
 an unmarried daughter of such beauty in your house 
 while this lawless young Mussulman is at large," said 
 Bejoy, making a bolt at the opening thus presented to
 
 278 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 him. " If I miglit make a respectful representation, 
 I would advise that you should allow me to seek out 
 a good husband for her. It is time, Baboo, that your 
 daughter were well mated." 
 
 " He won't be at large long, or I'm much mistaken," 
 said Kristo, taking no notice of the gliataJcs insinua- 
 tion. " The ^lagistrate Sahibs have got their eyes upon 
 him, and I trust they may soon send him to the Anda- 
 mans — or, better still, hang him." 
 
 " The over - ripe mango loses its bloom. Baboo," 
 persisted Bejoy. " Your daughter is fast approaching 
 maturity. It is neither prudent nor natural to delay 
 longer. The townsfolk murmur about it, and no 
 Avouder." 
 
 " Murmur ! Plague choke them 1 " said Kristo, 
 angrily. " What have Sudras like them to do with 
 me and my daughter ? I have no doubt they would 
 like well enough that I should go into the bazaar and 
 pick out some of their pariah shopkeepers as a hus- 
 band to my girl. I would tenfold sooner follow her 
 corpse to the banks of the Gungaputra. Those who 
 come after me may well say that Kristo Lahory less- 
 ened the family property, but they shall never taunt 
 me with tainting the blood. Better that the family 
 should end in a pure virgin than endure as a mongrel 
 strain to grieve the souls of our departed ancestors." 
 
 " There is no need to go into the bazaar, sir," said Be- 
 joy. " Your daughter has blood and beauty to make 
 her a match for the best Brahmin in Bengal. If you
 
 BEJOY, THE GIIATAK. 279 
 
 were not so difficult to please, I could soou make an 
 excellent match for her." 
 
 " Oh, ay ! and where, in the name of Kali, am I 
 to get money to pay her dowry and provide for the 
 marriage expenses ? " cried Kristo, in an impatient 
 tone. "Am I to take to the highway with that black- 
 guard of a Muhammadan, and plunder purses to dower 
 my daughter ? or am I to send her away like a beggar 
 with my poor mother's bracelets and nose-rings, and 
 burn half-a-dozen oil-lamps upon the verandah in 
 honour of the occasion ? When I brought home my 
 wife, Bejoy, the road from the Pagoda Tope to the 
 village was lighted" with more than two thousand 
 lanterns upon each side ; and when the one end of the 
 procession had entered the village, the other was not 
 come in sight of the valley. That was something like 
 a bridal ; the expenses did not cost my father a pice 
 less than half a lakh of rupees." 
 
 " And what would you say, Baboo, if as gay a bridal 
 could be provided for your daughter, without putting 
 you an anna out of pocket?" said Bejoy, triumphantly. 
 This was going to the full stretch of his commission ; 
 but Bejoy, like every skilful practitioner, was fond of 
 carrying his point by a bold stroke. 
 
 " Say ! Why, I should say such a thing might be 
 possible if one of the immortals came to woo her, as 
 they came to Damayanti, the wife of Nala," cried 
 Kristo, in a tone of angry incredulousness. " It does 
 not cost them much to get up a tamasJia (show) ; and
 
 280 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 if it is any of them that has made you his ghatak, lie 
 may have my daughter with my blessing, though lie 
 had an elephant's head like Ganesha, or were as ugly 
 as Yama, the god of death." 
 
 " Such jesting is unseemly," said Bejoy, with a 
 look of grave reproach. " You surely do not think 
 that I would venture to trifle with a person of your 
 consequence. May my face be black before you if 
 ever you find Bejoy taking such a liberty ! I was only 
 remarking that with your kind permission and good 
 fortune, I might be able to find a suitable husband 
 for your daughter, and a way of providing for a pro- 
 per marriage ceremonial, without putting you to any 
 expense." 
 
 " Then it is some low-caste fellow who wants her," 
 said Kristo. " It won't do, ghatak. The gods forbid 
 that Kristo Lahory should sell Brahmin's blood to a 
 churl though he were lord of ten provinces ! Nobody 
 would make such an offer unless there was something 
 %\Tong about him. I tell you I shall never be the 
 person to lower the caste of Lahor}^" 
 
 " Bejoy never took a fee from a churl in his days," 
 said that gentleman, with an offended air. " I have 
 been a ghatak in Dhupnagar for twenty years, and I 
 never yet arranged a match that ^Manu himself might 
 not have blessed for being equal. The husband I 
 suggested comes of as good a caste as your own." 
 
 " Is it Ramanath Gossain, or his son Krishna ? " 
 said Kristo, in a low stammerinj:! voice, and with a
 
 BEJOV, THE GHATAK. 281 
 
 ilushed face. " Is it of either of them you would 
 speak, Bejoy ? " 
 
 " I certainly am not empowered to make an offer 
 upon the part of these worthy Baboos ; but since you 
 have suggested it, I think that the young man might 
 be a most advantageous match," returned Bejoy, fully 
 fathering the idea upon his host. " It would give me 
 most sincere pleasure to arrange a marriage between 
 your families, and I do not think there would be 
 much difficulty in bringing it about. Ramanath is as 
 generous as he is rich, and from what he said to me 
 this morning, I am sure he would be willing to take 
 all the outlay upon his own shoulders, in a neigh- 
 bourly way, if his son were marrying again to his 
 satisfaction." 
 
