YELLOW NABOBS. 
etaeristic, and that was, they were very yellow in the 
ksin, their faces had exactly the colour of saffron. 
Now, this shade of colour is not considered a mark of 
beauty in the old country, although some of the very 
charming Tamil ladies endeavour to add to their 
charms, Just as if that was possible ! for we nevei- can 
pass by a lady — absent or present, black or white, or 
or even saffron colour — without paying a compliment, 
whether it is deserved or not. 
Well, it has sometimes been the subject of many a 
discussion, as to how these nabobs acquired this yellow 
appearance, for one could never for a moment suppose 
they cared one straw about what the colour of their 
faces was, so long as the lining of their pockets was 
all right. Could it be that the ‘‘ yellow boys” in their 
pockets so permeated with delight the whole sys- 
tem, as to communicate a portion of their yellowness 
to the skin : so much so, that you could tell by 
the colour of the man’s face that his pockets were 
filled with guineas — we talked of guineas then, not 
sovereigns. No, it was not this : this had nothing 
at all to do with the question. The simple fact was 
that these nabobs, like the Ceylon planter of the 
olden times, lived a good deal upon rice and curry ; 
the curry, as we all know, contained a good deal 
of saffron, or at all events was of that colour, and 
had so diffused itself through his whole system as 
to render the appearance of the skin somewhat of 
the same colour. Now, if this popular opinion of 
nabobs was true, we may apply a similar rule or idea 
to the coffee planter. Personally, having lived so long 
on curry and rice, it may be some particles of the 
former still lurk about the corners of the stomach, 
affect the heart, or even the brain, or, at all events, 
that these three very important organs of the human 
frame, being somewhat stained and tinged with curry, 
like the nabob’s skin, the stomach affects the heart, 
the heart the brain which having no other vent, 
vents it all out in chapter the thirty-first, until the 
reader may exclaim: “Hold, enough, no more curry 
and rice — give us a Bombay duck ! ” But we are not 
done yet, and will now proceed to give some informa- 
tion as to what we made curry of when very hard 
pressed in these times. Curry has this special re- 
commendation, that you can make it of anything, 
always with the very necessary reservation — provided 
you have got it. That was the question then, not the 
quality or making of it : small store we set upon that ; 
if we only had the material, we would manage the 
cooking such as it was, although, no doubt, it would 
not be called cooking now. 
Over all new clearings, after the rain set in, a spe- 
