Is made of the rare and bright-red sandal;[3]
And the string with which I am rocking my lord,
Is a gay and glittering silken cord.

Sleep on, sleep on, my bâbâ dear!
Thy faithful slave is watching near.
Thy father, my dear, is the jemadar
Of a province which stretches wide and far;
And his brother, my child, is a moonsif great,
Who ruleth o'er many a ryot's fate.

Sleep on, sleep on, my bâbâ dear!
Thy faithful slave is watching near.
Thy mother of hearts is the powerful queen,
The loveliest lady that ever was seen;
And there ne'er was slave more faithful, I trow,
Than she who is rocking thy cradle now.

I have said that our ayah sometimes comes home with her charges--comes
to our home from her own. It is a bad exchange. She awakes slowly from
her dream, as she sees the rosy cheeks, full pouting lips, and round
wondering eyes, that are turned upon the dark stranger and her pale,
thin, little ones. The comparison is painful; these cherub children
have no sympathy with the lonely Hindoo; and the servants of the
house, although awed at first by her foreign aspect, and calm, stately
air, have no permanent respect for one who ranks neither with their
superiors nor with themselves. The climate, too, is as chilling as the
manners around her; her heretofore bâbâs are lords to nobody but
herself; and so, with one thing and another, she grows home-sick, her
heart yearns for her own sunny land, and she is glad--sorrowfully