There was a service in the
great Mohammedan shrine, and the call to prayer from the min-
arets was almost unceasing.
great Mohammedan shrine, and the call to prayer from the min-
arets was almost unceasing.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v15 - Kab to Les
”
She placed Mian Mittu, very angry and ruffled, on the top of
his cage; and seating herself between the babe and the bird,
cracked and peeled an almond less white than her teeth. This
is a true charm, my life: and do not laugh. See! I give the
parrot one half, and Tota the other. ” Mian Mittu, with careful
beak, took his share from between Ameera's lips, and she kissed
the other half into the mouth of the child, who ate it slowly,
with wondering eyes. “This I will do each day of seven, and
without doubt he who is ours will be a bold speaker and wise.
Eh, Tota, what wilt thou be when thou art a man and I am
gray-headed ? » Tota tucked his fat legs into adorable creases.
He could crawl, but he was not going to waste the spring of his
youth in idle speech. He wanted Mian Mittu's tail to tweak.
When he advanced to the dignity of a silver belt, - which,
with a magic square engraved on silver and hung round his neck,
made up the greater part of his clothing, --he staggered on a
perilous journey down the garden to Pir Khan, and proffered him
all his jewels in exchange for one little ride on Holden's horse.
4
(
(
## p. 8649 (#261) ###########################################
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161
He had seen his mother's mother chaffering with peddlers in the
veranda. Pir Khan wept, set the untried feet on his own gray
head in sign of fealty, and brought the bold adventurer to his
mother's arms, vowing that Tota would be a leader of men ere
his beard was grown.
One hot evening, while he sat on the roof between his father
and mother, watching the never-ending warfare of the kites that
the city boys few, he demanded a kite of his own, with Pir
Khan to fly it, because he had a fear of dealing with anything
larger than himself; and when Holden called him a “spark,” he
rose to his feet and answered slowly, in defense of his new-found
individuality: "Hum 'park nahin hai. Hum admi hai) (I am
no spark, but a man).
The protest made Holden choke, and devote himself very seri-
ously to a consideration of Tota's future.
He need hardly have taken the trouble. The delight of that
life was too perfect to endure. Therefore it was taken away,
as many things are taken away in India, suddenly and without
warning. The little lord of the house, as Pir Khan called him,
grew sorrowful and complained of pains, who had never known
the meaning of pain. Ameera, wild with terror, watched him
through the night, and in the dawning of the second day the life
was shaken out of him by fever— the seasonal autumn fever.
It seemed altogether impossible that he could die; and neither
Ameera nor Holden at first believed the evidence of the body on
the bedstead. Then Ameera beat her head against the wall, and
would have fung herself down the well in the garden, had Hol-
den not restrained her by main force.
One mercy only was granted to Holden. He rode to his office
in broad daylight, and found waiting him an unusually heavy
mail that demanded concentrated attention and hard work. He
was not, however, alive to this kindness of the gods.
!
1
The first shock of a bullet is no more than a brisk pinch.
The wrecked body does not send in its protest to the soul till
ten or fifteen seconds later. Then comes thirst, throbbing and
agony, and a ridiculous amount of screaming. Holden realized
his pain slowly, exactly as he had realized his happiness; and
with the same imperious necessity for hiding all trace of it. In
the beginning he only felt that there had been a loss, and that
## p. 8650 (#262) ###########################################
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RUDYARD KIPLING
It was
Ameera needed comforting where she sat with her head on her
knees, shivering, as Mian Mittu from the house-top called “Tota!
Tota! Tota! ” Later all his world and the daily life of it rose up
to hurt him.
an outrage that any one of the children
at the band-stand in the evening should be alive and clamorous
when his own child lay dead. It was more than mere pain when
one of them touched him; and stories told by over-fond fathers
of their children's latest performances cut him to the quick. He
could not declare his pain. He had neither help, comfort, nor
sympathy; and Ameera, at the end of each weary day, would
lead him through the hell of self-questioning reproach which is
reserved for those who have lost a child, and believe that with a
little — just a little more care - it might have been saved. There
are not many hells worse than this; but he knows one who has
sat down temperately to consider whether he is or is not respons-
ible for the death of his wife.
"Perhaps," Ameera would say, "I did not take sufficient heed.
Did I, or did I not?
The sun
on the roof that day when he
played so long alone, and I was- ahi! braiding my hair-it
may be that the sun then bred the fever. If I had warned him
from the sun he might have lived. But oh, my life, say that I
am guiltless! Thou knowest that I loved him as I love thee !
Say that there is no blame on me, or I shall die — I shall die!
« There is no blame. Before God, none.
It was written, and
how could we do aught to save ? What has been, has been. Let
it go, beloved. ”
“He was all my heart to me. How can I let the thought go
when my arm tells me every night that he is not here? Ahi !
ahi! 0 Tota, come back to me come back again, and let us
be all together as it was before !
(Peace! peace! For thine own sake, and for mine also, if
thou lovest me, rest. ”
« By this I know thou dost not care; and how shouldst thou ?
The white men have hearts of stone and souls of iron. Oh that
I had married a man of mine own people — though he beat me
and had never eaten the bread of an alien! ”
"Am I an alien, mother of my son ? »
«What else, sahib ? -Oh, forgive me — forgive!
“—
forgive! The death
has driven me mad. Thou art the life of my heart, and the
light of my eyes, and the breath of my life, and — and I have
put thee from me, though it was but for a moment. If thou
(
## p. 8651 (#263) ###########################################
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»
goest away, to whom shall I look for help? Do not be angry.
Indeed, it was the pain that spoke, and not thy slave. ”
"I know I know. We be two who were three.
The greater
need therefore that we should be one. "
They were sitting on the roof as of custom. The night was
a warm one in early spring, and sheet-lightning was dancing on
the horizon to a broken tune played by far-off thunder. Aineera
settled herself in Holden's arms.
« The dry earth is lowing like a cow for the rain, and I-I
am afraid. It was not like this when we counted the stars. But
thou lovest me as much as before, though a bond is taken away?
Answer. ”
“I love more, because a new bond has come out of the sor-
row that we have eaten together; and that thou knowest. ”
“Yea, I know,” said Ameera, in a very small whisper. But
it is good to hear thee say so, my life, who art so strong to help.
I will be a child no more, but a woman and an aid to thee.
Listen. Give me my sitar, and I will sing bravely. ”
She took the light silver-studded sitar, and began a song of
the great hero Rajá Rasalu. The hand failed on the strings;
the tune halted, checked, and at a low note turned off to the
poor little nursery rhyme about the wicked crow:-
(
»
1
11
11
1
.
1
4
8
1
1
1
1
3
«C And the wild plums grow in the jungle –
Only a penny a pound;
Only a penny a pound, Baba — only - » »
Then came the tears and the piteous rebellion against fate,
till she slept, moaning a little in her sleep, with the right arm
thrown clear of the body, as though it protected something that
was not there.
