'The late generous announcement of Sir George Arbuthnot, our popular Lieutenant-Governor, to the effect that no coercion will be used, at the outset, has greatly soothed the natural alarm of all, raised by general and credible belief in a plan of campaign similar to those approved by authorities in all other parts of India. For which diplomatic utterance we poor folk are grateful, and which emboldens us to ask the following pertinent questions:--

'1. Would it not be possible, by treating ignorant poor folk with kindness and consideration, to allay their natural fears?

'2. Would it not be well to issue stringent rules that no woman shall be examined for plague even by British soldiers, and that Brahmins, cows, and family idols be not wilfully ill-treated?

'3. Though it is to be feared, alas, that jack-in-offices must perforce exhibit greed and covetousness, should not some supervision be exercised to prevent unnecessary removal of valuables, 'et hoc genus omne,' from plague-stricken houses?

'4. Finally, is it not possible, even at this late hour, when Plague overshadows us with horrible mantles of dread (there are persistent rumours of three cases in Muhalla Kuzai), that the co-operation and advice of educated natives be invited as to means of avoiding friction. Comparisons are invidious, but it is not too much to say that Messrs. Bhola-nâth----'

'You can leave off there, sir,' said the assistant-secretary. 'It is up one side of Shark Lane and down the other.'

Sir George turned over the slip to the next with elaborate patience. 'It is ingeniously suggestive,' he remarked. 'By the way, have we succeeded in getting any more volunteers for search parties?'

'Two, sir; but they are both retired native officers, and as that would make all but five, military, the commissioner thought----'

'Then we want twenty more. Send a reminder to Shark Lane. And about the destruction of infected clothes?'

'There is only one thing for it, sir, as we agreed before,' replied the chief of the police. 'We must have an Englishman with each search party. It's absurd to expect constables on five rupees a month to keep their hands from picking and stealing. That fact must be faced. We do our best; but our department, which is the most difficult to deal with, is the worst paid.'