 Kristo smoked away in silence, but his face was 
 flushed and his pulse beat quickly. A marriage with 
 the Gossains would end the reproach to his family, 
 and they were so wealthy that they would never miss 
 the money required to release him from his creditors. 
 But then there was the disgrace of allowing Eadha to 
 leave his house a portionless bride. Well, when lie 
 considered the matter, he would have fewer scruples 
 in being obliged to his old neighbour Bamanath than 
 to any other person. But he ;;nust take care not to show 
 the other party that he was so eager for the match, 
 nor to allow the dignity of his family to suffer in the 
 negotiations. So he returned no immediate answer, 
 but smoked on, debating in his own mind the^;ro6- and
 
 282 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 cons of the proposition, especially as it affected his 
 own pecuniary interest and the opinion of the public. 
 AVith regard to his daughter's happiness, it is due to 
 Kristo's character as a high-minded Hindoo parent, to 
 state that he never bestowed a thought upon so trivial 
 a subject. 
 
 " What about this young fellow's religion?" he asked, 
 at length. " It is only a short time ago since the vil- 
 lage panchayat was going to try him as a Christian 
 and a kine-killer. You would not have me give my 
 daughter to such a man, yhatak ? " 
 
 " Who would heed what brokers and hadmashes 
 (blackguards) say?" asked Bejoy, scornfully. "The 
 better a man's character is, the more they abuse it. 
 Why, there is not a better Hindoo, or a stricter Brah- 
 min, or a man that reverences the gods more, in Dhup- 
 nagar, than Krishna Gossain." 
 
 " So much the better for him, Bejoy," said Kristo ; 
 " but for all that, I do not see that he can marry my 
 daughter. Krishna has a wife already, and I am not 
 going to give Kadlia to be the slave of the saiilan said 
 (rival wife)." 
 
 " Far be it from your bondsman to think of such a 
 thing!" cried Bejoy, readily. "The gods forbid that 
 I should offer the second place in any man's house- 
 hold to your daughter ! Besides, Krishna hates his 
 present wife, and has long fixed his eyes upon your 
 daughter." 
 
 " Well, Bejoy, you are a good and trustworthy man.
 
 BEJOY, THE GIIATAK. 283 
 
 and I should be sorry to stand in the way of your 
 earning a fee in this business," said Kristo, with 
 affected carelessness ; " but remember that the dignity 
 of me and my daughter suffer not in your hands. A 
 clear and distinct offer must come from their side, and 
 it must be solicited as a favour from me rather than 
 proffered as a benefit to us. They are a good family, 
 the Gossains ; but a marriage with them is no honour 
 to the Lahories. You will come again soon, friend 
 P>ejoy, and give me the pleasure of your gossip. I 
 would have made you a present, but may Kuveru 
 (the god of wealth) sweep away any rupee that is in 
 my house until my rents come in. However, we 
 may be more prosperous one day, when your kind 
 interest shall not be forgotten." 
 
 " It is not necessary," said Bejoy. " It is pleasure 
 enough for me to be serviceable to such excellent 
 people without payment. I am not like the dirty 
 (jludah of Gapshapganj, who fixes his fee of fifteen per 
 cent before he will cross his own threshold. Never- 
 theless, you may depend upon me doing all that man 
 can do to bring this affair to an auspicious termi- 
 nation." 
 
 " Sri Krishnaji ! but this is a lucky hap," muttered 
 Kristo to himself after the (jliatah had departed. 
 " Eamanath could pay my debts and redeem my land 
 without knowing himself a pice the poorer ; and I 
 warrant him do it too, for he is a right generous neigh- 
 bour, if the matter goes right. And then I can adopt
 
 284 THE CITY OF SUNSIIINK. 
 
 one of my grandchildren, and keep the property from 
 these kites of cousins. I shall give a silver lota to your 
 Linga, Siva ! if this afifair come right. What will 
 the folk say ahout it? By the by, I shall have to 
 keep it quiet until my lawsuit with Keshub of Bhut- 
 pore is over; or that rascally Dipty would give a decree 
 against me for very spite. Impudence, indeed, for the 
 son of an oil - seller to pretend to my daughter ! I 
 wonder his presumption does not bring a judgment 
 upon him 1 "
 
 KRISHNA AGONISTES. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 KRISHNA AGONISTES. 
 
 Poor Krishna ! he was now to learn liow frail are the 
 best of good intentions. If, as folk say, the road to a 
 certain place is paved with these, what a slii^pery path- 
 way it must be, to be sure ! and the descent to Avernus 
 will be easy indeed. Your reprobate takes a header 
 sheer over, and goes down with a rough come-tumble, 
 accompanied by so much " hideous ruin and combus- 
 tion," setting so many stones rolling in his descent, and 
 altogether making so unpleasant an uproar, and pre- 
 senting such a disagreeable spectacle, that everybody 
 who sees him is quite shocked, and moralises primly 
 over the downfall of the wicked. But the poor man 
 who is always making good resolutions and never keep- 
 ing them, whose conduct is the very reverse of his 
 intentions, has ventured upon an easier but not less 
 dangerous slide. Down he goes, gradually and gently 
 at first, but, in spite of the pleasant incline, he is ner- 
 vous and begins to pull up. Again he is off; this
 
 286 TUE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 time with more confidence, and we see him gracefully 
 nodding and bowing to the gentlemen and ladies, his 
 friends, who crowd round to cheer and applaud the 
 bold skater. A few more pauses and the slide has 
 become so smooth that really he hardly knows whether 
 he is at rest or in motion. He does not see the posts 
 with the placard " Dangerous ! " He does not hear 
 the warning hollas of the bystanders. A crash and a 
 splash, and he is wallowing in the dirt, the mud, and 
 the lUhris, the ncgra hclldta of Styx ; and the world 
 has a more harsh judgment to pronounce upon him 
 than it had upon his neighbour. Poor Krishna ! who 
 thought that he was standing so firmly all this time, 
 had slipped his foot, and was somewhat hurt, but more 
 humiliated. "Was this the man who had been to per- 
 form such feats, to cut such figures, before he bound 
 on his skates ? Tumbling at the first step upon the 
 ice, and everybody laughing at him too. Krishna 
 laughed bitterly at himself when he remembered the 
 temptations he was to overcome, the stripes and the 
 imprisonment he was cheerfully to undergo on behalf 
 of his opinions ; and here he was, before a sword had 
 been drawn or a standard unfurled, bought over to 
 the enemy's cause. "Where now was that strength of 
 character upon which he had prided himself — that 
 self-confidence which had led him to take up a loftier 
 standpoint than his fellows? What availed it now 
 that he had evinced his intellectual superiority over 
 tlie Calcutta students, since his intellect was no match
 
