\.wmwf;>*u¥'^yt^*'y\^''^-'^r^'".l i»7'*w,«w.i]fjig(w"«"f", JW7f"*!u^,'«F«^'w'«'^»' j > f»r"'?"l'..^W 
 
 ' "J!* '7*vw/ffl?l' 
 
i^pi- "MTifli nmiftiiii(''rrf>'J'i'» 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB 
 
■PJ (If JUKI IPIfl U^IIV^-- 
 
 "■^T^^i^ V~ 
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 VERNON'S AUNT. 
 
 With many Illustrations. 12mo. Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 " Atniising from beginning to end, and the experiences inci- 
 dent to the travifling of & niai Jen lady all alone in the Orient are 
 cleverly and picturefciquely told."— AiY. Louis Ilepublic. 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF TO-DAY. 
 
 A Novel. 12nio. Cloth, 11.50. 
 " . . . 'A Daughter of To-Dav ' is a wonderful, a searching 
 study of the modern girl— American, too. . . . The book is one 
 of the notable issues of the year, and this year is rich in good 
 novel 8 . "— Chicago Herald. 
 
 A SOCIAL DEPARTURE: 
 
 How Ortiiouocia and I Went Round the 
 World by Ourselves. With 111 Illustrations 
 by F. II. TowNSEND. 12mo. Paper, 75 cents; 
 
 cloth, $1.75. 
 " It is to be doubted whether another hooli can be found so 
 thoroughly amusing from beginning to end."— Boston Daily 
 
 Advertiser. 
 
 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON. 
 
 With 80 Illustrations by F. H. Townsend. 
 12mo. Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, $1.50. 
 " So sprightly a book as this, on life in London as observed 
 by an American, has never before been v. ritten.''''— Philadelphia 
 bulletin. 
 
 THE SIMPLE ADVENTURES OF A 
 MEMSAHIB. 
 
 With 37 Illustrations by F. II. Townsend. 
 
 12mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 "It is like traveling without leaving one's armchair to read 
 it Miss Duncan has the descriptive and narrative gift m large 
 measure, and she brings vividly before us the street scenes, the 
 interiors, the bewilderingly queer natives, the gayetiee of the 
 English colony."— Philadelphia Telegraph. 
 
 I 
 
 m 
 
 ■54 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO., Publishers, 72 Fifth Ave. 
 

*iJ^. \ W :.^rrr^z:^. 
 
 
 ■P: 
 
 
 ^'"^ m.f 
 
 
 -A • 
 
 H'>,0l^;5;^. 
 
 ^9t "■ '*' 
 
 //< Indian garb. 
 
«T 
 
 THE 
 
 STORY OF SONNY SAHIB 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. EVERARD COTES 
 
 (SARA JEANNETTE DUNCAN) 
 
 AUTHOR OF A SOCIAL DEPARTURE, AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON, 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF TO-DAY, VERNON's AUNT, ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 1895 
 
r • '' "■"- 
 
 ■''"^,' .** *'^ ^.i^^^v^ 
 
 V 
 
 -• o T V 
 
 AO'? 
 
 O^'^'^'l 
 
 J)5025 
 
 'v,'--^ 
 
 Copyright, 1894, 
 By perry mason AND COMPANY. 
 
 Copyright, 1895, 
 By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 In Indian garb .... 
 
 Sonny goes to court 
 
 Before the Maharajah . 
 
 In princely favour. 
 
 A package is thrown to Moti 
 
 Doctor Roberts's enemy 
 
 Sonny's hand trembled as he took it 
 
 An early-morning adventure 
 
 " Pris'ner, sir ! " . 
 
 " And this is the baby ? " 
 
 FACINa 
 PAQU 
 
 Frontispiece 
 
 24 
 85 
 43 
 47 
 65 
 81 
 91 
 98 
 111 
 
1 
 
Tt 
 
 
 ^•^ 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ''Ayah," the doctor-sahib said in the 
 vernacular, standing beside the bed, "the fever 
 of the mistress is like fire. Without doubt it 
 cannot go on thus, but all that is in your hand 
 to do you have done. It is necessary now only 
 to be very watchful. And it will be to dress 
 the mistress, and to make everything ready for 
 a journey. Two hours later all the sahib folk 
 go from this place in boats, by the river, to Alla- 
 habad. I will send an ox-cart to take the mis- 
 tress and the baby and you to the bathing ghat." 
 
 '' Jeldl Tcaro!'' he added, which meant 
 " Quickly do ! "—a thing people say a great many 
 times a day in India. 
 
 The ayah looked at him stupidly. She was 
 terribly frightened ; she had never been so fright- 
 
2 THE STORY OF SOJsinY SATIIB. 
 
 ened before. Her eyes wandered from the doc- 
 tor's face to the ruined south wall of the hut, 
 where the sun of July, when it happens to shine 
 on the plains of India, was beating fiercely upon 
 the mud floor. That ruin had happened only an 
 hour ago, with a terrible noise just outside, such 
 a near and terrible noise that she, Tooni, had 
 scrambled under the bed the mistress was lying 
 on, and had hidden there until the doctor-sahib 
 came and pulled her forth by the foot, and called 
 her a poor sort of person. Then Tooni had lain 
 down at the doctor-sahib's feet, and tried to place 
 one of them upon her head, and said that indeed 
 she was not a worthless one, but that she was very 
 old and she feared the guns ; so many of the 
 sahibs had died from the guns ! She, Tooni, did 
 not wish to die from a gun, and would ihe Pres- 
 ence, in the great mercy of his heart, tell her 
 whether there would be any more shooHng? 
 There would be no more shooting, the Presence 
 had said ; and then he had given her a bottle and 
 directions, and the news about going down the 
 
T ,. ■ /'-"TT •T.»_,r, I f 
 
 T»Tn> f7r~~rr. ^rrv^-y.'n'^"' crv 
 
 •^WFVM1^>)II> 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. g 
 
 river in a boat. Tooni's mind did not even record 
 the directions, but it managed to retain the words 
 about going away in a boat, and as she stood twist- 
 ing the bottle round and round in the folds of her 
 ragged red petticoat it made a desperate effort to 
 extract their meaning. 
 
 "There will be no more shooting," said the 
 doctor again, ''and there is a man outside with a 
 goat. He will give you two pounds of milk for 
 the baby for five rupees." 
 
 '^Uwpia! I have not even one!" said the 
 ayah, looking toward the bed; "the captain- 
 sahib has not come these thirty days as he prom- 
 ised. The colonel-sahib has sent the food. The 
 memsahib is for three days without a pice." 
 
 "I'll pay," said the doctor shortly, and turned 
 hurriedly to go. Other huts were crying out for 
 him ; he could hear the voice of some of them 
 through their mud partitions. As he passed out 
 he caught a glimpse of himself in a little square 
 looking-glass that hung on a nail on the wall, and 
 it made him start nervously and then smile grimly. 
 
r">"T,.'^'Vf ^-r---^- ' 
 
 -W*" " »" ■ /"„'»""■■ ^-ip'M' » 'tr—'-""lfP,;LWi^i*|.'M.'»1«l.JWJPIIWPPWp' 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 He saw the face of a man who had not slept three 
 hours in as many days and nights— a haggard, un- 
 shaven face, drawn as much with the pain of others 
 as with its own weariness. His hair stood up in 
 long tufts, his eyes had black circles under them. 
 He wore neither coat nor waistcoat, and his regi- 
 mental trousers were tied round the waist by a bit 
 of rope. On the sleeve of his collarless shirt were 
 three dark dry splashes ; he noticed them as he 
 raised his arm to put on his pith helmet. The 
 words did not reach his lips, but his heart cried 
 out within him for a boy of the 32nd. 
 
 The ayah caught up her brass cooking-pot and 
 followed him. Since the doctor-sahib was to pay, 
 the doctor-sahib would arrange that good measure 
 should be given in the matter of the milk. And 
 upon second thought the doctor-sahib decided 
 that precautions were necessary. He told the 
 man with the goat, therefore, that when the 
 ayah received two pounds of milk she would pay 
 him the five rupees. As he put the money into 
 Tooni's hand she stayed him gently. 
 
I MfJfV* 1^P'".f> V\ UJ^WPl" 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 5 
 
 " We are to go without, beyond the walls, to 
 the ghat ? " she asked in her own tongue. 
 
 "Yes," said the doctor, *'in two hours. I 
 have spoken." 
 
 '•'- Hazur ! "^ the Nana Sahib " 
 
 "The Nana Sahib has written it. Bus!^^\ 
 the doctor replied impatiently. "Put the mem- 
 sahib into her clothes. Pack everything there is, 
 and hasten. Do you understand, foolish one ? " 
 
 " Very good ! " said the ayah submissively, 
 and watched the doctor out of sight. Then she 
 insisted — holding the rupees, she could insist — 
 that the goat-keeper should bring his goat into 
 the hut to milk it ; there was more safety, Tooni 
 thought, in the hut. While he milked it Tooni 
 sat upon the ground, hugging her knees, and 
 thought. 
 
 The memsahib had said nothing all this time, 
 had known nothing. For two days the mem- 
 sahib had been, as Tooni would have said, with- 
 
 * " Honourecl one." 
 
 f " Enough." 
 
6 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAUIB. 
 
 out SGDse— had lain on the bed in the corner 
 quietly staring at the wall, where the looking- 
 glass hung, making no sign except when she 
 heard the Nana Sahib's guns. Then she sat up 
 straight, and laughed very prettily and sweetly. 
 It was the salute, she thought in her fever ; the 
 Viceroy was coming ; there would be all sorts of 
 gay doings in the station. When the shell ex- 
 ploded that tore up the wall of the hut, she 
 asked Tooni for her new blue silk with the 
 flounces, the one that had been just sent out from 
 England, and her kid slippers with the rosettes. 
 Tooni, wiping away her helpless tears with the 
 edge of her head covering, had said, '''' JSfci^ mem- 
 sahih, nd!'' and stroked the hot hand that 
 pointed, and then the mistress had forgotten 
 again. As to the little pink baby, three days old, 
 it blinked and throve and slept as if it had been 
 born in its father's house to luxury and rejoicing. 
 Tooni questioned the goat-keeper ; but he had 
 seen three sahibs killed that morning, and was 
 stupid with fear. He did not even know of the 
 

 THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 7 
 
 Nana Sahib's order that the English were to be 
 allowed to go away in boats ; and this was re- 
 markable, because he lived in. the bazar outside, 
 and in the bazar people ^.enerally know what is 
 going to happen long before the sahibs who live 
 in the tall white houses do. Tooni had only her 
 own reflections. 
 
 There w^ould be no more shooting, and the 
 Nana Sahib would let them all go away in boats ; 
 that was good /chaber — good news. Tooni won- 
 dered, as she put the baby's clothes together in 
 one bundle, and her own few possessions together 
 in another, whether it was to be believed. The 
 Nana Sahib so hated the English ; had not the 
 guns spoken of his hate these twenty-one days ? 
 Inside the walls many had died, but outside the 
 walls might not all die? The doctor had said 
 that the Nana Sahib had written it ; but why 
 should the Nana Sahib write the truth ? The 
 Great Lord Sahib, the Viceroy, had sent no sol- 
 diers to compel him. Nevertheless, Tooni packed 
 what there was to pack, and soothed the baby 
 
'^'»5«^»^riHrw"'"'«^r^™r-T""Tr»Tn'7'iiw'?TiiiBiiww3.ra^ 
 
 8 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 with a little goat's milk and water, and dressed 
 her mistress as well as she was able, according to 
 the doctor's directions. Then she went out to 
 where old Abdul, the table- waiter, her husband, 
 crouched under a wall, and told him all that she 
 knew and feared. But Abdul, having heard no 
 guns for nearly an hour and a half, was inclined 
 to be very brave, and said that without doubt 
 they should all get safely to Allahabad ; and 
 there, when the memsahib was better, they would 
 find the captain-sahib again, and he would give 
 them many rupees hacksheesJi for being faithful 
 to her. 
 
 **The memsaliib will never be better," said 
 Tooni, sorrowfully; "her rice is finished in the 
 earth. The memsahib will die." 
 
 She agreed to go to the ghat, though, and 
 went back into the hut to wait for the ox- cart 
 while Abdul cooked a meal on the powder-black- 
 ened ground with the last of the millet, and gave 
 thanks to Allah. 
 
 There was no room for Tooni to ride when 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 ■JftS 
 
 a> 
 
■■■w 
 
 g<5a 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 9 
 
 they started. She walked alongside carrying the 
 baby and its little bundle of clothes. There was 
 nothing else to carry, and that was fortunate, for 
 the cart in which the memsahib lay was too full 
 of sick and wounded to hold anything more. In 
 Toonf s pocket a little black book swung to and 
 fro ; it was the memsahib's book ; and in the be- 
 ginning of the firing, before the fever came, Tooni 
 had seen the memsahib reading it long and often. 
 They had not been killed in consequence, Tooni 
 thought ; there must be a protecting charm in the 
 little black book ; so she slipped it into her 
 pocket. They left the looking-glass behind. 
 
 The ox-cart passed out creaking, in its turn, 
 beyond the earthworks of the English encamp- 
 ment into the city, where the mutinous natives 
 stood in sullen curious groups to watch the train 
 go by. A hundred yards through the narrow 
 streets, choked with the smell of gunpowder and 
 populous with vultures, and Abdul heard a quick 
 voice in his ear. When he turned, none were 
 speaking, but he recognised in the crowd the 
 
 ^ 
 
10 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 lowerins; indifferent face of a sepoy he knew — 
 one of the Nana Sahib's servants. Saying noth- 
 ing, he fell back for Tooni and laid his hand 
 upon her arm. And when the cart creaked out 
 of the town into the crowded, dusty road that led 
 down to the ghat, neither Abdul nor Tooni were 
 in the riotous crowd that pressed along with it. 
 They had taken refuge in the outer bazar, and 
 Sonny Sahib, sound asleep and well hidden, had 
 taken refuge with them. 
 
 As to Sonny Sahib's mother, she was neither 
 shot in the boats with the soldiers that believed 
 the written word of the Nana Sahib, nor stabbed 
 with the women and children who went back to 
 the palace afterwards. She died quietly in the 
 ox-cart before it reached the ghat, and the pity of 
 it was that Sonny Sahib's father, the captain, 
 himself in hospital four hundred miles from 
 Cawnpore, never knew^. 
 
 There is a marble angel in Cawnpore now, 
 standing in a very quiet garden, and shut off even 
 from the trees and the flowers by an enclosing 
 
 
THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 11 
 
 new — 
 notli- 
 1 hand 
 ed out 
 lat led 
 li were 
 dtli it. 
 LP, and 
 ;n, had 
 
 neither 
 elieved 
 tabbed 
 jack to 
 in the 
 pity of 
 aptain, 
 from 
 
 wall. The angel looks always down, down, and 
 such an awful, pitiful sorrow stands there with 
 her that nobody cares to try to touch it with 
 words. People only come and look and go silent- 
 ly away, wondering what time can have for the 
 healing of such a wound as this. There is an in- 
 scription — 
 
 " Sacred to the perpetual Memory of a 
 
 GREAT company OF CHRISTIAN PEOPLE, CHIEFLY 
 
 Women and Children, who near this spot 
 were cruelly murdered by the followers of 
 
 THE REBEL NInA DhUNDU PaNT OF BiTHUR, AND 
 CAST, THE DYING WITH THE DEAD, INTO THE WELL 
 BELOW, ON THE 15tH DAY OF JuLY MDCCCLYII." 
 
 And afterwards Sonny Sahib's father believed 
 that all he could learn while he lived about the 
 fate of his wife and his little son was written 
 there. But he never knew. 
 
 e now, 
 )ff even 
 closing 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 TooNi and Abdul heard the terrible news of 
 Cawnpore six months later. They had gone back 
 to their own country, and it was far from Cawn- 
 pore — hundreds and hundreds of miles across a 
 white sandy desert, grown with prickles and stud- 
 ded with rocks— high up in the north of Rajpu- 
 tana. In the State of Chita and the town of Rub- 
 bulgurh there was no fighting, because there were 
 no sahibs. The English had not yet come to 
 teach the Maharajah how to govern his estate and 
 spend his revenues. That is to say, there was no 
 justice to speak of, and a great deal of cholera, 
 and by no means three meals a day for everybody, 
 or even two. But nobody was discontented with 
 troubles that came from the gods and the Mahara- 
 jah, and talk of greased cartridges would not have 
 been understood. Thinking of this, Abdul often 
 
 12 
 
 
 
p^>1 
 
 IJiWipP ■■! ,iP'il|l IP 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 18 
 
 -■.-^•^j 
 
 ■>'M 
 
 said to Tooni, his wife, " The service of the sahib 
 is good and profitable, but in old age peace is bet- 
 ter, even though we are compelled to pay many 
 rupees to the tax-gatherers of the Maharajah." 
 Tooni always agreed, and when the khaber came 
 that all the memsahibs and the children had been 
 killed by the sepoys, she agreed weeping. They 
 were always so kind and gentle, the memsahibs, 
 and the little ones, the hahalok — the hahalok ! 
 Surely the sepoyu had become like the tiger-folk. 
 Then she picked up Sonny Sahib and held him 
 tighter than he liked. She had crooned with pa- 
 tient smiles over many of the hahalok in her day, 
 but from beginning to end, never a baba like this. 
 So strong he was, he could make old Abdul cry 
 out, pulling at his beard, so sweet-tempered and 
 healthy that he would sleep just where he was 
 put down, like other babies of Rubbulgurh. 
 Tooni grieved deeply that she could not give him 
 a bottle, and a coral, and a perambulator, and 
 often wondered that he consented to thrive with- 
 out these things, but the fact remains that he did. 
 
14 
 
 THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 He even allowed himself to be oiled all over occa- 
 sionally for the good of his health, which was for- 
 bearing in a British baby. And always when Ab- 
 dul shook his finger at him and said — 
 
 •' Gorah pah howdah, hathi pah jeen I 
 Jeldi bag-gia, Warren Has/een / " * 
 
 he laughed and crowed as if he quite understood 
 the joke. 
 
