n his monthly tables; and he would vent his spleen upon
the poor Thanadar, who would at the same time have incurred the
resentment of the robbers; and between both, he would have no
possible chance of escape. He therefore consults his own interest and
his own case by leaving them to carry on their trade of robbery or
murder unmolested; and his master, the magistrate, is well pleased
not to be pestered with charges against men whom he has no chance of
getting ultimately convicted. It was in this way that so many hundred
families of assassins by profession were able for so many generations
to reside in the most cultivated and populous parts of our
territories, and extend their depredations into the remotest parts of
India, before our System of operations was brought to bear upon them
in 1830. Their profession was perfectly well known to the people of
the districts in which they resided, and to the greater part of the
police; they murdered not within their own district, and the police
of that district cared nothing about what they might do beyond
it.[22]

The most respectable native gentleman in the city and district told
me one day an amusing instance of the proceedings of a native officer
of that district, which occurred about five years ago. 'In a village
which he had purchased and let in farms, a shopkeeper was one day
superintending the cutting of some sugar-cane which he had purchased
from a cultivator as it stood. His name was Girdhari, I think, and
the boy who was cutting it for him was the son of a poor man called
Madari. Girdhari wanted to have the cane cut down as near as he could
to the ground, while the boy, to save himself the trouble of
stooping, would persist in cutting it a good deal too high up. After
admonishing him several times, the shopkeeper gave him a smart clout
on the head. The boy, to prevent a repetition, called out, "Murder!
Girdhari has killed me--Girdhari has killed me!" His old father, who
was at work carrying away the cane at a little distance out of sight,
ran off to the village watchman, and, in his anger, told him that
Girdhari had murdered his son. The watchman went as fast as he could
to the Thanadar, or head police officer of the division, who resided
some miles distant. The Thanadar ordered off his subordinate officer,
the Jemadar, with half a dozen policemen, to arrange everything for
an inquest on the body, by the time he should reach the place, with
all due pomp. The Jemadar went