more quickly than an attorney a fee, or a hungry dog a shin of beef.
If a policeman only enters a village he expects a feast from the head
man, and will ask a present with unblushing effrontery as a perquisite
of his office. If a theft is reported, the inspector of the nearest
police-station, or _thanna_ as it is called, sends one of his
myrmidons, or, if the chance of bribes be good, he may attend himself.
On arrival, ambling on his broken-kneed, wall-eyed pony, he seats
himself in the verandah of the chief man of the village, who
forthwith, with much inward trepidation, makes his appearance. The
policeman assumes the air of a haughty conqueror receiving homage from
a conquered foe. He assures the trembling wretch that, 'acting on
information received,' he must search his dwelling for the missing
goods, and that his women's apartments will have to be ransacked, and
so annoys, goads, and insults the unfortunate man, that he is too glad
to purchase immunity from further insolence by making the policeman a
small present, perhaps a 'kid of the goats,' or something else. The
guardian of the peace is then regaled with the best food in the house,
after which he is 'wreathed with smiles.' If he sees a chance of a
farther bribe, he takes his departure saying he will make his report
to the _thanna_. He repeats his procedure with some of the other
respectable inhabitants, and goes back a good deal richer than he
came, to share the spoil with the _thannadar_ or inspector.

Another man may then be sent, and the same course is followed, until
all the force in the station have had their share. The ryot is afraid
to resist. The police have tremendous powers for annoying and doing
him harm. A crowd of subservient scoundrels always hangs round the
station, dependents, relations, or accomplices. These harry the poor
man who is unwise enough to resist the extortionate demands of the
police. They take his cattle to the pound, foment strife between him