 Tooni had no children of her own, and won- 
 dered how long it would be before she and Abdul 
 must go again to Cawnpore to find the baby's 
 father. There need be no hurry, Tooni thought, as 
 Sonny Sahib played with the big silver hoops in 
 her ears, and tried to kick himself over her 
 shoulder. Abdul calculated the number of rupees 
 that would be a suitable reward for taking care of 
 a baby for six months, found it considerable, and 
 said they ought to start at once. Then other news 
 came — gathering terror from mouth to mouth as 
 
 * " Howdahs on horses, on elephants /een / 
 He ran away quickly, did Wan-en Has^fen /" 
 " Jeen " means " saddles," but nobody could make that rhyme 1 
 Popular incident of an English retreat in Hastings' time. 
 
 ••-y 
 
THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 15 
 
 it crossed Rajputana— and Abdul told his wife one 
 evening, after she had put Sonny Sahib to sleep 
 with a hymn to Isralil, that a million of English 
 soldiers had come upon Cawnpore, and in their 
 hundredfold revenge had left neither Mussulman 
 nor Hindoo alive in the city — also that the Great 
 Lord Sahib had ordered the head of every Tidla 
 admi^ every black man, to be taken to build a 
 bridge across the Ganges with, so that hereafter 
 his people might leave Cawnpore by another way. 
 Then Abdul also became of the opinion that there 
 need be no haste in going. 
 
 Sonny Sahib grew out of the arms and necks 
 of his long embroidered night dresses and day 
 dresses almost immediately, and then there was 
 a difficulty, which Tooni surmounted by cutting 
 the waists off entirely and gathering the skirts 
 round the baby's neck with a drawing string, mak- 
 ing holes in the sides for his arms to come 
 through. Tooni bought him herself a little blue 
 and gold Mussulman cap in the bazar. The cap- 
 tain-sahib would be angry, but then the captain- 
 
• f,w-^-tr*n-9-^iv^iftr}^jfrtwfj j 
 
 16 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 sahib was very far away, killed perhaps, and 
 Tooni thought the blue and gold cap wonderfully 
 becoming to Sonny Sahib. All day long he 
 played and crept in this under the sacred peepul- 
 tree in the middle of the village among brown- 
 skinned babies who wore no clothes at all — only a 
 string of beads round their fat little waists — and 
 who sometimes sat down in silence and made a 
 solemn effort to comprehend him. 
 
 In quite a short time — ^in Kubbulgurh, where 
 there is no winter, two years is a very little while — 
 Sonny Sahib grew too big for even this adaptation 
 of his garments ; and then Tooni took him to 
 Sheik Uddin, the village tailor, and gave Sheik 
 Uddin long and careful directions about making 
 clothes for him. The old man listened to her for 
 an hour, and waggled his beard, and said that he 
 quite understood ; it should be as she wished. 
 But Sheik Uddin had never seen any English 
 people, and did not understand at all. He ac- 
 cepted Tooni's theories, but he measured and cut 
 according to his own. Sheik Uddin could not 
 
T^y ■»LJi. u^ -wiT|p 
 
 N| «piBII.L|UI VVI 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 17 
 
 afford to suffer in his reputation for the foolish 
 notions of a woman. So he made Sonny Sahib a 
 pair of narrow striped calico trousers, and a long 
 tight-fitting little coat with large bunches of pink 
 roses on it, in what was the perfectly correct fash- 
 ion for Mahomedan little boys of Rubbulgurh and 
 Rajputana generally. Tooni paid Sheik Uddin 
 tenpence, and admired her purchase very much. 
 She dressed Sonny Sahib in it doubtfully, how- 
 ever, with misgivings as to what his father would 
 say. Certainly it was good cloth, of a pretty 
 colour, and well made, but even to Tooni, Sonny 
 Sahib looked queer. Abdul had no opinion, ex- 
 cept about the price. He grumbled at that, but 
 then he had grumbled steadily for two years, yet 
 whenever Tooni proposed that they should go 
 and find the captain- sahib, had said no, it was 
 far, and he was an old man. Tooni should go 
 when he was dead. 
 
 Besides, Abdul liked to hear the little fellow 
 call him "Bap," which meant "Father," and to 
 feel his old brown finger clasped by small pink 
 
■;•(. : v". 
 
 18 
 
 THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 and white ones, as he and Sonny Sahib toddled 
 into the bazar together. He liked to hear Sonny 
 Sahib's laugh, too ; it was quite a different laugh 
 from any other boy's in Rubbulgurh, and it came 
 oftener. He was a merry little fellow, blue-eyed, 
 with very yellow wavy hair, exactly, Tooni often 
 thought, like his mother's. 
 
in 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 It was a grief to Tooni, wlio could not under- 
 stand it ; but Sonny Sahib perversely refused to 
 talk in his own tongue. She did all she could to 
 help him. When he was a year old she cut an 
 almond in two, and gave half to Sonny Sahib and 
 half to the green parrot that swung all day in a 
 cage in the door of the hut and had a fine gift of 
 conversation ; if anything would make the baby 
 talk properly that would. Later on she taught 
 him all the English words she remembered her- 
 self, which were three, "bruss"' and *'wass'" 
 and **isstockin'," her limited but useful vocab- 
 ulary as lady's maid. He learned them very 
 well, but he continued to know only three, and 
 he did not use them very often, which Tooni 
 found strange. Tooni thought the baba should 
 have inherited his mother's language with his 
 
 19 
 
 . ■\1J>'. HiitL . 
 
20 
 
 THE STORY OP SC'TNY SAHIB. 
 
 blue eyes and his white skin. Meanwhile, Sonny 
 Sahib, playing every morning and evening under 
 the peepul-tree, learned to talk in the tongue of 
 the little brown boys who played there too. 
 
 When Sonny Sahib was four he could drive 
 the big black hairy buffaloes home from the vil- 
 lage outskirts to be milked. Abdul walked be- 
 side him, but Sonny Sahib did all the shouting 
 and the beating with a bit of stick, which the 
 buffaloes must have privately smiled at when 
 they felt it on their muddy flanks, that is, if a 
 buffalo ever smiles, which one cannot help think- 
 ing doubtful. Sonny Sahib liked buffalo milk, 
 and had it every day for his dinner with chupat- 
 ties, and sometimes, for a treat, a bit of roast kid. 
 Chupatties are like pancakes with everything that 
 is nice left out of them, and were very popular in 
 Rubbulgurh. Sonny Sahib thought nothing in 
 the world could be better, except the roast kid. 
 On days of festival Abdul always gave him a pice 
 to buy sweetmeats with, and he drove a hard bar- 
 gain with either Wahid Khan or Sheik Luteef, 
 
■«^-WP"V",'FT?"«'«WI|P' ,WV^^'*T'WJ 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 21 
 
 wlio were rival dealers. Sonny Sahib always got 
 more of the sticky brown balls of sugar and but- 
 ter and cocoanut for his pice than any of the 
 other boys. Wahid Khan and Sheik Luteef both 
 thought it brought them luck to sell to him. 
 But afterwards Sonny Sahib invariably divided 
 his purchase with whoever happened to be his 
 bosom friend at the time — the daughter of Ram 
 Dass, the blacksmith, or the son of Chundaputty, 
 the beater of brass— in which he differed alto- 
 gether from the other boys, and which made it 
 fair perhaps. 
 
 At six Sonny Sahib began to find the other 
 boys unsatisfactory in a number of ways. He 
 was tired of making patterns in the dust with 
 marigolds for one thing. He wanted to pretend. 
 It was his birthright to pretend, in a large active 
 way, and he couldn't carry it out. The other 
 boys didn't care about making believe soldiers, 
 and running and hiding and shouting and beating 
 Sonny Sahib's tom-tom, which made a splendid 
 drum. They liked beating the tom-tom, but they 
 
22 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 always wanted to sit round in a ring and listen to 
 it, which Sonny Sahib thought very poor kind of 
 fun indeed. They wouldn't even pretend to be 
 elephants, or horses, or buffaloes. Sonny Sahib 
 had to represent them all himself ; and it is no 
 wonder that with a whole menagerie, as it were, 
 upon his shoulders, he grew a little tired some- 
 times. Also he was the only boy in Rubbulgurh 
 who cared to climb a tree that had no fruit on it, 
 or would venture beyond the lower branches even 
 for mangoes or tamarinds. And one day when he 
 found a weaver-bird's nest in a bush with three 
 white eggs in it, a splendid nest, stock-full of the 
 fire-flies that light the little hen at night, he 
 showed it privately first to Hurry Ghose, and 
 then to Sumpsi Din, and lastly to Budhoo, the 
 sweeper's son ; and not one of them could he coax 
 to carry off a single egg in company with him. 
 Sonny Sahib recognised the force of public opin- 
 ion, and left the weaver-bird to her house-keeping 
 in peace, but he felt privately injured by it. 
 Certainly the other boys could tell wonderful 
 
 i 
 
THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 23 
 
 stories — stories of princesses and fairies and de- 
 mons— Sumpsi Din's were the best— that made 
 Sonny Sahib's blue eyes widen in the dark, when 
 they all sat together on a charpoy by the door of 
 the hut, and the stars glimmered through the 
 tamarind- trees. A charpoy is a bed, and every- 
 body in Rubbulgurh puts one outside, for socia- 
 bility, in the evening. Not much of a bed, only 
 four short rickety legs held together with knotted 
 string, but it answers very well. 
 
 Sonny Sahib didn't seem to know any stories 
 — he could only tell the old one about the fighting 
 Abdul saw over and over again — but it was the 
 single thing they could do better than he did. 
 On the whole he began to prefer the society of 
 Abdul's black and white goats, which bore a 
 strong resemblance to Abdul himself, by the 
 way, and had more of the spirit of adventure. 
 It was the goat, for example, that taught Sonny 
 Sahib to walk on the extreme edge of the house- 
 top and not tumble over. In time they be- 
 came great friends, Sonny Sahib and the goat, 
 
F*^ ' -w^^TTi f'*r t 
 
 24 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 and always, when it was not too hot, they slept 
 together. 
 
 Then two things happened. First, Abdul 
 died, and Sonny Sahib became acquainted with 
 grief, both according to his own nature and ac- 
 cording to the law of Mahomed. Then, after he 
 and Tooni had mourned sincerely with very little 
 to eat for nine days, there clattered one day a 
 horseman through the village at such a pace that 
 everybody ran out to see. And he was worth 
 seeing, that horseman, in a blue turban as big as 
 a little tub, a yellow coat, red trousers with gold 
 lace on them, and long boots that stuck out far 
 on either side ; and an embroidered saddle and a 
 tasselled bridle, and a pink-nosed white charger 
 that stepped and pranced in the bazar so that 
 Ram Dass himself had to get out of the way. 
 It ought to be said that the horseman's clothes 
 did not fit him very well, that his saddle girth 
 was helped out by a bit of rope, and that his 
 charger was rather tender on his near fore-foot ; 
 but these are not things that would be noticed in 
 
■ •■! i -1 1— ! (— 1 — » — I l-n TT — -1—1 
 
 Sonny goes to court. 
 
w^ 
 
■ ■IIIWI I 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 25 
 
 Rubbulgurh, being lost in the general splendour 
 of his appearance. 
 
 Sonny Sahib ran after the horseman with all 
 the other boys, until, to everybody's astonish- 
 ment, he stopped with tremendous prancings at 
 Tooni's mud doorstep, where she sat to watch him 
 go by. Then Sonny Sahib slipped away. He 
 was afraid— he did not know of what. He ran 
 half a mile beyond the village, and helped 
 Sumpsi Din keep the parrots out of his father's 
 millet crop all day long. Nor did he say a word 
 to Sumpsi Din about it, for fear he should be 
 persuaded to go back again. Instead, he let 
 Sumpsi Din sleep for long hours at a time face- 
 downwards on his arm in the sun, which was 
 what Sumpsi Din liked best in the world, while 
 he. Sonny Sahib, clapped his hands a hundred 
 times at the little green thieves, abusing them 
 roundly, and wondering always at the back of his 
 head why so splendid a horseman should have 
 stopped at his particular doorstep. 
 
 Tooni was frightened too— so frightened that 
 
26 THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 she could think of nothing to do but stand per- 
 fectly still, shading her eyes and putting back 
 her wisps of gi'ey hair. The rabble of the vil- 
 lage and all the j)ariah dogs gathered round, 
 and Wahid Khan, the sweetmeat seller, and two 
 goats and other respectable persons ; and Ram 
 Singh, the messenger, said to Tooni : 
 
 *' Salaam, worthy one ! " 
 
 Tooni's hand went to her forehead. 
 
 *' Salaam, your honour!" said she. At the 
 same moment she reflected that since the Maha- 
 rajah's horseman thought it worth while to be 
 polite he probably wanted something, which 
 might or might not be reassuring— so much de- 
 pended on what it was. 
 
 "I look for Tooni, Abdul's widow," said he 
 pompously, "and a child of the white dogs, who 
 lives with her. " 
 
 Tooni trembled. 
 
 "I am that poor creature, your honour," said 
 she ; and the leanest pariah helped himself to 
 a kid-shank ready for boiling just inside the 
 
Mi'tTCt^iiMaiuiv III 
 
 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 27 
 
 hut, nobody paying the slightest attention to 
 him. 
 
 "I come from the palace with a command to 
 you from the Maharajah. His Highness wishes 
 the white puppy to be brought to him at once." 
 
 "There!" exclaimed Wahid Khan mourn- 
 fully, while Tooni stared. *'I always feared 
 the little Sahib would come to a bad end. The 
 gods have given him no morals ! What did I 
 find him doing yesterday ! Blowing an egg — 
 a pigeon's egg\ Now, an egg is a sacred thing, 
 Abdul's widow — a very sacred thing ! " 
 
 *'But what is it — " Tooni faltered, taking no 
 notice of Wahid Khan — "what is it that His 
 Highness desires with the child ? " 
 
 "How should I know that, Abdul's widow? 
 Certainly I do not know it," and Ram Singh 
 put his foot into his stirrup. 
 
 Tooni bethought her then of expedients. 
 
 "Is there anything that you do not know, 
 
 noble one? It is said in the village that the 
 
 Maharajah's secrets are all in your keeping. 
 3 
 
-^ I jip-j'w-iw-i 'iii» I ■ ipiipf^j iif>iaiiM'ii'ii9"!i"rMV — ■Lwp^ffigjpi jiiiyiiyii^ii^Bim' 
 
 28 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 But perhaps this was too important even for 
 your ears." Then she added respectfully: *'I 
 am an old woman, but I am glad to have lived 
 to see your honour's beard. Such a beard as 
 that is not seen every day ! " It was outrageous 
 of Tooni, but you must make excuses for her. 
 Consider the circumstances. 
 
 Ram Singh stroked it complacently. 
 
 "It is said to be a fine beard," he admitted; 
 "already it is as long as my grandfather's. And 
 the gossip that I am in the confidence of the 
 Maharajah has some truth in it, worthy Tooni. 
 This much I can say, that no harm will come to 
 the boy." 
 
 "But of course your honour did not hear for 
 what purpose he is to be brought." Tooni looked 
 at him admiringly— it was shocking, such make- 
 believe. "How tall are the Rajputs! I have 
 never seen an Englishman, even in Calcutta, as 
 tall as your honour." 
 
 "And I have heard that the English are pro- 
 digiously tall men. But I can tell you, Abdul's 
 
:' 
 
 THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 29 
 
 widow, much more important matters than that 
 reach my ears. When His Highness smothered 
 his grand-aunt— but that is a foolish tale, and 
 not to be repeated ; do you understand ? The 
 word I bring has been spoken," and Ram Singh 
 looked round upon the crowd with a grand air. 
 *'Now where is the house of Wahid Khan, seller 
 of sweetmeats, for he owes my father money ? " 
 
 But Wahid Khan, whose memory had served 
 him in time, had disappeared, and by a curious 
 coincidence none of his acquaintances appeared 
 to be present, thougli the second leanest pariah, 
 ^who owed Wahid Khan a lame leg, looked as if 
 he could mention his address with pleasure. 
 
 In the evening, when the pipal-trees threw 
 long shadows and the "cons' dust" stood in the 
 afterglow all along the broad road to the jungle. 
 Sonny Sahib came back very hungry, hoping the 
 horseman would be gone, and heard Tooni's won- 
 derful news. Before she gave him water or oil, 
 or even a chupatty, Tooni tcld him, holding his 
 hand in hers. 
 
30 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 " The Maharajah has sent for you, O noonday 
 lute; where have you been in the sun? The 
 Maharajah has sent for you, lotus-eyed one, and 
 I, though I am grown too old for journeys, must 
 go also to the palace of the Maharajah ! Oh, it is 
 very far, and I know not what he desires, the 
 Maharajah ! My heart is split in two, little Sa- 
 hib ! This khaber is the cat's moon to me. I 
 will never sleep again ! " 
 
 Then for some reason the fear went out of 
 Sonny Sahib. " Am I not going with you, Tooni- 
 ji f " said he, which was his w^ay of saying " dear 
 Tooni." "There is no cause for fear. And will 
 it not be very beautiful, the palace of the Maha- 
 rajah % Sumpsi Din says that it is built of gold 
 and silver. And now I should like six chupat- 
 ties, and some milk and some fried brinjal, like 
 yesterday's, only more, Tooni-y/." 
 
 
'■W?W»l'W«!i!» ",*-*•"''■ VH",«l<»wjii"»B»'ii',V.WP»»5flf^^^^l!Wi.*'"' 
 
 , 
 
 i|f 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The palace of the Maharajah at Lalpore was 
 not exactly built of gold and silver ; but if it had 
 been, Sonny Sahib could hardly have thought it 
 a finer place. It had a wall all rourd it, even on 
 the side where the river ran, and inside the wall 
 were courts and gardens with fountains and roses 
 in them, divided by other walls, and pillared 
 verandahs, where little green lizards ran about in 
 the sun, and a great many stables, where the 
 Maharajah's horses pawed and champed to be let 
 out and ridden. The palace itself was a whole 
 story higher than the stables, and consisted of a 
 wilderness of little halls with grated windows. 
 It smelt rather too strong of attar of roses in 
 there— the Maharajah was fond of attar of roses 
 —but the decorations on the whitewashed walls, 
 in red and yellow, were very wonderful indeed. 
 