 KRISHNA AGONISTES. 287 
 
 for base, brute passion ? Was he not worse now than 
 Preonath, the " Dipty," whose servile adherence to 
 Hindoo orthodoxy he had so often scoffed at ? Why, 
 even his old companion Premchand Dass, who had 
 turned Christian, and whom Krishna had been wont 
 to taunt with having exchanged one superstition 
 for another, was more to be envied than he was. 
 Premchand had at least remained consistent to his 
 
 faith, while he . But I doubt much whether 
 
 Krishna's mental humiliation oppressed him so much 
 as the dread of public ridicule — the sneers of the 
 Brahmins and the scorn of his fellow-Brahmists. They 
 could not help knowing everytliing about it, for the 
 Brahmins would be sure to tom-tom the recantation 
 of so distinguished a heretic all over the country. 
 The ' Bengalee Baboo,' the organ of the orthodox party, 
 would hail his return to Hindooism with patronising 
 sneers; while the ' Cossitollah Picflector ' would make 
 his defection the subject of indignant leaders, full of 
 invectives against himself and all his connections for 
 six months to come, God! — or gods rather — the 
 poor youth would groan ; what sins had he committed 
 in his present or former births that he should be thus 
 bound and delivered over to himself for punishment 
 and torture ? 
 
 It did not require a long siege to bring Krishna to 
 capitulation. Day after day found the poor youth 
 waging a vain battle with himself, now by prayer 
 and good resolves beating back the enemy, but only to
 
 288 THE CITV OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 yield tlie vantage-ground again under the pressure of 
 passion and selfishness. Could his friends have come 
 to his rescue, or could he have possessed himself with 
 an enthusiasm for his faith, he might have been saved. 
 But how far will the enthusiasm produced by a purely 
 intellectual belief, such as that of the Brahmic Theists, 
 carry a man ? AVho ever laid down his life for a theory 
 of Causation ? Would Comte have gone to the guillo- 
 tine in defence of Positivism ? or Mr Darwin — I mean 
 no disrespect to that great thinker — allow himself to 
 be led to the stake in St Paul's Churchyard for the 
 sake of his ' Origin of Species ' ? A certain amount of 
 opposition and persecution will make a martyr of any 
 man for any conceivable opinion ; and I have no doubt 
 that, had Bamauath adopted this course with his son, 
 Krishna would have borne an illustrious testimony to 
 the principles of Brahmism. If the priest had risen in 
 wrath and turned him out of doors, Krishna would 
 have gone to Calcutta and given himself all the airs 
 of a ,mart}T ; or if the father had attempted by petty 
 persecutions, by continual worrying, by threats, and 
 by sneers, to bring him back to the paths of orthodoxy, 
 I daresay Krishna would have hugged the rack and 
 the thumb-screws, would have faced the priest's anger 
 unflinchingly, answered argument by argument, and 
 remained in the end a more enthusiastic Brahmist 
 than before. But Bamanath did nothing of the kind : 
 he left the young man to himself, and treated his 
 religious aberrations as a genial father would deal
 
 KRISHNA AGONISTES. 289 
 
 with his son's boyish folly — his mental wild oats, 
 which he would be all the steadier for having sown ; 
 and he did his best to stir up the youth's self-interest 
 and passions, which the old priest well knew would 
 plead more powerfully on behalf of Hindooisni than 
 any language of his could. Krishna was perfectly un- 
 prepared for this mode of attack. He had come home 
 to be martyred, and was on the whole rather disap- 
 pointed that nobody took any notice of him. He had 
 no small share of vanity, which would have fed upon 
 persecution; but what right had they thus to treat 
 him as a child? If the mob in Calcutta Lad stoned 
 Kheddarnath Chatterjee when he was baptised as a 
 Christian, surely he was as well worthy of lapidation. 
 The Brahmins of Padrepore had beaten young Hem 
 Chunder Mitter within an inch of his life for breaking 
 his caste and declaring himself a Theist ; and had not he 
 too torn off his Brahmin's cord and thrown down the 
 gauntlet to the gods of his people ? Did they think 
 that he who had been held up to honour as the most 
 promising student in college, had been made so much 
 of by all the great natives in Calcutta, whose conver- 
 sion had been considered so great a triumph for the 
 Brahmists — did these wretched barbarians of Dhup- 
 nagar think him too insignificant to be noticed, or did 
 they realise what might be the consequences to Hin- 
 dooism of his apostasy ? In fact, Krishna felt quite 
 angry with the latitudinarianism of his townsfolk, and 
 began to think that there would be but small benefit 
 VOL. I. T
 
 290 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 in teacliing them a new faith when they cared so very 
 little for their present creed. 
 
