So busy is he that he has not
time to consider how many monuments crumble, how often names are
forgotten!
SHAZADPUR.
_June_ 1891.
There was a great, big mast lying on the river bank, and some little
village urchins, with never a scrap of clothing, decided, after a long
consultation, that if it could be rolled along to the accompaniment of a
sufficient amount of vociferous clamour, it would be a new and altogether
satisfactory kind of game. The decision was no sooner come to than acted
upon, with a "_Shabash_, brothers! All together! Heave ho!" And at
every turn it rolled, there was uproarious laughter.
The demeanour of one girl in the party was very different. She was playing
with the boys for want of other companions, but she clearly viewed with
disfavour these loud and strenuous games. At last she stepped up to the
mast and, without a word, deliberately sat on it.
So rare a game to come to so abrupt a stop! Some of the players seemed to
resign themselves to giving it up as a bad job; and retiring a little way
off, they sulkily glared at the girl in her impassive gravity. One made as
if he would push her off, but even this did not disturb the careless ease
of her pose. The eldest lad came up to her and pointed to other equally
suitable places for taking a rest; at which she energetically shook her
head, and putting her hands in her lap, steadied herself down still more
firmly on her seat.
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