"As to my own concerns, the trench in which I sat was broken by a _bomb-golee_ as large as our smallest grain-chest." [_He'll go off and measure it at once!_] "It dropped out of the air. It burst, the ground was opened and replaced upon seven of us. I and two others took wounds. Sweetmeats are not distributed in war-time. God permitted my soul to live, by means of the doctors' strong medicines. I have inhabited six hospitals before I came here to England. This hospital is like a temple. It is set in a garden beside the sea. We lie on iron cots beneath a dome of gold and colours and glittering glass work, with pillars." [_You know that's true, Sahib. We can see it--but d'you think_ he'll _believe? Never! Never!_] "Our food is cooked for us according to our creeds--Sikh, or Brahmin, or Mussulman and all the rest--When a man dies he is also buried according to his creed. Though he has been a groom or a sweeper, he is buried like some great land-owner. Do not let such matters trouble you henceforth. Living or dying, all is done in accordance with the ordinance of our faiths. Some low-caste men, such as sweepers, counting upon the ignorance of the doctors here make a claim to be of reputable caste in order that they may get consideration. If a sweeper in this hospital says he is forbidden by his caste to do certain things he is believed. He is not beaten." [_Now, why is that, Sahib? They ought to be beaten for pretending to have caste, and making a mock of the doctors._ I _should slipper them publicly--but--I'm not the Government. We will go on._]