 Then to these feelings of pique and disappointment, 
 and a half-formed suspicion that he had been led 
 somewhat far away by his self-conceit, were added his 
 passion for Eadha and his interest in standing fast by 
 the old faith. If he abjured his caste and his creed, 
 Eadha could never be his ; and what had he to look 
 forward to but a life of misery without her — a life of 
 poverty, scorn, and liardships ? "Well, he was prepared 
 for this ; but the bright spot beyond, the life of well- 
 earned ease and honour that was to succeed his troubles, 
 was not that another of his delusions ? What hope 
 could he have to see so gigantic a system as Hindooism 
 overthrown in his lifetime ? and so long as Hindooism 
 prevailed, he must continue to be an outcast and object 
 of popular persecution. Then consider what misery 
 he would cause to his friends by an ill-advised profes- 
 sion of his enlightened opinions, — to his poor father, 
 who had been so good-natured, so indulgent, and whose 
 old age would be rendered lonely and miserable by the 
 desertion of the only child left to him — to Eadha, whom 
 he loved — to poor innocent Chakwi, who loved him, and 
 whom fate had, so unfortunately for them both, mated 
 with him. AVhy should he be the cause of grief to all 
 these innocent people ? For what was it that he was 
 thus bent upon ruining himself and distressing his rela- 
 tions? For a belief; but how well grounded was that 
 belief? Had he never doubts and misgivings ? was he
 
 KRISHNA AGOXISTES. 291 
 
 as happy as those who had a more sure, though a grosser, 
 faith ? was his purely intellectual cultus as calculated 
 to make the masses happy as the old emotional wor- 
 ship of the country ? On the whole, Krishna began 
 to fear that he had been following a phantasm which 
 had led him away until he was lost in the jungle. So 
 when Kamanath made a direct attack upon Krishna's 
 citadel, the fortress was carried by an easy assault, the 
 garrison having been starved out by cutting off the 
 supplies of vanity, and disheartened for want of allies. 
 The old priest came and sat down beside his son, took 
 the young man's hands in his own, and in tones of 
 parental kindness told him that he was making pro- 
 posals for Kristo Baboo's daughter. He had done 
 very wrong, the priest meekly confessed, in contracting 
 the marriage with Chakwi, and in attempting to coerce 
 his son's affections, and the best reparation he could 
 make for it now would be to secure for his son a girl 
 whom he truly loved. As for Chakwi, it was an awk- 
 ward affair, and the priest was very sorry ; but his son 
 was a good-hearted man who would feel for the poor, 
 gentle girl, and do his best to show her some appear- 
 ance of husbandly regard. And then he began to talk 
 of the marriage, and to grumble good-humouredly over 
 the expenses that they would have to be at in provid- 
 ing a ceremony worthy of so grand a lady as Radha. 
 They must have the house decorated anew, although 
 really her own home was not so luxurious that the 
 girl had any reason to be fastidious. There were some
 
 292 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 folk who would not be over well pleased when they heard 
 of Krishna's good fortune. Our friend Preonath, the 
 Dipty, for instance ; an ill-conditioned tyke, my son. 
 whom learning had made proud without making him 
 a gentleman : a fellow who, forsooth, was ashamed of 
 his old father. Ram Lall, the oil-seller, an honester man 
 than ever stood in the Dipty's slippers. That young 
 profligate, the Rajah of Ghatghar, too, would fain 
 have been a suitor ; but Ramanath Gossain's son did 
 not need to salaam to any of these great people, and 
 could hold his own against the best of them. No, no ; 
 Krishna might perhaps count rupee about with his 
 highness ; and pretty highness he was too — a broken- 
 down debauchee before there was a rough hair upon 
 his face ; and his son -could, at any rate, get through this 
 world without sitting upon a bench to be deaved by 
 the chattering of lying lawyers and policemen for three 
 hundred rupees a-month. 
 
 Krishna sat in silent thoughtfulness, allowing his 
 father to rattle away in this manner. The old priest 
 talked against time, hardly pausing to take breath, for 
 he knew that if he allowed his son to speak for him- 
 self, and a controversy arose, his cause was lost. But 
 Krishna was then in no humour for arguing. His 
 brain was in a whirl ; and the only idea he could lay 
 hold of, was a feeling of doubt whether he was the 
 same Krishna Chandra Gossain, the boldest, the most 
 ardent of Brahmic converts, the fiery " Iconoclast " of 
 the ' CossitoUah Reiiector/ the man who had proclaimed
 
 KRISHNA AGONISTES. 293 
 
 war without quarter against the idolatry and super- 
 stition of his countrj'men, — he wondered whether it 
 was the same person who was sitting there so calmly 
 and hearing all these things. The priest, it is true, 
 had never mentioned religion, taking for granted, as it 
 appeared, that Krishna's enthusiasm had cooled down ; 
 but the Hindoo marriage with all its idolatrous rites — 
 nay, the bigamous union itself — would be a public 
 profession of his recantation. He knew all this, but 
 still he held his peace. The thought of Eadha was a 
 spell upon his tongue ; and he sat there giving a silent 
 assent to all that his father said ; and when the old 
 man had finished and hurried out of the room rubbing 
 his hands in great good-humour, Krishna allowed him 
 to go away without a word of expostulation. 
 
 It was aU over then, and he felt wonderfully re- 
 lieved. To be sure, his honour was shattered, his good 
 faith bartered for the possession of a woman, his name 
 become a disgrace to all his Calcutta friends and 
 associates ; but still he was less miserable than he had 
 been when tossed about, the prey of contending passions, 
 seeking to do the right, yet choosing to do the wrong. 
 The Eubicon was passed, and the dangers that had 
 been like to daunt him upon the other side were fast 
 melting away in the bright vistas opening up before 
 him. Love as well as gold can deaden the sense of 
 disgrace; with Eadha as his wife he would be inde- 
 pendent of the sneers of the Brahmists. He could 
 spend all his days in ease and pleasure in the valley
 