 31 
 
*!!»,y»"'^{<"»»l'^Vii*'W«irii' '■ 
 
 32 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 'J 
 
 The courtyards and the verandahs were full of 
 people, soldiers, syces, merchants with their 
 packs, sweetmeat sellers, barbers ; only the gar- 
 dens were empty. Sonny Sahib thought that if 
 he lived in the palace he would stay always in the 
 gardens, watching the red- spotted fish in the 
 fountains, and gathering the roses ; but the peo- 
 ple who did live there seemed to prefer smoking 
 long bubbling pipes in company, or disputing 
 over their bargains, or sleeping by the hour in 
 the shade of the courtyard walls. There were no 
 women anywhere ; but if Sonny Sahib had pos- 
 sessed the ears or the eyes of the country, he 
 might have heard many swishings and patterings 
 and whisperings behind curtained doors, and 
 have seen many fingers on the curtains' edge and 
 eyes at the barred windows as he went by. 
 
 This was the palace, and the palace w^as the 
 crown of Lalpore, which was built on the top of a 
 hill, and could lock itself in behind walls ten 
 feet thick all round, if an enemy came that 
 way. 
 
 , 
 
 f 
 
*» "^TTf' "."r.'^^yww- 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 33 
 
 The Maharajah was to receive them in one of 
 the pillared verandahs, one that looked out over 
 the river, where there was a single great ivory- 
 chair, with a red satin cushion, and a large piece 
 of carpet in front of it, and nothing else. It was 
 the only chair in the palace, probably the only 
 chair in all the Maharajah's State of Chita, and 
 as Sonny Sahib had never seen a chair before he 
 found it very interesting. He and Tooni in- 
 spected it from a respectful distance, and then 
 withdrew to the very farthest corner of the ver- 
 andah to wait for the Maharajah. A long time 
 they waited, and yet Tooni would not sit down. 
 What might not the Maharajah do if he came 
 and found them disrespectfully seated in his 
 audience hall ! Patiently she stood, first on one 
 foot and then on the other, with her lips all puck- 
 ered up and her eyes on the floor, thinking of 
 things that would be polite enough to say to a 
 Maharajah. They were so troublesome to think 
 of, that she could not attend to what Sonny Sa- 
 hib said at all, even when he asked her for the 
 
k 
 
 34 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 sixth tim how you made a peacock with blue 
 
 glass eyes, like the one on each arm of His High- 
 
 ness's chair. Sonny Sahib grew quite tired of 
 
 watching the mud-turtle that was paddling about 
 
 in a pool of the shallow river among the yellow j 
 
 sands down below, and of counting the camels 
 
 that were wading across it, carrying their packs 
 
 and their masters ; and yet the Maharajah did not 
 
 come. 
 
 *' Tooni," he said presently, '' without doubt I 
 must sit down," and down he sat plumply, with 
 his back against the wall, and his two small 
 legs, in their very best striped cotton trousers, 
 stretched out in front of him. 
 
 As a matter of fact the Maharajah was asleep, 
 and had forgotten all about Sonny Sahib in the 
 hall of audience. It was Moti* who reminded 
 him, whispering in his ear until he awoke. Moti 
 was the little Maharajah, and that was his pet 
 name. Moti was privileged to remind his father 
 of things. 
 
 * A pearl. 
 
f 
 
 
 I 
 
 m 
 
w 
 
 .3 
 
 I 
 
 «> 
 
 t 
 
 
THE STORY OF SONNY SAIIIB. 
 
 35 
 
 
 9; 
 
 J.) 
 
 .3 
 
 So Mod and the Maharajah went down to the 
 audience hall together, and there they found 
 Sonny Sahib asleep too, which was not wonderful, 
 considering that the Maharajah had kept him 
 waiting two hours and a quarter. Perhaps this 
 occurred to His Highness, and prevented him 
 from being angry. At all events, as Sonny Sahib 
 scrambled to his feet in response to a terrified tug 
 from Tooni, he did not look very angry. 
 
 Sonny Sahib saw a little lean old man, with 
 soft sunken black eyes, and a face like a withered 
 potato. He wore a crimson velvet smoking-cap 
 upon his head, and was buttoned up to the chin 
 in a long tight coat of blue and yellow brocade. 
 Above the collar and below the sleeves of the coat 
 showed the neck and cuffs of an English linen 
 shirt, which were crumpled and not particularly 
 clean. The cuffs were so big that the Mahara- 
 jah's thin little brown fingers were almost lost in 
 them. The blue and yellow brocaded coat was 
 buttoned up with emeralds, but the Maharajah 
 shuffled along in a pair of old carpet slippers, 
 
36 THE STORY OF SONNY SAIIIB. 
 
 which to Sonny Sahib were the most remarkable 
 features of his attire. So much occupied, indeed, 
 was Sonny Sahib in looking at the Maharajah's 
 slippers, that he quite forgot to make his salaam. 
 As for Tooni, she was lying flat at their High- 
 nesses' feet, talking indistinctly into the marble 
 floor. 
 
 The little Highness was much pleasanter to 
 look at than his father. He had large dark eyes 
 and soft light- brown cheeks, and he was all 
 dressed in pink satin, with a little jewelled cap, 
 and his long black hair tied up in a hard knot at 
 the back of his neck. The little Highness looked 
 at Sonny Sahib curiously, and then tugged at his 
 father's sleeve. 
 
 "Let him come with me now, immediately," 
 said the little Maharajah ; "he has a face of 
 gold." 
 
 The Maharajah sat down, not in his chair — he 
 did not greatly like sitting in his chair — but on 
 the carpet. 
 
 " Whence do you come % " said he to Tooni. 
 
 ' 
 
 ■ 
 
' 
 
 THE STORY OF SOxXNY SAHIB. 37 
 
 "Protector of the poor, from Rubbulgurh." 
 "Where your Highness sent to for us," 
 
 added Sonny Sahib. " Tooni, why do you pinch 
 
 me?" 
 
 His Highness looked disconcerted for a mo- 
 ment. As a matter of fact he had known all 
 that Tooni or Sonny Sahib could tell him about 
 themselves for three years, but he considered it 
 more dignified to appear as if he knew nothing. 
 
 "This is a child of the mlechas, '\ 8ai6. the 
 Maharajah, which was not a very polite way of 
 saying that he was English. 
 
 "Protector of the poor, yes." 
 
 "Account to me for him. How old is he?" 
 
 "Seven years, great King." 
 
 " And two months, Tooni-ji. Your Highness, 
 may I sit down ? " 
 
 "As old as the Folly."* 
 
 "He came of the Folly, Hazur. His mother 
 died by the sepoys in Cawnpore, his father — 
 
 * Native term for the Mutiny. 
 
i 
 
 88 
 
 THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 also," said Tooni, for she feared to be blamed 
 for not having found Sonny Sahib's father. As 
 she told the story once again to the Maharajah, 
 adding many things that Sonny Sahib had never 
 heard before, he became so much interested that 
 he stood on one foot for five minutes at a time, 
 and quite forgot to ask His Highness again if he 
 might sit down. 
 
 The Maharajah heard her to the end without 
 a word or a change of expression. When she had 
 finished, " My soldiers were not there," he said 
 thoughtfully, and with a shade of regret, which 
 was not, I fear, at the thought of any good they 
 might have done. Then he seemed to reflect, 
 while Tooni stood before him with her hands 
 joined together at the finger-tips, and her head 
 bowed. 
 
 "Then, without permission, you brought this 
 child of outcasts into my State," said he at last. 
 " That was an offence." 
 
 Tooni struck her forehead with her hand. 
 
 *'Your Highness is my father and my moth- 
 
: 
 
 • i"**i^ « I ■■■ 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 39 
 
 er 1 " she sobbed, '' I could not leave it to the 
 jackals." 
 
 " You are a wretched Mussulman, the daugh- 
 ter of cow-killers, and you may have known no 
 better " 
 
 "Your Highness!" remarked Sonny Sahib, 
 with respectful indignation, "Adam had two 
 sons, one was buried and one was burned " 
 
 "Choop ! " said the Maharajah crossly. You 
 might almost guess that " Choop " meant " Be 
 quiet ! " 
 
 " But it was an offence," he continued. 
 
 " Protector of the poor, I meant no harm." 
 
 " That is true talk. And you shall receive no 
 harm. But you must leave the boy with me. I 
 want him to play games with my son, to amuse 
 my son. For thirty days my son has asked this 
 of me, and ten days ago his mother died— so he 
 must have it." 
 
 Tooni salaamed humbly. "If the boy finds 
 favour in Your Highnesses eyes it is very good," 
 she said simply, and turned to go. 
 
 -■'■■"" - - -- 
 
40 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 **Stop," said the Maharajah. "I will do 
 justice in this matter. I desire the boy, but I 
 have brought his price. Where is it, Moti.;^ f " 
 
 The little Maharajah laughed with delight, 
 and drew from behind him a jingling bag. 
 
 "It is one hundred and fifty rupees," said 
 the Maharajah. *'Give it to the woman, Moti." 
 And the child held it out to her. 
 
 Tooni looked at the bag, and then at Sonny 
 Sahib, salaamed and hesitated. It was a pro- 
 vision for the rest of her life, as lives go in Raj- 
 putana. 
 
 "Is it not enough % " asked the Maharajah 
 irritably, while the little prince's face fell. 
 
 "Your Highness," stammered Tooni, "it is 
 great riches — may roses be to your mouth I But 
 I have a desire — rather than the money " 
 
 " What is your desire ? " cried the little prince. 
 "Say it. In a breath my father wiU allow it. I 
 want the gold-faced one to come and play." 
 
 The Maharajah nodded, and this time Tooni 
 lay down at the feet of the little prince. 
 
 / \ 
 
'I ip» ■iui^|»in.i.i«»,«w,f»w>riip h^j iiiF*L"i"-"v"i'j"'"i|w»B«w w^pww f,tr iM\<" 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 41 
 
 li 
 
 **It is," said she, "that— I am a widow and 
 old — that I also may live in the farthest corner 
 within the court- yard walls, with the boy." 
 
 The Maharajah slipped the bag quickly into 
 the pocket of his blue and yellow coat. 
 
 ** It is a strange preference," he said, *'but the 
 Mussulmans have no minds. It may be." 
 
 Tooni kissed his feet, and Sonny Sahib nodded 
 approval at him. Somehow, Sonny Sahib never 
 could be taught good Rajput manners. 
 
 "The boy is w^ell grown," said the Maharajah, 
 turning upon his heel. "What is his name?" 
 
 " Protector of the poor," answered Tooni, quiv- 
 ering with delight, "his name is Sonny Sahib." 
 
 Perhaps nobody has told you why the English 
 are called Sahibs in India. It is because they rule 
 there. 
 
 The Maharajah's face went all into a pucker 
 of angry wrinkles, and his eyes shone like lit- 
 tle coals. 
 
 " What talk is that ? " he said angrily. " His 
 great-grandfather was a monkey I There is only 
 
42 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 J 
 
 one master here. Pig's daughter, his name is 
 
 Sunni ! " 
 
 Tooni did not dare to say a word, and even 
 
 the little prince was silent. 
 
 "Look you," said the old man to Sonny Sahib. 
 " Follow my son, the Maharajah, into the court- 
 yard, and there do his pleasure. Do you under- 
 stand? Follow him!" 
 
13 
 
 en 
 
 ib. 
 It- 
 er- 
 
 
In princely favour. 
 
 -" — ■*■ -_ -M - 
 
-T'TWByrirT- i, i) i|.iHi i^ivfi^ii 
 
 ! 
 
 ! 
 
 •' 
 
 I 
 
 
 \ 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 "SuNNi," said Moti, as the two boys rode 
 through the gates of the courtyard a year later, 
 "a man of your race has come here, and my 
 father has permitted him to remain. My father 
 has given him the old empty jail to live in, behind 
 the monkey temple. They say many curious 
 things are in his house. Let us ride past it." 
 
 In his whole life Sunni had never heard such 
 an interesting piece of news before— even Tooni's, 
 about the Maharajah's horseman, was nothing to 
 this. "Why is he come?" he asked, putting his 
 little red Arab into a trot. 
 
 "To bring your gods to the Rajputs." 
 
 I "I have no gods," declared Sunni. "Kali is 
 
 so ugly— I have no heart for her. Ganesh makes 
 
 me laugh, with his elephant's head; and Tooni 
 
 says that Allah is not my God." 
 4 48 
 
44 
 
 THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 "Tooni says," Sunni went on reflectively, 
 " that my God is in her Uttle black book. But I 
 have never seen him." 
 
 "Perhaps this Englishman will show him to 
 you," suggested Moti. 
 
 " But His Highness, your father, will he allow 
 strange gods to be brought to the people ? " 
 
 "No," said Moti, "the people will not look at 
 them. Every one has been warned. But the 
 stranger is to remain, that he may teach me Eng- 
 lish. I do not wish to learn English— or anything. 
 It is always so hot when the pundit comes. But 
 my father wishes it." 
 
 A pundit is a wise old man who generally 
 has a long white beard, and thinks nothing in 
 the world is so enjoyable as Sanskrit or Arabic. 
 Sunni, too, found it hot when the pundit came. 
 But an English pundit 
 
 "Moti-/i," said Sunni, laying his arm around 
 the little prince's neck as they rode together, "do 
 you love me ? " 
 
 Moti caught Sunni's hand as it dropped over 
 
li*f»W"PP«!»t|f lipilf "'i»* W *H ««'ii!l'"^)IM;'W'l'«lW"'"' WHWLWW' I 
 
 I, 
 
 u 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 45 
 
 his shoulder. " You know that in my heart there 
 is only my father's face and yours, Sahib's son," 
 he said. 
 
 " Will you do one thing, then, for love of me ? " 
 asked Sunni eagerly. "Will you ask of the 
 Maharajah, your father, that I also may learn 
 English from the stranger?" 
 
 "No," said Moti mischievously, "because it 
 is already spoken, Sunni-y/. I said that I would 
 not learn unless you also were compelled to learn, 
 so that the time should not be lost between us. 
 Now let us gallop very fast past the jail, lest the 
 Englishman should think we wish to see him. 
 He is to be brought to me to-morrow at sun- 
 down." 
 
 The Englishman at that moment was unpack- 
 ing his books and his bottles, and thinking about 
 how he could best begin the work he had come to 
 Lalpore to do. He was a medical missionary, and 
 as they had every variety of disease in Lalpore, and 
 the population was entirely heathen, we may 
 think it likely that he had too much on his mind 
 
46 THE STORY OP SONNY SAIIIB. 
 
 to run to the window to see such very young roy- 
 alty ride by. 
 
 "Sunni-//," said Moti that afternoon in the 
 garden, "I am very tired of talking of this Eng- 
 lishman." 
 
 "I could talk of him for nine moons," said 
 Sunni ; and then something occurred which 
 changed the subject as completely as even the 
 little prince could desiie. This was a garden for 
 the pleasure of the ladies of the court ; they never 
 came out in it, but their apartments looked down 
 upon it, and a very high wall screened it from the 
 rest of the world. The Maharajah and Moti and 
 Sunni were the only people who might ever walk 
 there. As the boys turned at the end of a path 
 directly under the gratings, they heard a soft 
 voice say *'Moti!" 
 
 *'That is Matiya,"said the little prince. "I 
 do not like Matiya. What is it, Matiya?" 
 
 " It is not Matiya," said the voice quickly, "it 
 is Tarra. Here is a gift from the heart of Tarra, 
 little parrot, a gift for you, and a gift for the 
 
•«Nl'' 
 
 •*(r. 
 
 % 
 
 A packaye ia ihivwa to Moti. 
 
THE STORY OP SONNY SAIllB. 
 
 47 
 
 Sahib's son ; also a sweet cake, but the cake is for 
 Moti." 
 
 "I am sure it was Matiya," said Moti, run- 
 ning to pick the packet out of the rose-bush it 
 had fallen into; "but Matiya was never kind 
 before." 
 
 The packet held a necklace and an armlet. 
 The necklace was of little pearls and big ame- 
 thysts strung upon fine wire, three rows of pearls, 
 and then an amethyst, and was very lovely. The 
 armlet was of gold, with small rubies and tor- 
 quoises set in a pattern. The boys looked at them 
 more or less indifferently. They had seen so many 
 jewels. 
 
 "Matiya— if you think it was Matiya— makes 
 pretty gifts," said Sunni, "and the Maharajah 
 will keep your necklace for you for ever in an iron 
 box. But this armlet will get broken just as the 
 other two armlets that were given to me have got 
 broken. I cannot wear armlets and play polo, 
 and I would rather play polo." 
 
 "That is because you were clumsy," Moti an- 
 
48 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAIIIB. 
 
 swered. Moti was peevish that afternoon. The 
 Maharajah had refused him a gun, and he partic- 
 ularly wanted a gun, not to shoot anything, but to 
 frighten the crows with and perhaps the coolie- 
 folk. To console himself Moti had eaten twice as 
 many sweetmeats as were good for him, and was in 
 a bad temper accordingly. 
 
 *'Now they are certainly of Tarra, these 
 jewels," exclaimed Sunni, "I remember that neck- 
 lace upon her neck, for every time Tarra has 
 kissed me, that fifth stone which has been broken 
 in the cutting has scratched my face." 
 
 *'In one word," said Moti imperiously, "it 
 was the voice of Matiya. And this perplexes 
 me, for Matiya, hating my mother, hates me also, 
 I think." 
 
 "Why did she hate your mother?" asked 
 Sunni. 
 
 "How stupid you are to-day! You have 
 heard the story two hundred times! Because 
 she thought that she should have been chosen 
 to be queen instead of my mother. It is true 
 
THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 49 
 
 that she was more beautifi \ but my mother 
 was a pundita. And she was not chosen. She 
 is only second in the palace. And she has no 
 children, while my mother was the mother of a 
 king." 
 
 **No," said Sunni, "I never heard that before, 
 Moti." 
 
 *'But I say you have ! Two hundred times ! 
 And look, O thoughtless one, you have gone be- 
 tween me and the sun, so that even now your 
 shadow falls upon my sugar-cake— my cake stuffed 
 with almonds, which is the kind I most love, and 
 therefore I cannot eat it. There," cried Moti, con- 
 temptuously, *'take it yourself and eat it— you 
 have no caste to break." 
 