It was after this night that life became a little easier for
Holden. The ever-present pain of loss drove him into his work;
and the work repaid him by filling up his mind for eight or
nine hours a day. Ameera sat alone in the house and brooded;
but grew happier when she understood that Holden was more at
according to the custom of women. They touched hap-
piness again, but this time with caution.
“It was because we loved Tota that he died. The jealousy
of God was upon us,” said Ameera. “I have hung up a large
black jar before our window to turn the Evil Eye from us, and
ease
## p. 8652 (#264) ###########################################
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RUDYARD KIPLING
)
C
we must make no protestations of delight, but go softly under-
neath the stars, lest God find us out. Is that not good talk,
worthless one?
She had shifted the accent of the word that means beloved,"
in proof of the sincerity of her purpose. But the kiss that fol.
lowed the new christening was a thing that any deity might have
envied. They went about henceforward saying, “It is naught
it is naught,” and hoping that all the Powers heard.
The Powers were busy on other things. They had allowed
thirty million people four years of plenty, wherein men fed well
and the crops were certain, and the birth-rate rose year by
year; the districts reported a purely agricultural population vary-
ing from nine hundred to two thousand to the square mile of
the overburdened earth. It was time to make room. And the
Member for Lower Tooting, wandering about India in top-hat
and frock-coat, talked largely of the benefits of British rule, and
suggested as the one thing needful the establishment of a duly
qualified electoral system, and a general bestowal of the franchise.
His long-suffering hosts smiled and made him welcome; and
when he paused to admire, with pretty picked words, the blos-
som of the blood-red dhak-tree, that had flowered untimely for a
sign of the sickness that was coming, they smiled more than ever.
It was the Deputy Commissioner of Kot-Kumharsen, staying
at the club for a day, who lightly told a tale that made Holden's
blood run cold as he overheard the end.
“He won't bother any one any more.
Never saw a man
astonished in my life. By Jove! I thought he meant to ask
question in the House about it. Fellow-passenger in his ship
dined next him— bowled over by cholera, and died in eighteen
hours. You needn't laugh, you fellows. The Member for Lower
Tooting is awfully angry about it; but he's more scared.
I think
he's going to take his enlightened self out of India. ”
“I'd give a good deal if he were knocked over. It might
keep a few vestrymen of his kidney to their parish. But what's
this about cholera ? It's full early for anything of that kind,”
said a warden of an unprofitable salt-lick.
« Dun'no',” said the Deputy Commissioner, reflectively. “We've
got locusts with us. There's sporadic cholera all along the north
– at least, we're calling it sporadic for decency's sake.
spring crops are short in five districts, and nobody seems to
SO
a
>
The
## p. 8653 (#265) ###########################################
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(
»
It
»
<< but
know where the winter rains are. It's nearly March now. I
don't want to scare anybody, but it seems to me that Nature's
going to audit her accounts with a big red pencil this summer. ”
"Just when I wanted to take leave, too,” said a voice across
the room.
“There won't be much leave this year; but there ought to be
a a great deal of promotion. I've come in to persuade the govern-
ment to put my pet canal on the list of famine-relief works.
It's an ill wind that blows no good. I shall get that canal
finished at last. ”
"Is it the old programme, then,” said Holden, - famine,
fever, and cholera ? »
"Oh no! Only local scarcity and an unusual prevalence of
seasonal sickness. You'll find it all in the reports if you live
till next year. You're a lucky chap. You haven't got a wife to
.
put out of harm's way. The hill stations ought to be full of
women this year. ”
"I think you're inclined to exaggerate the talk in the bazars,”
said a young civilian in the secretariat. «Now I have observed — »
"I daresay you have,” said the Deputy Commissioner,
you've a great deal more to observe, my son. In the mean
time I wish to observe to you — ” And he drew him aside to
discuss the construction of the canal that was so dear to his
heart.
Holden went to his bungalow, and began to understand that
he was not alone in the world; and also that he was afraid for
the sake of another, which is the most soul-satisfying fear known
to man.
Two months later, as the Deputy had foretold, Nature began
to audit her accounts with a red pencil. On the heels of the
spring reapings came a cry for bread, and the Government,
which had decreed that no man should die of want, sent wheat.
Then came the cholera from all four quarters of the compass.
It struck a pilgrim gathering of half a million at a sacred shrine.
Many died at the feet of their god; the others broke, and ran
over the face of the land, carrying the pestilence with them. It
smote a walled city, and killed two hundred a day. The people
crowded the trains, hanging on to the foot-boards and squatting
on the roofs of the carriages; and the cholera followed them, for
at each station they dragged out the dead and the dying on the
platforms reeking of lime-wash and carbolic acid. They died by
## p. 8654 (#266) ###########################################
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(
»
2
(C
>
the roadside, and the horses of the Englishmen shied at the
corpses in the grass. The rains did not come, and the earth
turned to iron lest man should escape by hiding in her. The
English sent their wives away to the Hills, and went about their
work; coming forward as they were bidden to fill the gaps in
the fighting line. Holden, sick with fear of losing his chiefest
treasure on earth, had done his best to persuade Ameera to go
away with her mother to the Himalayas.
“Why should I go ? ” said she one evening on the roof.
« There is sickness, and the people are dying, and all the
white mem-log have gone. ”
"All of them ? »
"All— unless perhaps there remain some old scald-head who
vexes her husband's heart by running risk of death. ”
“Nay: who stays is my sister, and thou must not abuse her,
for I will be a scald-head too. I am glad all the bold white
mem-log are gone. "
“Do I speak to a woman or a babe? Go to the Hills, and I
will see to it that thou goest like a queen's daughter. Think,
child.
In a red-lacquered bullock-cart, veiled and curtained, with
brass peacocks upon the pole and red-cloth hangings. I will send
two orderlies for guard, and — »
« Peace! Thou art the babe in speaking thus. What use are
those toys to me? He would have patted the bullocks and played
with the housings. For his sake, perhaps — thou hast made me
very English - I might have gone. Now I will not.
Let the
mem-log run. ”
« Their husbands are sending them, beloved. ”
« Very good talk. Since when hast thou been my husband
to tell me what to do? I have but borne thee a son.
Thou art
only all the desire of my soul to me. How shall I depart when
I know that if evil befall thee by the breadth of so much
my littlest finger-nail — is not that small ? - I should be aware
of it though I were in Paradise. And here, this summer thou
mayst die — ai, janee, die! - and in dying they might call to tend
thee a white woman, and she would rob me in the last of thy
love. "
“But love is not born in a moment, or on a death-bed. ”
« What dost thou know of love, stone-heart ? She would take
thy thanks at least; and by God and the Prophet, and Beebee
Miriam the mother of thy Prophet, that I will never endure.
i
(
as
## p. 8655 (#267) ###########################################
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8655
My lord and my love, let there be no more foolish talk of going
away. Where thou art, I am. It is enough. ” She put an arm
round his neck and a hand on his mouth,
There are not many happinesses so complete as those that are
snatched under the shadow of the sword. They sat together and
laughed, calling each other openly by every pet name that could
move the wrath of the gods. The city below them was locked
up in its own torments. Sulphur-fires blazed in the streets; the
conches in the Hindu temples screamed and bellowed, for the
gods were inattentive in those days.
