with anger and exertion. For, nothing ruffles a Madrasee more, than to shout Boy in vain.
Ramasami may be taken as the generic name of the Madras Boy; just as Jeames is that of the London footman. There are Pronasamis, Chimasamis, Appasamis, Autonis, Lazaruses, Gabriels, and a host of other names, but these are seldom used or even known by masters and mistresses. It is as a bachelor's factotum that Ramasami is seen to the best advantage. If his master's salary be small, Ramasami will manage his house, wait at table, black his boots, take care of his clothes, sew on his buttons—in short do the work of half a dozen servants—and will smoke only a few of master's cheroots, and will cheat him only a little. As his master's salary increases Ramasami takes care that more servants shall be engaged, and that the expenses shall increase; he smokes more of his master's cheroots, and cheats him a little more. But he is rally so willing, so handy, and after all cheats so discreetly, that a Madras Boy is generally acknowledged to be the best bachelor's servant in India. In a family where his accounts are carefully examined by the mistress daily, where there are plenty of servants under him, when he is not kept up to the mark as regards fire and cool soda, when he is not liable to be called on unexpectedly in the dead of night to prepare hot grilled bones and cool beer, then he generally degenerates into a fat, lazy, commonplace butler.
In many ways all Boys are strangely alike, as if they were all members of one family, or had all been brought up together. This is particularly noticeable in their English, which is of the "pigeon" kind, but much better than that of the Chinese. The use of the present participle and the word only is a marked peculiarity. "What master saying that only I doing" conveys to you Ramasami's intention of acting according to your order. The word "done" is also invariably used as an auxiliary to express the completion of an act. "Boy, have you done that?"—"Done do, sir." The simple perfect, when used by Ramasami, can never be trusted as having its proper grammatical force. Ask the Boy whether the brandy is gone, and if he says "Yes, sir, gone," should you find ten minutes afterwards that it is not gone, you must not look upon this as a great departure from truth. But if you ask him. "Has the brandy done go?" and he says "Yes, sir, done go," then, if it have not really gone, you are justified in calling him what David in his haste called all men. Some Boys have adopted, as pets of their own, particular English words; one of the first Boys the writer had in the country, had so adopted the word "about." He had originally been a cook-boy in a regiment, and having learnt slang and the use of his fists, he constantly aired both accomplishments when he had differences of opinion with the other servants or bazaar-men. One day he was brought to his master, guarded by two police peons with guns, and a third with a drawn sword, who declared that the Boy had nearly killed a man. The Boy was asked what he had to say for himself? His reply was to the effect that he had quarrelled with the man, but had only slanged him, and that somebody else had done the beating: which he expressed thus: "I only jaw about; 'nother man lick about." But the schoolmaster is abroad in India, as elsewhere, and it seems likely that before long the Boy will speak English as correctly as the ordinary run of servants at home. It cannot be long before bells will be introduced into the houses of Europeans in India, and they will sound the death-knell of the cry, "Boy!"
Fatal Zero.
A Diary Kept at Homburg: A Short Serial Story.
Chapter V.
Monday.—I am not sorry I adopted that resolution of forswearing the Kursaal, its reading-rooms, &c., though I did see Mr. Lewis, the clergyman of the English chapel, going in and sitting down, and reading his Galignani. Can he know what he is doing? He is on the spot, a resident, and it is, as it were, in his parish; at all events it is his concern. I even saw him enter from the colonnade, go Tip the steps into the great tavern entrance and pass through. He was looking for some one. Still, if I were to refine on the matter, this garden where I am now, is theirs, kept by their gardeners. This very seat on which I sit, was paid for by them. What do you say, Dora? Send me some little bit of casuistry to help me over the matter . . . .
What scenes I do see, even so far off as I am now; hints, as it were, of a whole history. Thus have I come in late to a theatre, and, standing in the box lobby, have peeped in through the little glass window in the door. That glimpse has a strange mystery, from the fact of all having been worked up to a point. The situation seems changed, while we who look are in quite another region—a long way behind, as it were. I have noticed a fair-haired youth with a gold "pinch-nose," and who is certainly not more than twenty, and on his arm is a charming little French girl of seventeen, round and rosy, and dressed in the most piquant way imaginable. I soon found out that they are just married, not further back than a month. They were supremely happy, like children running from one thing to another, and enjoying everything with a charming happiness and animation. He wore a straw-coloured silk coat and white hat. She, a most coquettish little hat and a pink and white short dress. On the first day I had
