began to look about me, and, like an intelligent American observer, as I
pride myself that I am, I found considerable pleasure in studying out
the character of such of the changing crowd on the verandah and on the
mall as caught my attention.

At last the dinner-hour came. With the rest I filed into the large
dining-room and took my seat. The place allotted to me was the last at
one side of the long table, and the chair opposite was vacant, though
two remarkably well-dressed servants, in turbans of white and gold,
stood with folded arms behind it, apparently awaiting their master. Nor
was he long in coming. I never remember to have been 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.