That Eurasian

by Aleph Bey

One morning the magistrate came. As soon as he saw me he exclaimed, “Why, my boy! How you have grown?” I was satisfied. I felt that I had accomplished my purpose. He turned towards our sahib, and said he would take me at once. I was allowed to take a few books. As the magistrate said I did not need clothes, I took only those I wore. The trinkets I had intended for my little sister, were carefully tied up in a little package, so precious to me, they were not left. I was ready at once, and salaaming to the lean sahib we went out of the gate, the boys giving a vigorous cheer as a token of their good wishes which I gladly received with a wave of my hand, we were soon out of sight, and I never saw that school again. Not long after, the tall sahib died, and I have no doubt that he got into that heaven toward which he had been stretching himself so long. My “sahib without a beard” went to Wilayat, and the boys, I suppose, soon scattered. Could I forget the school? Have I not been reminded of it every day of my life by the two names I received there, “That Eurasian” and “Japhet,” perpetual mementoes of that chapter in my life?

The carriage, with the fine spirited horses, soon reached the magistrate’s bungalow, and as we drove up under the portico, a crowd of servants, durwans, chuprassies, bearers, khansamas, khitmutgars, all came salaaming as if we were foreign princes. I say we, since they turned toward me as some special favorite who had come sitting on the seat beside the sahib. There was a broad veranda fringed with pots of plants and flowers; this I took in at a glance. On a large carpet two darzies were working, as if for dear life, though many a time afterward, I saw them nodding when their master was not by. The first word of the sahib was, “Darzi, kya, kuch kapra is larke ke waste bana sakte?” It was clothes for me, clothes, a subject on which the great Scotch mental tailor has laid so much stress. I had been so absorbed in the novelty of what was transpiring, that I was unconscious of the poverty of my appearance. Was not the great Newton once so absorbed in an experiment that he put his watch in the kettle and boiled it, while he held the egg in his hand to note the time? I always like to have some great example to refer to when I find some lapse or mistake in myself. It is so consoling, you know.

At the suggestion of clothes I took a look at myself; that is, as much of me as there was in sight. I knew that my growth had lengthened me a bit, but I had not realized that it had shortened and narrowed my clothes at the same time. The thought that like a flash of light, very warm too, rushed through me, that the boundaries of my coat did not sympathize with each other by a number of inches, that the bottoms of my trousers had sworn enmity to my feet, and were climbing in scorn toward my knees, and what was left of these lower encasements were clinging to my legs as tightly as bark to a growing tree. I could have hid behind the bearer, or the dog, or anything.

All this reflection took place quicker than light can run, and was ended by the darzi saying, “Huzoor, what kind of clothes?” The hukm was that he was to get the best in the bazar, with a free hand and a free purse, and to make everything “Europe” fashion. The whole thing was done in a jiffy. I think that is the word; it will do as well as any. Then the sahib said, “We will go into the drawing room.” We, that is, I and the sahib, or the sahib and I,—we; how strange it sounded! He didn’t hukm me at all. He asked me to take a chair. Now, I had never sat upon one of them in my life. My legs! what could I do with them? I felt that I must tuck them under me out of the way, but the sahib did not do that with his legs, so I let mine hang. What else? He talked to me so kindly that I soon felt easier; but it was a long time before I could get rid of the awe I had for the barra magistrate sahib.

He asked some questions in his kindly way, to which I answered and used the word “sahib.” At this he said, “You must not say sahib any more to me. Call me Mr. Percy, for I am your friend; I will be as a father to you if you will be a good boy.” I don’t know what I said, but I think I told him I would try ever so hard. The thought flashed over me how hard I had tried to grow to please him, and as I had succeeded in that I would do my best in everything he suggested. Soon we went to breakfast. Mr. Percy sat at one end of the table and I was placed at the other, a table large enough for a dozen people. How strange it was! The shining white cloth, and the great variety of food, dish after dish, when I had never before had more than one dish, and not always enough of that. Then my knife and fork and spoon, when I had never touched such things before! what could I do with them? I watched Mr. Percy closely. He was my working model. I wondered at the ease with which he handled his fork, and was surprised that he did not run it into his nose or under his chin. He told one of the khitmutgars to wait on me, and this man did his best to help me.

There was one thing I noticed but did not realize its object till several months afterward. There were two large vases filled with sprigs covered with flowers placed between us, so that Mr. Percy could not see me except by leaning aside. For several weeks these remained in that position, and I was left to work out my own salvation unseen. Afterward they were placed so that we could see each other face to face. When they had been changed I understood it all. I have often thought of that little expedient of his to save me from embarrassment, and I bless him for it, and for many other such little kindnesses.

Little things! and life is made up of them. A smile, a tear, a kindly word, so easy to give and of such value to receive! It is not only the one who does a great deed for a particular purpose, but the one who does the many little deeds of good to the many, who is the real friend of humanity.

As this is a truthful narrative of my experience, I must mention a little incident. I always admire truth, even when it does take down my own pride a bit. I knew what practice had done in my studies, and in my experiment in growing, and as I thought over the subject I concluded to have some practice with that knife and fork, so when Mr. Percy was starting to go to his court, and gave an order to the khitmutgar to prepare tiffin for me, I suggested to that worthy that I would have it in the room allotted to me. He nodded assent, and when the time came the tiffin was on the table. I told him that I would wait upon myself, and he could go to his khana. I locked the door after him and then took a general survey of the whole scene from the end of the room, then walked to the chair, placed it, sat down, unfolded my napkin, and began to use my knife and fork. After a few mouthfuls I placed my knife and fork on the plate, laid down my napkin, lifted back my chair, arose and retired to the end of the room for a new trial. For an hour I did this, and kept up my tiffin practice for several weeks, until one evening, when the vases had been replaced, Mr. Percy remarked, “Why, Japhet, you use your fork as if you had been born with one in your mouth.”

At first I felt I must tell him of my practice, but waited a moment and then did not do it. It is not always best to tell everything, even the truth, nor to tell all at once, for if you tell everything to-day that you know, what will you have left for to-morrow?

After dinner, Mr. Percy went with me to my room and bade me good night. A bearer was appointed to wait upon me. I thought the big bedstead, with its beautiful spread, must be an ornament to the room, and supposed that I was to lie on the floor upon its fine rug, but said nothing, as I reasoned that it was the business of every one to know his own business, so I gave the bearer his rope and let him do as it seemed best unto him, and I soon saw by his preparations that I was to lie on the bed instead of the floor.