Not long after this, one of the villages had an object lesson, when I happened to be present. A sweeper had been away to a village, attending some festival among his brethren, and returned in a great state of hilarity. At first he was only amusing, then began to take liberties, which the people resented. In return he gave them gali, pouring upon them the foulest abuse. I suggested, they tie him to a tree, and drench him with water, which they did till he was sober, a great crowd in attendance, to whom I gave a temperance lecture, with the subject before me. The next day the village committee came to me to inquire what punishment should be given to the man for his foul, abusive words. I suggested they put him on a donkey, with his face tail-wards, and as a dead vulture had been brought to me, from under one of the trees, that the skin of this stinking bird should be put on the sweeper as a headdress. He was soon in position, with his regalia upon him, and the donkey was led up and down the streets for an hour, while the crowd, including many from the other villages, for the report of the coming fun soon spread, made all possible sport with their victim, while the boys pelted the sinner with bits of earth and rotten vegetables. This I considered sufficient for the time, but the committee decided, that if he, or any one else, should commit a like offense, they should be tied up, drenched with water until sober, and then be flogged. I never heard of a case of drunkenness in any of the villages afterwards. The people became a law unto themselves in opposition to the philanthropic government that tried to make them drunkards. Life with us went on with the monotony usual in an India station. From month to month scarcely anything, not even the unexpected, happened. The military officers were longing for a break out somewhere, no matter with whom, the French on the south-east, the Russians on the north-west, or with the border tribes, so long as it would give them something to do in their line. Their trade was war, and war they wanted, something to take the place of the everlasting drill, and to break up the tiresome routine of cantonment work. The members of the civil service had their daily grists to grind, and like toilers on a tread-mill, were glad when the days were ended. Though excluded somewhat, I could hear the murmurs of discontent. Few seemed to have any real interest in their work. They considered themselves as exiles driven away from home by necessity, to become naukars, and their great hope was in furloughs and the prospect of retirement. As I was at home I made the best of it, and my wife joined me heartily in promoting our mutual happiness. We had our books, magazines and papers, which gave us an abundance of enjoyment. Our large garden gave us recreation and pleasure, while our villages gave us work.