 For a minute Sunni was as angry as possible. 
 Then he reflected that it was silly to be angry 
 with a person who was not very well. 
 
 "Listen, Moti," he said, "that was indeed a 
 fault. I should have walked to the north. But I 
 will not eat your cake — let us give it to the red 
 and gold fishes in the fountain." 
 
■ '^v^ 
 
 50 TUE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 "Some of it," said Moti, appeased, "and 
 some to my new little monkey— my talking 
 monkey." 
 
 The fishes darted up for the crumbs greedily, 
 but the monkey was not as grateful for her share 
 as she ought to have been. She took it, smelt it, 
 wiped it vigorously on the ground, smelt it again, 
 and chattered angrily at the boys ; then she went 
 nimbly hand over hand to the very top of the ban- 
 yan-tree she lived in ; and then she deliberately 
 broke it into little pieces and pelted the givers 
 with them. 
 
 " She is not hungry to-day," said Moti. " Let 
 US take out the falcons." 
 
 Next morning the Maharajah was very much 
 annoyed by the intelligence that all the little red- 
 spotted fishes were floating flabby and flat and 
 dead among the lily pads of the fountain— there 
 were few things except Moti that the Maharajah 
 loved better than his little red-spotted fishes. He 
 wanted very particularly to know why they should k 
 
 have died in this unanimous and apparently pre- 
 
 2. 
 
 
 '■m 
 
-1-- -'-71 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAIIIB. 51 
 
 concerted way. The gods had probably killed 
 them by lightning, but the Maharajah wanted to 
 know. So he sent for the Englishman, who did 
 not mind touching a dead thing, and the English- 
 man told him that the little red-spotted fishes had 
 undoubtedly been poisoned. Moti was listening 
 when the doctor said this. 
 
 '*It could not have been the cake," said 
 Moti. 
 
 But when all was looked into, including one of 
 the little fishes. Dr. Roberts found that it un- 
 doubtedly had been the cake. Scraps of it were 
 still lying about the banyan-tree to help him to 
 this conclusion, and the monkey chattered as if 
 she could give evidence, too, if anybody would 
 listen. But she gave evidence enough in not eat- 
 ing it. Everybody, that is, everybody in Rajpu- 
 tana, knows that you can never poison a monkey. 
 The little prince maintained that the voice he heard 
 was the voice of Matiya, yet every one recognized 
 I ? • the jewels to be Tarra's. There was nothing else 
 
 to go upon, and the Maharajah decided that it was 
 
52 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 impossible to tell which of the two had wickedly- 
 tried to poison his eldest son. He arranged, 
 however, that they should both disappear — he 
 could not possibly risk a mistake in the matter. 
 And I wish that had been the greatest of the Ma- 
 harajah's injustices. When the truth came out, 
 later, that it was undoubtedly Matiya, the Maha- 
 rajah said that he had always been a good deal of 
 that opinion, and built a beautiful domed white 
 marble tomb, partly in memory of Tarra and 
 partly, I fear, to commemorate his own sagacity, 
 which may seem, under the circumstances, a little 
 odd. 
 
 The really curious thing was, however, that 
 out of it all came honour and glory for Sunni. 
 For what, asked the Maharajah, had prevented 
 the poisoning of his son ? What but the shadow 
 of Sunni, which fell upon the cake, so that Moti 
 could not eat it ! Therefore, without doubt, Sun- 
 ni had saved the life of a king ; and he could 
 ask nothing that should not be granted to him ; 
 he should stand always near the throne. Sunni 
 
 f 
 
-^P^WP)II4OT'JUWWRN)> 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 53 
 
 felt very proud and important, he did not know 
 exactly why ; but he could not think of any- 
 thing he wanted, except to learn his own lan- 
 guage from the Englishman. 
 
 "Oh, foolish bargainer!" cried Moti, **when 
 you know that has been given already ! " 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Dr. Roberts, who lived, by the Maharajah's 
 kind permission, in the jail behind the monkey 
 temple, soon found himself in rather an awkward 
 dilemma. Not in regard to the monkeys. They 
 were certainly troublesome. They stole his bis- 
 cuits, and made holes in his roof, and tore up 
 the reports he wrote for the S. P. C. K. in Eng- 
 land. Dr. Roborts made allowance for the mon- 
 keys, however. He had come to take away their 
 sacred character, and nobody could expect them 
 to like it. If you had asked Dr. Roberts what 
 his difficulty was he would have shown you 
 Sonny Sahib. The discovery was so wonderful 
 that he had made. He had found a yellow- 
 haired, blue-eyed English boy in a walled palace 
 of Rajputana, five hundred miles from any one of 
 his race. The boy was happy, healthy, and well 
 
 54 
 
 '■-M 
 
THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 55 
 
 content. That mucli the Maharajah had pointed 
 out to him ; that much he could see for himself. 
 Beyond that the Maharajah had discouraged Dr. 
 Koberts' interest. The boy's name was Sunni, he 
 had no other name, he had come '' under the pro- 
 tection" of the Maharajah when he was very 
 young ; and that wu, all His Highness could be 
 induced to say. Any more pointed inquiries he 
 was entirely unable to understand. There seemed 
 to be no one else who knew. Tooni could have 
 told him, but Tooni was under orders that she did 
 not dare to disobey. In the bazar two or three 
 conflicting stories, equally wonderful, were told of 
 Sunni ; but none that Dr. Roberts could believe. 
 In the end he found out about Sunni from Sunni 
 himself, who had never forgotten one word of 
 what Tooni told the Maharajah. Sunni men- 
 tioned also, with considerable pride, that he had 
 known three English words for a long time— 
 *' wass " and " hruss " and ** isstocJdn.''^ 
 
 Then Dr. Roberts, with his heart full of the 
 awful grief of the Mutiny, and thinking how 
 
T- 
 
 66 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 gladly this waif and stray would be received by 
 somebody, hurried to the Maharajah, and begged 
 that the boy might be given back to his own 
 people, that he, Dr. Roberts, might take him 
 back to his own people at his personal risk and 
 expense ; that inquiries might at least be set on 
 foot to find his relatives. 
 
 *'Yes," said the Maharajah, "but not yet, 
 ee-Wobbis. The boy will be well here for a year, 
 and you shall teach him. At the end of that 
 time we will speak again of this matter." 
 
 Dr. Roberts was not satisfied. He asked the 
 Maharajah at all events to allow Sunni to live 
 with him in his empty jail, but Ilis Highness re- 
 fused absolutely. 
 
 "And look you, ee-Wobbis," said he, "I have 
 promised the ^Viceroy in Calcutta that you shall 
 be safe in my country, and you shall be safe, 
 though I never asked you to come here. But if 
 any khaber goes to Calcutta about this boy, and 
 if there is the least confusion regarding him, your 
 mouth shall be stopped, and you shall not talk 
 
 I 
 
! 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SADIB. 57 
 
 any more to my people. For my part, I do not 
 like your medicines, and you have not yet cured 
 Proteb Singh of his short leg ; he goes as lame as 
 ever ! " 
 
 This was Dr. Roberts' difficulty ; his mouth 
 would be stopped. He did not doubt the Maha- 
 rajah. If he wrote to Calcutta that a Bajput 
 prince still held a hostage from the Mutiny, and 
 made a disturbance, there would be an end to 
 the work he had begun under the shadow of the 
 palace wall. And the work was prospering so 
 well ! Tlie people were listening now, Dr. 
 Roberts thought, and certainly he had been able 
 to relieve a great deal of their physical misery. 
 Would he be justified in writing to Calcutta? 
 Dr. Roberts thought about it very long and very 
 seriously. In the end he believed that he would 
 not be justified, at least until the year was over 
 of which the Maharajah spoke. Then if His 
 Highness did not keep his promise, Dr. Roberts 
 would see about it. 
 
 So the year went by ; the months when the 
 
68 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 sun blazed straight across the sky overhead, and 
 everybody slept at noonday — the months when a 
 gray sheet of rain hung from the clouds for days 
 together, and the months when all the Maha- 
 rajah's dominions were full of splendid yellow 
 lights and pleasant winds — when the teak wood 
 trees dropped their big dusty leaves, and the 
 nights were sharply cold, and Rajputana pre- 
 tended that it was winter. Dr. Roberts and 
 Sunni were very well then, but Moti shrivelled 
 up and coughed the day through, and the Ma- 
 harajah, when he went out to drive, wrapped 
 himself up in cashmere shawls, head and ears 
 and all. 
 
 The boys learnt as much English as could pos- 
 sibly be expected of them ; Sunni learnt more, 
 because Dr. Roberts made it a point that he 
 should. Besides, he became a great friend of Dr. 
 Roberts, who began by begging that Sunni might 
 be allowed to ride with him, then to drive with 
 him, and finally to spend two or three days at a 
 time with him. Sunni had more to learn than 
 
TOE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 59 
 
 Moti had. He had a good many things to forget, 
 too, which gave him almost as much trouble. 
 
 The Maharajah found it as difficult as ever to 
 like ee-Wobbis's medicines, but he considered 
 them excellent for Moti's cough, and only com- 
 plained that his son should be given so little of 
 them. The royal treasury would pay for a whole 
 bottle — why should the little prince get only a 
 spoonful ? Nevertheless Dr. Roberts stood well 
 in the estimation of the Maharajah, who arranged 
 that a great many things should be done as the 
 missionary suggested. In one case the Maha- 
 rajah had the palace well, the oldest palace well, 
 cleaned out — a thing that nobody had ever 
 thought of before ; and he was surprised to find 
 what was at the bottom of it. Dr. Roberts ad- 
 vised putting down a few drains too, and making 
 a road from the city of the Maharajah to the 
 great highways that led to the Viceroy's India. 
 The Maharajah laid the drains, and said he 
 would think about the road. Then Dr. Roberts 
 suggested that a hospital would be a good thing, 
 
 5 
 
 •^r 
 
f 
 
 60 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 and the Maharajah said he would think about 
 that too. 
 
 Sunni was growing fast ; he was too tall and 
 thin for nine years old. Dr. Roberts took anx- 
 ious care of him, thinking of the unknown grand- 
 father and grandmother in England, and how he 
 could best tell them of this boy of theirs, who 
 read Urdu better than English, and wore em- 
 broidered slippers turned squarely up at the toes, 
 and asked such strange . questions about his 
 father's God. But when he taxed the Maha- 
 rajah with his promise, Ilis Highness simply re- 
 peated, in somewhat more amiable terms, his 
 answer of the year before. And the work was 
 now prospering more than ever. When once he 
 had got the hospital. Dr. Roberts made up his 
 mind that he would take definite measures ; but 
 he would get the hospital first. 
 
 I 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 I SUPPOSE it was about that time that Suiji 
 Rao began to consider whether it was after all for 
 the best interests of the State that ee-Wobbis 
 should remain in it. Surji Rao was first Minister 
 to the Maharajah, and a very important person. 
 He had charge of the Treasury, and it was his 
 business to produce every day one hundred fresh 
 rupees to put into it. This was his duty, and 
 whether the harvests had been good and the cat- 
 tle many, or whether the locusts and the drought 
 had made the people poor, Surji Rao did his 
 duty. If ever he should fail, there hung a large 
 and heavy shoe upon the wall of the Maharajah's 
 apartment, which daily suggested personal chas- 
 tisement and a possible loss of dignity to Surji 
 Rao. 
 
 Dr. Roberts was making serious demands 
 
 61 
 
 . LI 
 
n 
 
 62 
 
 THE STORY OP SONNY SAEIB. 
 
 upon the Treasury, and proposed to make others 
 more serious still. Worse than that, he was sup- 
 planting Surji Rao in the confidence and affection 
 of the Maharajah. Worse still, he was making a 
 pundit of that outcast boy, who had been already 
 too much favoured in the palace, so that he 
 might very well grow up to be Minister of the 
 Treasury instead of Rasso, son of Surji Rao— a 
 thing unendurable. Surji Rao was the fattest 
 man in the State, so fat that it was said he sat 
 down only twice a day ; but he lay awake on 
 sultry nights for so many weeks reflecting upon 
 this, that he grew obviously, almost ostenta- 
 tiously, thin. To this he added such an ex- 
 tremely dolorous expression of countenance that 
 it was impossible for the Maharajah, out of sheer 
 curiosity, to refrain from asking him what was 
 the matter. 
 
 " My father and my mother ! I grow poor 
 with thinking that the feet of strangers are in 
 the palace of the King, and what may come 
 of it." 
 
THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 G3 
 
 The Maharajah laughed and put his arm 
 about the shoulders of Surji Rao. 
 
 *'I will give you a tub of melted butter to 
 grow fat upon again, and two days to eat it, 
 though indeed with less on your bones you were 
 a better Rajput. What should come of it, Surji 
 Rao ? " 
 
 Thp Minister sheathed the anger that leapt 
 up behind his eyes in a smile. Then he answered 
 gravely — 
 
 *' What should come of it but more strangers? 
 Is it not desired to make a road for their guns 
 and their horses? And talk and treaties, and 
 tying of the hand and binding of the foot, until 
 at last that great Jan Larrens * himself will ride 
 up to the gate of the city and refuse to go away 
 until Your Highness sends a bag of gold mohurs 
 to the British Raj, as he has done before." 
 
 "I do not think I will make the road," said 
 the Maharajah reflectively. 
 
 * John Lawrence, aftervrards Lord Laurence and Viceroy of 
 India. 
 
e4 THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 " King, you are the wisest of men, rnd there- 
 fore your own best counsellor. It is well decided. 
 But the Rajputs are all sons of one father, and 
 even now there is grief among the chief of them 
 that outcasts should be dwelling in the King's 
 favour." 
 
 "I will not make the road," said the Mahara- 
 jah. ''Enough!" 
 
 Surji Rao thought it was not quite enough, 
 however, and took various means to obtain more, 
 means that would never be thought of anywhere 
 but in countries where the sun beats upon the 
 plots of Ministers and ferments fanaticism in the 
 heads of the people. He talked to the Rajput 
 r'liets, and persuaded them — they were not difficult 
 to persuade — that Dr. Roberts was an regent and a 
 spy of the English Government at Calcutta, that 
 his medicines were a sham. When it was neces- 
 sary, Surji Rao said that the medicines were a 
 slow form of poison, but generally he said they 
 were a sham. He persuaded as many of the chiefs 
 as dared, to remonstrate with the Maharajah, and 
 
: 
 

 Doctor Robcrttis enemy. 
 
J J^I'VV'W lllMli 
 
 TEE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. (35 
 
 to follow his example of going about looking as if 
 they were upon the brink of some terrible disaster. 
 Surji Rao's wife was a clever woman, and she ar- 
 ranged such a feeling in the Maharajah's zenana, 
 that one day as Dr. Roberts passed along a corridor 
 to His Ilighness's apartment, a curtain opened 
 swiftly, and some one in the dark behind spat at 
 him. Amongst them they managed to make His 
 Highness extremely uncomfortable. But the old 
 man continued to decline obstinately to send the 
 missionary back. 
 
 Then it became obvious to Surji Rao that Dr. 
 Roberts must be disposed of otherwise. He went 
 about that in the same elaborate and ingenious 
 way. His arrangements required time, but there 
 is always plenty of time in Rajputana. He be- 
 came friendly with Dr. Roberts, and encouraged 
 the hospital. He did not wish in any way to be 
 complicat(?d v/ith his arrangements. Nobody else 
 became friendly. Surji Rao took care of that. 
 And at last one mijrning a report went like wild- 
 fire about the palace and the city that the mis- 
 
6Q 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAUIB. 
 
 sionary had killed a sacred bull, set free in honour 
 of Krishna at the birth of a son to Maun Rao, the 
 chief of the Maharajah's generals. Certainly the 
 bull was found slaughtered behind the monkey 
 temple, and certainly Dr. Roberts had beefsteak 
 for breakfast that day. Such a clamour rang 
 through the palace about it that the Maharajah 
 sent for the missionary, partly to inquire into the 
 matter, and partly with a view to protect him. 
 
 It was very unsatisfactory — the missionary did 
 not know how the bull came to be killed behlrd 
 his house, and, in spite of all the Maharajah's 
 hints, would not invent a story to account for it. 
 The Maharajah could have accounted for it fifty 
 times over, if it had happened to him. Besides, 
 Dr. Roberts freely admitted having breakfasted 
 upon beefsteak, and didn't know where it had 
 come from ! He rode home through an angry 
 crowd, and nobody at all came for medicines that 
 day. 
 
 Two days later the Rajput general's baby died 
 —could anything else have been expected ? The 
 
I 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 67 
 
 general went straight to the Maharajah to ask for 
 vengeance, but His Highness, knowing why the 
 chief had come, sent word that he was ill — he 
 would see Maun Rao to-morrow. To-morrow he 
 had not recovered, nor even the day after ; but in 
 the meantime he had been well enough to send 
 word to Dr. Roberts that if he wished to go away 
 he should have two camels and an escort. Dr. 
 Roberts sent to ask whether Sunni might go with 
 him, but to this the Maharajah replied by an abso- 
 lute "No." 
 
 So the missionary stayed. 
 
 It was Surji Rao who brought the final word 
 to the Maharajah. 
 
 "My father and my mother! " he said, "it is 
 no longer possible to hold the people back. It is 
 cried abroad that this English hakkim * has given 
 the people powder of pig's feet. Even now they 
 have set upon his house. And to-day is the fes- 
 tival of Krishna. My heart is bursting with 
 grief. " 
 
 * Doctor. 
 
68 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 *'If Maun Rao strikes, I can do nothing," said 
 the Maharajah weakly. '' He thinks the English- 
 man killed hia son. But look you, send Sunni to 
 me. lie saved mine. And I tell you," said the 
 Maharajah, looking at Surji Rao fiercely with his 
 sunken black eyes, " not so much of his blood 
 shall be shed as would stain a moth's wing." 
 
 But Maun Rao struck, and the people being 
 told that the missionary was dead, went home 
 hoiking that Krishna had nothing more against 
 them ; they had done what they could. 
 
 As to Sunni he told his grief to Tooni because 
 it comforted him, and went into mourning for nine 
 days in defiance of public opinion, because he 
 owed it to the memory of a countryman. Ho be- 
 gan, too, to take long restless rambles beyond the 
 gates, and once he asked Tooni if she knew the 
 road to Calcutta. 
 
