ldom reposed under the
canopy of a sounder brain than at present." Another long pause, and the
second invariable question: "I trust that your Highness' Army is in its
usual efficient state?" The surly Rajah, "Khirr Virr." The native
interpreter, "Without doubt His Highness' Army has never yet been so
efficient. Should troubles arise, or a pretty kettle of fish
unfortunately occur, His Highness places his entire Army at your
Excellency's disposal; as Swan of Avon says, 'Come the three corners of
the world in arms, and we shall shock them.'" A third question, "I
trust that the crops in your Highness' dominion are satisfactory?" The
Rajah, "Ghirrr Firrr." The interpreter, "Stimulated without doubt by
your Excellency's auspicious visit to neighbouring State, the soil in
His Highness' dominions has determined to beat record and to go regular
mucker. Crops tenfold ordinary capacity are springing from the ground
everywhere." One has seen a conjurer produce half a roomful of paper
flowers from a hat, or even from an even less promising receptacle, but
no conjurer was in it with that interpreter, who from two sulky
monosyllabic grunts evolved a perfect garland of choice Oriental
flowers of speech. It reminded me of the process known in newspaper
offices as "expanding" a telegram. When the customary number of formal
questions have been put, the Viceroy makes a sign to his Military
Secretary, who brings him a gold tray on which stand a little gold
flask and a small box; the traditional "Attar and pan." The Viceroy
sprinkles a few drops of attar of roses on the Rajah's clothing from
the gold flask, and hands him a piece of betel-nut wrapped in gold
paper, known as "pan." This is the courteous Eastern fashion of saying
"Now I bid you good-bye." The Military Secretary performs a like office
to the members of the Rajah's suite, who, however, have to content
themselves with attar sprinkled from a silver bottle and "pans" wrapped
in silver paper. Then all the traditional requirements of Oriental
politeness have been fulfilled, and the Rajah takes his leave with the
same ceremonies as attended his arrival. At the beginning of a Durbar
"tribute" is presented--that is to say that a folded napkin supposed to
contain one thousand gold mohurs is handed to the Viceroy, who "touches
it and remits it." I have often wondered what that folded napkin really
contained.

When I first knew Calcutta, most of the grain, jute, hemp and indigo
exported w