BAGS WANTED. 
walked up and down the verandah faster than ever. 
He was evidently disturbed. He then entered into the 
bungalow, went to the cupboard, and took out the 
half bottle of brandy, poured out some into a cracked 
tumbler, filled it up with water, and drank it off 
without stopping. He then sat down on the three- 
legged chair and apparently became more composed. 
It may be asked, what is there in this letter to 
upset Mr. Brown so? Why should not he be very well 
pleased at having a stock of rice sent up, and get- 
in g a ^ good despatch of coffee ? But the fact was, 
he had no bags in which to despatch the coffee, he 
had supposed and trusted that Messrs. A. B. C. & 
Co, would have sent by some o 
of his empty return bags, but 
was no intimation of anything of the sort. He had 
no bags. The carts would be here immediately — 
were perhaps already come up to the end of the cart- 
road, which was some miles off ) 
Mr. Brown suddenly called out: “Boy!^’ “Sar!” 
was the speedy reply emanating from a smoky hovel 
at the corner of the bungalow, and from a hole in 
the hut, which served as a kitchen, in answer to 
the call of “Boy!” out popped a grey-headed grey- 
bearded man, with a very dirty kitchen towel bound 
round his waist, quite naked in the breast and arms, 
and his hands very wet, which he attempted to dry 
by rubbing against the dirty towel. The fact is he 
had been disturbed while engaged in cooking his 
master’s dinner of salt-fish, curry and rice. “Boy,” 
says Mr. Brown, “is there any one in the kitchen?” 
“Yes, sar, Muttu, the cookhouse cooly.” “Send him 
down to the lines, and tell the kanganies to come 
up ?” In a few minutes the kanganies were all in 
front of the verandah. “Now,” says the master, I 
know quite well you have a lot of bags in the lines, 
Y^ou never returned any, after the last two rice issues; 
go down and collect, them all immediately . ” The kan- 
ganies protested, and swore by their eyes that there 
were none, and Mr. Brown swore by something else, 
that there were plenty, until at last he put on his 
hat, lighted his pipe, and went down to the line 
himself. First into one room, then into another, bags 
and remains of bags were found and tossed out of 
the rooms, bags that had been bags were found, and 
bags no more, but sewed up into nice comfortable 
sleeping mats, were also all seized hold of, until a 
goodly pile was accumulated in front of the lines, 
Mr. Brown, red in the face from his exertions, sur- 
veyed it* “Take them away to the store,” says he, 
“and we will put on coolies with needles and twin© 
^o-morrow niorning to sew them all up, but we won’t 