 "It is fifty thousand miles," said Tooni, who 
 had an imagination ; ''and the woods are full of 
 tigers." 
 
CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 The gates of Lalpore were shut, and all about 
 her walls the yellow sandy plains stretched silent 
 and empty. There did not seem to be so much as 
 a pariah dog outside. Some pipal- trees looked 
 over the walls, and a couple of very antiquated 
 cannon looked through them, but nothing stirred. 
 It made a splendid picture at broad noon, the 
 blue sky and the old red-stone city on her little 
 hill, holding up her minarets and the white marble 
 bubbles of her temples, and then the yellow sand 
 drifting up; but one could not look at it long. 
 Colonel Starr, from the door of his tent, half a 
 mile away, had looked at it pretty steadily for 
 two hours, so steadily that his eyes, red and 
 smarting with the dust of a two hundred mile 
 ride, watered copiously, and made him several de- 
 grees more uncomfortable than he had been be- 
 fore. 
 
70 THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 I doubt whether any idea of the beauty of Lal- 
 pore had a place in the Colonel's mind, it was so 
 full of other considerations. He thought more, 
 probably, of the thickness of its walls than of 
 their colour, and speculated longer upon the 
 position of the arsenal than upon the curves of the 
 temples. Because, in the Colonel's opinion, it had 
 come to look very like lighting. In the opinion 
 of little Lieutenant Pink the fighting should have 
 been over and done with yesterday, and the 17th 
 Midlanders should be "bagging" the Maharajah's 
 artillery by now. Little Lieutenant Pink was 
 spoiling for the fray. So were the men, most of 
 them. They wanted a change of diet. Thomas 
 Jones, sergeant, entirely expressed the sentiments 
 of his company when he said that somebody ort to 
 pay up for this blessed march, they 'adn't wore the 
 skins off their 'eels fer two 'undred mile to admire 
 the bloomin' scenery. Besides, for Thomas 
 Jones's part he was tired of living on this yere 
 bloomin' tinned rock, he wanted a bit of fresh 
 roast kid and a Lalpore curry. 
 
 :3lvv 
 
I 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAUIB. 71 
 
 Colonel Starr had been sent to "arrange," if 
 possible, and to light if necessary. Perhaps we 
 need not inquire into the arrangements the 
 Grovernment had commissioned Colonel Starr to 
 make. They were arrangements of a kind fre- 
 quently submitted to the princes of independent 
 States in India wlien they are troublesome, and 
 their result is that a great many native States are 
 governed by English political residents, while a 
 great many native princes attend parties at 
 Government House in Calcutta. Tlie Maharajah 
 of Chita had been very troublesome indeed. 
 Twice in the year his people had raided peaceful 
 villages under British protection, and now he had 
 killed a missionary. It was quite time to 
 *' arrange " the Maharajah of Chita, and Colonel 
 Starr, with two guns and three hundred troops, 
 had been sent to do it. 
 
 His Highness, however, seemed indisposed to 
 further his social prospects in Calcutta and the 
 good of his State. For the twenty- four hours 
 they had been in camp under his walls the Maha- 
 
72 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAIIIB. 
 
 rajah had taken no more notice of Colonel Starr 
 and his three hundred Midlanders than if they 
 represented so many jungle bushes. To all 
 Colonel Starr's messages, diplomatic, argumenta- 
 tive, threatening, there had come the same un- 
 satisfactory response— the Maharajah of Chita 
 had no word to say to the British Raj. And 
 still the gates were shut, and still only the pipal- 
 trees looked over the wall, and only the cannon 
 looked through. 
 
 By the time evening came Colonel Starr was at 
 the end of his patience. He was not, unfor- 
 tunately, simultaneously at the end of his inves- 
 tigations. He did not yet know the position or 
 the contents of the arsenal, the defensibility of 
 the walls, the water supply, or the number of 
 men under arms in that silent, impassive red city 
 on the hill. The reports of the peasantry had 
 been contradictory, and this ordinary means of 
 ascertaining these things had failed him, while he 
 very particularly required to know them, his force 
 being small. The Government had assured Colo- 
 
I 
 
 '^miniyv'^r^^Ffmm'^r'WWli w»ijipt^"w^^^ 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAIIIB. 73 
 
 nel Starr that the Maharajah of Chita would be 
 easy to arrange ; that he was a tractable person, 
 and that half the usual number of troops would 
 be ample, which made Ilis Highness's conduct, if 
 anything, more annoying. And Colonel Starr's 
 commissariat, even in respect to " tinned rock,'* 
 had not been supplied with the expectation of be- 
 sieging Lalpore. The attack would be uncertain, 
 and the Colonel hesitated the more because his 
 instructions had been not to take the place if he 
 could avoid it. So the commanding officer paced 
 his tent, and composed fresh messages to the 
 Maharajah, while Lieutenant Pink wondered in 
 noble disgust whether the expedition was going 
 to end in moonshine after all, and Thomas Jones, 
 sergeant, remarked hourly to his fellow-privates, 
 *' The 17th 'aint come two 'undred miles for this 
 kind of a joke. The bioomin' Maharajer 'uU 
 think we've got a funk on." 
 
 But neither Colonel Starr nor Thomas Jones 
 was acquainted with the reason of the remarkable 
 attitude of Lalpore. 
 
 ff 
 

 
 IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 y 
 
 :^1 
 
 // 
 
 y. 
 
 = 
 
 ||=LL 
 
 11.25 
 
 ■^1^ 12.5 
 
 |50 "^"i IM^S 
 
 1^ 
 
 m 
 
 2.0 
 
 U 111.6 
 
 <5> 
 
 ^ 
 
 V] 
 
 /^ 
 
 / 
 
 
 'ji^J 
 
 
 Photographic 
 
 iV 
 
 gC^ 
 
 
 - < 
 
 ^ 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 

74 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 A week before, when the news reached him 
 that the Viceroy was sending three hundred men 
 and two guns to remonstrate with him for his 
 treatment of Dr. Roberts, the Maharajah smiled, 
 thinking of the bravery of his Chitans, the 
 strength of his fortifications, the depth of hla 
 walls, and the wheat stored in his city granaries. 
 No one had ever taken Lalpore since the Chitans 
 took it — in all Rajputana there were none so 
 cunning and so br^^ve as the Chitans. As to 
 bravery, greater than Rajput bravery simply did 
 not exist. The Maharajah held a council, and 
 they all sported with the idea of English soldiers 
 coming to Lalpore. Maun Rao begged to go out 
 and meet them to avenge the insult. 
 
 "Maharajah," said he, "the Chitans are suffi- 
 cient against the world ; why should we speak of 
 four hundred monkeys' grandsons ? If the sky 
 fell, our heads would be pillars to protect you ! " 
 
 And after a long discussion the Maharajah 
 agreed to Maun Rao's proposal. The English 
 could come only one way. A day's march from 
 
t^'^^^"1^'»lf.')W^' " ■, t ^' J-^' '".f ' 
 
 THE STORY OP SONNY SAIIIB. 
 
 To 
 
 Lalpore they would be compelled to ford a 
 stream. There the Maharajah's army would meet 
 them, ready, as Maun Rao said in the council, to 
 play at ball with their outcast heads. There was 
 a feast afterwards, and everybody had twice as 
 much opium as usual. In the midst of the rev- 
 elry they made a great calculation of resources. 
 The Maharajah smOed again as he thought of the 
 temerity of the English in connection with the ten 
 thousand rounds of ammunition that had just 
 come to him on camel back through Afghanistan 
 from Russia— it was a lucky and timely purchase. 
 Surji Rao, Minister of the Treasury, when this 
 was mentioned, did not smile. Surji Rao had 
 bought the cartridges at a very large discount, 
 which did not appear in the bill, and he knew 
 that not even Chitan valour could make more 
 than one in ten of them go off. Therefore, when 
 the Maharajah congratulated Surji Rao upon his 
 foresight in urging the replenishment of the 
 arsenal at this particular t.'me, Surji Rao found it 
 very difficult to congratulate himself. 
 
 6 
 
76 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 It all came out the day before the one fixed 
 for the expedition. His Highness, being in great 
 spirits, had ordered a shooting competition, and 
 the men were served from the new stores supplied 
 to the State of Chita by Petroif Gortschakin of 
 St. Petersburg. The Maharajah drove out to the 
 ranges to look on, and all his Ministers with 
 him. All, that is, except the Minister of the 
 Treasury, who begged to be excused ; he was so 
 very unwell. 
 
 Some of the men knel*- and clicked and re- 
 loaded half a dozen times before they could fire ; 
 some were luckier, and fired the first time or the 
 third without reloading. They glanced suspi- 
 ciously at one another and hesitated, while there 
 grew a shining heap of unexploded cartridges, a 
 foot hig^^, under the Maharajah's very nose. His 
 Highness looked on stupefied for ten minutes, 
 then burst into blazing wrath. Maun Rao rode 
 madly about examining, inquiring, threatening. 
 "Our cartridges are filled with powdered 
 charcoal," he cried, smiting one of them between 
 
if'WWui" W'lWWMIffW^ 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 77 
 
 I 
 
 two stones to prove his words. There was an un- 
 expected noise, and the noble General jumped 
 into the air, bereft of the largest half of his curled 
 moustache. That one was not. Then they all 
 went furiously back to the palace. The only 
 other incident of that day which it is worth our 
 while to chronicle is connected with Surji Rao 
 and the big shoe. The big shoe was administered 
 to Surji Rao by a man of low caste, in presence of 
 the entire court and as many of the people of 
 Lalpore as chose to come and look on. It was 
 very thoroughly administered, and afterwards 
 Surji Rao was put formally outside the city 
 gates and told that the king desired never to look 
 upon his black face again. Which was rubbing 
 it in rather unfairly, as His Highness's own com- 
 plexion was precisely the same shade. With 
 great promptitude Surji Rao took the road to 
 meet the English and sell his information, but 
 this possibility occurred to the Maharajah soon 
 enough to send men after him to frustrate it. 
 *' There shall be at least enough sound car- 
 

 tinMuqiw.ii jupii|fifiji|ipiiji|i,iiiH> Mi|iii.i|||^..i;)fif jiipnvfinip^qpmnxr 
 
 78 
 
 THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 tridges in his bargain for that," said His High- 
 ness grimly. 
 
 The Chitan spirit did not flourish quite so 
 vain-gloriously at the council that night, and 
 there was no more talk about the sky falling 
 upon dauntless Chitan heads. The sky had 
 fallen, and the effect was rather quenching than 
 otherwise. The previous stores were counted 
 over, and it w^as found that the men could not be 
 served with three rounds apiece out of them. 
 When this was announced, nobody thought of 
 doubting the wisdom of the Maharajah's decision 
 to shut up the gates of the city, and trust to the 
 improbability of the English venturing to attack 
 him in such small numbers, not knowing his re- 
 sources. So that very night, lest any word 
 should go abroad of the strait of the warriors of 
 Chita, the gates were shut. But all the city 
 knew. Moti knew. Sanni knew. 
 
 Two days later, Moti and Sunni heard the 
 English bugles half a mile away. They were 
 playing " Weel may the keel row I " the regi- 
 
■«W^Wt>»"».'" 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 79 
 
 mental marcli-past, as Colonel Starr's Midlanders 
 did the last half mile to their camping-ground. 
 The boys were in the courtyard among the horses, 
 and Sunni dropped the new silver bit he was 
 looking at, held up his head, and listened. He 
 was the same yellow-haired, blue-eyed Sunni, 
 considerably tanned by the fierce winds of Raj- 
 putana ; but there came a brightness over his face 
 as he listened, that had not been there since he 
 was a very little boy. 
 
 *'How beautiful the music is!" said he to 
 Moti. 
 
 Moti put his fingers in his ears. 
 
 " It is horrible," he cried. '* It screams and it 
 rushes. How can they be able to make it? I 
 shall tell my father to have it stopped." 
 
 Presently the bugles stopped of themselves, 
 and Moti forgot about them, but the brightness 
 did not go out of Sunni's face, and all day long 
 he went about humming the air of ^' Weel may 
 the keel row," with such variations as might be 
 expected. He grew very thoughtful toward even- 
 
!f I 
 
 80 
 
 THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 
 ing, but his eyes shone brighter than any sap- 
 phires in the Maharajah's iron boxes. As to an 
 old Mahomedan woman from Rubbulgurh who 
 cooked her chupatties alone and somewhat de- 
 spised, she heard the march-past too, and was 
 troubled all day long with the foolish idea that 
 the captain-sahib would presently come in to tea, 
 and would ask her, Tooni, where the memsahib 
 was. 
 
i 
 
 Sonny^s hand trembled as he took it. 
 
lp^lHMBj|Pi|Bll^ iM %^yni\v V f^ «<a 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 m ■.3'' 
 
 Irt 
 
 ,. 
 
 SuNNi had his own room in the palace, a little 
 square place with a high white wall and a table 
 and chair in it, which Dr. Roberts had given him. 
 The table held his books, his pen and ink and 
 paper. There was a charpoy in one corner, and 
 under the charpoy a locked box. There were no 
 windows, and the narrow door opened into a pas- 
 sage that ran abruptly into a wall, a few feet 
 farther on. So nobody saw Sunni when he car- 
 ried his chirar/, his little chimneyless, smoking 
 tin lamp, into his room, and set it in a niche on 
 the wall, took off his shoes, and threw himself 
 down on his charpoy at eleven o'clock that night. 
 For a long time he had been listening to the bul- 
 buls, the nightingales, in the garden, and think- 
 ing of this moment. Now it had come, and Sunni 
 quivered and throbbed all over with excitement. 
 
 81 
 
82 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAIIIB. 
 
 He lay very still, though, on the watch for foot- 
 steps, whispers, breathings in the passage. Four 
 years in the palace had taught Sunni what these 
 things meant. He lay still for more than two 
 hours. 
 
 At last, very quietly, Sunni lifted himself up 
 by his elbows, put first one leg, and then the other, 
 out of the charpoy, and got up. More quietly 
 still he drew the locked box from under the bed, 
 took a key from his pocket, and opened it. The 
 key squeaked in the wood, and Sunni paused 
 again for a long time, listening. Then in the 
 smoky, uncertain light of the chirag flaring in the 
 niche, he took from the box three gold bangles, 
 two broken armlets, enamelled in red and blue, 
 and a necklace of pearls with green enamelled 
 pendants. Last, he drew out a little sword with 
 rubies set in the hilt. For an instant Sunni hesi- 
 tated ; the ornaments were nothing, but the sword 
 was his chief possession and his pride. It would 
 be so easy to carry away ! He looked at it lov- 
 ingly for a minute, and laid it with the rest. All 
 
THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 83 
 
 these things were his very own, but something 
 told him that he must not take tliem away. Then 
 he took the long coarse white turban cloth from 
 his head, and wrapped everything skilfully in it. 
 Nothing jangled, and when the parcel was made 
 up it was flat and even. Then Sunni, with his 
 English pen, printed 
 
 M '^Mi- 
 
 upon one side of it, which in English letters would 
 have been spelled "Maharajah ka wasti," and 
 which meant simply, "For the Mahaajah." 
 Upon the other he wrote in the large round hand 
 that Dr. Roberts had taught him. 
 
 Ui 
 
 To your Honner, the Maharajah of Chita, 
 Sunni will take your Honner in his hart to Ms 
 oun country^ hut the gifs are too heavier 
 
 Sunni had certainly learned politeness at last 
 among the Rajputs. Then lie put the parcel back 
 into the box, softly locked it, and laid the key on 
 the cover. 
 
fl 1'! 
 
 84 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 Still nobody came his way. Sunni took an- 
 other turban cloth from its nail in the wall, a 
 finely-woven turban cloth, with blue and gold 
 stripes, nine yards long, for festivals. He twisted 
 it carelessly round his neck, and blew out the chi- 
 rag. Then he slipped softly into the passage, and 
 from that into the close, dark, high walled corri- 
 dors that led into the outer courts. He stepped 
 quickly, but carefully ; the corridors were full of 
 sleeping servants. Twice he passed a sentinel. 
 The first was stupid with opium, and did not 
 notice him. Mar Singh, the second, was very wide 
 awake. 
 
 " Where go you, Sunui-Ji f " he asked, inquisi- 
 tively. 
 
 *'I go to speak with Tooni about a matter 
 which troubles me so that I cannot sleep," an- 
 swered Sunni; *'and afterwards I return to the 
 little south balcony that overlooks the river ; it 
 will be cooler there if the vvind blows." 
 
 As Sunni went on, the thoughts of the sentinel 
 became immediately fixed upon the necessity of 
 
■ ji^i»ut«t Mld>w^*«))*' vvm- 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 85 
 
 being awake when the sahib's son should pass in 
 again — the sahib's son had the ear of the Mahara- 
 jah. 
 
 The ayah's hut was in the very farthest corner 
 of the courtyard she had begged for, somewhat 
 apart from the others. It was quite dark inside 
 when Sunni pushed open the door, but the old 
 woman, slumbering light, started up from her 
 charpoy with a little cry. 
 
 " Choop/ " said he in a low. quick tone ; and 
 Tooni, recognising his voice, was instantly silent. 
 
 Sunni made his way to the side of the bed, and 
 took one of her hands. 
 
 "Listen, Tooni," said he, in the same tone, "I 
 am come for what is mine. Give it to me." 
 
 ** Sonny Sahib ! " quavered the old woman 
 hoarsely, " what have I to give you ? Dil Jcushi,* 
 I have nothing." 
 
 "What from fear you have never given up, 
 nor burnt, nor thrown away," said Sunni, firmly ; 
 
 * Heart's delight. 
 
86 THE STORY OF SONNY SAUIB. 
 
 "what you said false words to ee-Wobbis 
 about, when you told him it had been stolen 
 from you. My little black book, with my God 
 in it." 
 
 '^ Hazur ! I have it not." 
 
 "Give it to me," said Sunni. 
 
 The old woman raised herself in the bed. " A 
 sahib's promise is written in gold," said she; 
 "promise that the Maharajah tihall never know." 
 
 "He shall never know," said Sunni. 
 
