n so much struck by
the personal appearance of any man in my life. He sat down opposite me,
and immediately one of his two servants, or _khitmatgars_, as they are
called, retired, and came back bearing a priceless goblet and flask of
the purest old Venetian mould. Filling the former, he ceremoniously
presented his master with a brimming beaker of cold water. A
water-drinker in India is always a phenomenon, but a water-drinker who
did the thing so artistically was such a manifestation as I had never
seen. I was interested beyond the possibility of holding my peace, and
as I watched the man's abstemious meal,--for he ate little,--I
contrasted him with our neighbours at the board, who seemed to be vying,
like the captives of Circe, to ascertain by trial who could swallow the
most beef and mountain mutton, and who could absorb the most
"pegs"--those vile concoctions of spirits, ice, and soda-water, which
have destroyed so many splendid constitutions under the tropical sun. As
I watched him an impression came over me that he must be an Italian. I
scanned his appearance narrowly, and watched for a word that should
betray his accent. He spoke to his servant in Hindustani, and I noticed
at once the peculiar sound of the dental consonants, never to be
acquired by a northern-born person.

Before I go farther, let me try and describe Mr. Isaacs; I certainly
could not have done so satisfactorily after my first meeting, but
subsequent acquaintance, and the events I am about to chronicle, threw
me so often in his society, and gave me such ample opportunities of
observation, that the minutest details of his form and feature, as well
as the smallest peculiarities of his character and manner, are indelibly
graven in my memory.

Isaacs was a man of more than medium stature, though he would never be
spoken of as tall. An easy grace marked his movements at all times,
whether deliberate or vehement,--and he often went to each extreme,--a
grace which no one acquainted with the science of the human frame would
be at a loss to explain for a moment. The perfect harmony of all the
parts, the even symmetry of every muscle, the equal distribution of a
strength, not colossal and overwhelming, but ever ready for action, the
natural courtesy of gesture--all told of a body in which true proportion
of every limb and sinew were at once the main feature and the pervading
characteristic. This infinitely supple and swiftly-moving figure was but
the pedes