So far, all had been comedy, but it now nearly approached tragedy, for Lord Lytton’s eyes fell on the Rajah of Jhind, one of the Sikh chiefs already mentioned, and he was asked to come forward, arriving in the tiny space kept open by Lord William. He bent himself from the waist and touched the feet of the new ruler of India, direct representative of his Sovereign Lady the great Queen, for whom he had fought most gallantly, and for whom he would right willingly have fought again. Only Orientals can perform so deep an obeisance with dignity; to receive it equally becomingly is not so easy, and poor Lord Ripon, who had been hurried out of England and hurried up country with hardly time to think, and with little knowledge of Oriental etiquette, was taken completely by surprise, and jumped back as far as the crowd would let him, not knowing quite what was happening, and then bowed violently, the two heads only missing contact by an inch--awful moment! for had the chief’s turban been knocked off, or even set awry, he would have felt himself deeply disgraced, for Orientals do not look at things as we do. To deeply wound the feelings, however unintentionally, of a chief who, when the mutiny broke out, was the first to draw his sword on our side, would have stirred the whole Punjab, and we might have lost in respect and loyalty what no elective council or other political bodies could ever have restored. So differently does the East and West judge, and reflect on both trivial and important matters. Shortly after this the ceremonial came to an end, and Lord Ripon was conducted into the house to take the Viceroy’s oath in presence of his Council and other almighties who cared to attend.