QUARTETTE.
THE MIRROR OF TWO WORLDS.
A MISSIONARY has a right to state his opinion like the rest of us; but you may have noticed, Sir, that he usually has a cock-sure way of doing it, as if it was the only opinion possible to a decent human being. I make allowances for his feelings, seeing how my Show put his in the shade; and I confess that when he came with his catechists, his little books and his white umbrella to the edge of the crowd gathered to see my parade, I sent the Band round with orders to bray their hardest close to his pitch, and so made him clear off to a distance. I call that self-defence; for he had been to the Brahmins telling them my innocent Show was running away with their money, and then he came and slanged me for half an hour on the wickedness of an Englishman making a living out of the superstitions of the people—"eating meat offered to idols," said he, in his warm-hearted way.
That isn't the right way to speak of an enterprise which I do not hesitate to say is absolutely unique in India; and, as I believe, entirely unlike any other travelling entertainment ever seen. You are a fair man, I am sure, Sir; and if you don't mind I'll tell you, in as few words as possible, exactly what my Show is; and you may judge whether it is the wicked thing the Missionary called it, and fit only, as he remarked, for "consuming fires."
Why, only the other day a gentleman came round and looked at everything so carefully, and asked so many questions of my manager, Ram Narrayen, I entered into conversation with him myself, and he showed so much interest in the peculiar features of my booth that I asked him outright—"And who may you be, Sir?"
"I'm the Director of Public Instruction in this province," says he.
