"I am rebuked," said I, "and your words have sunk into my heart; never more shall you have to say of me that I flinched from my duty. Whenever you think fit I am ready to take the handkerchief." And to turn the subject, I said, "I beg to represent, that Mahomed the Bhuttote promised to tell me some history of the man who died last night, and I call on him to fulfil his word." "Well spoken!" cried a dozen of the men; "Mahomed is a sure hand at a story--let us have it." Mahomed, after stuffing a large quantity of pan-leaf and tobacco into his mouth, crunched it several times between his teeth, and after a copious discharge of red saliva, settled himself upon his heels, and, addressing my father, spoke, as nearly as I can remember, as follows:-- "I was born at Boree, which is a small village in the Nagpoor territory: my father was a Thug, as you all know, and my ancestors were the same for generations before. Tales of their feats have been handed down in our family from father to son, and they are worth relating, but they have nothing to do with my story. They had been prosperous, however, and had saved money enough to give a large sum at the court of Nagpoor for the office and lands of the Patelship (chief magistracy) of our village; nevertheless they pursued their profession of Thuggee. My grandfather, Kasim, as many of you know, was as notorious a leader of Thugs as any one has been since he died; and my father, who was then young, succeeded to his property and situation. Long he held it, and none arose to dispute his claim.