“Enlighten my griffinism a little, Tom,” said I, “and expound the cause thereof.” “Why, the reason,” rejoined my friend, “is, I believe, this. No inferior in India ever sits in the presence of a superior, unless squatting on his heels on the ground may be so considered; and you must have perceived that a chair is never offered to a sepoy or non-commissioned native officer, under any circumstance of long detention or the like, which it would perhaps be to Europeans of the same rank in those cases; in fact, if it were, it would be stoutly refused, and the man would think you were bantering him. But when promoted, when he gets his commission, he acquires a _status_ in society, is an ‘_uppiser_’ (an officer), one of the _sirdar logue_, and in some respects on a par with his European superior. He now sports a gold necklace or _kanta_; and sets up a chair and a tatoo (pony), as indispensable concomitants of his newly-acquired rank—riding on the one, and in all probability sitting on the other, for the first time in his life. I have been a good deal amused,” continued Tom, “to see them sometimes, when seated opposite their houses, or rather huts, in the lines, enjoying their _otium cum dignitate_ in these same chairs, illustrating amusingly enough the invincible force of habit—legs partly doubled up under them, feet slantingly projecting under the arms thereof, instead of depending before, according to the usages of Christendom. Blacky does not readily adopt new habits and European improvements; or if he does, he often mars their object by engrafting on them something of his own.” “I dare say,” said I, “from what I have seen, that this is true enough.” “A gentleman up the country, for example,” continued Tom, “some time ago, wished to introduce the use of the wheelbarrow into his garden, with other English improvements; when next he went there, he found the coolie, or gardener’s assistant, to his astonishment, carrying the wheelbarrow on his head, with a load of gravel. Why, a week ago, I gave my vagabond _bawurchee_ (cook), whom, you know, I sent to the right about yesterday, a tin flour dredger, that I might be spared the mortification of having my food unnecessarily manipulated. The very next time I went to the _bawurchee khana_ (cook house), I caught the villain taking the flour in pinches out of the perforated head of my dredger (as one would take a pinch out of a snuff-box) and sprinkling it over the cutlet. Ah! I fear that nature designed natives and jackasses to be managed by the cudgel!” “Why, that is Captain Marpeet’s principle to a T,” said I. “Sound thrashings, according to him, with some races, are meant to answer the purpose of sound reasonings with others; it requires caution, however, in applying that principle. For example, it would be far from safe to try it on some of those big-calved fellows one sees behind the coaches at home,—eh, Tom?”