EXTRACTS FROM AN ANONYMOUS JOURNAL. 57 



3. THOMAS PERIWINKLE. 



As I was sitting in my room yesterday afternoon 

 deeply absorbed in reading A's account of his journey 

 from Calcutta to Aden en route to England, I heard 

 some energetic hangs at the front door which almost 

 shook the building. Before I could get up to ascertain 

 the cause, a shriek accompanied by loud slamming of the 

 door had brought haK the inmates of the house to the 

 spot. On looking out from the window which overlooked 

 the lane I was relieved , and overjoyed to see Tom 

 Periwinkle, standing near the door convulsed with 

 laughter. Our good old maid servant, Bhaba's mother, 

 in spite of her fifteen years' residence in Calcutta, be 

 it said to her credit and honor, and to our unspeak- 

 able good luck, is yet as simple and unsophisticated 

 as she was on the day when she first left her village to 

 seek service in this city. The dread of white men which 

 possessed the minds of village maidens in Bengal in the 

 early days of the Honorable John Company's rule is still 

 extant. No wonder that a simple creature like our maid 

 servant should be scared at the sight of a gora a white- 

 man at such close quarters. Besides, the nondescript 

 appearance of Tom with a parrot on his shoulder, a 

 cageful of small birds dangling from his right hand, a 

 large packet rolled up under his left arm, and a long 

 German pipe with a grotesque-shaped bowl in his mouth, 

 was enough to frighten anybody. The excitement of the 

 occasion having subsided, and the first greetings over, 



