unwelcome twins when the summons was put into my hands. I went about my business with the poor kneesknocking together ;and, though friends assured me that I had nothing to be down in the mouth for, I felt a vague foreboding of the goods and chattels at home being sold by auction, and myself being sent to jail for at least six months. In those moments of trouble I did not think well of my poor book. Why would it be written by me, the unlucky thing? It was all the book's doing. The suit was for recovery of Rs. 200, or something like 60 per cent, of the value of copies sold, for their delivery in town and such other services. I have paid more handsomely for still lighter services, but could not do so this time. It was not a question of will, but of power. I and my friends proposed all manner of compromises, but the man was obdurate. He had made up his mind to milk his cow dry. He had retained the services of a Vakeel, and nothing less than Rs. 200 and counsel's fee would satisfy him. In a word, there was nothing for it but to go to Court and contest the claim. So one fine day off I go to Court with a number of friends and followers. At first it felt as if one were going to his own funeral. We paused at the