There was a service in the
great Mohammedan shrine, and the call to prayer from the min-
arets was almost unceasing. They heard the wailing in the houses
of the dead, and once the shriek of a mother who had lost a
child and was calling for its return. In the gray dawn they saw
the dead borne out through the city gates, each litter with its
own little knot of mourners. Wherefore they kissed each other
and shivered.
It was a red and heavy audit; for the land was very sick,
and needed a little breathing-space ere the torrent of cheap life
should flood it anew. The children of immature fathers and
undeveloped mothers made no resistance. They were cowed and
sat still; waiting till the sword should be sheathed in November,
if it were so willed.
There were gaps among the English, but
the gaps were filled. The work of superintending famine relief,
cholera sheds, medicine distribution, and what little sanitation was
possible, went forward because it was so ordered.
Holden had been told to hold himself in readiness to move
to replace the next man who should fall. There were twelve
hours in each day when he could not see Ameera; and she
might die in three. He was considering what his pain would be
if he could not see her for three months, or if she died out of
his sight. He was absolutely certain that her death would be
demanded: so certain that when he looked up from the tele-
gram and saw Pir Khan breathless in the doorway, he laughed
aloud. "And-? ) said he.
“When there is a cry in the night and the spirit flutters into
the throat, who has a charm that will restore ? Come swiftly,
heaven-born. It is the Black Cholera. ”
Holden galloped to his home. The sky was heavy with
clouds, for the long-deferred rains were at hand, and the heat
臺
1
1
»
## p. 8656 (#268) ###########################################
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51
(c
B
was stifling. Ameera's mother met him in the court-yard, whim-
pering, «She is dying. She is nursing herself into death.
«
She
is all but dead. What shall I do, sahib?
Ameera was lying in the room in which Tota had been born.
She made no sign when Holden entered; because the human soul
is a very lonely thing, and when it is getting ready to go away,
hides itself in a misty borderland where the living may not
follow. The Black Cholera does its work quietly and without
explanation. Ameera was being thrust out of life as though the
Angel of Death had himself put his hand upon her. The quick
breathing seemed to show that she was either afraid or in pain,
but neither eyes nor mouth gave any answer to Holden's kisses.
There was nothing to be said or done. Holden could only wait
and suffer. The first drops of the rain began to fall on the roof,
and he could hear shouts of joy in the parched city.
The soul came back a little, and the lips moved. Holden
bent down to listen. Keep nothing of mine," said Ameera.
« Take no hair from my head. She would make thee burn it
later on. That flame I should feel. Lower! Stoop lower!
Remember only that I was thine and bore thee a son. Though
thou wed a white woman to-morrow, the pleasure of taking in
thy arms thy first son is taken from thee forever. Remember
me when thy son is born — the one that shall carry thy name
before all men. His misfortunes be on my head.
I bear wit-
-I bear witness » the lips were forming the words on his
«that there is no God but — thee, beloved. ”
Then she died. Holden sat still, and thought of any kind was
taken from him till he heard Ameera's mother lift the curtain.
“Is she dead, sahib ? ”
“She is dead. ”
«Then I will mourn, and afterwards take an inventory of the
furniture in this house; for that will be mine. The sahib does
not mean to resume it? It is so little, so very little, sahib,
I am an old woman. I would like to lie softly. ”
“For the mercy of God, be silent awhile! Go out and mourn
where I cannot hear. ”
Sahib, she will be buried in four hours. ”
“I know the custom. I shall go ere she is taken away. That
matter is in thy hands. Look to it that the bed — on which
on which — she lies — »
ness
A1
>
ear
>>
and
(
-
!
## p. 8657 (#269) ###########################################
RUDYARD KIPLING
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1
“Aha! That beautiful red-lacquered bed. I have long de.
sired »
« – That the bed is left here untouched for my disposal.
All else in the house is thine. Hire a cart, take everything, go
hence; and before sunrise let there be nothing in this house but
that which I have ordered thee to respect. ”
“I am an old woman. I would stay at least for the days of
mourning, and the rains have just broken. Whither shall I go ? »
“What is that to me? My order is that there is a going.
The house-gear is worth a thousand rupees, and my orderly shall
bring thee a hundred rupees to-night. ”
« That is very little. Think of the cart-hire. »
"It shall be nothing unless thou goest, and with speed.
woman, get hence, and leave me to my dead! ”
The mother shuffled down the staircase; and in her anxiety to
take stock of the house-fittings forgot to mourn. Holden stayed
by Ameera's side, and the rain roared on the roof. He could
not think connectedly by reason of the noise, though he made
many attempts to do so. Then four sheeted ghosts glided drip-
ping into the room and stared at him through their veils. They
were the washers of the dead. Holden left the room, and went
out to his horse. He had come in a dead, stifling calm, through
ankle-deep dust. He found the court-yard a rain-lashed pond
alive with frogs; a torrent of yellow water ran under the gate,
and a roaring wind drove the bolts of the rain like buckshot
against the mud walls. Pir Khan was shivering in his little hut
by the gate, and the horse was stamping uneasily in the water.
I have been told the sahib's order,” said he. “It is well.
This house is now desolate. I go also, for my monkey face
would be a reminder of that which has been. Concerning the
bed, I will bring that to thy house yonder in the morning. But
remember, sahib, it will be to thee as a knife turned in a green
wound. I go upon a pilgrimage, and I will take no money.
I
have grown fat in the protection of the Presence, whose sorrow
is my sorrow. For the last time I hold his stirrup. "
He touched Holden's foot with both hands, and the horse
sprang out into the road, where the creaking bamboos were
whipping the sky and all the frogs were chuckling. Holden could
not see for the rain in his face. He put his hands before his
eyes and muttered, “Oh, you brute! You utter brute ! »
&
1
XV-542
## p. 8658 (#270) ###########################################
8658
RUDYARD KIPLING
1
was
The news of his trouble was already in his bungalow. He
read the knowledge in his butler's eyes when Ahmed Khan
brought in food, and for the first and last time in his life laid a
hand upon his master's shoulder, saying, "Eat, sahib, eat. Meat
is good against sorrow. I also have known. Moreover, the
shadows come and go, sahib. The shadows come and go. These
be curried eggs. ”
Holden could neither eat nor sleep. The heavens sent down
eight inches of rain in that night and scoured the earth clean.
The waters tore down walls, broke roads, and washed open the
shallow graves in the Mohammedan burying-ground. Ail next
day it rained, and Holden sat still in his house considering his
sorrow. On the morning of the third day he received a tele-
gram which said only — "Ricketts, Myndonie. Dying. Holden
relieve. Immediate. ” Then he thought that before he departed
he would look at the house wherein he had been master and
lord. There a break in the weather. The rank earth
steamed with vapor, and Holden was vermilion from head to heel
with the prickly-heat born of sultry moisture.
