The viands, which in excellence could not be surpassed by anything procurable, of their several kinds, at the most fashionable hotel or club-house at the west end of the town, were served in burnished silver. The wines and ales, of the most delicious kinds, were cooled _à merveille_, and we were waited upon by fine, proud-looking domestics, in rich liveries, who seemed fully sensible of the lustre they borrowed from their master’s importance; in short, I found myself all at once revelling in luxury, and was made to feel, though in the pleasantest possible way, the vastness of the gap which separates a griffin going to join from the judge of a zillah court. Mr. Sarkies, too, though his occupation referred more immediately to the other world, seemed, like myself, by no means insensible to the comforts of this mundane state of existence, paying very marked attention to the mock-turtle, the roast saddle of mutton, maccaroni, and other “tiny kickshaws” that followed in abundance. In spite, however, of this little trait of the “old man Adam,” the missionary appeared a most kind-hearted and benevolent creature; there was a childlike simplicity about him, evincing a total absence of all guile, which at once inspired a feeling of affection and regard, adding a proof, were it wanting, of the power of truthfulness and virtue, in whatever form it may appear. It was obvious, at a glance, that the Padre’s heart was overflowing with benevolence and love of his kind, and that no one harsh or unamiable feeling harboured there. The judge, though evidently of a jovial and bantering turn, and not at all likely to turn missionary himself, seemed clearly to entertain a mingled feeling of respect and esteem for his single-hearted, but somewhat eccentric guest, who, I found, owed his introduction to him to a somewhat similar chance to that to which I was indebted for mine—a feeling that, in a great degree, restrained the inclination which, in a good-natured way, would every now and then peep out, to crack a joke at his expense. After a very pleasant evening, I retired to a comfortable cot, which my host ordered to be prepared for me; and next morning Mr. Sympkin, who was engaged on some special business in the district, left us after breakfast to attend to his duties and proceed to his cuchery tent, around which were assembled horses and ponies gaily caparisoned, and a concourse of native zumeendars, with their attendants, hosts of villagers, witnesses, and the various native functionaries in the judge’s suite, who in India bear the collective appellation of the “omlah.” At tiffin he joined us, as full of spirits as a boy just let out of school, rubbing his hands in a gleeful way, and asked me if I was disposed for a day’s shooting, for if so, he should be happy to show me some excellent sport, the neighbourhood abounding in game. I need hardly say that I was not backward in accepting his offer.