MORNING LIFE OF AN INDIAN OFFICER.

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume VII, Issue 119, 20 May 1872, Page 4

MORNING LIFE OF AN INDIAN OFFICER.

The following sketch is contributed by Mrs. Bowring to her husband's Indian experience :—" Once upon a time in Bungalum — nomewhere down there in India, you know or' you don't know the exact whereabouts — it was early in the morning, so early that the sun was not up, though somebody else must have been, for as the clock struck six, a cannon was fired off — bang! and Mrs. Commissioner, who had been fast asleep a minute before, dreaming all sorts of pleasant things, woke up with a start. She had only bf sn in Bungalum a few weeks, and had not as yet become accustomed to the six o'clock and nine o'clock guns — one to blow her out of bed, and ttie other to shoot her in again — so she "awoke, turned round on ber pillow, a"id lay listening to tbe sound aa il boomed away over the parade ground. Mr. Commissioner is awake also, or has been for some time per force of habit, being a very early bird. Up he jumps. Of course he knocks his head or his back wifi the weights on the mosquito curtains, and haviDg given one o w other or both a conciliatory rub, disappears into his dressingroom,, from which he is not long in reappearing in stout yellow I .them gaiters, booed and spurred. Of course he takes a peep through the curtains. 'Well, did I ever ! wbat a kitten it is for sleep ! ' he mutters, for she has relapsed into her former state of blissful unconsciousness. Let her sleep, while we follow Mr. Commissioner, who having gulped down a cup of tea, and munched a piece of toast with relish, walks out into the verandah, on which exeunt peons for Ajax with all possible speed. There is a cold feeling in the air, and a white fog envelopes the landscape. The redoubtable Ajax comes siddling along, winking first at the horseboy, and then at his master out of his mischievous eyes. He does not want to be petted, not he ! and he pretends to object to being mornled, but it is all in vain, and Mr. Commissioner hf s jumped on his back. Now for a spree thinks the wicked pony, laying back his ears, and plunging out at the gate full tilt. Away they go, out of tbe civilized world at Bungalum, into the wild country, with its great boulders of rock, speaking of ancient earthquakes and upheavings, miles and miles. Not a soul, not even a policeman on a be^t, sees the Commissioner ride forih, chuckling inwardly as he reflects how he will <ake in the amildar of Chittledroog, aud surprise all the native officials. He bas heard of certain irregularities at the travellers' bungalow, and thinks there is nothing like going to the. spot himself. It is a matter of eight mil *-, but halt ! here we are ! Woh, Ajax ! A call from without tbe bungalow, a feeble response from within, and out comes a native servant, his swarthy limbs wrapped in a white sheet, wondering who on earth comes that way so early in the morning, ' What does the sahib want ?' — ' Show me, your spric -list,' says Mr. Commissioner, taking no notice of the man's manner, which is not what it would be if he knew who his visitor was. ' You have not got one ? then call the amildar.' Native stares. 'So early in morning call the amildar ? and who shall I say wants him?' C A sahib,* replies the Commissioner, sitting back at ease in his saddle, while Ajax winks, as much as o say, 'Here's a pretty go ?' The man in the sheet scuttles down into the village, reappearing after some time with the amildar not in the most respectful or pleasant mood at being so disturbed. ■ Where is your price-list ?' • Haven't got one,' retorts the man, drawing near. - Very well,' says Mr. Commissoner, rising in his stirrups with becoming dignity. 'If you don't send one in before four-and-twenty hours you lose your place.' The amildar stares. "And who are you, sahib ?" ■ The commissioner.' The,amildar is electrified ; he has jumped: but of his shoes (a sign of disrespect to appear in them), and is now selaaming to the earth. The Commissioner flourishes, his whip, and Ajax is. already a, mile on his return home before the astonished amildar has collected his scared sensesWhile the news goes the round of the village Mr. Commissioner sits on the edge of the bed chafing his cold hands, putting iii his shirt studs^ and amusing "Mrs. C, who was by thiß time wide-awake with the account of the morning's adventure. How cold it was J h9^;^ax*di^:pn^>^4 ; .^w he tried' to' run liway ftfter a 'sixteen' miles' gallop, as he. turned in ,at thejtodge !"