He found that the rains had torn down the mud pillars of the
gateway, and the heavy wooden gate that had guarded his life
hung drunkenly from one hinge. There was grass three inches
high in the court-yard; Pir Khan's lodge was empty and the
sodden thatch sagged between the beams. A gray squirrel was
in possession of the veranda, as if the house had been untenanted
for thirty years instead of three days. Ameera's mother had re-
moved everything except some mildewed matting. The tick-tick
of the little scorpions as they hurried across the floor was the
only sound in the house. Ameera's room and that other one
where Tota had lived were heavy with mildew; and the narrow
staircase leading to the roof was streaked and stained with rain-
borne mud. Holden saw all these things, and came out again;
to meet in the road Durga Dass, his landlord, - portly, affable,
clothed in white muslin, and driving a C-spring buggy. He was
overlooking his property, to see how the roofs withstood the
stress of the first rains.
"I have heard,” said he, you will not take this place any
more, sahib ? »
"What are you going to do with it? "
“Perhaps I shall let it again. ”
11
1
대
(
## p. 8659 (#271) ###########################################
RUDYARD KIPLING
8659
!
« Then I will keep it on while I am away. ”
Durga Dass was silent for some time. “ You shall not take
it on, sahib,” he said. « When I was
a young man I also
But to-day I am a member of the Municipality. Ho! ho! No.
When the birds have gone, what need to keep the nest ? I will
have it pulled down: the timber will sell for something always.
It shall be pulled down, and the Municipality shall make a road
across, as they desire, from the burning-ghat to the city wall.
So that no man may say where this house stood. ”
185
«FUZZY WUZZY »
(SOUDAN EXPEDITIONARY FORCE)
W*v
TE've fought with many men acrost the seas,
An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not:
The Paythan an' the Zulu an' Burmese;
But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot.
We never got a ha’porth’s change of 'im:
'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses,
'E cut our sentries up at Suakim,
An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces.
So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome
in the Sowdan;
You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-
class fightin' man;
We gives you your certifikit, an' if you want
it signed
We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you when-
ever you're inclined.
We took our chanst among the Kyber 'ills,
The Boers knocked us silly at a mile;
The Burman guv us Irrewaddy chills,
An'a Zulu impi dished us up in style:
But all we ever got from such as they
Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller;
We 'eld our bloomin' own, the papers say,
But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oller.
Then 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' the missis
and the kid;
Our orders was to break you, an' of course we.
went an' did.
## p. 8660 (#272) ###########################################
8660
RUDYARD KIPLING
We sloshed you with Martinis, an' it wasn't
'ardly fair;
But for all the odds agin you, Fuzzy-Wuz, you
bruk the square.
'E 'asn't got no papers of 'is own,
’E 'asn't got no medals nor rewards,
So we must certify the skill 'e's shown
In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords:
When 'e's 'oppin' in an' out among the bush
With 'is coffin-'eaded shield an' shovel-spear,
A 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush
Will last a 'ealthy Tommy for a year.
So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' your friends
which is no more;
If we 'adn't lost some messmates we would
'elp you to deplore:
But give an' take's the gospel, an' we'll call
the bargain fair,-
For if you 'ave lost more than us, you cruin-
pled up the square!
'E rushes at the smoke when we let drive,
An', before we know, 'e's 'ackin' at our 'ead;
'E's all 'ot sand an' ginger when alive,
An' 'e's generally shammin' when 'e's dead.
’E's a daisy, 'e's a ducky, 'e's a lamb! .
’E's a injia-rubber idiot on the spree;
’E's the on’y thing that doesn't care a damn
For a Regiment o’ British Infantree!
So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your
'ome
in the Sowdan;
You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-
class fightin' man;
An' 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your
'ayrick 'ead of 'air
You big black boundin' beggar — for you bruk
a British square!
1
## p. 8661 (#273) ###########################################
RUDYARD KIPLING
8661
DANNY DEEVER
“WAT
HAT are the bugles blowin' for ? ) said Files-on-Parade.
« To turn you out, to turn you out,” the Color-Sergeant said.
«What makes you look so white, so white ? ” said Files-on-
Parade.
“I'm dreadin' what I've got to watch, the Color-Sergeant
said.
For they're hangin' Danny Deever, you can 'ear the Dead March
play,
The regiment's in 'ollow square – they're hangin' him to-day:
They've taken of his buttons off an' cut his stripes away,
An' they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.
1:140920_11
«What makes the rear-rank breathe so 'ard ? ” said Files-on-Parade.
“It's bitter cold, it's bitter cold,” the Color-Sergeant said.
“What makes that front-rank man fall down ? ” says Files-on-Parade.
"A touch of sun, a touch of sun,” the Color-Sergeant said.
They are hangin' Danny Deever, they are marchin' of 'im round.
They ’ave 'alted Danny Deever by 'is coffin on the ground;
An' 'e'll swing in 'arf a minute for a sneakin' shootin' hound
Oh, they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.
« 'Is cot was right-'and cot to mine," said Files-on-Parade.
“ 'E's sleepin' out an' far to-night,” the Color-Sergeant said.
"I've drunk 'is beer a score o' times,” said Files-on-Parade.
« 'E's drinkin' bitter beer alone,” the Color-Sergeant said.
They are hangin' Danny Deever, you must mark ’im to 'is place,
For 'e shot a comrade sleepin'— you must look 'im in the face;
Nine 'undred of 'is county an' the regiment's disgrace,
While they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.
»
11
al
(
11
4
“What's that so black agin the sun ? » said Files-on-Parade.
"It's Danny fightin' 'ard for life,” the Color-Sergeant said.
"What's that that whimpers over’ead ? ” said Files-on-Parade.
“It's Danny's soul that's passin' now,” the Color-Sergeant said.
For they're done with Danny Deever, you can 'ear the quick-
step play;
The regiment's in column, an' they're marchin' us away;
Ho! the young recruits are shakin', an' they'll want their beer
to-day,
After hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.
## p. 8662 (#274) ###########################################
8662
RUDYARD KIPLING
MANDALAY
B
Y THE old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', an' I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, an' the temple-bells they
say, -
«Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay! ”
Come you back to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay:
Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay ?
Oh, the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay
'Er petticut was yaller an' 'er little cap was green,
An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat -- jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen;
An' I seed her fust a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot,
An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on a 'eathen idol's foot:
Bloomin' idol made o' mud-
Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd -
Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud!
On the road to Mandalay - (etc. )
When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,
She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing "Kulla-lo-lo! »
With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' her cheek agin my cheek
We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak.
Elephints a-pilin' teak
In the sludgy, squdgy creek,
Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak!
On the road to Mandalay — (etc. )
1
1
But that's all shove be'ind me — long ago an' fur away,
An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay;
An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year sodger tells:
« If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else. ”
No! you won't 'eed nothin' else
But them spicy garlic smells
An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells!
On the road to Mandalay — (etc. )
I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones,
An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;
Though I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand,
An' they talks a lot o' lovin'-- but wot do they understand ?
