THE MAJOR’S STORY.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VI, Issue 28, 12 July 1890, Page 8

THE MAJOR’S STORY.

■ HEX I wa- stationed at Puttvjaub, i. in the Gil-Hoolev district of India. ~>zV-•,* said Major Botail. of H.M. 319th Fusiw/ V?/ leers. ‘ I had little to do but snooze in y- — "mF •'x’S': my bungalow and drink shikkaree - r-Xqf/1 1 . ffush, which you know is an uncm- /' \ / monly tine thing for a hot day.' / We nodded assent as we lighted our cheroots and were all attention. It was nine o'clock on a hot Christmas Eve in the club room. the major was in fine form, and we knew a story was coming. We were all gay young bankrupt officers of the line, and time was nothing to us. • With twenty or thirty shikkaree flushes and an occasional brandy punkah,' continued the major, ‘ I managed to worry through the heat of the day, and in the evening it was the cheese, as the natives say, to visit each other's bungalows, have tiffin under the dowdy-dow trees, play cricket with an incandescent ball— (never told you about that f—mv invention—will some dav —and plav whist for I O Us. ’ ‘ But our—or rather I should say my—chief recreation was in watching the performances of the native jugglers. Begad, gentlemen. I value my reputation too highly to attempt to describe some of their feats, and I will content myselt with the relation of a few simple tricks I have witnessed. Cholmondeley, I believe this is your turn to order t No. Henry, no water in mine.' • Well, sirs, one very hot afternoon in January, as I was going to sleep over an exciting leader in the Tim-:s, Tip-too, my favourite ripwatty (grog-mixer . came running to me and cried, in Hindustani : “ Sahib, much come welly slundum catchee ! No jumpee row-dow !” • By this I understood that a party of expert jugglers were approaching, and, with my permission, would give a performance on the panky-dan • lawn ). I ordered Tip-too to notify the ladies, and. just as they assembled on therambah (porch), the jugglers came in sight. • There were five of them, three men, a woman, and a boy aged about ten. Each wore a long white kitmurgi, confined at the waist bv a belt made of Indian swab. Their arms and legs were bare, and the men wore immense turbans. The leader was a wizened old chap of ninety odd, who solemnly introduced himself as Ram Bowlar.

‘ After going through a few simple tricks, such as growing a 10ft. tree in a tomato-can and carving the boy into bits ithe old gentleman swallowing the head at one gulp , the gang began business. • Ram Bowlar asked for an empty whisky bottle, and. after considerable search, one was found and handed to him. Taking out the cork, with a single turn of his wrist he transformed it into a cricket ball, while the bottle slowly lengthened into a bat. •He tossed the ball to the boy, who gave him a roundarm slow. He hit it into the air :up it went, almost out of sight, and in ten seconds came down as a keg of pale ale, already tapped, and with a revenue stamp on the bung. ‘ I was a little disappointed that it wasn't brandy, but, after assuring myself that the ale was genuine, I ordered the ceremonies to proceed. The woman then advanced, and taking the boy by the nose, held him out at arm's length. / The two men then seized the boy's legs and stretched him until he was 19ft. or maybe 20ft. long, and about as thin as my wrist. ‘ M hile they held him in that position Ram Bowlar wound his turban around the lad from end to end, stood him upright, and, bedad, -rentleman, there was a telegraph pole, with cross-arms and insulators complete. • Hardly had our applause died away before the old fakir picked up the pole and passed it slowly down his throat, and, as the last inch disappeared, the boy shot up from the solid ground like Harlequin in a pantomime coming through a stage-trap. ‘ I tossed the boy a shilling as a token of my approval, and drew another pint of ale. ‘ “ Has the sahib a lamMly (gun) I” asked the Ram. ‘ I ordered a gun to be given him. To my horror he snapped it across his knee, and. before I could remonstrate, turned the barrel into a rabbit and the stock into a greyhound, and in two minutes the dog had chased the rabbit out of sight in the jungle. He then unwound his turban, gave it a dip in the air, and it curled back with my gun in its fold, not only intact, but with my name and address etched on the barrel. ‘ “ Has the sahib a £lOO-n<>te about his clothes 1" asked the Ram, before the applause had died aw ay. ‘ " No, sir," I replied, promptly; “ pass on to the next trick.” /He seemed disappointed, and in his agitation gave one of his followers a back-handed smack. Then for about ten minutes the jugglers went through the ordinary round of tricks, such as eating cobras, dividing each other with swords, and so on, and then, by the gleam in Ram s eve, I knew they were going to give us their last and best trick. ••• If the sahib pleases," said the Ram, I would like to have some bills. " • I was naturally amazed at the odd request, but my curiosity overcame my amazement, and, going to my desk. I returned with a bundle about Ift high, of beastly bills from tailors, grocers, bakers, and so on. that had been running fot four or five years, together with perhaps eighty or ninety miscellaneous small ones. • Tfie Ram drew a circle on the ground, placed the bundle in the middle, and covered it with his turban. Then the whole gang joined hands and waltzed around for three minutes, warbling a native dudoxg (ditty). ‘ At the expiration of that time they broke away, the Ram lifted his turban, handed me the bills’, and dash me, gentlemen, if every one wasn't properly receipted.’ ‘ Come now, major !’ we cried in chorus. ‘ Gentlemen, 'pon honour, gospel truth,’ said the major. • It was the first time for years I had seen a receipted bill ; there they were, and I could not refuse to believe my own eyes. And that, gentlemen,' concluded the major, 'as he ordered another at Cholmondeley'sexj-ense, ‘is my story.'