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 last year; but that he can only wear when he goes to visit the King of Oude’s or the King of Lucknow’s dogs. For his days of common Pariah audiences I should think a coloured muslin must be correct.

I was shocked the other day by hearing that his servant, Jimmund, had given him warning on going up the country. At first I thought Chance had grown into the European custom of striking his servants, as his dear little temper is not entirely without its imperfections; still I thought him too much of a gentleman to give way to such an abominable practice. So I made no enquiries, but begged another servant might be engaged for the march. Then the whole story turned out to be a mistake. Jimmund came into my room with Chance under his arm, his hands clasped, and he vociferating a great many of those odd sounds the natives are so good as to call their language. My jemadar stood by, translating it literally, and I thought it very pretty. ‘He say no such bad thought enter the head of Ladyship’s servant; his enemies say it for him. He say Chance is the child of his house, and good luck has come to his house with him. He say it is