She placed Mian Mittu, very angry and ruffled, on the top of
his cage; and seating herself between the babe and the bird,
cracked and peeled an almond less white than her teeth. This
is a true charm, my life: and do not laugh. See! I give the
parrot one half, and Tota the other. ” Mian Mittu, with careful
beak, took his share from between Ameera's lips, and she kissed
the other half into the mouth of the child, who ate it slowly,
with wondering eyes. “This I will do each day of seven, and
without doubt he who is ours will be a bold speaker and wise.
Eh, Tota, what wilt thou be when thou art a man and I am
gray-headed ? » Tota tucked his fat legs into adorable creases.
He could crawl, but he was not going to waste the spring of his
youth in idle speech. He wanted Mian Mittu's tail to tweak.
When he advanced to the dignity of a silver belt, - which,
with a magic square engraved on silver and hung round his neck,
made up the greater part of his clothing, --he staggered on a
perilous journey down the garden to Pir Khan, and proffered him
all his jewels in exchange for one little ride on Holden's horse.
4
(
(
## p. 8649 (#261) ###########################################
RUDYARD KIPLING
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11
161
He had seen his mother's mother chaffering with peddlers in the
veranda. Pir Khan wept, set the untried feet on his own gray
head in sign of fealty, and brought the bold adventurer to his
mother's arms, vowing that Tota would be a leader of men ere
his beard was grown.
One hot evening, while he sat on the roof between his father
and mother, watching the never-ending warfare of the kites that
the city boys few, he demanded a kite of his own, with Pir
Khan to fly it, because he had a fear of dealing with anything
larger than himself; and when Holden called him a “spark,” he
rose to his feet and answered slowly, in defense of his new-found
individuality: "Hum 'park nahin hai. Hum admi hai) (I am
no spark, but a man).
The protest made Holden choke, and devote himself very seri-
ously to a consideration of Tota's future.
He need hardly have taken the trouble. The delight of that
life was too perfect to endure. Therefore it was taken away,
as many things are taken away in India, suddenly and without
warning. The little lord of the house, as Pir Khan called him,
grew sorrowful and complained of pains, who had never known
the meaning of pain. Ameera, wild with terror, watched him
through the night, and in the dawning of the second day the life
was shaken out of him by fever— the seasonal autumn fever.
It seemed altogether impossible that he could die; and neither
Ameera nor Holden at first believed the evidence of the body on
the bedstead. Then Ameera beat her head against the wall, and
would have fung herself down the well in the garden, had Hol-
den not restrained her by main force.
One mercy only was granted to Holden. He rode to his office
in broad daylight, and found waiting him an unusually heavy
mail that demanded concentrated attention and hard work. He
was not, however, alive to this kindness of the gods.
!
1
The first shock of a bullet is no more than a brisk pinch.
The wrecked body does not send in its protest to the soul till
ten or fifteen seconds later. Then comes thirst, throbbing and
agony, and a ridiculous amount of screaming. Holden realized
his pain slowly, exactly as he had realized his happiness; and
with the same imperious necessity for hiding all trace of it. In
the beginning he only felt that there had been a loss, and that
## p. 8650 (#262) ###########################################
8650
RUDYARD KIPLING
It was
Ameera needed comforting where she sat with her head on her
knees, shivering, as Mian Mittu from the house-top called “Tota!
Tota! Tota! ” Later all his world and the daily life of it rose up
to hurt him.
an outrage that any one of the children
at the band-stand in the evening should be alive and clamorous
when his own child lay dead. It was more than mere pain when
one of them touched him; and stories told by over-fond fathers
of their children's latest performances cut him to the quick. He
could not declare his pain. He had neither help, comfort, nor
sympathy; and Ameera, at the end of each weary day, would
lead him through the hell of self-questioning reproach which is
reserved for those who have lost a child, and believe that with a
little — just a little more care - it might have been saved. There
are not many hells worse than this; but he knows one who has
sat down temperately to consider whether he is or is not respons-
ible for the death of his wife.
"Perhaps," Ameera would say, "I did not take sufficient heed.
Did I, or did I not?
The sun
on the roof that day when he
played so long alone, and I was- ahi! braiding my hair-it
may be that the sun then bred the fever. If I had warned him
from the sun he might have lived. But oh, my life, say that I
am guiltless! Thou knowest that I loved him as I love thee !
Say that there is no blame on me, or I shall die — I shall die!
« There is no blame. Before God, none.
It was written, and
how could we do aught to save ? What has been, has been. Let
it go, beloved. ”
“He was all my heart to me. How can I let the thought go
when my arm tells me every night that he is not here? Ahi !
ahi! 0 Tota, come back to me come back again, and let us
be all together as it was before !
(Peace! peace! For thine own sake, and for mine also, if
thou lovest me, rest. ”
« By this I know thou dost not care; and how shouldst thou ?
The white men have hearts of stone and souls of iron. Oh that
I had married a man of mine own people — though he beat me
and had never eaten the bread of an alien! ”
"Am I an alien, mother of my son ? »
«What else, sahib ? -Oh, forgive me — forgive!
“—
forgive! The death
has driven me mad. Thou art the life of my heart, and the
light of my eyes, and the breath of my life, and — and I have
put thee from me, though it was but for a moment. If thou
(
## p. 8651 (#263) ###########################################
RUDYARD KIPLING
8651
»
goest away, to whom shall I look for help? Do not be angry.
Indeed, it was the pain that spoke, and not thy slave. ”
"I know I know. We be two who were three.
The greater
need therefore that we should be one. "
They were sitting on the roof as of custom. The night was
a warm one in early spring, and sheet-lightning was dancing on
the horizon to a broken tune played by far-off thunder. Aineera
settled herself in Holden's arms.
« The dry earth is lowing like a cow for the rain, and I-I
am afraid. It was not like this when we counted the stars. But
thou lovest me as much as before, though a bond is taken away?
Answer. ”
“I love more, because a new bond has come out of the sor-
row that we have eaten together; and that thou knowest. ”
“Yea, I know,” said Ameera, in a very small whisper. But
it is good to hear thee say so, my life, who art so strong to help.
I will be a child no more, but a woman and an aid to thee.
Listen. Give me my sitar, and I will sing bravely. ”
She took the light silver-studded sitar, and began a song of
the great hero Rajá Rasalu. The hand failed on the strings;
the tune halted, checked, and at a low note turned off to the
poor little nursery rhyme about the wicked crow:-
(
»
1
11
11
1
.
1
4
8
1
1
1
1
3
«C And the wild plums grow in the jungle –
Only a penny a pound;
Only a penny a pound, Baba — only - » »
Then came the tears and the piteous rebellion against fate,
till she slept, moaning a little in her sleep, with the right arm
thrown clear of the body, as though it protected something that
was not there.
It was after this night that life became a little easier for
Holden. The ever-present pain of loss drove him into his work;
and the work repaid him by filling up his mind for eight or
nine hours a day. Ameera sat alone in the house and brooded;
but grew happier when she understood that Holden was more at
according to the custom of women. They touched hap-
piness again, but this time with caution.
