That Eurasian

by Aleph Bey

After his weeks of diagnosing and cognising the vet departed with his pockets full of rupees. Besides, he made quite a reputation, for he sent a long account of this very strange case to a horsey journal. A deluge of letters came, everybody had his theory or opinion, until the editor, buried under the accumulation of papers, said that the discussion must stop. At last the Government got to hear of it. Why is it that Government takes such a long time to hear? Is it on account of the length of its ears, the distance anything has to travel to get into its head? It had a long investigation by a committee of fifteen, all titled, distinguished—nobody knows anything but this class—and as each had to have his talk printed, the result was a voluminous book, of which a thousand copies were published, costing many times more than the horses were worth, not to mention the expense of the committee, for such men are always good livers. Of these thousand copies only twenty-five were used. Each member of the committee took a copy to show his wife and friends, and ten were sent to editors. A Government subsidized paper declared that the book reflected great credit on the distinguished committee, that it was just what the public might have expected from the well known reputation of the members selected with such great care and excellent judgment by His Excellency, the Viceroy.

An opposition paper, reviewing the book, said that the committee was a ponderous one, in number, in titles, in its expenses; the report was ponderous in its size and weight, in the number of its pages and sections, and in its cost. The subject of the investigation, to begin with, was of no consequence, the quiet death of three probably worn-out old hacks in a little up-country, out of the way station. There was not a thought in the book worth preserving, the style was verbose, flatulent to a degree, as if the committee had been appointed wholly and solely to make a book. “Without wasting any more of our valuable space on nothing, we give it as from our profound conviction that a mosquito might take in every idea in the whole book and then not be conscious of any enlargement of its brain.” A babu tried his copy, but declared it was too much for him, as “it made him sick in his mind to read it.” The only real benefit from the book was what the paper-maker, the printer and the waste paper dealer received. The whole committee decided unanimously that the horses had died, and as everybody agreed with them, the subject was dropped and forgotten by the public.

One day, not long after the mysterious affair, I met the sais who had charge of the horses. He knew me very well. I questioned him. I told him he knew what ailed the horses, and wished him to tell me. He hesitated. I urged. At length he said, “Sahib, if you will promise me upon your honor never to report me I will tell you.” I promised. He replied, “When my sahib was taking leave he told me it would cost him a great deal to go to Wilayat and back, that there was now a very big income tax, and that the rupee was very bimar, that there were taxes on everything, and more to follow, he didn’t know on what next; it might be on his wife and children, so that he couldn’t afford to allow more than one seer of grain a day for each horse, and that he would give me so many rupees, and that would be so many anas a day, while he was away, and that I must not spend more than that, or he would cut it from my talab, and I knew he would do just what he said. When he is here he strikes me with his whip, when I am within reach, or, if not, he hurls a brick, or anything he can get, at my head.” “But about the horses?” I asked. He replied, “The grass, as you know, all dried up, the price of grain doubled in the bazar, and as I had only so many anas a day for each horse until the sahib returned, I had to cut down the feed until it was scarcely more than a child could eat, and that is what was the matter, the horses died for want of feed.”

“But why didn’t you tell me, and I would have given the feed?” I asked, quite indignant. “Yes,” he continued, “and when my sahib returned he would get to know of it, and I would be thrashed, my pay cut or be dismissed. I know my sahib too well to think that he would be willing to have any one know that he had left his horses to starve. I was sorry for them, and often cried, but what could I do? It was either I or the horses, and I preferred to save myself, for he is brother to a donkey who will not try to keep his own skin on his back.”

As the sais has gone to a place from which he will never be dismissed, and though he may not be flogged by a sahib, he will have to meet the ghosts of those starved horses, so let him be happy if he can. As I had promised on my honor, though an Eurasian is not credited with much of that, I never told the story until now, and the learned vet, and the distinguished Government committee, can have the free and full benefit of my information. It was a strange case, very.

I will not point a moral to this incident, for if any one has been so slighted by nature as not to have the ability to see it, all pointing would be superfluous. It would be like having to explain one of my own jokes, and that always gives me a mental twist. This reminds me of the reply of a Scotchman, when asked to explain, “A body canna be expectit baith to mak the joke an’ to see’t; na, that would be doin’ twa fowk’s wark.”

CHAPTER XXII.

I believe in feeding and grooming, whether of a horse or a man. I have no scientific knowledge, though I spent years in school, and hardly know what the term means, so I have had to rely on my instinct or common sense, and I cannot rid myself of the idea that the first thing we need, whether men or horses, is enough to eat. I have often thought, in my blind way, that most of the crime of the world is due to poverty, poverty of work, and poverty of food and clothing. I cannot forget the remark of Mr. Percy, that if he was poor and in want, as these people are, he would likely lie and steal as they do. I have often thought that I would have done the same. When the poor, the abject poor, willing to labor, but can get nothing to do, see the rich, living in luxury, and most of them by extortion and tyranny, how can they help being socialists or nihilists, or anything under heaven that promises them a chance of relief?

The longer I live, the more charitable I become towards the shortcomings and sins of the poor.

The rich have no excuse for sinning, while those in want have the best reasons. I can even think kindly of Judas. He was the treasurer or financial secretary, and had to provide for the other twelve and himself. As none of them earned a penny, he must have had a sorry time of it, to get anything to put in the bag, if the people were not more generous than they are nowadays. Most of the twelve, I doubt not, were experts at finding fault, and especially that changeful, fiery-tempered Peter! Judas often felt the lash of his tongue, when the meals were not forthcoming, or insufficient. I doubt if Judas had any intention of betraying his master to death. He probably thought those who made the request to see him, wished only to talk to him, or may be worry him a little, and if he could get thirty pieces of silver for such a slight favor, it would help him in his commissariat department for many days to come.