ors; and if they had
sometimes fought and lost, that was clearly the enemy's fault. It was
glorious to have Lenu, of the Panjab, in our very home.

My sister-in-law had a model war-ship under a glass case, which, when
wound up, rocked on blue-painted silken waves to the tinkling of a
musical box. I would beg hard for the loan of this to display its
marvels to the admiring Lenu.

Caged in the house as we were, anything savouring of foreign parts had a
peculiar charm for me. This was one of the reasons why I made so much of
Lenu. This was also the reason why Gabriel, the Jew, with his
embroidered gaberdine, who came to sell _attars_ and scented oils,
stirred me so; and the huge Kabulis, with their dusty, baggy trousers
and knapsacks and bundles, wrought on my young mind a fearful
fascination.

Anyhow, when my father came, we would be content with wandering round
about his entourage and in the company of his servants. We did not reach
his immediate presence.

Once while my father was away in the Himalayas, that old bogey of the
British Government, the Russian invasion, came to be a subject of
agitated conversation among the people. Some well-meaning lady friend
had enlarged on the impending danger to my mother with all the
circumstance of a prolific imagination. How could a body tell from
which of the Tibetan passes the Russian host might suddenly flash forth
like a baleful comet?

My mother was seriously alarmed. Possibly the other members of the
family did not share her misgivings; so, despairing of grown-up
sympathy, she sought my boyish support. "Won't you write to your father
about the Russians?" she asked.

That letter, carrying the tidings of my mother's anxieties, was my first
one to my father. I did not know how to begin or end a letter, or
anything at all about it. I went to Mahananda, the estate munshi.[19]
The resulting style of address was doubtless correct enough, but the
sentiments could not have escaped the musty flavour inseparable from
literature emanating from an estate office.

I got a reply to my letter. My father asked me not to be afraid; if the
Russians came he would drive them away himself. This confident assurance
did not seem to have the effect of relieving my mother's fears, but it
served to free me from all timidity as regards my father. After that I
wanted to write to him every day and pestered Mahananda accordingly.
Unable to withstand my importunity he would make out drafts for me t