“It was because we loved Tota that he died. The jealousy
of God was upon us,” said Ameera. “I have hung up a large
black jar before our window to turn the Evil Eye from us, and
ease
## p. 8652 (#264) ###########################################
8652
RUDYARD KIPLING
)
C
we must make no protestations of delight, but go softly under-
neath the stars, lest God find us out. Is that not good talk,
worthless one?
She had shifted the accent of the word that means beloved,"
in proof of the sincerity of her purpose. But the kiss that fol.
lowed the new christening was a thing that any deity might have
envied. They went about henceforward saying, “It is naught
it is naught,” and hoping that all the Powers heard.
The Powers were busy on other things. They had allowed
thirty million people four years of plenty, wherein men fed well
and the crops were certain, and the birth-rate rose year by
year; the districts reported a purely agricultural population vary-
ing from nine hundred to two thousand to the square mile of
the overburdened earth. It was time to make room. And the
Member for Lower Tooting, wandering about India in top-hat
and frock-coat, talked largely of the benefits of British rule, and
suggested as the one thing needful the establishment of a duly
qualified electoral system, and a general bestowal of the franchise.
His long-suffering hosts smiled and made him welcome; and
when he paused to admire, with pretty picked words, the blos-
som of the blood-red dhak-tree, that had flowered untimely for a
sign of the sickness that was coming, they smiled more than ever.
It was the Deputy Commissioner of Kot-Kumharsen, staying
at the club for a day, who lightly told a tale that made Holden's
blood run cold as he overheard the end.
“He won't bother any one any more.
Never saw a man
astonished in my life. By Jove! I thought he meant to ask
question in the House about it. Fellow-passenger in his ship
dined next him— bowled over by cholera, and died in eighteen
hours. You needn't laugh, you fellows. The Member for Lower
Tooting is awfully angry about it; but he's more scared.
I think
he's going to take his enlightened self out of India. ”
“I'd give a good deal if he were knocked over. It might
keep a few vestrymen of his kidney to their parish. But what's
this about cholera ? It's full early for anything of that kind,”
said a warden of an unprofitable salt-lick.
« Dun'no',” said the Deputy Commissioner, reflectively. “We've
got locusts with us. There's sporadic cholera all along the north
– at least, we're calling it sporadic for decency's sake.
spring crops are short in five districts, and nobody seems to
SO
a
>
The
## p. 8653 (#265) ###########################################
RUDYARD KIPLING
8653
C
(
»
It
»
<< but
know where the winter rains are. It's nearly March now. I
don't want to scare anybody, but it seems to me that Nature's
going to audit her accounts with a big red pencil this summer. ”
"Just when I wanted to take leave, too,” said a voice across
the room.
“There won't be much leave this year; but there ought to be
a a great deal of promotion. I've come in to persuade the govern-
ment to put my pet canal on the list of famine-relief works.
It's an ill wind that blows no good. I shall get that canal
finished at last. ”
"Is it the old programme, then,” said Holden, - famine,
fever, and cholera ? »
"Oh no! Only local scarcity and an unusual prevalence of
seasonal sickness. You'll find it all in the reports if you live
till next year. You're a lucky chap. You haven't got a wife to
.
put out of harm's way. The hill stations ought to be full of
women this year. ”
"I think you're inclined to exaggerate the talk in the bazars,”
said a young civilian in the secretariat. «Now I have observed — »
"I daresay you have,” said the Deputy Commissioner,
you've a great deal more to observe, my son. In the mean
time I wish to observe to you — ” And he drew him aside to
discuss the construction of the canal that was so dear to his
heart.
Holden went to his bungalow, and began to understand that
he was not alone in the world; and also that he was afraid for
the sake of another, which is the most soul-satisfying fear known
to man.
Two months later, as the Deputy had foretold, Nature began
to audit her accounts with a red pencil. On the heels of the
spring reapings came a cry for bread, and the Government,
which had decreed that no man should die of want, sent wheat.
Then came the cholera from all four quarters of the compass.
It struck a pilgrim gathering of half a million at a sacred shrine.
Many died at the feet of their god; the others broke, and ran
over the face of the land, carrying the pestilence with them. It
smote a walled city, and killed two hundred a day. The people
crowded the trains, hanging on to the foot-boards and squatting
on the roofs of the carriages; and the cholera followed them, for
at each station they dragged out the dead and the dying on the
platforms reeking of lime-wash and carbolic acid. They died by
## p. 8654 (#266) ###########################################
8654
RUDYARD KIPLING
(
»
2
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>
the roadside, and the horses of the Englishmen shied at the
corpses in the grass. The rains did not come, and the earth
turned to iron lest man should escape by hiding in her. The
English sent their wives away to the Hills, and went about their
work; coming forward as they were bidden to fill the gaps in
the fighting line. Holden, sick with fear of losing his chiefest
treasure on earth, had done his best to persuade Ameera to go
away with her mother to the Himalayas.
“Why should I go ? ” said she one evening on the roof.
« There is sickness, and the people are dying, and all the
white mem-log have gone. ”
"All of them ? »
"All— unless perhaps there remain some old scald-head who
vexes her husband's heart by running risk of death. ”
“Nay: who stays is my sister, and thou must not abuse her,
for I will be a scald-head too. I am glad all the bold white
mem-log are gone. "
“Do I speak to a woman or a babe? Go to the Hills, and I
will see to it that thou goest like a queen's daughter. Think,
child.
In a red-lacquered bullock-cart, veiled and curtained, with
brass peacocks upon the pole and red-cloth hangings. I will send
two orderlies for guard, and — »
« Peace! Thou art the babe in speaking thus. What use are
those toys to me? He would have patted the bullocks and played
with the housings. For his sake, perhaps — thou hast made me
very English - I might have gone. Now I will not.
Let the
mem-log run. ”
« Their husbands are sending them, beloved. ”
« Very good talk. Since when hast thou been my husband
to tell me what to do? I have but borne thee a son.
Thou art
only all the desire of my soul to me. How shall I depart when
I know that if evil befall thee by the breadth of so much
my littlest finger-nail — is not that small ? - I should be aware
of it though I were in Paradise. And here, this summer thou
mayst die — ai, janee, die! - and in dying they might call to tend
thee a white woman, and she would rob me in the last of thy
love. "
“But love is not born in a moment, or on a death-bed. ”
« What dost thou know of love, stone-heart ? She would take
thy thanks at least; and by God and the Prophet, and Beebee
Miriam the mother of thy Prophet, that I will never endure.
i
(
as
## p. 8655 (#267) ###########################################
RUDYARD KIPLING
8655
My lord and my love, let there be no more foolish talk of going
away. Where thou art, I am. It is enough. ” She put an arm
round his neck and a hand on his mouth,
There are not many happinesses so complete as those that are
snatched under the shadow of the sword. They sat together and
laughed, calling each other openly by every pet name that could
move the wrath of the gods. The city below them was locked
up in its own torments. Sulphur-fires blazed in the streets; the
conches in the Hindu temples screamed and bellowed, for the
gods were inattentive in those days.
