gentleman, a Bania, big, great, and eminently ugly. He had his little son with him,—his "only son," thank goodness. He was the very image of his father,—big, bloated, pock-marked face, without any visible eyes, and excessively nosey. The train stopped at a certain station again, and the Bania prepared to alight. He first handed over his kit to the porter, then that ugly boy of his, so very leisurely, that before he found time to drag his own carcass out, the engine gave the whistle. The Bania's wife, who had just issued from one of the third-class carriages, gave a shriek on seeing her lord's danger. The man turned pale and yellow by turns. Meantime half a dozen Parsi officials rushed to his assistance. "Come to my arms," said one ugly fat fellow to the Bania. But the Bania would not accept the loving invitation. "Stop the train," he cried "hoarsely. At last they got the motion considerably slackened, and that Parsi again said,"Come to my arms." The Bania replied, "Stop it altogether." And stopped it was. The Bania stepped out, and we started. That Bania is a Sowkár[1]; I afterwards
- ↑ Money-lender.
