Hindu or Mahomedan, is considered as the middleman to your favour and gets his "dustūri" on every rupee you spend; why then (so argues the native mind) should we not employ a broker to help us in the real hard work of litigation? Why, indeed, and why should not a fixed fee be paid them openly, without concealment ?

As things are at present, these men exercise well-nigh unlimited power, and many a young barrister has to see case after case lost to him through their evil practices; of course, successful seniors do not suffer so much, as their work is to a great extent sent by vakils of good position, or brought to them direct by old clients.

To understand how completely "dalāli" is part and parcel of Indian life one needs some knowledge of and insight into the native character, and may I say it with all humility, nay, trembling, that it is a thing rarely, very rarely obtained nowadays by Anglo-Indians.

I can imagine the scorn with which this idea will be treated by many who have perhaps been years in India, but bear with

me a moment, and let me ask, When do you see the native as he is ? When do you, laying aside rank and office, be they what they may, speak with him as to an equal, all fear laid aside, all patronage or favours desired, completely out of sight?

My dear sir, if you are a civilian, your Indian education from the first day of your service was in the hands of the police, or of their devoted slaves, the various petty court officials, on whom you, a boy, practically ignorant of the language, despite your intimacy with Forbes' grammar and the Bagh-o-bahar, must rely in toto; and who led you along a beaten path, certainly not leading to a true insight into native character. Why, the Tommy Atkins of sporting proclivities, speaking an extraordinary lingo to the villagers he meets, knows more than you do, and will perchance make himself

better understood than you, with your highflown, grammatical sentences. Army men make little or no pretence of getting to know the "niggers," as they generally term the natives, unless they turn to the staff, but forest officers, indigo planters, and others come directly in contact with their subordinates. On the whole, however, I doubt if any Europeans can get on such intimate terms with all classes, educated and uneducated, as the barrister who has really mastered the language, and is able to turn his 66 munshi out of the room and converse with his clients on every subject that may crop up. A political argument may arise. Mahomedans love a religious discussion Brahmins are delighted to instruct you on the "vedas;" old soldiers spin yarns of the mutiny; endless are the topics which will form a pleasant digression after work, and in such free and easy converse the real character is laid bare to an observant eye.

66

Alas, sahib," said a rich zamindar to me,

why cannot I talk to the collector sahib as I do to you, but in his presence my heart turns to water." The said collector was a hop-o'-me-thumb, the son of a head waiter in a well-known west end restaurant, and as a natural consequence a very important

person.

To support my contention I venture to introduce some sketches of natives I was well acquainted with, and doubt if in any employment under Government it would have been possible for me to have had such a pot-pourri of native friends.

MANIKCHAND, GENERAL DEALER.

To see the old man squatting humbly in a small shop in the Sudder bazaar, bargaining keenly over a few annas, you would scarcely believe that any bank between Peshawur and Bombay, via Allahabad, would honour his cheque for six or seven lacs, or that a visit to the rooms above his shop would be repaid

by the sight of the most exquisite Kashmir shawls, Delhi jewellery, Agra embroidery, not to mention Chinese and Japanese curios. But so it is, and I have spent many an hour in that room, which has a small window overlooking the busy street.

My friendship for old Manikchand came about through the death of his only son, a bright, handsome young fellow who used to come and consult me about reading for the bar. On his death-bed he asked his father to send me a handsome Satzuma plate as a souvenir-the poor old man soon after came to see me and brought it.

The loss of an only son is in all lands a bitter grief, but to a Hindu father the loss of an only son is a matter for terror. Who will set fire to his funeral pyre? Who will present the sacred cake? And who at the stated feasts perform the ceremonies whereby after due purification the Hindu soul obtains rest ?

The old man talked long and bitterly, but