 Tooni felt her way to the side of the hut ; 
 then her hand fumbled along the top of the wall ; 
 it seemed to Sunni for an interminable time. At 
 a certain place she parted the thatch and put her 
 hand into it with a little rustling that Sunni 
 thought might be heard in the very heart of the 
 palace. Then she drew out a small, tight sewn, 
 oilskin bag, that had taken the shape of the book 
 inside it, groped across the hut again, and gave it 
 to Sunni. The boy's hand trembled as he took it, 
 and without a word he slipped into the darkness 
 outside. 
 
 
> W^P'^'^'f"? jV- 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 87 
 
 . 
 
 Then he stopped short and went back. *' Great 
 thanks to you, Tooni-j>7," he said softly into the 
 darkness of the hut. "When I find my own 
 country I will come back and take yoa there too. 
 And while I am gone Moti will love you, Tooni-Ji. 
 Peace be to you ! " 
 
 Mar Singh was still awake when Sunni re- 
 entered the palace. The wind had come, he said. 
 Sleep would rest upon the eyelids of Sunni-yz in 
 the south balcony. 
 
 It was a curious little place, the south balcony, 
 really not a balcony at all, but a round-pillared 
 pavilion with a roof that jutted out above the city 
 wall. It hung over a garden, too, rather a 
 cramped garden, the wall and the river came so 
 close, and one that had been left a good deal to 
 take care of itself. Some fine pipal-trees grew in 
 it though, one of them towered within three feet of 
 the balcony,, while the lower branches overspread 
 the city wall. All day long the green parrakeets 
 flashed in and out of the pipal-trees, screaming 
 and chattering, while the river wound blue among 
 
88 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 n 
 
 the yellow sands outside the wall ; but to-night 
 the only sound in them was the whispering of the 
 leaves as the south wind passed, and both the 
 river and the sands lay silver gray in the stai light. 
 Sunni, lying full length upon the balcony, listened 
 with all his might. From the courtyard, away 
 round to the right where the stables were, came a 
 pony's neigh, and Sunni, as he heard it once — 
 twice — thrice — felt his eyes fill with tears. It 
 was the voice of his pony, of his ^^ DJiooplal,^^ 
 his "red sunlight," and he would never ride 
 Dhooplal again. The south breeze brought no 
 other sound, the palace stretched on either side 
 of him dark and still, a sweet heavy fragrance 
 from a frangipanni-tree in the garden floated 
 up, and that was all. Sunni looked across the 
 river, and saw that a group of palms on the 
 other side was beginning to stand distinctly 
 against the sky. Then he remembered that he 
 must make haste. 
 
 The first thing he did was to unwind his long 
 turban from his neck, and cut it in two. Two- 
 
 t';! 
 
• ywimiw.','*- '>»''»'•" 'i:fr"!^">fp 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAIIIB. 
 
 89 
 
 ! 
 
 thirds he twisted round his waist, the other he 
 made fast to one of the little red stone pillars of 
 the balcony. It himg straight and black down 
 into the shadows of the pipal-tree. Then, very 
 gradually and cautiously, Sunr.^* slipped over the 
 balcony's edge and let himself down, down, till 
 he reached a branch thick enough to cling to. 
 The turban was none too long, the branches at the 
 top w^ere so slender. Just as he grasped a thick 
 one, clutching it with both arras and legs, and 
 swaying desjoerately in the dark, he felt a rush of 
 wings across his face, and a great white owl flew 
 out hooting in her panic. The boy almost missed 
 his catch with fear, and the Maharajah, wakeful 
 in his apartments, lost another good hour's sleep 
 through hearing the owl's cry. It was the worst 
 of omens, the Maharajah believed, and sometimes 
 he believed it with less reason. 
 
 As quickly as he dared, Sunni let himself 
 down branch by branch till he reached the level 
 of the wall. Presently he stood upon it in the 
 subsiding rustle of the leaves, breathless and 
 
90 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 trembling. He seemed to have disturbed every 
 living thing within a hundred yards. A score of 
 bats flew up from the wall crevices, a flying fox 
 struck him on the shoulder, at his feet something 
 black and slender twisted away into a darker 
 place. Sunni stood absolutely still, gradually 
 letting go his hold upon the pipal twigs. Pres- 
 ently everything was as it had been before, ex- 
 cept for the little dark motionless figure on the 
 wall ; and the south wind was bringing across the 
 long, shrill, mournful howls of the jackals that 
 plundered the refuse of the British camp half a 
 mile away. 
 
 Then Sunni laid down flat on the top of the 
 wall, and began to work himself with his hands 
 and feet towards the nearest embrasure. An 
 old cannon stood in this, and threatened with 
 its wide black mouth any foe that should be 
 foolish enough to think of attacking the fort 
 from the river. This venerable piece of ammuni- 
 tion had not been fired for ten years, and would 
 burst to a certainty if it were fired now ; but as 
 
 It; 
 
 m 
 
 '*., 
 
1 
 
 every 
 
 core of 
 
 ng fox 
 letliirg 
 
 darker 
 duaWy 
 
 Pres- 
 e, ex- 
 »n the 
 3s the 
 
 that 
 alt SL 
 
 ' the 
 inds 
 
 An 
 vith 
 
 be 
 fort 
 mi- 
 ald 
 
 as 
 
An early-morning adventure. 
 
THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 91 
 
 nobody had ever dreamed of attacking Lalpore 
 from the river that didn't particularly matter. 
 When Sunni reached it, he crouched down in its 
 shadow — the greyness behind the palms was 
 growing paler — and took the rest of his turban 
 cloth from his waist. Then he took off his coat, 
 and began to unwind a rope from his body— a 
 rope made up of all sorts of ends, thick and thin, 
 long and short, and pieced out with leather 
 thongs. Sunni was considerably more comfort- 
 able when he had divested himself of it. He tied 
 the rope and the turban cloth together, and fas- 
 tened the rope end to the old gun's wheel. He 
 looked over for a second — no longer — ^but it was 
 too dark to tell how far down the face of the 
 thirty-foot wall his ragged contrivance hung. It 
 was too dark as well to see whether the water 
 rippled against the wall or not ; but Sunni knew 
 that the river was low. As a matter of fact he 
 had only about five feet to drop, and he went 
 very comfortably into a thick bed of wet sand. 
 
 Nor was anything known of his going in Lalpore 
 7 
 
!!?;'; 
 
 92 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 until daybreak, when one of the palace sweepers 
 found the end of a blue and gold turban flapping 
 about the south balcony ; and Moti, who often 
 went early to tell his dreams to Sunni, brought 
 the Maharajah a parcel. 
 
 L 
 
epers 
 pping 
 often 
 mglit 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 "What's this?" said Colonel Starr, looking 
 up from his camp table, -vhere he was writing a 
 final message for translation to the Maharajah. 
 The sun was on the point of rising, the air was 
 crisp, and the sky was splendid. Lalpore, on her 
 buttressed slope, sat as proud and as silent as 
 ever ; but something like a blue ribbon floated 
 from the south wall over the river. 
 
 " What's this « " said Colonel Starr, with the 
 deepest possible astonishment. 
 
 " Pris'ner, sir," answered Thomas Jones, sa- 
 luting. 
 
 ''What?'' said the Colonel. "IS'onsensel 
 Where did you get him ? " 
 
 *'Beg pardon, sir. Peters were on duty, sir, 
 at the second outpost, sir. It were about two 
 hours ago as far as I could judge, sir, not 'avin' 
 
 93 
 
94 THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 the time by me. Peters seed prisoner a-comin' 
 strite fer the camp across the sands from the 
 river, sir. Peters sings out * Oo goes ? ' ICand 
 there been no notiss took, pints, sir." 
 
 *' Yes," interposed Sunni, composedly, in his 
 best English, '*he did. But he did not fire. 
 And that was well, for he might have hit me. I 
 am not broken." 
 
 "Go on, Jones," said the Colonel. *'This is 
 very queer." 
 
 " Pris'ner were about ten yards off, sir, *an, as 
 *e says, Peters might 'a hit 'im," said Sergeant 
 Jones, with solemn humour, "but afore he'd 
 made up 'is mind to fire, 'e'd come so close Peters 
 saw 'ow small he was, an' therefore didn't, sir." 
 
 "Quite right," remarked Sunni. "Peters 
 might have killed me." 
 
 The Colonel nodded. He was looking with 
 absorbed interest into Sunni's eyes. He came 
 out of his instant of abstraction with a start, 
 while Jones went on with respectful volubility. 
 
 "Beggin' pardon, sir, Peters says as 'ow 'e 
 
THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 95 
 
 were all struck of a heap, sir, at 'earin' the young 
 'un call out in English, sir, an' bein' so light com- 
 plected fer a native, sir, an' even lighter in that 
 light, Peters didn't rightly know wot 'e might be 
 firin' at, sir. Peters do be a bit superstitious." 
 
 " Peters took him then, I suppose ? " The 
 Colonel smiled ironically. 
 
 **Beggin' your pardon, sir, it was rather 'im as 
 took Peters. 'Ee walked strite up to 'im, an' 
 
 * Ware is the burra * sahib \ ' says 'e. Peters 
 sends 'im into the guard tent to me as 'e passed 
 on his beat, and pris'ner says ' You ain't the 
 burra sahib,' says he. Then I says to pris'ner, 
 
 * You hito t an' give an account of yerself , ' says 
 I. Says 'e quite 'aughty like, ' I'll account fer 
 myself to the burra sahib,' an' wouldn't take no 
 chaff. But 'e bitoes, an' curls 'isself up in the 
 sand, an' goes sound asleep in no time— an' 'ere 'e 
 is, sir." 
 
 " Also," corrected Sunni, " he gave me some 
 
 'e 
 
 * Principal. 
 
 f Sit down on the ground. 
 
 
^ ■■..,., 
 
 96 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 coffee. He is a good man. Are you the burra 
 sahib?" he asked the Colonel. 
 
 But Colonel Starr was not in a mood to answer 
 questions regarding his dignity. He looked at 
 the queer slender figure before him, in its torn 
 coat of embroidered silk, and its narrow, shape- 
 less, dirty cotton trousers ; and especially he 
 looked at the boy's hair and eyes — his wavy yel- 
 low hair and his blue eyes. 
 
 "You are not a Rajput, you are an English 
 boy," he said finally, with amazed conviction. 
 
 At another time the Colonel would have been 
 wild with excitement at such a discovery, but for 
 the moment his mind was full of graver things. 
 In an hour he meant to attack Lalpore. He dis- 
 missed his kindling enthusiasm, and added 
 simply, "How came you here?" 
 
 "I came by a rope from the palace to the 
 pipal-tree, and thence to the south wall, and 
 thence to the river bed. It was not hard. Know- 
 ing the shallows of the river, I arrived quite 
 easily by wading." 
 
 ¥ 
 
".riW,aWHr"P"4>l<'^ U> 
 
 THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 97 
 
 "You come from the fort? Are there any- 
 other English there ? " The Colonel's voice was 
 quick and eager. 
 
 "Not even one! Ee-Wobbis was there, but 
 
 he is killed." 
 
 "Ah!" said Colonel Starr. "When was he 
 killed ? " 
 
 "In the evening on tho tenth day of the 
 month. I do not properly know for why. It 
 was not the Maharajah," added Sunni quickly ; 
 "it was Maun Rao. Ee-Wobbis was my country- 
 man, and I hate Maun Rao." 
 
 The orderly came for the final message 
 that was to be sent to the Maharajah. Colonel 
 Starr told him it would be ready in half an 
 hour. 
 
 "Have they given you any breakfast?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "No, thank you — not yet," answered Sunni 
 politely. 
 
 The Colonel wrote an order, and gave it to 
 Thomas Jones. " Be smart," he added. 
 
U '"' 
 
 98 
 
 THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 Until Thomas Jones returned with some 
 bread and bacon and a bowl of milk, and until 
 Sunni had eaten the bread and drunk the milk, 
 the Colonel looked at the boy as seldom as he 
 could, and said only two words. ''No bacon T' 
 he asked. 
 
 Sunni flushed. "If it is excusable," said he, 
 "I do not eat of the pig." 
 
 At which Colonel Starr's face expressed curi- 
 osity, amusement, and interest all at once ; but 
 he kept silence until Sunni had finished. 
 "Now," said he pleasantly, "listen, my small 
 prisoner. I am sure you have a great deal to tell 
 me about yourself. Very good, I will hear it. I 
 should like to hear it. But not now — there is no 
 time. Since you have taken the trouble to escape 
 from this place, you do not want to go back 
 again, I suppose ? " 
 
 " I want to go to my own country — with you," 
 said Sunni. " I can march." 
 
 The Colonel smiled. It was the smile of a 
 brave man, and kindly. His men knew it as well 
 
ntil 
 iJk, 
 he 
 
 '^I-'ria'nei; *?>/"' 
 
THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 99 
 
 as they knew his sterner looks. Sunni thought 
 it a beautiful smile. 
 
 "You shall go," he said, "but we are not 
 quite ready to start yet. Perhaps in a few days, 
 perhaps in a few weeks, we shall be. A good 
 deal depends on what you can tell me." 
 
 Sunni looked straight into the Colonel's eyes, 
 a little puzzled. 
 
 " How do they get water in Lalpore ? " asked 
 the Colonel, to begin with. 
 
 " There are four wells," said Sunni, " and two 
 of them have no bottom." 
 
 " H'm ! And what is that white building with 
 the round roof that we see from here?" 
 
 "That is the mosque of Larulla," said Sunni, 
 "but it is no longer of consequence ; there is so 
 little Mussulmans in Lalpore. The soldiers hang 
 their guns there now," 
 
 " Ah ! And has the Maharajah many soldiers, 
 and have they good guns— new guns ? " 
 
 Sunni looked into the Colonel's face with eager 
 pleasure to reply ; but there he saw something 
 
100 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 that made him suddenly close his lips. He had 
 not lived ten years among the Rajputs without 
 learning to read faces, and in Colonel Starr's he 
 saw that all this talk the Colonel desired about 
 Lalpore was not for Lalpore's good. The boy 
 thought for a minute, and tightened his lips, while 
 a little firm line came on each side of his mouth. 
 He only opened them to say, *' Burra sahib, I can- 
 not tell you that." 
 
 "But you must tell me," said Colonel Starr 
 firmly. 
 
 "No," returned Sunni, "not that, nor any 
 more informations about the fort." 
 
 The Colonel's face grew stern. He was not 
 accustomed to disobedience. "Come," he said; 
 "out with it, boy. I have no time to waste." 
 His tone was so serious that Sunni felt a little 
 nervous thrill run all over him. 
 
 "No," said he. 
 
 The Colonel tried another way: "Come, my 
 little chap," said he gently, "you are English, are 
 you not ? " 
 
"TiF'w (■jvFiiixwuwi ii,i.ijwi|i|i|iiPim^|Br' 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 101 
 
 Starr 
 
 Sunni nodded. 
 
 *'Then you must serve the English Queen. 
 She has sent me here to punish the Maharajah for 
 killing the padre-sahib. You must help me." 
 
 *'The Maharajah did not kill ee-Wobbis," 
 cried Sunni excitedly. "I have already once 
 said that. The Maharajah he liJce ee-Wobbis. I 
 am English, but the Maharajah is my father and 
 my mother. I cannot speak against the Mahara- 
 jah, burra sahib." 
 
 There came a light into the Colonel's eyes 
 which was not kindled by anger. He found him- 
 self liking this slip of a ragged urchin with fair 
 hair, who defied him — liking him tremendously. 
 But the crisis was grave ; he could not sacrifice 
 his men to a child's scruple ; he could not let him- 
 self be defied. He took out his watch, and made 
 his face hard. 
 
 "Then," said he coldly, "you are either the 
 Maharajah's deserter or his spy. If you have 
 deserted, I am disposed to send you back to him, 
 since you are of no use to us. K you are his spy. 
 
102 
 
 THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 it is my duty to have you shot. I will give you 
 five minutes to save your skin in." 
 
 "But— but you are my countryman^ burra 
 sahib I " There was a sob in his voice. 
 
 The only possible answer to that was a hug, so 
 it went unanswered. Colonel Starr set himself to 
 think of his Midlanders. 
 
 Sunni lifted his blue eyes entreatingly to the 
 Colonel's face, but he had turned it away. He 
 was watching a little brown lizard sunning itself 
 outside the tent door, and wondering how long he 
 could keep his disciplinary expression. You could 
 hear nothing in the tent but the ticking of the 
 watch. Sunni looked down at the lizard too, and 
 so the minutes passed. 
 
 Three of them passed. Colonel Starr found 
 himself hoping even more that the boy should 
 stand firm than that he should speak. Colonel 
 Starr began to say softly within himself, " I am a 
 brute." The fifth minute was up. "Will you 
 speak % " asked the Colonel. 
 
 "Burra sahib, no," said Sunni. 
 
 J 
 
■i«ii»v?'-«'|ijvjsw»i"i^iw" ♦."■»<< www 
 
 THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 103 
 
 ive you 
 
 <, buna 
 
 hug, so 
 nself to 
 
 y to the 
 ly. He 
 ig itself 
 long he 
 )u could 
 of the 
 00, and 
 
 found 
 
 should 
 
 Colonel 
 
 * I am a 
 
 ill you 
 
 *'i 
 
 At that instant Lieutenant Pink galloped up to 
 the door of the tent. 
 
 " They've come to their senses at last, sir. Six 
 mounted men have just left the north gate, signal- 
 ling for a parley." 
 
 The Colonel jumped to his feet and gave 
 half a dozen orders without stopping. The last 
 one was to Sunni. *' Stay here," he said ; 
 *'you shall soon go back to your own coun- 
 try." 
 
 The Chitan horsemen had ridden out to an- 
 nounce the coming of the Maharajah, so that the 
 English officer might meet him half-way. They 
 gave the message gravely, and rode slowly back. 
 Half an hour later there arose a great shouting 
 and blowing of trumpets inside the walls, the 
 royal gate was flung open, and the Maharajah 
 appeared, swaying in a blaze of silk and jewels 
 upon an enormous elephant with a painted trunk 
 and trappings fringed in gold and silver. Trum- 
 peters and the crimson flag of Chita went before 
 him ; Maun Rao and the other generals rode be- 
 
104 
 
 THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 hind him ; at his side sat his bard, his poet lau- 
 reate, with glowing eyes, speaking constantly into 
 his royal ear the glorious annals of his house. 
 Colonel Starr and his little suite met this wonder- 
 ful cavalcac^e a quarter of a mile from the city, 
 and the Maharajah and the Colonel dismounted. 
 Whereupon the magnificent Rajput, in his dia- 
 mond aigrettes and his silken swathings, and the 
 broad-shouldered British officer, in his Queen's 
 red coat, solemnly kissed each other. They ex- 
 changed other politenesses, spoke of the health 
 of the Viceroy and of his "good friend" the 
 Maharajah, and His Highness arranged a durbar 
 to be held in his hall of audience at two that 
 afternoon, when he would hear the desires of the 
 British Raj. 
 
