en the custom in the East (cf.
2 Kings, chap. viii, vers. 8, 9: "And the King said unto Hazael, Take a
present in thine hand, and go, meet the man of God.... So Hazael went
to meet him, and took a present with him"). Colonel Erskine was a great
stickler for these presents, and as they could be picked off the
nearest rhododendron bush, they cost the donor nothing.

The outpouring of grievences and complaints then began, each applicant
always ending with the two-thousand-year-old cry of India, "Dohai,
Huzoor!" ("Justice, my lord!") The old Commissioner meanwhile listened
intently, dictating copious notes to his Brahmin clerk, and at the
conclusion of the audience he would cry, "Go, my children. Justice
shall be done to all of you," and we moved on to another village. It
was very pleasant seeing the patriarchal relations between the
Commissioner and the villagers. He understood them and their customs
thoroughly; they trusted him and loved him as their official father. I
fancy that this type of Indian Civil servant, knowing the people he has
to deal with down to the very marrow of their bones, has become rarer
of late years. The Brahmin clerk was a very intelligent man, and spoke
English admirably, but I took a great dislike to him, noting the abject
way in which the natives fawned on him. Colonel Erskine had to
discharge him soon afterwards, as he found that he had been exploiting
the villagers mercilessly for years, taking bribes right and left. From
much experience Colonel Erskine was an adept at travelling with what he
termed "a light camp." He took with him a portable office-desk, a
bookcase with a small reference library, and two portable arm-chairs.
All these were carried in addition to our baggage and bedding on
coolies' heads, for our sleeping-places were seldom more than fifteen
miles apart.

The Commissioner's old Khansama had very strict ideas as to how a
"Sahib's" dinner should be served. He insisted on decorating the table
with rhododendron flowers, and placing on it every night four dishes of
Moradabad metal work containing respectively six figs, six French
plums, six dates, and six biscuits, all reposing on the orthodox
lace-paper mats, and the moment dinner was over he carefully replaced
these in pickle-jars for use next evening. We would have broken his
heart had we spoiled the symmetry of his dishes by eating any of these.
It takes a little practice to master bills of fare written in "Kitmutar
English,"