clearest and most fluent vernacular Kim pointed out his error,
climbed on to the box-seat, and, perfect understanding established,
drove for a couple of hours up and down, estimating, comparing, and
enjoying. There is no city - except Bombay, the queen of all - more
beautiful in her garish style than Lucknow, whether you see her
from the bridge over the river, or from the top of the Imambara
looking down on the gilt umbrellas of the Chutter Munzil, and the
trees in which the town is bedded. Kings have adorned her with
fantastic buildings, endowed her with charities, crammed her with
pensioners, and drenched her with blood. She is the centre of all
idleness, intrigue, and luxury, and shares with Delhi the claim to
talk the only pure Urdu.

'A fair city - a beautiful city.' The driver, as a Lucknow man, was
pleased with the compliment, and told Kim many astounding things
where an English guide would have talked of the Mutiny.

'Now we will go to the school,' said Kim at last. The great old
school of St Xavier's in Partibus, block on block of low white
buildings, stands in vast grounds over against the Gumti River, at
some distance from the city.

'What like of folk are they within?' said Kim.

'Young Sahibs - all devils. But to speak truth, and I drive many of
them to and fro from the railway station, I have never seen one
that had in him the making of a more perfect devil than thou - this
young Sahib whom I am now driving.'

Naturally, for he was never trained to consider them in any way