Page:The Atlantic Monthly Volume 1.djvu/346

338 now they catch up the pole of the palkee nimbly, and jou jeldie (that is, trot up smartly) to quite another song.

Jeldie jou, jeldie!

Putterum.

Carry him softly!

Putterum.

Swiftly and smoothly!

Putterum.

He is a Rajah!

Putterum.

Rich little Rajah!

Putterum.

Fierce little Rajah!

Putterum.

See how his eyes flash!

Putterum.

Hear how his voice roars!

Putterum.

He is a Tippoo!

Putterum.

Capitan Tippoo!

Putterum.

Tremble before him!

Putterum.

Serve him and please him!

Putterum.

Please him and serve him!

Putterum.

He will reward us!

Putterum.

He will protect us!

Putterum.

He will enrich us!

Putterum.

Charity Lord Sa'b!

Putterum.

Out of the way there!

Putterum.

Way for the great

Putterum.

Rajah of ten crores!

Putter

Ten crores!

Putter

Rajah

Put

Lard

Putter

Sa'b!

rum.

And so they have turned down Flag Street.

But what now? Here is something more imposing,—a chariot-and-four,—four spanking Arabs in gold-mounted trappings,—a fat and elaborate coachman, very solemn,—two tall hurkarus, or avant-couriers, supporting the box, one on either side, with studied symmetry, like Siva and Vishnu upholding the throne of Brahma,—four syces running at the horses' heads, each with his chowree, or fly-flapper, made from the tail of the Thibet cow,—a fifth before, to clear the way,—a basket of Simpkin, which is as though one should say Champagne, behind, and our own banyan, our man of contracts and ready lakhs, that shrewd broker and substantial banker, the Baboo Kalidas Ramaya Mullick, on the back seat.

"Hi! Cliattak-wallah! Bheestee!—Hi! hi!—You chap with the umbrella, you fellow with the water, clear the way! This Baboo comes, this Baboo rides,—he stops not, he stays not,—he is rich, he is honored. Shall a pig impede him? Shall a pig delay him? Jump, sooa. Jump!"

And thus, amid much vociferation, and unceremonious dispersing of the common herd, who dodge with practised agility right and left, the fat and elaborate coachman pulls up the spanking Arabs at our godown gate, and the Baboo alights with the air of a gentleman of thirty lachs, to the manner born; to him all this outcry is but Mamoul,—usage, custom,—and Mamoul is to him as air.

As the Baboo steps through the wide swinging gate and enters the place that owns him master, let us mark his reception. The durwan first,—our grenadier doorkeeper, the man of proud port and commanding presence, to whom that portal is a post of honor,—our Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, in one, of courage, strength, and address enlisted with fidelity. The loyalty of Ramee Durwan is threefold, in this order: first, to his caste, next, to his beard, and then to his post; only for the two first would he abandon the last; his life he holds of less account than either.

As the Baboo passes, Ramee Durwan, you think, will be ready with profound and obsequious salaam. Not so; he