 294 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 of Dhupnagar, and need never go near the city again 
 with its racket and turmoil, its chattering and 
 hollow inhabitants, its insincerity, its censoriousness, 
 and its empty conventionalities. Here he might lead 
 a life as happy as that of his free Arigian forefathers 
 in the early pastoral days, before lust and priestly 
 ambition and the love of money had inaugurated the 
 Black Age. The Brahmists would of course revile 
 him ; but what mattered it what the Brahmists said ? 
 He felt he was beginning to hate the Brahmists ; idle 
 speculative visionaries they were, the most of them ; or 
 else officious, meddling busybodies, who, having no 
 definite faith of their own, took a mischievous delight 
 in unsettling other people's ideas. Who were they 
 that they should attempt to overthrow so venerable, 
 so aesthetic a ritual as that of Hindooism ? "What 
 warrant had they for the position they took up ? They 
 had no revelation, no scripture, nothing but the faint 
 and uncertain light of human speculation to guide 
 them. They abused the Christians ; but what, after 
 all, was the Brahmist system but Christianity without 
 Christ ? their ethics, their forms of worship, the whole 
 structure of their religion, were they not taken from 
 a system that they professed to despise? And what 
 would be the end of the Brahmic movement ? They 
 might go on smoothly enough so long as they had a 
 man of powerful intellect and saintly character like 
 Keshub Chunder Sen to guide them ; but what would 
 become of them after his death ? They would be split
 
 KRISHXA AGONISTES. 295 
 
 up into half-a-dozen different sects, each fighting with 
 the other and bringing their principles into utter 
 discredit ; or they must become Christians, or per- 
 chance relapse into Hindooism. It was only a partial 
 and uncertain movement ; and Krishna began to reason 
 himself into an assurance that he was very fortunate 
 in getting out of it before he was too deeply com- 
 promised to retreat. 
 
 Krishna's first act, however, did not speak much for 
 the sincerity of this conviction. He wrote to his 
 Calcutta friend Bholanath Thakoor, a cautious, diplo- 
 matic letter, intended to forestall the news of his 
 recantation, and modify its effect upon the members 
 of the Brahmo Somaj. Poor Krishna, who had hitherto 
 been so honourable and ingenuous, was serving a rapid 
 apprenticeship to duplicity. But we had better let 
 his letter speak for itself: — 
 
 From Baboo Krishna Chandra Gossain of Dhupna- 
 gar, to Baboo Bholanath Thakoor of Calcutta. 
 
 " My dearest Friend, — Your letter was welcome to 
 me as the dewy moonbeams to the love-parched chakar. 
 Like a ray of sunshine gleaming through prison-bars 
 to gladden the hearts of the captives, your cheering 
 counsel came to refresh my soul. Bholanath, how 
 much I need your company ! In my father's house I 
 am as much a prisoner as if I were a bound convict 
 in Alipore jail. I have no one to talk to, no one to
 
 296 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 whom I can open my heart, no one of whom I can ask 
 advice. I am shunned here as if I were a leper, or as 
 if I carried the cholera about in my waist-cloth. Yet 
 it is little loss to me upon the whole, for I can have 
 but little fellowship with people who are so far sunk 
 in ignorance and superstition. 
 
 "I may confide to you that solitude and constant 
 meditation have wrought a considerable change in 
 my opinions. Think not, Bholanath, that my faith 
 in the Supreme Brahma has ever for an instant 
 wavered, or that I am falling back into our old errors. 
 What I mistrust is my o"wn ability to battle with 
 Hindooism, and the expediency of provoking a contest 
 while our party is still in its infancy, while our views 
 are not fully matured, and while the position of the 
 enemy is still so strong. A few years longer, and 
 education will have prepared a fitting soil for the 
 reception of our good seed. At present we hazard our 
 cause by exposing it to defeat. You remember, Bhola- 
 nath, how we used to talk in our youthful ardour 
 about going forth as missionaries to rescue our country- 
 men from their delusions. It was a dream, a generous 
 ideal, but still a dream. When Brahma thinks that 
 the time has come to enlighten his countrj^men, he 
 can by a single flash of his glorious truth before their 
 eyes turn millions from their idolatry. As for me, 
 who am I that I should attempt to take God's work 
 out of His own hands? I find myself placed here 
 by Brahma in a certain sphere with certain duties to
 
 KRISHNA AGONISTES. 297 
 
 perform, aud with certain rights belonging to me. "What 
 does it profit me if I neglect these duties, that I attempt 
 a great work, not knowing whether Brahma will re- 
 quire it at my hands? Suppose I, by my teaching 
 and my testimony, turned a few Hindoos from idolatry, 
 but still broke my poor father's heart and distressed 
 all my kind relations, would I have satisfaction — would 
 my conscience approve my conduct to me ? How 
 could I preach the sacred obligations of filial affection 
 when I have slighted them myself ? You will reproach 
 me for all this, and say that I am striking a truce with 
 error. My answer is, that I am not, and shall never 
 be, reconciled to Hindooism ; but that while I loathe 
 idolatry myself, I hesitate to unhinge men's minds 
 from their swadharma (own religion), until 1 can pre- 
 sent them with a more objective creed than our own 
 philosophical system. 
 
 " I must also tell you that I am likely soon to be 
 married to the maiden whom I have so long loved, of 
 whom you have heard me so often speak. My head 
 is so full of coming bliss that I hardly know what I 
 am writing. Do not reproach me for contracting a 
 bigamous union ; Chakwi has never been my wife but 
 in name. The marriage will of course be celebrated 
 according to Hindoo fashion. That I cannot help, for 
 no other form of marriage is known here among us, 
 and I shall assent to the idolatrous rites with a mental 
 reservation. I tell you this in confidence, as I do not 
 wish it to be mentioned at present. But every man
 
 298 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 has liis enemies ; and if you should hear a rumour 
 among the Brahmists that Krishna Chandra Gossain 
 has abandoned the paths of Theism and gone back to 
 the ways of error, I need not ask my friend to con- 
 tradict the report, and to assure them that my faith in 
 the Supreme Brahma was never more steadfast than at 
 present. I know that your afifection will do all that 
 is needful and all that I could wish. Greet all our 
 brethren for me, and assure our reverend leader that 
 my lips are longing to kiss his feet. — From your 
 brother in Brahma, 
 
 " Krishna Ciiaxdra Gossain." 
 
