Punch: Punch (70.1876)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Mahch 11, 1876.

OUR REPRESENTATIVE" IN INDIA.

[In tvhieh the bubble hirsts, and the Public is made acquainted icith
the real facts of the case.)

tjt of .the' question to say,
"Dear Sir," until I have
received the necessary
funds to carry on the war.
"What is a man without his
sinews? Nothing. "No
song, no supper!" no
cheque, no chatter. That's
my motto. Those, Sir, are
my sentiments.*

'Tis early morning. The
dews are falling1—(why do
I use this word r Strange !
Heaven gives the earth its
dew every morning and
evening ; and yet, Sir, why
do / not receive my due
from you ? I couch this
playfully, but I mean what
I say)—the Indians are
snoring round the camp-
fire, my Noble Sportsman
is asleep. He little dreams
that when he awakes and
calls for his most faithful
and most loyal companion,
that his summons will not
be answered. No, I must
away! I cannot own to my
Illustrious Friend that I
have come to my last ru-
pee ! I cannot borroiv.
Do you ask me why I cannot ? Ask your own heart, if you have one.t
And I who have done so much for my country! Alas ! how does
History repeat itself! Did not an ungrateful people make Cjesab,
himself sit in a swamp all night until he caught the cramp, from
which he never fully recovered ? Was not Hannibal, the liberator
of his country, put under a burning-glass off Syracuse, and scorched
to death by his own admirals ? What was the end of Pompet ?
What of Heliogabaltjs ? What of Ivanitch the First of Russia,
whose near relation, the chief of the M'Scatchitt clan of Scotland,
was also cruelly rewarded by his own ingrate countrymen ? Not to
multiply examples, how about Mac Assae the There- and Rowland
O'Donto, surnamed " the Dandy," tenth King of Trim, Ireland ? %

However, so be it! Farewell the tented field! Farewell the
elephant-hunt, and the death-struggle with the tiger! Farewell
the private scandal and the secret history of our life in India ! Ha!
Sir, do you not now regret not having forwarded me the paltry dross?
Why, if you liked to come to terms noiv, aye, at the last moment, I
could a tale unfold of Indian life behind the scenes which would
make each particular porcupine stand on end, and send up your cir
dilation to the highest degree on the journalistic thermometer. Six
thousand a second would be your sale. But there are two sides to
every epiestion.

My esteemed and Royal Friend has but to say to me, "Don't! "
and, on my word of honour—unless you make it very well worth my
while, by placing £20,000 to my account at once, and getting me a
free pass to the South of Lusitania (where there are some charming
spots for a literary man to live in)—I say, on my word of honour and
of loyalty, I would not (except on the conditions just mentioned)
allow a single word of all this to pass my lips. But let me remind
you there are other firms, besides y(to publisher's, who knoio the
value of this offer. But I would rather, for old friendship's sake,
that you were first in the field ; so if you want to realise thousands,
send a boy on receipt of this with twenty-fire pounds on account. §

* The cheque was sent, was received, and was cashed. We know all about
it now, and so shall the patient public.—Ed.

t The evident reply to Our Correspondent's question, "Why cannot I
borrow?" is, of course, " Because no one would be such a donkey as to lend
you anything." We know Our Man by this time.—Ed.

X In spite of all that has happened, and of all that may happen, we shall
always regret that a gentleman of such historical learning and research should
have so utterly thrown himself away as the public will subsequently learn he
has done. We willingly admit that so accomplished and erudite a scholar
would be an ornament to any society. Alas! poor Yorick /—Ed.

§ Here Our Correspondent at last let the cat out of the bag. In his eager-
ness to secure the money, he wrote, as may be seen, "send a boy on receipt of
this —forgetting that his letter was supposed to be written in India. We
secured the envelope. It was stamped Gravesend! We took steps accord-
ingly Gravesend is associated with the place wherein to " spend a happy
day! We know Our Man now. Attendez .'—Ed.

I am bidding farewell to my old and faithful Sunderbund (a kind
of Indian valet), who has served me most faithfully ever since my
arrival. The poor fellow is weeping bitterly. *

It is a heartbreaking scene. Our Tattce is packed. I have given
away my last new pair of palankeens, with India-rubber straps,
made by the.best Indian tailor, to my old Suwarree (Indian cook),
while my pistols, I am presenting^ as a souvenir instead of wages (for
as to wages, like " two into one, I can't), to my trusty Patarras (a
kind of gamekeeper), the truest shot in India.t

I suppose I must bid farewell to my Illustrious Friend, even if I
run the risk of having the bootjack thrown at me ; for this he will do
when suddenly roused from sleep.

