"All right, my child," exclaimed the old boy; and, with the greatest cheerfulness, he alighted and began to unpack his stores. From these, the Lieutenant took six bottles of beer, two bottles of brandy, a dozen of soda-water, and three hundred Manilla cheroots. This done, the old boy expressed a desire to push on; but the Lieutenant detained him for at least ten minutes with a series of questions, several of which (I thought), were somewhat impertinent; for instance, he inquired his intended's name? whether she was tall, short, or of the middle height? what was the colour of her hair and eyes? good-looking, and accomplished? And to all these questions, the old boy responded with as serious an air as if the Lieutenant had a perfect right to put them.
At last the old boy proceeded on his journey.
"Do you know him?" I inquired of the Lieutenant, as the carriage rolled away.
"Oh, yes," was the reply; "he is a Major commanding a native infantry regiment at Banda. He is a very good fellow, and has heaps of property; but a frightful fool, except in the way of money-making, and at that he is awfully clever. I first made his acquaintance in Affghanistan. He was then in the commissariat department, and was only taken out of that department about a year ago, when he attained his majority. He knows nothing whatever of soldiering, having been in staff employ ever since he was an ensign. All the Sepoys, as well as his officers, laugh _at_ him as he comes on the parade ground and attempts to handle the regiment; and, after the farce is over, he laughs _with_ them. For thirty years he was employed in commissariat duties, in which he is very efficient. At the expiration of that period, he became a Major; and then, according to the rules of the service, he was withdrawn from staff employ, and appointed to command a corps!"
"On my honour, I am serious. That is a part of our military system, sir."
Here our conversation was interrupted by the approach of the Soubadhar--native commissioned officer--who pronounced in a deep, sonorous, but feeble and inarticulate voice, that familiar word "Sahib!" or, as more commonly pronounced, "Sarb!"
"Well, old man, what is the matter?" said the Lieutenant to the almost imbecile native veteran, who had served in the time of Lord Lake, and who ought to have been pensioned many years previously, despite any remonstrances against such a measure. The old man forthwith began to detail a string of grievances, which the Lieutenant faithfully (?) promised to see remedied, albeit he could understand but a few words the old man said--so very indistinct was his speech, from sheer old age, and the loss of his teeth.