 As Krishna read over this letter he could not con- 
 ceal from himself that he had hardly stated his case 
 frankly. But what good would it do him to enter into 
 particular details to persons who were not likely either 
 to 'realise or sympathise with his position? He had 
 done his best to prepossess his friend Bholanath in his 
 favour, and to take the sting out of slander ; and that 
 was really all that he wanted. As for stating his mind 
 clearly, he had better wait until he knew it clearly him- 
 self, for he was in such a whirl that he was never two 
 days of the same opinion. But why not open his heart 
 to his trusted friend Bholanath, and confess to him at 
 once that he had succumbed to temptation, that he had 
 sold his conscience for a fair bride, and that he was 
 really more miserable now when he had a certain pros- 
 pect of obtaining liadha, than ever he had been while
 
 KRISHNA AGONISTES. 299 
 
 his love seemed hopeless ? Krishna felt that this 
 was a subject on which he had better be reticent. His 
 Calcutta friend could not be expected to enter into all 
 the feelings and motives which regulated his conduct ; 
 besides, good friend as Bholanath was, it was not im- 
 possible that he might indulge in a little natural tri- 
 umph over the backsliding of one who had always 
 boasted himself to be a more zealous reformer than 
 his fellows. 
 
 The sequel showed that Krishna, judging probably 
 from what he himself would have done under the same 
 circumstances, had not miscalculated his friend's dis- 
 position. No sooner had Baboo Bholanath Thakoor 
 mastered the above epistle than he hurried oflF to the 
 leaders of the Brahmo Somaj, and disclosed to them 
 the startling intelligence that Krishna Baboo, the hope 
 of the sect, their most distinguished disciple, the con- 
 vert in whom of all others their firmest confidence had 
 been placed, was on the point of relapsing into Hindoo- 
 ism, and of sealing his recantation by marrying an 
 idolatrix from the family of Lahory. This was terrible 
 news to the reformers, and a meeting was specially 
 summoned to consider the case. Bholanath, proud of 
 being the cause of all this commotion — for Bholanath 
 was one of those small Baboos who are always glad to 
 take advantage of any chance of notoriety — read and 
 re-read his letter, commented upon its contents, and 
 explained all the circumstances of Krishna and his 
 family, until the heads of the sect were glad to silence
 
 300 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 him. Then began such a clatter of tongues as is to 
 be heard nowhere outside a Bengalee meeting. Some 
 would have the Brahmo Somaj to wash its hands of 
 the young Gossain, and to publish his name in the 
 ' Cossitollah Reflector ' as an apostate from the faith ; 
 others thought that the matter should be kept quiet, as 
 it would only give their enemies an occasion for tri- 
 umphing over them ; a third party considered the Hin- 
 doos should be informed how far Krishna stood com- 
 mitted to the principles of the Somaj, and how he had 
 on one occasion breakfasted upon beefsteaks cut from 
 the sacred rumps of kine in company with certain of 
 his fellow-students at Spence's Hotel ; a fourth coun- 
 selled moderation, and argued that Krishna should not 
 be condemned unheard, that an expostulatory epistle 
 should be addressed to him, and that he should be ex- 
 horted and encouraged to withstand temptation ; and 
 a fifth made the happy suggestion that some influential 
 member of the Somaj should be despatched to suc- 
 cour the young man in his hour of need, and save the 
 Brahmists from the reproach of a perversion. This 
 proposal was instantly caught up by all present, 
 opinions differing only as to the person who might 
 most suitably be intrusted with the mission. When 
 the spiritual welfare of so interesting a youth as Krishna 
 was in question, everybody was willing to take a trip 
 to Dhupnagar at the expense of the Society, and to 
 spend a few weeks among the green fields and shady 
 woods of that pleasant valley — an agreeable change
 
 KKISIIXA AGONISTES. 301 
 
 from the sweltering heat aud dusty streets of Calcutta. 
 There were so many volunteers that the heads of the 
 Somaj were puzzled how to avoid the odium of making 
 a selection. Bholanath urged his intimacy with Krish- 
 na as a claim to the preferment ; but half a score of 
 voices pronounced him to be a chokhra (boy), and a 
 parasite of the young Gossain, and probably no better 
 a Brahmist than his companion. So Bholanath shrank 
 away into his original insignificance, and left the others 
 to fight for the prize. Kali Baboo said that the Gos- 
 sains were of his acquaintance, that he had great influ- 
 ence with the young man, and that he was quite confi- 
 dent in his own ability to steady Krishna's wavering 
 faith. To which the others rejilied that Kali Baboo 
 was a professional busybody, a wallower and a coiler 
 in other people's affairs, a neglector of his own business, 
 a broker, and the brother of a lascivious sister. While 
 Kali was retorting at the top of his lungs, Siva Prasad 
 Baboo put forth his pretensions, and was instantly 
 attacked as an unsound Brahmist, a man who had a 
 sneaking kindness for the Theism of the Vedas, wlio 
 followed the Nyaya school of philosophy ; a man who 
 ought never to have joined the progressive Brahmists, 
 but to have allied himself to the temporisers with error 
 of the Adi Somaj : a proper mentor for a young man 
 indeed ! The turmoil had reached its height when the 
 heads of the congregation announced that the choice of 
 the Society had fallen upon their esteemed brother ^Ir 
 Eomesh Chunder Eoy.
 