My elephant, and camels, and Arab steed await me. I must depart
without noise, and get down to the coast. Away! Ah, the weeping
Nautch girls! Muffle the tom-tom! Adieux! This is my last
morning in India . . . unless before I embark I receive a telegram
from Gravesend to say, " All right—cash paid—stay on the tour—
see it out! " in which case duty before pleasure, and I will stay, and

write you all particulars.

******

Oh, Sir, as you are great, be merciful! For the sake of my poor
widowed mother! for the sake of my bedridden children and my
disconsolate wife, to whom your harsh conduct would be a death-
blow ! for the sake of my family name ! do not, do not proceed to
extremities ! % I admit it all. Let me tell my story. You wanted
a first-rate Correspondent. I am that. You will own so much, I
know. Sir, I was on my way out—I mean I had packed up, and
was (for economy's sake) carrying my valise myself, down Regent
Street, in order to reach Charing Cross Station, when an intelligent
Hindoo, to whom I have often given a penny, thereby saving a dirty
boot, touched his turban, said "Salaam, Sahib!" and offered/to
carry my small portmanteau for a trifle. While arguing with him
the simple point of remuneration for his services, I told him the
object of my journey. Ah! unhappy wight! Treacherous Black !
The glitter of his eye fascinated me! the cunning of his suggestion
floored me! "Sahib," he hissed in my ear, "Why Sahib go?
Remmuji Pal Boshj abba " (himself he meant) "can tell the Sahib
all he wants to know. Remmttm tell him all Indian words—every-
thing that go on in his own country, all true, on R,emmu5I Pal's
head be it! Den Sahib save the money for his poor little childs and
fader and moder, and his whitey wifey, and live happy ever after!
T17/o will know ? Remmxtm Pal not tell! Swearee! Takum Affa
Dava, Remmem no split on Sahib ! "
Was not this a tempting offer ? It was.

It was too much for me. Home ties held me. I went to Graves-
end. Remmeai Pal came down every evening after his dirty work
was done to do dirtier.

Sir, I have been betrayed. You have also suffered. RultKUH's
Indian words were all humbug. So was he.

One evening, when, in consequence of some inexplicable delay on
your part, the usual supply did not arrive, the Remmttm became
very angry. He came the worse_for liquor ; he got worse and worse
for liquor as the night wore on. ^He would not give me any Indian
words. He insisted upon receiving all the _ money himself—may I
never again have to do with such an unprincipled vagabond—and
because I would not yield a point (for with me, on honour, a bargain
is a bargain), he became violent, dashed his turban on the ground,
whirled his broomstick round his head, and exclaiming, " Hurroo
for owld Oireland!" upset the whiskey and rushed at me.

I was one too many for him, and encountered him with the poker.
We parted, and I have not seen him since. When we next meet, I
shall have great pleasure in handing him over to the police, as I
consider that you, Sir, have serious cause,of complaint against him,
and so have I.

My letters would have ceased there and then, but for my happen-
ing to meet your, boy, who had just purchased an Indian Dictionary,
and was taking it back to you.§ I asked him to stay while I looked

* ASunderbundis " a forest tract on the Delta of the Ganges ! " Vide our Dic-
tionary, on which we are now certain we can perfectly rely. But we are not to
be taken in—in fact, we never were ; we always said we mistrusted him.—Ed.

f Once for all we unmask the deceiver. Tattee is not a trunk or portman-
teau, hut a "screen of glass placed in a window and cooled by water!"
Everyone knows what a palankeen is, though more often spelt palanquin;
everyone knows it's not a garment of any description. And, finally, a
patarras is no more a gamekeeper than a tom-cat, being, in fact, "a pair of
boxes slung on a bamboo." So much for Buckingham ! Off with his head !—Ed.

% This change of note is attributable to the sudden appearance of our Head-
clerk, with a Police-officer, just as Our Correspondent and the missing Boy
(whom we sent, months ago, to buy a Dictionary) were leaving his cottage to
go out for a row on the river.—Ed.

§ Our office is in Fleet Street. Why did our Boy go to Gravesend for an
Indian Dictionary ?—Ed.

We have just asked him this very question. The Boy (who is a good lad
enough) replies, "Because I'd always 'eard as hinjun dikshonaries was
cheaper down at Gravesend." This looks like truth. The Boy, at his age,
could not have invented such a falsehood. We shall retain him on the esta-
blishment, and deduct the half-sovereign.—Ed.