him, time never hangs heavy on his hands; he sits as patiently as a
cow and chews the cud of pan suparee, and he bespatters the walls
with a sanguinary pigment produced by the mastication of the same.
He needs no food, but he goes out to drink water thirty-five times a
day, and, when he returns refreshed, a certain acrid odour penetrates
every crevice of the house, almost dislodging the rats and
exterminating the lesser vermin. To liken it to the smell of tobacco
would give civilized mankind a claim against me for defamation of
character.

I will sketch my ideal of a model Chupprassee. He is a follower of
the Prophet, for your Gentoo has too many superstitions and scruples
to be generally useful. He parts his short black beard in the middle
and brushes it up his cheek on either side, the ends of his moustache
are trimly curled, he wears his turban a little on one side, carries
himself like a soldier, and is always scrupulously clean. He comes
into your presence with a salutation which expresses his own dignity,
while it respects yours. He wishes to know whether the protector of
the poor has any commands for his slave. When you intimate your
wishes he responds with a formula which is the same for all
occasions--"Your Lordship's commands shall be executed." And they
are executed. If he knows of difficulties or impossibilities, he
keeps them to himself. Alas! this is an ideal, how antipodal
sometimes to the real! I am thinking of the gigantic Sheikh Mahomed,
with his terrible beard and womanly voice, who would convey my
commands to a menial of lower degree and return in five minutes to
detail the objections which that person had raised. Another type of
Mahomedan Chupprassee, whom we see is to abhor, expresses his opinion
of himself by letting half a yard of rag hang down from his turban
behind. He calls himself a Syed and, perhaps, on account of the