“Why, eh—yes,” said the little colonel, pulling up his collar-gills complacently, and looking extremely large for his size, “we are certainly a new man, general; nothing like a few hogsheads of Cheltenham waters for setting a dyspeptic man on his legs again.”
“Indeed, then that’s true; but, Kilbaugh, though you and I have had some rale plissant days together in old times—eh?—you didn’t trouble the water much then by G——, and liked your glass as well as any of us, and (with a palpable wink) that same minus the g, too—minus the g—eh? ha, ha, ha!”
With this, he made a pass at the ex-resident’s ribs with his extended finger, which the other dexterously avoided, though with a complacent chuckle which shewed that he was not displeased at this allusion to his youthful frolics.
“Well,” continued the general, “you’ll put up at my place, and I’ll give you a cast in the pinnace. By-the-bye, you liked a good bottle of beer, Kilbaugh, I remember right well, and just now I can give you one, a rale foamer; got in a splendid batch lately; it is from Bell, and by G—— it bears a bell, too.”
So he rattled on; and the ex-resident having signified his acceptance of the general’s offer, the trio, after a hearty leave-taking, were soon on board the pinnace, and on their way to Calcutta.
This was the first time I had seen the Mohamedan domestics of this part of India, and I was agreeably struck by their handsome and manly appearance, and the becoming costume of those in the old general’s suite. Their turbans, vests, loose pajammas or trousers, and kummerbunds or girdles, set off by their crimson belts and metal badges, and their massive silver batons, gave them a very striking and picturesque appearance, enhanced by luxuriant beards or mustachios, large eyes, and high features.
There are some strange anomalies attendant on the march of civilization, and none more so, perhaps, than the indifference, or rather want of real taste, which nations in a high state of refinement evince in regard to costume. Whether it is that scientific pursuits, and the busy occupations of the thoughts on matters of high social, moral, political, and commercial interest, leave no time for men to study the graces of attire, or that such a study is really unworthy of, or incompatible with, cultivated minds, or, as the Quakers think, unfavourable to morality, certain it is that the art of decorating the person does not keep pace with other improvements.
Our commander (finding he could not leave Kedgeree till the following morning), Marpeet, Grundy, and I, accepted the obliging invitation of Capt. Grogwell, of the Rohomany barque, country trader, a friend of the captain, to accompany him in his vessel, then under weigh for Calcutta.
“I can give you a glass of grog, gentlemen, and a bit of curry, and there’s my cabin for you to turn into if you should stay with me overnight,” said the frank and good-humoured sailor; “but,” added he, “there’s no time to be lost for those that go, as the tide’s already on the turn.”
A few bags and boxes were soon stowed in Captain Grogwell’s boat, and after many warm adieus from our friends on board, and the expression of mutual hopes that we should meet again in Calcutta, off we pushed for the Rohomany barque.