There was a service in the
great Mohammedan shrine, and the call to prayer from the min-
arets was almost unceasing. They heard the wailing in the houses
of the dead, and once the shriek of a mother who had lost a
child and was calling for its return. In the gray dawn they saw
the dead borne out through the city gates, each litter with its
own little knot of mourners. Wherefore they kissed each other
and shivered.
It was a red and heavy audit; for the land was very sick,
and needed a little breathing-space ere the torrent of cheap life
should flood it anew. The children of immature fathers and
undeveloped mothers made no resistance. They were cowed and
sat still; waiting till the sword should be sheathed in November,
if it were so willed.
There were gaps among the English, but
the gaps were filled. The work of superintending famine relief,
cholera sheds, medicine distribution, and what little sanitation was
possible, went forward because it was so ordered.
Holden had been told to hold himself in readiness to move
to replace the next man who should fall. There were twelve
hours in each day when he could not see Ameera; and she
might die in three. He was considering what his pain would be
if he could not see her for three months, or if she died out of
his sight. He was absolutely certain that her death would be
demanded: so certain that when he looked up from the tele-
gram and saw Pir Khan breathless in the doorway, he laughed
aloud. "And-? ) said he.
“When there is a cry in the night and the spirit flutters into
the throat, who has a charm that will restore ? Come swiftly,
heaven-born. It is the Black Cholera. ”
Holden galloped to his home. The sky was heavy with
clouds, for the long-deferred rains were at hand, and the heat
臺
1
1
»
## p. 8656 (#268) ###########################################
8656
RUDYARD KIPLING
51
(c
B
was stifling. Ameera's mother met him in the court-yard, whim-
pering, «She is dying. She is nursing herself into death.
«
She
is all but dead. What shall I do, sahib?
Ameera was lying in the room in which Tota had been born.
She made no sign when Holden entered; because the human soul
is a very lonely thing, and when it is getting ready to go away,
hides itself in a misty borderland where the living may not
follow. The Black Cholera does its work quietly and without
explanation. Ameera was being thrust out of life as though the
Angel of Death had himself put his hand upon her. The quick
breathing seemed to show that she was either afraid or in pain,
but neither eyes nor mouth gave any answer to Holden's kisses.
There was nothing to be said or done. Holden could only wait
and suffer. The first drops of the rain began to fall on the roof,
and he could hear shouts of joy in the parched city.
The soul came back a little, and the lips moved. Holden
bent down to listen. Keep nothing of mine," said Ameera.
« Take no hair from my head. She would make thee burn it
later on. That flame I should feel. Lower! Stoop lower!
Remember only that I was thine and bore thee a son. Though
thou wed a white woman to-morrow, the pleasure of taking in
thy arms thy first son is taken from thee forever. Remember
me when thy son is born — the one that shall carry thy name
before all men. His misfortunes be on my head.
I bear wit-
-I bear witness » the lips were forming the words on his
«that there is no God but — thee, beloved. ”
Then she died. Holden sat still, and thought of any kind was
taken from him till he heard Ameera's mother lift the curtain.
“Is she dead, sahib ? ”
“She is dead. ”
«Then I will mourn, and afterwards take an inventory of the
furniture in this house; for that will be mine. The sahib does
not mean to resume it? It is so little, so very little, sahib,
I am an old woman. I would like to lie softly. ”
“For the mercy of God, be silent awhile! Go out and mourn
where I cannot hear. ”
Sahib, she will be buried in four hours. ”
“I know the custom. I shall go ere she is taken away. That
matter is in thy hands. Look to it that the bed — on which
on which — she lies — »
ness
A1
>
ear
>>
and
(
-
!
## p. 8657 (#269) ###########################################
RUDYARD KIPLING
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1
“Aha! That beautiful red-lacquered bed. I have long de.
sired »
« – That the bed is left here untouched for my disposal.
All else in the house is thine. Hire a cart, take everything, go
hence; and before sunrise let there be nothing in this house but
that which I have ordered thee to respect. ”
“I am an old woman. I would stay at least for the days of
mourning, and the rains have just broken. Whither shall I go ? »
“What is that to me? My order is that there is a going.
The house-gear is worth a thousand rupees, and my orderly shall
bring thee a hundred rupees to-night. ”
« That is very little. Think of the cart-hire. »
"It shall be nothing unless thou goest, and with speed.
woman, get hence, and leave me to my dead! ”
The mother shuffled down the staircase; and in her anxiety to
take stock of the house-fittings forgot to mourn. Holden stayed
by Ameera's side, and the rain roared on the roof. He could
not think connectedly by reason of the noise, though he made
many attempts to do so. Then four sheeted ghosts glided drip-
ping into the room and stared at him through their veils. They
were the washers of the dead. Holden left the room, and went
out to his horse. He had come in a dead, stifling calm, through
ankle-deep dust. He found the court-yard a rain-lashed pond
alive with frogs; a torrent of yellow water ran under the gate,
and a roaring wind drove the bolts of the rain like buckshot
against the mud walls. Pir Khan was shivering in his little hut
by the gate, and the horse was stamping uneasily in the water.
I have been told the sahib's order,” said he. “It is well.
This house is now desolate. I go also, for my monkey face
would be a reminder of that which has been. Concerning the
bed, I will bring that to thy house yonder in the morning. But
remember, sahib, it will be to thee as a knife turned in a green
wound. I go upon a pilgrimage, and I will take no money.
I
have grown fat in the protection of the Presence, whose sorrow
is my sorrow. For the last time I hold his stirrup. "
He touched Holden's foot with both hands, and the horse
sprang out into the road, where the creaking bamboos were
whipping the sky and all the frogs were chuckling. Holden could
not see for the rain in his face. He put his hands before his
eyes and muttered, “Oh, you brute! You utter brute ! »
&
1
XV-542
## p. 8658 (#270) ###########################################
8658
RUDYARD KIPLING
1
was
The news of his trouble was already in his bungalow. He
read the knowledge in his butler's eyes when Ahmed Khan
brought in food, and for the first and last time in his life laid a
hand upon his master's shoulder, saying, "Eat, sahib, eat. Meat
is good against sorrow. I also have known. Moreover, the
shadows come and go, sahib. The shadows come and go. These
be curried eggs. ”
Holden could neither eat nor sleep. The heavens sent down
eight inches of rain in that night and scoured the earth clean.
The waters tore down walls, broke roads, and washed open the
shallow graves in the Mohammedan burying-ground. Ail next
day it rained, and Holden sat still in his house considering his
sorrow. On the morning of the third day he received a tele-
gram which said only — "Ricketts, Myndonie. Dying. Holden
relieve. Immediate. ” Then he thought that before he departed
he would look at the house wherein he had been master and
lord. There a break in the weather. The rank earth
steamed with vapor, and Holden was vermilion from head to heel
with the prickly-heat born of sultry moisture.
