ity of heraldry accorded well with sloth--that is to say Boondi.

It should be noted, none the less, that in this part of the world the
soberest mind will believe anything--believe in the ghosts by the Gau
Mukh, and the dead Thakurs who get Out of their tombs and ride round the
Burra Talao at Boondi--will credit every legend and lie that rises as
naturally as the red flush of sunset, to gild the dead glories of
Rajasthan.

XVII

SHOWS THAT THERE MAY BE POETRY IN A BANK, AND ATTEMPTS TO SHOW THE
WONDERS OF THE PALACE OF BOONDI.

"This is a devil's place you have come to, Sahib. No grass for the
horses, and the people don't understand anything, and their dirty _pice_
are no good in Nasirabad. Look here." Ram Baksh wrathfully exhibited a
handful of lumps of copper. The nuisance of taking a native out of his
own beat is that he forthwith regards you not only as the author of his
being, but of all his misfortunes as well. He is as hampering as a
frightened child and as irritating as a man. "Padre Martum Sahib never
came here," said Ram Baksh, with an air of one who had been led against
his will into bad company.

A story about a rat that found a piece of turmeric and set up a bunnia's
shop had sent the one-eyed _munshi_ away, but a company of lesser
_munshis_, runners, and the like were in attendance, and they said that
money might be changed at the Treasury, which was in the Palace. It was
quite impossible to change it anywhere else--there was no order. From
the Sukh Mahal to the Palace the road ran through the heart of the city,
and by reason of the continual shouting of the _munshis_, not more than
ten thousand of the fifty thousand people of Boondi knew for what
purpose the Sahib was journeying through their midst. Cataract was the
most prevalent affliction, cataract in its worst forms, and it was,
therefore, necessary that men should come very close to look at the
stranger. They were in no sense rude, but they stared devoutly. "He has
not come for _shikar_, and he will not take petitions. He has come to
see the place, and God knows what he is." The description was quite
correct, as far as it went; but, somehow or another, when shouted out at
four crossways in the midst of a very pleasant little gathering it did
not seem to add to dignity or command respect.

It has been written "the _coup d'oeil_ of the castellated Palace of
Boondi, from whichever side you approach it, is perhaps the most
striking in Indi