Native Rajah. "And your mother? She lives?"
Humble Sahib. "By the goodness of God, such is the case."
Native Rajah. "She is a very handsome woman?"
Humble Sahib. "On that point, Maharaj, I cannot offer an opinion."
Native Rajah. "You need not do so. To look in your face is quite sufficient. I would give a crore of rupees (one million sterling) to see her only for one moment, and say how much I admired the intelligent countenance of her son. I am going to England next year. Will the Sahib favour me with her address?"
Humble Sahib. "Maharaj."
Here the Native Rajah calls to the moonshee to bring pen, ink, and paper. The moonshee comes, sits before me, pen in hand, looks inquiringly into my eyes, and I dictate as follows, laughing inwardly all the while: "Lady Bombazine, Munnymunt, ka uper, Peccadilleemee, Bilgrave Isqueere, Sunjons wood-Cumberwill;" which signifies this: "Lady Bombazine, on the top of the Monument, in Piccadilly, Belgrave Square, St. Johns Wood, Camberwell." This mystification must be excused by the plea that the Rajah's assertions of his going to Europe are as truthful as Lady Bombazine's address.
The Maharajah then gives instructions that that document shall be preserved amongst his most important papers, and resumes the conversation.
Native Rajah. "The Sahib has eaten well?"