He found that the rains had torn down the mud pillars of the
gateway, and the heavy wooden gate that had guarded his life
hung drunkenly from one hinge. There was grass three inches
high in the court-yard; Pir Khan's lodge was empty and the
sodden thatch sagged between the beams. A gray squirrel was
in possession of the veranda, as if the house had been untenanted
for thirty years instead of three days. Ameera's mother had re-
moved everything except some mildewed matting. The tick-tick
of the little scorpions as they hurried across the floor was the
only sound in the house. Ameera's room and that other one
where Tota had lived were heavy with mildew; and the narrow
staircase leading to the roof was streaked and stained with rain-
borne mud. Holden saw all these things, and came out again;
to meet in the road Durga Dass, his landlord, - portly, affable,
clothed in white muslin, and driving a C-spring buggy. He was
overlooking his property, to see how the roofs withstood the
stress of the first rains.
"I have heard,” said he, you will not take this place any
more, sahib ? »
"What are you going to do with it? "
“Perhaps I shall let it again. ”
11
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대
(
## p. 8659 (#271) ###########################################
RUDYARD KIPLING
8659
!
« Then I will keep it on while I am away. ”
Durga Dass was silent for some time. “ You shall not take
it on, sahib,” he said. « When I was
a young man I also
But to-day I am a member of the Municipality. Ho! ho! No.
When the birds have gone, what need to keep the nest ? I will
have it pulled down: the timber will sell for something always.
It shall be pulled down, and the Municipality shall make a road
across, as they desire, from the burning-ghat to the city wall.
So that no man may say where this house stood. ”
185
«FUZZY WUZZY »
(SOUDAN EXPEDITIONARY FORCE)
W*v
TE've fought with many men acrost the seas,
An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not:
The Paythan an' the Zulu an' Burmese;
But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot.
We never got a ha’porth’s change of 'im:
'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses,
'E cut our sentries up at Suakim,
An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces.
So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome
in the Sowdan;
You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-
class fightin' man;
We gives you your certifikit, an' if you want
it signed
We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you when-
ever you're inclined.
We took our chanst among the Kyber 'ills,
The Boers knocked us silly at a mile;
The Burman guv us Irrewaddy chills,
An'a Zulu impi dished us up in style:
But all we ever got from such as they
Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller;
We 'eld our bloomin' own, the papers say,
But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oller.
Then 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' the missis
and the kid;
Our orders was to break you, an' of course we.
went an' did.
## p. 8660 (#272) ###########################################
8660
RUDYARD KIPLING
We sloshed you with Martinis, an' it wasn't
'ardly fair;
But for all the odds agin you, Fuzzy-Wuz, you
bruk the square.
'E 'asn't got no papers of 'is own,
’E 'asn't got no medals nor rewards,
So we must certify the skill 'e's shown
In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords:
When 'e's 'oppin' in an' out among the bush
With 'is coffin-'eaded shield an' shovel-spear,
A 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush
Will last a 'ealthy Tommy for a year.
So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' your friends
which is no more;
If we 'adn't lost some messmates we would
'elp you to deplore:
But give an' take's the gospel, an' we'll call
the bargain fair,-
For if you 'ave lost more than us, you cruin-
pled up the square!
'E rushes at the smoke when we let drive,
An', before we know, 'e's 'ackin' at our 'ead;
'E's all 'ot sand an' ginger when alive,
An' 'e's generally shammin' when 'e's dead.
’E's a daisy, 'e's a ducky, 'e's a lamb! .
’E's a injia-rubber idiot on the spree;
’E's the on’y thing that doesn't care a damn
For a Regiment o’ British Infantree!
So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your
'ome
in the Sowdan;
You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-
class fightin' man;
An' 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your
'ayrick 'ead of 'air
You big black boundin' beggar — for you bruk
a British square!
1
## p. 8661 (#273) ###########################################
RUDYARD KIPLING
8661
DANNY DEEVER
“WAT
HAT are the bugles blowin' for ? ) said Files-on-Parade.
« To turn you out, to turn you out,” the Color-Sergeant said.
«What makes you look so white, so white ? ” said Files-on-
Parade.
“I'm dreadin' what I've got to watch, the Color-Sergeant
said.
For they're hangin' Danny Deever, you can 'ear the Dead March
play,
The regiment's in 'ollow square – they're hangin' him to-day:
They've taken of his buttons off an' cut his stripes away,
An' they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.
1:140920_11
«What makes the rear-rank breathe so 'ard ? ” said Files-on-Parade.
“It's bitter cold, it's bitter cold,” the Color-Sergeant said.
“What makes that front-rank man fall down ? ” says Files-on-Parade.
"A touch of sun, a touch of sun,” the Color-Sergeant said.
They are hangin' Danny Deever, they are marchin' of 'im round.
They ’ave 'alted Danny Deever by 'is coffin on the ground;
An' 'e'll swing in 'arf a minute for a sneakin' shootin' hound
Oh, they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.
« 'Is cot was right-'and cot to mine," said Files-on-Parade.
“ 'E's sleepin' out an' far to-night,” the Color-Sergeant said.
"I've drunk 'is beer a score o' times,” said Files-on-Parade.
« 'E's drinkin' bitter beer alone,” the Color-Sergeant said.
They are hangin' Danny Deever, you must mark ’im to 'is place,
For 'e shot a comrade sleepin'— you must look 'im in the face;
Nine 'undred of 'is county an' the regiment's disgrace,
While they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.
»
11
al
(
11
4
“What's that so black agin the sun ? » said Files-on-Parade.
"It's Danny fightin' 'ard for life,” the Color-Sergeant said.
"What's that that whimpers over’ead ? ” said Files-on-Parade.
“It's Danny's soul that's passin' now,” the Color-Sergeant said.
For they're done with Danny Deever, you can 'ear the quick-
step play;
The regiment's in column, an' they're marchin' us away;
Ho! the young recruits are shakin', an' they'll want their beer
to-day,
After hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.
## p. 8662 (#274) ###########################################
8662
RUDYARD KIPLING
MANDALAY
B
Y THE old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', an' I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, an' the temple-bells they
say, -
«Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay! ”
Come you back to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay:
Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay ?
Oh, the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay
'Er petticut was yaller an' 'er little cap was green,
An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat -- jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen;
An' I seed her fust a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot,
An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on a 'eathen idol's foot:
Bloomin' idol made o' mud-
Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd -
Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud!
On the road to Mandalay - (etc. )
When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,
She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing "Kulla-lo-lo! »
With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' her cheek agin my cheek
We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak.
Elephints a-pilin' teak
In the sludgy, squdgy creek,
Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak!
On the road to Mandalay — (etc. )
1
1
But that's all shove be'ind me — long ago an' fur away,
An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay;
An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year sodger tells:
« If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else. ”
No! you won't 'eed nothin' else
But them spicy garlic smells
An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells!
On the road to Mandalay — (etc. )
I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones,
An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;
Though I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand,
An' they talks a lot o' lovin'-- but wot do they understand ?
