of houris suspended in the air, a scene that pleased me. I thought Chotu might have learned his song at this performance:—
". . . . Alas, we met
When moon and stars had faded,
Springtime had fled and flowers withered lay,
Garland in hand through the dark night I awaited. . . ."
Having heard Chotu sing thus far we entered the room giggling and laughing at him. Later I regretted I had not listened to the song until it was finished, and looked through numbers of books of poems, but could never find it in print. But now poor Chotu had to endure his tormentors: "We heard you, you thought we would never hear you sing, but we have." Chotu was greatly abashed, but as for me I never forgot those lines, although I only heard them that once.
Chotu gave away sweetmeats, as I said before. They were not specially good, only what we got every day at home, but when received from his hand, they were like the sweet cakes at horiloot that are thrown broadcast among the people and are supposed to contain special merit.
Now these sweetmeats were supposed to be the reward of good conduct, but soon became the reverse in my case. If Chotu
