Mahomedan Proverb.


Some people say that there is no romance in India. Those people
are wrong. Our lives hold quite as much romance as is good for us.
Sometimes more.

Strickland was in the Police, and people did not understand him; so
they said he was a doubtful sort of man and passed by on the other
side. Strickland had himself to thank for this. He held the
extraordinary theory that a Policeman in India should try to know
as much about the natives as the natives themselves. Now, in the
whole of Upper India, there is only ONE man who can pass for Hindu
or Mohammedan, chamar or faquir, as he pleases. He is feared and
respected by the natives from the Ghor Kathri to the Jamma Musjid;
and he is supposed to have the gift of invisibility and executive
control over many Devils. But what good has this done him with the
Government? None in the world. He has never got Simla for his
charge; and his name is almost unknown to Englishmen.

Strickland was foolish enough to take that man for his model; and,
following out his absurd theory, dabbled in unsavory places no
respectable man would think of exploring--all among the native
riff-raff. He educated himself in this peculiar way for seven
years, and people could not appreciate it. He was perpetually
"going Fantee" among the natives, which, of course, no man with any
sense believes in. He was initiated into the Sat Bhai at Allahabad
once, when he was on leave; he knew the Lizard-Song of the Sansis,
and the Halli-Hukk dance, which is a religious can-can of a