THE VISIT OF THE WASHERMAN. 
surging up the Kotmale valley. The writer ni that 
office was very busy, and often consulted his watch. 
A strapping, clean-limbed, half -grown boy, dressed in 
a pioneer coat, made of blue cloth, with a red collar, 
and a really clean white cloth, bound round his waist 
and loins, legs quite bare, as if in readiness for a 
sharp run, stood at the office window ; round his 
shoulders, suspended by a strap, hung a square leather 
bag. This was the tappal (post) bag, and the young 
man waiting at the window was the “runner.” A 
smart intelligent fellow was he, who, having sometimes 
before had his pay stopped, for having been too late 
for the despatch from the district office, seemed to en- 
tertain a very vivid recollection of this (in the interests 
of the estate ?) unfortunate occurrence, so he also began 
to be seized with a tickling in his throat, which pro- 
duced a good deal of coughing. It might be, probably 
was, owing to this coughing in front, and , coughing 
behind, that induced master abruptly to bring his letter 
to a termination, holding it up in his hand as a signal 
for the post-boy to come round and receive it, who 
speedily enters, opens the mouth of the leather bag, 
into which master drops the letter, 'without even 
turning round, or rising from his seat, and the post 
boy is off, as hard as he can run. Being seated at his 
office table, some other matters of business, with which 
it was advisable to get on with, were entered into, 
but the cough in the verandah behind became so very 
much worse, as to disarrange all master’s calculations in 
decimals. He got up in a very angry frame of mind, 
with his foot kicked open the door, and saw — the 
washerman, with a bundle under his arm. “You here 
again ! ” was his frantic exclamation, as the ruler was 
flourished about in his hand, in a very threatening way, 
but the washerman clasped his hands over his brepgrt, 
and in a very humble manner said, “ Please don’t. 
Master don’t be angry. Found all master’s clothes. ” 
Upon the question being put, as to how this satis- 
factory event had taken place, his explanation was this. 
Having returned to his house, in a very low and de- 
sponding frame of mind, at having lost these clothes, 
he sat down in a dark corner, and could do no work ; 
his wife brought him some rice, but he could not swallow 
a morsel. Says she, “ What is the matter ? Do you feel 
an attack of fever or cholera coming on ?” “Worse, far 
worse than that, ” he replies, “ I have lost a pair 
of trousers and a flannel shirt, and master will not pay 
me. ” (Doubtless it was the “ will not pay” that was 
considered worse than an attack of fever or cholera, 
hut the washerman did not deeply study this fact.) 
Bet a woman alone for getting a man out of a scrape, 
especially if her conscience should smite her, as having 