 302 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 Baboo Romesh Chuiider Roy — I beg his pardon, Mr 
 R. C. Roy, for this is a point upon which my good 
 friend is extremely sensitive — was the latest and most 
 distinguished acquisition of the Brahmo Somaj, and 
 the heads of the Society were naturally anxious to do 
 him honour. Mr Roy had been educated in England ; 
 and having but lately returned to his native country, 
 he was still regarded as a lion by his friends, who were 
 confident that one of so much authority and experience 
 would have no difficulty in leading Krishna back to 
 the Brahraic fold. Mr Roy had himself begun life not 
 far from Krishna's own village, his father being a small 
 landholder near the town of Bhutpore. The young 
 Romesh had attended the Anglo-vernacular school at 
 Bhutpore, where he displayed such proficiency in ac- 
 quiring English that Mr Eversley, the collector, took 
 notice of the lad, and urged the father to send him to 
 a Calcutta college. The father's ambition for his son 
 would have been satisfied with a clerkship in the local 
 courts, but the magistrate's word was not to be gain- 
 said ; and so one fine morning young Romesh trudged 
 away from the Gungaputra valley with a few books 
 upon his back, his father's silver-mounted hookha, the 
 family palladium, in one hand ; a pair of new patent- 
 leather shoes, which he was on no account to put on 
 until he reached Calcutta, dangling from the end of a 
 staff, carried over his other shoulder ; and a small store 
 of rupees, for which his father had mortgaged the best 
 bullock to old Mahesh, the Bhutpore usurer, knit into
 
 KRISHNA AGONISTES. 303 
 
 a corner of his waist-cloth. The old man accompanied 
 Romesh to the Pagoda Tope, which crowns the south- 
 ern ridge of the Gungaputra valley ; and his mother, 
 and little sisters and brothers, and a bevy of neigh- 
 bours, pursued him with good wishes and prayers for 
 his welfare as long as he was within earshot. Eomesh 
 was sorry enough when the old man gave him his 
 blessing and hurried away, that the boy might not be 
 dispirited by the sight of his grief: but Komesh's heart 
 was light, and the world was before him ; and so he 
 trudged cheerily onwards until he came to the line of 
 railway, where, not without considerable misgivings, 
 he embarked upon the ag-ghari, the wonderful fire- 
 coach, which is swift as the car of Indra, god of the 
 firmament, and much more useful to mortals. True to 
 his father's cautions to be carefid of his money, Ro- 
 mesh spent half a day in higgling for an abatement of 
 the fare at the railway station, and threatening to walk 
 all the way to Calcutta if he could not have a ticket at 
 his own price, much to the amusement of the " know- 
 ing" clerks, who indulged in many a joke at the pru- 
 dent simplicity of the "jungly " youth. 
 
 But Romesh's "jungly" simplicity was soon rubbed 
 off in Calcutta. His little stock of money was speedily 
 exhausted, and his wits were often sorely tried to get 
 a living ; but he made many friends, and as he kept 
 those that he did make, he was never altogether re- 
 duced to starvation. In those days Romesh was the 
 most orthodox of Hindoos. No one shouted louder or
 
 304 THE CITY OF SUNSHIXE. 
 
 pulled more lustily at the Padrepore car festival ; no 
 one was more devout at the Durga Puja, and none 
 more loud in professing liorror at caste laxity, at inter- 
 course with the beef-eating English, and at the progress 
 of heterodoxy. In due time liomesh obtained a scholar- 
 ship which a benevolent Anglo-Indian had founded 
 for the purpose of enabling deserving students to ob- 
 tain an English education ; and in spite of his former 
 declarations of antipathy to the English, in spite of the 
 remonstrances of his friends, who gave him up for lost, 
 both body and soul, the young adventurer crossed 
 Black Water and ate roast-beef in its native climate. 
 At the commencement of the voyage Romesli was sore 
 troubled in body, and inclined to think that the judg- 
 ments of his country's gods had overtaken him for liis 
 presumption in venturing upon Ocean, and for his im- 
 piety in eating forbidden meats ; but in a few days the 
 painful sensations lessened, and his spirits rose so, that 
 before he had been a week at sea he found himself — 
 such is the rapidity with which we harden in guilt — 
 actually eating beefsteaks as if he had been used to 
 them from infancy, and as if Brahma had not created 
 the cow to be a sacred animal and the mother of the 
 gods at the same time as he had formed the Brahmin 
 race. 
 
 In Calcutta, Eomesh had been but a poor half- 
 starved student, who felt himself highly honoured 
 when an English Sahib took the slightest notice of liim; 
 but in London, Mr R C. Eoy found himself a person-
 
 KRISHNA AGONISTES. 305 
 
 age of no small consequence. The " enlightened Hin- 
 doo " was not then so familiar an object to the British 
 public as he is at present, and Romesh was speedily- 
 caught in the toils of a host of lion-hunters. Ladies 
 of title received him in their drawing-rooms ; public 
 men who had, or wished to have, an Indian connection, 
 sought him out, and asked him to dinner. He was 
 received by the Secretary of State for India, and he 
 was even toasted as an Indian prince at a corporation 
 dinner. Romesh accepted all these attentions with 
 great affability, and comported himself with a dignity 
 suited to the exalted society in which he was now 
 moving. He would have been condescendingly civil 
 to Mr Lyttleman, the joint-magistrate of the Gunga- 
 putra district, then on furlough, when he encoun- 
 tered that ofi&cial at Lady Gotham's reception, had not 
 Mr Lyttleman, chagrined doubtless at finding himself 
 completely eclipsed by a native, turned away with 
 great rudeness, and remarked to his wife in an audible 
 tone that the impertinence of these confounded Bengalee 
 Baboos was growing really intolerable, and that tlie 
 Government ought to do something to put them down. 
 On another occasion, at Lord Blackmore's, who was 
 looking out for an Indian Presidency, Romesh was 
 placed next Sir George Blitzen at dinner, as a compli- 
 ment to the ex -commander -in -chief of the Indian 
 forces, — in consequence of which ill-advised alloca- 
 tion, a severe attack of gout, brought on by Sir 
 George's indignation at the proximity of a " blas- 
 VOL. I. u
 
 306 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 phemed nigger," very nearly deprived the British 
 army of one of its briglitest ornaments. It was whis- 
 pered, however, that there were fair Anglo - Saxon 
 damsels who did not share in the narrow prejudices 
 of these Anglo-Indians, and who would have gladly 
 been bride to the young Eomesh Chunder, But there 
 was a " ^Irs Roy " already in his father's house, who 
 had been married to him when they both were infants, 
 and whose face he had not seen for many a weary 
 year, and Eomesh prudently refrained from inspiring 
 hopes of matrimony into the bosoms of his fair 
 admirers. 
 
