On either side the long walks, on the shelves, stood rows and rows of hyacinths in splendid bloom.
Here vases and urns of yellow, purple, saffron, scarlet, pink and white, pied and streaked with living flames.
There bells of ivory, azure, lilac, rose, and buff, fluted, feathered, fringed, and spicy sweet.
It seemed as if some fairy alchemist had melted in magic crucible topaz, ruby, sapphire, gold, and amethyst, to deck each fragrant cup and bell.
THE SHORTEST BAMBOO; OR, HOW TO CATCH A THIEF.
AN EAST INDIAN STORY.[1]
There was a terrible stir in the barracks of the —th Native Infantry at Sekundurabad (Alexander's Town) one bright morning at the beginning of the "dry season." Some money had been stolen from the officers' quarters during the night, and all that could be made out about it was that the theft must have been committed by one of those inside the building, for nobody had got in from without.
The officers' native servants and the sepoy soldiers, to a man, stoutly declared that they knew nothing about it; and the officer of the day, with very great disgust, went to make his report to the Colonel.
Now the Colonel was a hard-headed old Scotchman, who had spent the best part of his life in India, and knew the Hindoos and their ways by heart. He heard the story to an end without any sign of what he thought of it, except a queer twinkle in the corner of his small gray eye; and then he gave orders to turn out the men for morning parade.