THE STATION 151 



by a strong armed guard of several men. The neglect 

 of these precautions led, even within my experience, to 

 many disasters, and once resulted in a sad tragedy ; but 

 this last occurred a little before my arrival in the 

 country. 



A magistrate — I forget his name — visited his gaol 

 in the course of his morning drive. He entered one 

 of the wards escorted by only a single attendant, and 

 this attendant was unarmed. The prisoners, from some 

 reason, were discontented, and had planned an outbreak. 

 The appearance of the magistrate thus unprotected 

 seemed to offer them the opportunity. They surrounded 

 and killed him, beating in his skull — so I heard the 

 story — with the heavy brass pots they carried for the 

 purpose of drawing water. A circumstance added 

 pathos to the tragedy. The magistrate had driven to 

 the gaol accompanied by his wife. While he was 

 being thus murdered within, she, all unconscious, was 

 sitting in her carriage at the gateway quietly awaiting 

 his return. 



From gaols to robbers the transition is easy. So I 

 will make it, and relate one or two stories that may 

 interest the reader. I should mention that they occurred 

 long ago, soon after my first arrival in the country. 



In order to render the first story quite clear to the 

 English reader, I must make a short preliminary 

 explanation. Indian houses — I mean those of the 

 natives — have no outer windows, save those over the 

 entrance, or perhaps some small square aperture high 

 aloft. The rooms receive their light from the courtyard 

 within. The houses being thus constructed, thieves can 