 The time at length came when R. C. Roy, Esquire, 
 of the Outer Temple, barrister-at-law, and Bachelor of 
 Laws of the University of Cockaigne, was free to re- 
 turn to his native country. It cannot be said that the 
 feelings wath which he contemplated revisiting the 
 scenes of his youth were those that might have been 
 expected to animate so warm a patriot. In his ' Cham- 
 pak Leaves,' which was published about this time, with 
 a dedication to his honoured patron, the most noble the 
 Marquis of Gotham, Mr Roy had informed the public 
 that, though 
 
 " Distant far in western isles 
 I bask in Beauty's radiant .^miles, 
 My heart still haunts the lonely piles 
 
 That frown o'er Ganga's stream. 
 My countn-'s woes, 'neath alien sway, 
 Uncheered liy freedom's faintest ray, 
 Are still my bitter thtmghts by day — 
 
 By night my troubled dream."
 
 KRISHNA AGONISTES. 307 
 
 But in spite of this sentiment, Mr Eoy would gladly 
 have remained in England, to be fed and petted by an 
 appreciative public, rather than return to his former 
 insignificance in Bengal ; but his scholarship was at an 
 end. He had no prospect of employment, and so he 
 was compelled by force to take shipping for Calcutta. 
 The news of his coming had of course preceded him. 
 The ' Bengalee Baboo ' had chronicled his academical 
 triumphs, and transcribed wonderful paragraphs from 
 the English newspapers concerning the doings of their 
 distinguished countryman. The editor had lauded 
 ' Champak Leaves ' to the skies as a work destined to 
 mark an epoch in English poetry, and wondered at 
 the little-mindedness of the Laureate who could wear 
 the bays that more properly belonged to worthier 
 temples. They were all proud of their countryman's 
 success, and now that he was soon again to be among 
 them, the ' Bengalee Baboo ' conjured him b}-- all that 
 was venerable and sacred in their ancient religion, not 
 to add another name to the perfidious list of those 
 who had apostatised from the faith of their forefathers. 
 On the other hand, the ' Cossitollah lleflector ' invited 
 !Mr Roy to cast in his lot with the little band of re- 
 formers who were struggling so nobly for the spiritual 
 emancipation of India, in spite of the persecutions and 
 sneers of society, and undeterred by the ignorant op- 
 position of corrupt and illiberal journals. 
 
 We may be sure that Romesh's father, the old ryot, 
 with his wife and family, packed closely inside a third-
 
 308 THE CITY OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 class ticca-fjhari (hackney-carriage), was clown at Gar- 
 den Reach when the steamer came up the river bearing 
 back his illustrious son to his native shores. But 
 who could that great man be whom so many Baboos 
 had rushed forward to greet, and who was whisked 
 away to the city in a grand carriage, before the worthy 
 folk had time to disentangle their ravelled senses ? It 
 must surely be a new Lord Sahib come to rule the 
 country, or a Commissioner Bahadoor at least, that 
 grand personage in the flowing robes. But where was 
 their son, their Eomesh who had left them ten years 
 ago, with a pair of new patent-leather shoes in his 
 hand and fifty rupees in his waist-cloth ? And so they 
 drove sadly back to the town, wondering whether 
 Belatte (Europe) had so much altered their son that 
 they had allowed him to pass unrecognised. Poor 
 folks ! little wonder though Eomesh's own mother did 
 not recognise her son in the barrister's wig and gown 
 and the law hood of the Cockaigne University, which 
 he had donned to give dignity to his debarkation. 
 We must not ask too curiously whether ^Ir Eoy saw 
 that rickety carriage drawn by two miserable, half- 
 starved horses, and whether he had caught a glimpse of 
 his parents' faces as he was driven rapidly past them. It 
 was an unseasonable time and an awkward place for 
 a display of filial affection, when so many of the Cal- 
 cutta aristocracy had come down to meet him. But 
 we hope that he made up for his parents' disappoint- 
 ment when he met them some hours afterwards at the 
 humble lodging of his college days.
 
 KKISHNA AGONISTES. 309 
 
 So Mr Eoy settled down at the Calcutta Bar, and 
 his authority upon England and the English was held 
 in the highest respect by his native countrymen. He 
 still retained his English dress and English habits, 
 and did not seek to dissemble his contempt for his un- 
 travelled countrymen. His affectation would have 
 been intolerable but for his good - humour, which 
 nothing could ruffle, and for his conceit, upon which 
 no rebuff could make any impression. After some 
 slight hesitation, during which he had been weighing 
 his chances with either party, Mr Roy had joined the 
 Brahmo Somaj, more especially as his old rival, Gobind 
 Chunder Mitter, who had also been to England, and 
 had come back a barrister, was a most zealous sup- 
 porter of the opposite party ; and thus it happened 
 that ]\Ir Eoy had been selected by the heads of the 
 Brahmo Somaj as the person whose arguments were 
 likely to have most weight with Krishna, the priest's 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 PBISTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND S0S3
 
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