The Spokesman, A Lively Little Rascal, With A
Black Beard Tied Up Under His Red Turban, Immediately Opened Fire, By
Hurling At Us All The Names Of All The Officers He Had Ever Met Or Read
Of.
The volley was in this style:
First, the number of the regiment,
then Brown Sahib, Jones Sahib, Robinson Sahib, Smith Sahib, Tomkins
Sahib, Green Sahib, and so on, regiment after regiment and name after
name, his brother Padres occasionally chiming in in corroboration
of their friend's veracity and in admiration of his vast stock of
military information. After much trouble, we got rid of the pack,
at the price of one rupee, which was cheap for the amount of relief
afforded by their departure.
JUNE 6. - Reached Lahore at ten P.M. and had a night in bed, for
the third time only since leaving Cawnpore. The Q.M.G. being at once
set to work to make the necessary arrangements for our final start
for Cashmere, we paid a hurried visit to the Tomb of Runjeet Singh
and the Fort and City of Lahore. These were worth seeing, but they
abounded in sights and perfumes, which rendered the operation rather
a trying one, considering the very high temperature of the weather.
JUNE 7. - Drove out in a dilapidated buggy, and with an incorrigible
horse, to Mean Meer, the cantonments of Lahore. The place looked
burnt up and glaring like its fellows, and a fierce hot wind swept
over it, which made us glad enough to turn our backs on it and hurry
home again as fast as our obstinate animal would take us.
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