. Our troubles in Poona and the Deccan by Arthur Crawford. With numerous illus. by Horace Van Ruith . d got rid of, or what would Mr. Abel say?—Andthe globe-trotter, sucking in lies from an eminent Congress-walla in the cosy guest-room upstairs, what would he say?Are not our Aryan brethren to be treated with the utmostconsideration ? (Vide Secretary of States despatch— I forgetthe number of it.) So the poor Pryvit Saheb throws downhis pen in despair—composes his face into a ghastly smile—wheels round his chair, says to the scarlet and gold Peonin attendance, Ane do (Let him come in)—d—n—ahem 1
. Our troubles in Poona and the Deccan by Arthur Crawford. With numerous illus. by Horace Van Ruith . d got rid of, or what would Mr. Abel say?—Andthe globe-trotter, sucking in lies from an eminent Congress-walla in the cosy guest-room upstairs, what would he say?Are not our Aryan brethren to be treated with the utmostconsideration ? (Vide Secretary of States despatch— I forgetthe number of it.) So the poor Pryvit Saheb throws downhis pen in despair—composes his face into a ghastly smile—wheels round his chair, says to the scarlet and gold Peonin attendance, Ane do (Let him come in)—d—n—ahem 1 I mean, bless him, and the sacrifice is dulyaccomplished!! If Pryvit Sahebs could only divulge their experiences!If Mr. G. W. H. R. H. would only publish all he sufferedin days gone-by, the book would be as fascinating as Grevilles Memoirs. But to return to the fascinating Baba Saheb! We left him on the narrow pathway in Shanwar Peith. WHERE THE THUNDERBOLTS ARE FORGED. 87 He stops before a small white-washed house of one upperfloor, whence projects a narrow wooden balcony, painted. THE SECRET OF THE EDITORS ROOM OF THE SCOURGE OF THE DECCAN. bright green, architecture decidedly modern lower part of this enticing dweUing is nearly covered 88 OUR TROUBLES IN POONA AND THE DECCAN. by a huge sign-board—blue ground, white letters—announcing in Mahratti above and in English below (patriotic this,we observe!) that this is TJie Office of TJic Scourge of theZ?^c^<a:«. — (Appropriate title, by the way!) A somewhatdilapidated box with one sound, one broken hinge, and nolock worth mentioning, but coloured green (one coat,from the paint left over from the balcony) — depends froma rusty nail in the door-post. Baba Saheb, taking histurban off carefully, stumbles up a break-neck staircase,makes a peculiar knock at a low door on the landing,bearing a paper notice ^Editors Room. Private^ It isspeedily unlocked by an unkempt, dissipated
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