I had offered prizes to be distributed by a committee at our semi-annual fairs to those having the best cattle, and also a big leather medal to be given to the one having the poorest cattle, this to be nailed to the door of his house until the next fair. I wanted a little fun, and they all appreciated this leathery idea. I hardly need say that after a few years the committee decided that there were not any cattle in the villages to entitle the owner to the leather medal. It was a standing remark for them to make when any one’s cattle were becoming a little lean, “O he is going in for the leather medal.” I am egotist enough to believe that my talks about cattle were far superior to any given by the wordy lecturers of the anti-cow-killing society. It is the grimmest kind of a farce for the Hindus to talk of the sacredness of cattle and then to cruelly starve and treat the poor brutes as they do. I had stocked the tank with the fry of the best fish and some had grown to a large size, and plenty of them. There had been a fish committee appointed and a law passed, that no one should fish except with a hook and line, and that no fish under six inches in length should be kept out, but be thrown back into the water. I had plenty of sport, if it can be called sport to take life of any kind, and a fish for my breakfasts, giving the rest to the widows. I always showed great respect to the women, putting them ever first. One morning I received the finest compliment of my life. I was coming from the tank and my boy,—I never was in want of boys when fishing, who is?—had a fine string of large fish, when the widows approached to get their share. As the fish were distributed, one old wrinkled body getting her share exclaimed: “The Sahib is a friend to the poor widows.” I trust the recording angel made a note of that, for I like to get all the good marks I deserve, as I am afraid I shall have so many bad ones to be erased, for I have read somewhere, that every time the scribe above puts down a good mark for any one he rubs out a bad one. The fish committee made their report that there had been no violation of the law except once, when a man was caught going away from the tank with a number of small fish. The committee at once surrounded him, and decided that he must eat the fish raw, then and there, and they waited until he had devoured heads, tails, bones and all. I doubt if the justices of any high or low court ever gave a decision with more justice, or administered a punishment with more alacrity than did my fish committee. Once going to the tank with my rod, I met this man and said, probably with a slight hint in my voice that I had heard from the committee: “Well Gulab, are you fond of fish?” He hesitated, with a slight grin on his face, for he was somewhat of a wag, “Yes, Sahib, when they are cooked.” I replied, “That is the way I like mine, not raw, but well cooked,” and we parted, each with a meaning smile.