 Strangely enough, it occurred to nobody to 
 wonder why the Maharajah had so suddenly 
 changed his mind. To nobody, that is, except 
 Sonny Sahib. He guessed the reason, and sitting 
 all morning in a corner of the Colonel's tent, as 
 he had been told, he thought about it very seri- 
 
 
THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 105 
 
 ously. Once or twice he had to swallow a lump 
 in his throat to help him to think. The Maha- 
 rajah's reason was that he supposed that Sonny- 
 Sahib had told the English about Lalpore's am- 
 munition ; and that, under the circumstances, 
 was enough to bring lumps into anybody's 
 thi'oat. 
 
 The Colonel was very busy, and took no notice 
 of him, except to say that he should have some 
 dinner. He heard talk of the Maharajah's visit 
 and of the durbar, and he revolved that too. 
 When the time came, Sunni had concluded that 
 he also must go to the durbar. He said so 
 to Colonel Starr. 
 
 "Nonsense!" said the Colonel. **And yet," 
 he added reflectively, ** it might be useful to have 
 you there. I daresay you will be safe enough. 
 You are not afraid 1" 
 
 Sunni said he was not afraid. So they all 
 went, and the Maharajah, rising from his ivory 
 chair, received them with much state and cere- 
 mony. He frowned when he saw Sunni, but said 
 
106 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 nothing. His Highness felt that he was not in a 
 position to resent anything, and thought bitterly 
 of Petroff Gortschakin. 
 
 The durbar i)roceeded.- Formally, and accord- 
 ing to strict precedence, each man spoke. With 
 great amiability Colonel Starr presented the de- 
 mands of the English Government ; with greater 
 amiability the Maharajah and his officers repelled 
 them. But Colonel Starr was firm, and he had 
 the unanswerable argument of three hundred 
 well-armed men and two nine-pounders, which 
 Maun Rao would have to meet with Petroff 
 Gortschakin's cartridges. After duly and sadly 
 reflecting upon this, the Maharajah concluded 
 that he would give up ee-Wobbis's murderers — 
 one of them at any rate — and let himself be ar- 
 ranged, at all events for the present. Afterwards 
 he would say to Maun Rao that it was only for 
 the present. He summoned all his politeness to 
 his aid, and said in the end that such was his ad- 
 miration for the English Lord Sahib in Calcutta, 
 such his friendship and respect, that he would 
 
 it 
 
THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 107 
 
 welcome any ooe who came to Lalpore in his 
 name. 
 
 *' Accompanied by a small force," added Colo- 
 nel Starr in the vernacular, and the Maharajah 
 also added, while Maun Rao behind him ground 
 his teeth, *' Accompanied by a small force." 
 
 "One word more," said the Maharajah, "and 
 the durbar is ended. The opium pledge will ap- 
 pear, and we will drink it with you. From the 
 palm of your hand I will drink, and from the 
 palm of my hand you shall drin> ; but the lips 
 of the boy who comes with you shall not taste 
 it. The Rajputs do not drink opium with their 
 betrayers." 
 
 Sunni heard and his face grew crimson. 
 
 " Maharajah ! " he shouted, " I did not tell ; I 
 did not tell." 
 
 The Maharajah shrugged his shoulders con- 
 temptuously. 
 
 " He is not of our blood ; why should he have 
 
 kept silence?" said the old man. 
 
 "But he did keep silence," said the Colonel, 
 8 
 
n !i 
 
 
 108 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 looking straight into- the Chitan's sunken eyes. 
 *' I asked him about your men and your ammu- 
 nition. I commanded him, I threatened him. I 
 give you my word of honour as a soldier that he 
 would say nothing." 
 
 The English in India are always believed. A 
 cry went up from the other Chitans. Moti clap- 
 ped his hands together, Maun Rao caught the 
 boy up and kissed him. 
 
 ** Then," said the Maharajah slowly, ** I love 
 you still, Sunni, and you shall drink the opium 
 with the rest. Your son," he added to Colonel 
 Starr, **will bring praise to his father." 
 
 The Colonel smiled. *'I have no children," 
 said he. "I wish he were indeed my son." 
 
 " If he "is not your son," asked the Maharajah 
 cunningly, "why did you bring him to the 
 durbar ? " 
 
 '* Because he wished to come " 
 
 **To say that I did not tell," said Sunni. 
 
 "Call the woman," ordered His Highness 
 
 She was in the crowd in the courtyard, wait- 
 
 
.?Bf ',''^»"'^ 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 109 
 
 )j 
 
 ing to see her old master pass again. She came 
 
 in bent and shaking, with her head-covering over 
 
 her face. She threw herself at Colonel Starr's 
 
 feet, and kissed them. 
 
 "Cap tan Sahib!" she quavered, "Captan 
 
 Sahib I Mirhani do I " * 
 
 There was absolute silence in the audience 
 
 hall. A parrakeet flashed through it screaming. 
 
 The shadows were creeping east over the marble 
 floor ; a little sun flamed out on the hilt of Maun 
 Rao's sword. The Colonel stooped over the old 
 woman and raised her up. His face whitened as 
 he looked at her. 
 
 **It's Tooni!" he said, hoarsely. And then, 
 in a changed voice, unconscious of the time and 
 place, "Tooni, what happened to the memsahib ! " 
 he asked. 
 
 The ayah burst into an incoherent torrent of 
 words and tears. The memsahib was very, very 
 ill, she said. There were not five breaths left in 
 
 Give mercy. 
 
i^T.'i- . ■r<;7 VI.-.- 
 
 110 
 
 THE STORY OP SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 her body. The memsahib had gone in the jart — 
 and the chota baba * — the Sonny Sahib — had al- 
 ways had ffood milk — and she had taken none of 
 the memsahib's ornaments, only her little black 
 book with the charm in it 
 
 "That is true talk," interposed Sunni, 
 "Tooni's words are all true. Here is the little 
 black book." 
 
 Colonel Starr had the face of a man in a 
 dream, half conscious and trying to wake up. 
 His lips worked as he took the oilskin bag from 
 Sunni, and he looked at it helplessly. Little 
 Lieutenant Pink took it gently from him, slit it 
 down the side with a pocket-knife, and put back 
 into the Colonel's hand the small leather bound 
 book. On the back of it was printed, in tar- 
 nished gold letters, " Common Prayer." 
 
 It was a very little book, but the Colonel was 
 obliged to hold it with both hands. Even then 
 they trembled so that he could hardly turn to the 
 
 * The little baby. 
 
1 
 
 
 50 
 
 i? 
 
 
' "TWI^^ i^l« '-Jin «V^J.WPia«4i^in*l 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. m 
 
 fly-leaf. His eyes filled as lie read there, 
 "Evelyn Starr from John Starr, December 5th, 
 1855," and remembered when he had written that. 
 Still the shadows crept eastward, the mynas chat- 
 tered in the garden, the scent of the roses came 
 across warm in the sun. The Kajputs looked at 
 him curiously, but nc» one spoke. 
 
 The Colonel's eyes were fixed upon Sunni's 
 face. He made one or two efforts to speak that 
 did not succeed. Then "And this is the baby," 
 he said. 
 
 "-Hazur, ha!''* replied Tooni, ''Sonny 
 ^ I SaJiib hai ! " 
 
 The Colonel looked at Sunni an instant longer, 
 and the boy smiled into his face. " Yes," said 
 he assuredly, with a deep breath, "it is Sonny 
 Sahib." 
 
 *' The woman saw your honour this morning, 
 and the khaber was brought to me then," re- 
 marked the Maharajah complacently. 
 
 * " Your Honour, ves. It is Sonnv Sahib." 
 
 
 .'=« 
 
 ts 
 
112 
 
 THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB. 
 
 It was three weeks, after all, before the Maha- 
 rajah of Chita was satisfactorily arranged. For 
 three weeks Thomas Jones indulged in roast kid 
 and curry every day from Lalpore, and Lieu- 
 tenant Pink, having no more warlike way of 
 amusing himself, made sanguinary water-colour 
 sketches of the city to send home to the Misses 
 Pink in England. The day came at last when 
 Colonel Starr and Sonny Sahib went to pay their 
 final respects to the Maharajah. With his hand 
 upon his son's shoulder the Colonel turned once 
 more after the last courtesy had been exchanged. 
 
 "Your Highness will remember," said the 
 English soldier for the pleasure of saying it, 
 "he did not tell." 
 
 THE END. 
 
#i'ip»'y.»n!l.lW «■ ^■fiMllip 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 Books by Mrs. Everard Cotes (Sara Jeannette Duncan). 
 
 J/ERNON'S AUNT. With many Illustrations. 
 i2mo. Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 y 
 
 " Her characters, even when broadly absurd, are always consistent with them, 
 selves, and the stream of fun flows naturally on, hardly ever flagging or forced. "—Z.<j«- 
 doH A theneeuiH. 
 
 A 
 
 DA UGHTER OF TO-DA Y. 
 
 Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 A Novel. 1 2 mo. 
 
 "The book is well worth the attention it demands, and if the conviction at last 
 slowly dawns upon the reader that it contains a purpose, it is one which has been pro- 
 duced by the inevitable law of reaction, and is cleverly manipulated."— Z,c«flfo« 
 A iheneeutn. 
 
 " This novel is a strong and serious piece of work ; one of a kind that is getting too 
 rare in these days of universal crankiness." — Boston Courier. 
 
 " A new and capital story, full of quiet, happy touches of humor." — Philadelphia 
 Press. 
 
 A 
 
 SOCIAL DEPARTURE: How Orthodocia and I 
 
 Went Round the World by Ourselves. With ill Illustrations 
 by F. H. Townsend. i2mo. Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, $1.75. 
 
 " Widely read and praised on both sides of the Atlantic and Pacific, with scores of 
 illustrations which fit the text exactly and show the mind of artist and writer ' a unison." 
 — New York Evening Post. 
 
 " It is to be doubted whether another book can be found so thoroughly amusing 
 from beginning to end." — Boston Daily Advertiser. 
 
 " A brighter, merrier, more entirely charming book would be, indeed, diflicult to 
 find."— 5"^ Loitis Repiiblic. 
 
 /IN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON. With 80 
 -^^ Illustrations by F. H. Townsend. i2mo. Paper, 75 cents ; 
 cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " One of the most naive and entertaining books of the season."— A'ifw York Ob- 
 server. 
 
 " So sprightly a book as this, on life in London as observed by an American, has 
 never before been -tixWX&vt." —Philadelphia Bulletin. 
 
 "Overrunning with cleverness and good-will."— iWw York Commercial Adver- 
 tiser. 
 
 T 
 
 HE SIMPLE ADVENTURES OF A MEM- 
 SAHIB. With 37 Illustrations by F. H. Townsend. i2mo. 
 Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " It is like traveling without leaving one's armchair to read it. Miss Duncan has 
 the descriptive and narrative gift in large measure, and she brings vividly before us 
 the street scenes, the interiors, the bewilderingly queer natives, the gayeties of the 
 English colony." — Philadelphia Telegraph. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 1f, 
 
 ■.:ii|! 
 
 
 f 
 
 ilj 
 
 M 
 
 ADA CAMBRIDGE'S NOVELS. 
 
 Y GUARDIAN. i2mo. Paper, 50 cents; cloth, 
 $1.00. 
 
 " A story which will, from first to last, enlist the sympathies of the reader b_y its 
 simplicity of style and fresh, genuine feeling. . . . The author is awy^tV at the delmea- 
 tion of character." — Boston Transcript. 
 
 " The dinoUment is all that the most ardent romance-reader could desire." — Chi- 
 cago Evening Jourtial. 
 
 n~^HE THREE MISS KINGS. i2mo. Paper, 50 
 
 ■• cents ; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 " An exceedingly strong novel. It is an Australian story, teeming with a certain 
 calmness of emotional power that finds expression in a continual outflow of living 
 thought and feeling." —Boston 'limes. 
 
 " The story is told with great brilliancy, the character and society sketching is very 
 charming, while deli>jh(ful incidents and happy surprises abound. It is a triple love- 
 story, pure in tone, and of very high literary merit." — Chicago Herald, 
 
 OT ALL IN VAIN. i2mo. Paper, 50 cents ; 
 
 cloth, $1.00. 
 
 " A worthy companion to the best of the author's former efforts, and in some re- 
 spects superior to any of them." — Detroit Free Fress. 
 
 " Its surprises areas unexpected as Frank Stockton's, but they are the surprises 
 thj<t are m^t with so constantly in human experience. ... A better story has not been 
 published in many moons." — Philadelphia Inquirer. 
 
 N 
 
 A 
 
 MARRIAGE CEREMONY. 
 
 cents ; cloth, $i.oo. 
 
 i2mo. Paper, 50 
 
 '"A Marriage Ceremony' is highly original in conception, its action graceful 
 though rapid, and its characters sparkling with that life and sprightliness that have 
 made their author rank as a peer of delineators."— i>'rt///'«/t>r^ A merican, 
 
 "This story by Ada Cambridge is one of her best, and to say that is to at once 
 award it high praise." — Boston Advertiser. 
 
 "It is a pleasure to read this novel." — London Athenaum. 
 
 A 
 
 LITTLE MINX. 
 $1.00. 
 
 i2mo. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, 
 
 "A thoroughly charming new novel, which is just the finest bit of work its author 
 has yet accomplished " — Baltimore American. 
 
 " The character of the versatile, resilient heroine is especially cleverly drawn."— 
 New York Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 The English Press on Ada Cambridge's Books. 
 
 " Many of the types of character introduced would not have disgraced George 
 IXiQt."— Vanity Fair. 
 
 " Ada Cambridge's book is rendered attractive by the kindly spirit and fine feeling 
 which it evinces, by the wide and generous sympaUiies of its auUior, and no less by 
 her remarkable literary ability." — The Speaker. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
 ti' 
 
 M\ 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 BEATRICE WHITBY'S NOVELS. 
 
 qTHE AWAKENING OF MARY FEN WICK. 
 •^ i2mo. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 "Miss Whitby is far above the average novelist. . . . This story is original without 
 seeming ingenious, and powerful witliout being overdrawn." — New York Commernal 
 Advertiser. 
 
 ID AFT OF THE PROPERTY. i2mo. Paper, 50 
 
 r 
 
 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 " The book is a thoroughly good one. The theme is the rebellion of a spirited girl 
 against a match which has been arranged for her without her knowledge or consent. 
 . . . It is refreshing to read a novel in which there is not a trace of slipshod work." — 
 London Spectator, 
 
 A 
 
 MATTER OF SKILL. i2mo. Paper, 50 cents ; 
 cloth, $1.00. 
 
 " A very charming love-story, whose heroine is drawn with original skill and beauty, 
 and whom everybody will love for her splendid if very independent character." — Boston 
 Home yournal. 
 
 o 
 
 NE REASON WHY. i2mo. Paper, 50 cents; 
 
 cloth, $1.00. 
 
 " A remarkably well-written story. . . . The author makes her people speak the 
 language of every-day liie, and a vigorous and attractive realism pervades the book." 
 — Boston Saturday Evening Gazette, 
 
 I 
 
 N THE SUNTIME OF HER YOUTH. i2mo. 
 Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 " The story has a refreshing air of novelty, and the people that figure in it are 
 depicted with a vivacity and subtlety that are very attractive." — Boston Beacon, 
 
 M 
 
 ARY FENWICK'S DAUGHTER. i2mo. Pa- 
 per, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 "A novel which will rank high among those of the present season." — Boston Ad- 
 vertiser, 
 
 o 
 
 N THE LAKE OF LUCERNE, and other Stories. 
 i6mo. Boards, with specially designed cover, 50 cents. 
 
 " Six short stories carefully and conscientiously finished, and told with the graceful 
 ease of the practiced raconteur." — Literary Digest. 
 
 " Very dainty, not only in mechanical workmanship but in matter and manner." ^ 
 Boston A dvertiser. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 .'( 
 
 ;* 
 
 NOVELS BY HALL CAINE. 
 
 n^HE MANXMAN. By Hall Caine. i2mo. 
 
 -* Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " A story of marvelous dramatic intensity, and in its ethicnl meaning has a force 
 comparable only to Hawthorne's ' Scarlet Letter.' " — Huston Beacon. 
 
 " A work of power which is another stone added to the foundation of enduring fame 
 to which Mr. Caine is yearly adding." — Fublic Opinion, 
 
 " A wonderfully strong study of character; a powerful analysis of those elements 
 which go to make up the strength and weakness of a man, which are at fierce warfare 
 within the same breast : contending against each other, as it were, the one to raise him 
 to fame and power, the other to drag him down to degradation and shame. Never in 
 the whole range of literature have we seen the struggle between these forces for 
 supremacy over the man more powerfully, more realistically delineated, than Mr. Caine 
 pictures it." — Boston Home Journal. 
 
 " ' The Manxman ' is one of the most notable novels of the year, and is unquestion- 
 ably destined to perpetuate the fame of Hall Caine for many a year to come." — Fhila- 
 
 dciphia Telegra' h. 
 
 " The author exhibits a mastery of the elemental passions of life that places him 
 high among the foremost of present writers of iicxxan."— Philadelphia Inquirer. 
 
 !: f 
 
 T 
 
 HE DEEMSTER. A Romance of the Isle of 
 Man. By Hall Caine. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 "Hall Caine has already given us some very strong and fine work, and 'The 
 Deemster' is a story of unusual power. . . . Certain passages and chapters have an 
 intensely dramatic grasp, and hold the fascinated reader with a force rarely excited 
 nowadays in literature." — 7 he Critic. 
 
 "One of the strongest novels which has appeared for many a day."— 5a« Fran- 
 CISCO Chronicle. 
 
