tors.' These, says Fitzjames, were 'almost if not quite the best
law-books that have ever come under my notice.' They were, however,
written from an administrative, not from a legal point of view. In order
to ascertain the actual state of things Mr. Robert Cust was instructed
to draw up a revenue-code, and forwarded his draft to the legislative
department in 1870. The law, as Mr. Cust stated in this document, was
'in a state of lamentable and, to those not trained to the study,
unintelligible confusion.' His draft contained 1261 sections, filling
216 quarto pages of small type. It was swelled, however, by a large
quantity of detail, dealing with matters which might be left to the
discretion of executive officers. The draft was carefully considered by
a committee, including the most experienced officials, and in
consultation with the actual revenue authorities in the Punjab. A
measure of moderate dimensions was framed in accordance with their views
and passed on October 30, 1871. One of the critics of the bill observed
that it had been thus reduced to a 'set of affecting commonplaces.'
Fitzjames replies that, in point of fact, the bill was meant precisely
to lay down general principles, leaving details to be settled by the
local authorities. One proposal made by him which, as Sir R. Temple
observed, showed his 'breadth of view and root and branch grasp of the
subject,' indicates the importance of the matter. Substantially it was
to make the record of rights, established for the purposes of the
revenue, a conclusive evidence (under certain precautions) of the titles
of the various persons interested in the land. This was modified on the
ground that it was not suited to the tastes of the natives; who, it was
said, rather preferred that matters should be left 'at a loose end,'
instead of being definitely wound up once for all. This Act, together
with the Act previously mentioned, put an end to 'one of the strangest
pieces of intricacy and confusion to be found in Indian law.'[109]

Another enactment curiously illustrates some practical results of the
undefined degree of authority of the laws in the Punjab. Four hundred
years ago--so runs a possibly mythical legend--a certain man was
ploughing in a field. The wife of a rich banker was bathing not far off,
and laid her necklace of pearls on the bank. A crow took it up and
dropped it in the ploughman's field. He presented it to his wife, and
proceeded to reason upon the phenome