 " Fascinates the mind like the gathering and bursting of a storm." — Illustrated 
 London News. 
 
 "Deserves to be ranked among the remarkable novels of the day. — "Chicago 
 Times. 
 
 " Remarkably powerful, and is undoubtedly one of the strongest works of fiction of 
 our time. Its conception and execution are both very fine." — I'hiladelpkia Inquirer. 
 
 r^APT'N DAVY'S HONEYMOON. A Manx 
 ^-^ Yam. By Hall Caine. i2mo. Paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 "A new departure by this author. Unlike his previous works, this little tale is 
 almost wholly humorous, with, however, a current of pathos underneath. It is rot 
 always that an author can succeed equally well in tragedy and in comedy, but it looks 
 as though Mr. Hall Caine would be one of the exceptions." — London Literary 
 World. 
 
 " It is pleasant to meet the author of 'The Deemster' in a brightly humorous little 
 story like this. ... It shows the same observation of Manx character, and much of 
 the same artistic skill." — Philadelphia Times. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
 iiii 
 
 . 
 
Kivipu « HI 4 mi If I y 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 NOVELS BY MAARTEN MAARTENS. 
 
 'J^HE GREATER GLORY. A Story of High Life. 
 JL By Maarten Maartens, author of " God's Fool," " Joosl 
 Avelingh," etc. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 "Until the Appletons discovered the merits of Maarten Maartens, the foremost of 
 ("Dutch novelists, it is doubtful if many American readers knew that there were Dutch 
 kjovehsts. His ' God's I'ool' and ' Joost Avelin;;h' made for him an American reputa- 
 'tion. To our mind this just published work of his is his licst. ... He is a master of 
 epigram, an artist in description, a prophet in insight." — Bcston Advertiser. 
 
 " It would take several columns to give any adequate idea of the superb way in 
 which the Dutch novelist has dc-veloped his theme and wrought out one of the irost 
 impressive stories of the period. ... It belongs to the small class of novels which 
 one can not afford to neglect." — San Fraftcisco Lkronicle. 
 
 " Maarten Maartens stands head and shoulders above the avenge novelist of the 
 day in intellectual subtlety and imaginative power." — Boston Beacon. 
 
 /^OD'S FOOL. By Maarten Maartens. i2mo. 
 ^-^ Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " Throughout there is an epigrammatic force which would make palatable a less 
 interesting story of human lives or one less deftly told." — Loudon Saturday Reviero. 
 
 " Perfectly easy, graceful, humorous. . . . The author's skill in character-drawing 
 is undeniable." — London Chronicle. 
 
 "A remarkable work." — Neiv York Times. 
 
 "Maarten Maartens has secured a firm footing in the eddies of current literature. 
 . . . Pathos deepens into tragedy in the thrilling story of ' God's Fool.' " — FhiladeL 
 phia Ledger. 
 
 " Its preface alone stamps the author as one of the leading English novelists of 
 to-day." — Boston Daily Advertiser, 
 
 "The story is wonderfully brilliant. . . . The interest never lags; the style is 
 realistic and intense; an 1 there is a constantly underlying current of subtle humor. 
 ... It is, in short, a book which no student of modern literature should fail to read." 
 —Boston Times. 
 
 " A story of remarkable interest and point."— I^ew York Observer. 
 
 CYOOST AVELINGH. By Maarten Maartens. 
 
 J^ l2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 "So unmistakably good as to induce the hope that an acquaintance with the Dutch 
 literature of fiction may soon become more general among us." — London Morning 
 Post. 
 
 " In scarcely any of the sensational novels of the day will the reader find more 
 nature or more human \-i^x.\xx&." — London Standard. 
 
 "A novel of a very high type. At once strongly realistic and powerfully ideal- 
 istic." — London Literary World. 
 
 " Full of local color and rich in quaint phraseology and suggestion." — London 
 Telegraph. 
 
 " Maarten Maartens is a capital story-teller."—/'*// Mall Gazette. 
 
 " Our English '"riters of fiction will have to look to their X^MxeXs."— Birmingham 
 Daily Post. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO.. 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 

 Pi ii 
 
 <i 
 
 ill 
 
 rt 
 
 ;;} 
 
 lit' 
 
 ^ 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 FRIEND OF THE QUEEN. (Marie Antoinette 
 — Count de Fersen.) By Taul Gaulot. With Two Por- 
 traits. i2mo. Cloth, $2.00. 
 
 "M. Gaulot deserves thanks for presenting the personal history of Count Fersen 
 in a manner so evidently candid and unljiascd." — Philadelphia Bulletin, 
 
 " Tiiere are some characters in histoi-y of whom we never seem to grow tired Of 
 no one is this so much the case as ot the beautiful Marie Antoinette, and of that hfe 
 which is at once so eventful a:id so tragic. ... In this work we l^ave much that up 
 to the present time h.is been only vaguely known." — J'hilaiielphia Press. 
 
 " A historical volume that will be eagerly read." — New i'ork Observer. 
 
 " One of those captivating recitals of the romance of truth which are the gilding of 
 the pill of history." — London Daily Neivs. 
 
 " It tells with new and authentic details the romantic story of Count Fersen's (the 
 friend of the Queen) devotion to Vlarie Antoinette, of his share in the celebrated flight 
 to Varennes, and in many other well-known episodes of the unhappy Queen's life." — 
 London Times. 
 
 " If the book had no more recommendition than the mere fact that Marie Antoinette 
 and Count Fersen are rescued .at last from the voluminous and contradictory repre- 
 sent.itions with which the literature of that period abounds, it would be enough com- 
 pensation to any reader to become aoqiainted with the true delineations of two of the 
 most romantically tragic personalities." — Boston Globe. 
 
 "One of the most interesting volumes of recent publication, and sure to find its place 
 among the most noteworthy of historical novels." — Boston Times. 
 
 7 
 
 ^IIE ROMANCE OF AN EMPRESS. Catherine 
 II, of Russia, By K. Waliszewski. With Portrait. l2mo. 
 Cloth, $2.00. 
 
 " Of Catharine's marvelotjs career we have in this volume a sympathetic, learned, 
 
 and picturesque narrative. No royal career, not even of some of the Roman or papal 
 
 ji I ones, has better shown us how truth can be stranger than fiction." — AV71' York Times. 
 
 " A striking and able work, deserving of the highest praise." — Fhiladciphin Ledger. 
 
 "The book is well called a romance, for, nhhough no legends are admitted in it. 
 and the author has been at pains to present nothing but verified facts, the actual career 
 of the subject was so abnormal and sensational as to seem to belong to fiction." — New 
 York Sun. 
 
 "A dignified, handsome, indeed superb volume, and well worth careful reading." 
 — Chicago Herald. 
 
 " It is a most wonderful story, charmingly told, with new material to siistain it, and 
 a breadth and temperance and consideration that go far to soften one's estimate of one 
 of the most extraordinary women of history." — Ne^v York Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 " A romance in which fiction finds no place ; a charming narrative wherein the 
 author fearlessly presents the results of what has been obviously a thorough and im- 
 partial investigation." — Philadelphia Press. 
 
 " The book makes the best of reading, because it is written without fear or favor. 
 . . . The volume is exceedingly suggestive, and gives to the general reader a plain, 
 blunt, strong, and somewhat prejudiced but still healthy view of one of the greatest 
 women of whom history bears x^caxA."—New York Herald. 
 
 " The perusal of such a book can not fail to add to that bre idth of view which is 
 so essential to the student of universal history." — Philadelphia Bulletin. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue 
 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 JDAUL AND VIRGINIA. By Bernardin de Saint- 
 ■^ Pierre. With a Biographical Sketch, and numerous lllustra- 
 tions by Maurice Leloir. 8vo. Cloth, gilt top, uniform with 
 " Picciola," " The Story of Colette," and " An Attic Thilosophcr 
 in Paris." $1.50. 
 It is believed that this standard edition of " Paul and Virginia " with Lcloir's charm- 
 ing illustrations will prove a most acceptable addition to the series of illustrated foreign 
 classics in which D. Appleton & Co. have published "The Story of Colette," "An 
 Attic Philosopher in Paris, and " Picciola." No more sympathetic illustrator than 
 L«loir could be found, and his treatment of this masterpiece of French literature invests 
 it with a peculiar value. 
 
 JDICCIOLA. By X. B. Saintine. With 130 Illustra- 
 
 
 tions by J. F. GUELDRY. 8vo. Cloth, gilt top, $1.50. 
 
 "Saintine's 'Picciola,' the pathetic tale of the prisoner who raised a flower between 
 the cracks of the flagging of his dungeon, has parsed definitely into the list of tla^.sic 
 books. ... It has never been more beautifully housed than in this edition, with its fine 
 typography, binding, and sympathetic illustrations."— yV;//rtrt'f^/r/ri 'lelegraph. 
 
 "The binding is both unique and tasteful, and the book commends itself strongly ai 
 one that should meet with general favor in the season of gift-making."— AVi/c/t Satttr- 
 day Evening Gazette, 
 
 " Most beautiful in it* clear type, cream-laid paper, many attractive illustrations, 
 and holiday binding." — New York Observer, 
 
 A 
 
 N ATTIC PHILOSOPHER IN PARIS; 0-, A 
 Peep at the World from a Garret. Being the Journal of a 
 Happy Man. By Emile Souvestre. With numerous Illustra- 
 tions. 8vo. Cloth, gilt top, $1.50. 
 
 "A suitable holiday gift for a friend who appreciates refined liteiature."—.5M/^)« 
 Times. 
 
 "The influence of the book is wholly good. The volume is a particularly hand- 
 some one." — Philadelphia Telegraph. 
 
 "It is a classic. It has found an appropriate reliquary. Faithfully translated, 
 charmingly illustrated by Jean Claude with full-page pictuies, vignettes in the text, and 
 head and tail pieces, printed in graceful type on handsome paper, and bound with an 
 art worthy of Matthews, in half-cloth, ornamented on the Cwver, it is an exemplar)' book, 
 fit to be ' a treasure for aye.' " — Neio York Times. 
 
 "J^HE STORY OF COLETTE, A new large-paper 
 ■*■ edition. With 36 Illustrations. Svo. Cloth, gilt top, $1.50. 
 
 "One of the handsomest of the books of fiction for the holiday icSi%on."—Philadcl- 
 p.'iii Rulletin, 
 
 "One of tjje gems of the season. . . . It is the story of the life of young womanhood 
 in France,^ dramatically told, with the light and shade and colonng of the geniur.e 
 artist, and is utterly free from that which mars too many French novels. In its literary 
 finish it is well-nigh perfect, indicating the hand of the master." — Boston 'Iraveuer. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
■1 
 
 i . 
 
 J ■ 
 ! ! ,; 
 
 ii 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 HANDY VOLUMES OF FICTION. 
 
 Each, lamo, flexible cloth, with special design, 75 cents. 
 
 'Y HE GREEN CARNATION. 
 
 JL The "Decadent" of English society has never been so cleverly sketched, 
 
 and his comments upon the literature and art of the day will be found as amusing 
 as they are maliciously witty. We have had no recent fiction so thoroughly "up to 
 date.' 
 
 ABANDONING AN ADOPTED FARM. By 
 ■*^ Kate Sanborn, author of "Adopting an Abandoned Farm," etc. 
 
 Asa promoter of good spirits, a >:ontiJbutor to the gayety of nations, Miss Kate 
 Sanborn has gained a most enviable pace among the writers of the day. 
 
 Jl/fJ^S. LIMBER'S RAFFLE; or, A Church Fair 
 -'■ '-^ and its Victims. By William Allen Butler. 
 
 This brilliant listle satire, by the author of " Nothing to Wear," appears now under 
 his name, in a revised and enlarged form. 
 
 y^HE PURPLE LIGHT OF LOVE. By Henry 
 
 -* GoELET McVlCKAR, author of " A Precious Trio," etc. 
 
 " A novel that holds the attention of the reader with its clever sketches of charac- 
 ter." — lioston Saturday Evening Gazette, 
 
 ^HE TRANSLATION OF A SAVAGE. By 
 -* Gilbert Parker. 
 
 " Unique in plot and subject, and holds the interest from the first page to the last." 
 —Detroit Free Press. 
 
 'J^HE FAIENCE VIOLIN. By Champfleury. 
 
 JL " The style is happy throughout, the humorous parts being well calculated 
 
 to bring smiles, while we can hardly restrain our tears when the poor enthusiast 
 goes to excesses that have a touch of pathos." — Aibany Times- Union. 
 
 T 
 
 RUE RICHES. By Francois Copp^.e. 
 
 Delicate as an apple blossom, with its limp cover of pale green and its 
 stalk of golden-rod, is this little volume containing two st>ries by Fran5ois Cop- 
 p6.e The tales are charmingly told, and their setting is an artistic delight."— y'/w7«a'^/- 
 phia Bulletin. 
 
 TRUTHFUL WOMAN IN SOUTHERN 
 CALIFORNIA. By Kate Sanborn. 
 
 " The veracious writer considers the pros of the ' glorious climate ' of California, 
 and then she gives the c^/w. . . . The book is sprightly and amiably entertairung. The 
 descriptions have the true Sanborn touch of vitality and humor." — Fhiladelphia Ledger. 
 
 BORDER LEANDER. By Howard Seely, 
 author of "A Nymph of the West," etc. 
 
 " We confess to a great liking for the tale Mr. Seely tells . . . There are pecks of 
 trouble ere the devoted lovers secure the tying of their love knot, and Mr. Seely de- 
 scribes them all with a Texan flavor that is refreshing."— A^. Y. Times. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
 A 
 
 A 
 
il »™,llf JW«>»I,I 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 By 
 
 R 
 
 OUND THE RED LAMP, By A. Con an Doyle, 
 
 author of " The White Company," " The Adventures of Sher- 
 lock Holmes," "The Refugees," etc. i2mo. Cloth, $1,50. 
 
 The " Red Lamp," the trademark, as it were, of the English country practitioner's 
 office, is the central point of these dramatic stories of professional life. 'I'here are no 
 secrets for the snrgeon, and, a surgeon himself as well as a novelist, the author has 
 made a most artistic use of the motives and springs of action revealed to him in a field 
 of which he is the master. 
 
 " A volume of bright, clever sketches, . . . an array of facts and fancies of medical 
 life, and contains some of the gifted author's best work." — London Daily News. 
 
 A 
 
 FLASH OF SUMMER. By Mrs. W. K. Clif- 
 ford, author of " Love Letters of a Worldly Woman," " Aunt 
 Anne," etc. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " The story is well written and interesting, the style is limpid and pure as fresh 
 water, and is so artistically done that it is only a second thought tliat notices ic." — San 
 Francisco Call. 
 
 T 
 
 HE LILAC SUNBONNET. A Lm^e Story. By 
 S. R. Crockett, author of "The Stickit Minister," "The 
 Raiders," etc. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " A love story pure and simple, one of the old-fashioned, wholesome, sunshiny kind, 
 with a pure-minded, sourd-hcarted hero, and a heroine who is merely a good and beauti- 
 ful woman ; and if any other love story half so sweet has been written this year it has 
 escaped us." — New York Times. 
 
 J\/TAELCHO. By the Hon. Emily Lawless, author 
 -^^ of "Crania," " Hurrish," etc. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 "A paradox of literarj' genius. It is not a history, and yet has more of the stuff 
 of history in it, more of the true national character and fate, than any histoucl mono- 
 graph we know. It is not a novel, and yet fascinates us more than any novel." — 
 London Spectator. 
 
 ^HE LA AW OF THE SUN. Vistas Mexicanas. 
 
 ■^ By Christian Reid, author of " The Land of the Sky," " A 
 
 Comedy of Elopement," etc. Illustrated. i2mo. Cloth, .*r. 75. 
 
 In this picturesque travel romance the author of " The Land of the ?ky " 
 takes her characters from New Orleans to fascinating Mexican cities like 
 Guanajuato, Zacatecas, Aguas Calientes, Guadalajara, and f f course the C iiy 
 of iMexico. What they see and what they do are desciibcd in a viv?ci(Ji:s 
 style which renders the book most valuable to those who wish an inte .-btir.j^ 
 Mexican travel-book unencumbered with details, while the story as a story 
 sustains the high reputation of this talented author. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 T 
 
 HE THREE MUSKETEERS. By Alexandre 
 Dumas. An Edition de luxe (limited to 750 copies), with 250 
 Illustrations by Maurice Leloir. In two volumes. Royal 8vo. 
 Buckram, with specially designed cover. $i2.co. 
 
 By arrangement with the French 
 publishers, Messrs. D. Appleton 
 & Company have secured the 
 American rights for this, the 
 finest editi;m of Dumas's im- 
 mortal romance which has 
 been published. The illus- 
 trations are carefully printed 
 from tlie original blocks, and 
 this edition therefore has an 
 unapproachable distinction 
 in point of pictorial quality. 
 
 .."<^S"*3lH?S^ 
 
 The translation has been scrupu- 
 lously revised, and every effort has 
 been made to present a perfect edition 
 of Dumas's masterpiece. 
 
 •' Such a book lends itself to the draughtsman's art, and both requires 
 and rewards decoration. But it must be decoration of the best ; and it has 
 waited long. At length, however — I have it before me now — an edition has 
 been prepared which should satisfy both the lovers of black and white and 
 the lovers of picturesque fiction. ... It is scarcely too much to say that 
 were Alexandre Dumas alive to-day, to see this latest form of his greatest 
 work — first published exactly fifty years ago — he who loved the sumptuous 
 w ith an almost tropical fervor, and buUt a grand theater for the production 
 of his own dramas, would weep tears of joy over his offspring." — Stanlry 
 J. Weyman, in The Book Buyer. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO.. 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
St) 
 
 s. 
 
 EXANDRE 
 
 i), with 250 
 
 Royal 8vo. 
 
 the French 
 D. Appleton 
 e secured the 
 for this, the 
 Dumas's im- 
 ! which has 
 
 The illus- 
 fuUy printed 
 I blocks, and 
 efore has an 
 
 distinction 
 }rial quality. 
 
 
 loth requires 
 
 ; and it has 
 
 1 edition has 
 
 d white and 
 
 to say that 
 
 his greatest 
 
 ; sumptuous 
 
 e production 
 
 "— Stanlry 
 
 cnue.