running through an open field and leading to the prison gate. When the local magistrate came up to the spot I stepped out from my group of friends to meet him, and after conversing with him for a minute or so we were about to proceed towards the prison gate when he suddenly wheeled round, and speaking in the tone used by a half-caste warder when giving orders to the native prisoners, he shouted-specially directing his words and pointing to Mr. Chowdhuri-"Get out of the prison compound." The tone and the manner of the man were offensive in the extreme, and Mr. Chowdhuri smilingly suggested that he should not speak in that manner to him, as he was doing no harm. This only seemed to enrage the magistrate, and he kept shouting at intervals of about twenty seconds: "Get out of the prison compound; the public road is your place."

Mr. Chowdhuri explained to him who he was; that he had held a seat in the Provincial Legislative Council, and so on. But this only seemed to make the irate magistrate more angry, and he still kept shouting, until my friends, trembling and flushed with indignation, moved away towards the main road. My feelings were those of shame and humiliation at the scene I had witnessed. After the Indian gentlemen had gone, the magistrate following them with his eyes until they were back on to the main road, he turned to me and said that we would now go inside. It took me about twentyfive seconds to express my opinion of him and his conduct, and of the disgrace he was to the British

Empire, after which I left him standing where he was, and joined my friends, refusing to enter the prison in his company.

I repeat that this is an extreme case; but it illustrates, as I had only too much occasion to see, the way in which the educated Indian is treated by a large section of Anglo-Indians, who believe they are thus keeping the Indian in his proper place and teaching him respect for British rule.

THE SWADESHI MOVEMENT.

THAT evening we sailed down the river in a flat punt to the port of landing, and found we had some hours to wait for our steamer.

I spent the night in smoking and mosquito hunting in a wharf shed. Most of the next day we were sailing up the Brahmaputra river, and finally reached Mymensingh, where I was the guest of His Highness the Maharajah, occupying the same suite of rooms that had been used by Lord Curzon on the occasion of an official visit a few years previously. The village looked like a place in a state of siege. Every twenty yards or so two armed constables were posted, whilst the ordinary policemen were also a good deal in evidence. These armed and other police had been imported from a distance to preserve order in the village. The amusing thing was that as darkness set in, these guardians of law and order were marched off to the barracks, quite a mile and half from the town. They were kept standing on the roads in the hot sun all through the broad light of day; but when darkness came on, and when the vile revolutionaries whom they were there to suppress would-so one would think, at least-find an opportunity for committing their

desperate deeds, the guardians of law and order were marched off to the security of their barracks. These special men are called the punitive force, and are quartered on villages, which are saddled with the cost, as a punishment for some offence, real or imaginary, against the majesty of the law.

Here I had another illustration of the way in which the dignity of Great Britain is upheld by those who represent her in this far-off land.

The Lieutenant-Governor was about to visit Mymensingh, and a committee was formed to prepare a reception. On that committee, by special invitation, were two agents of a local landowner of some considerable standing. Some time prior to this, there had been some petty disturbance in the village, and the house of this local landowner had the sides torn out by the police, who entered, without any warrant, under pretence of searching for arms and incriminating documents. I was supplied with photographs of the scene. The landowner, who himself resides at Calcutta, entered a suit for damages against the authorities, for the wanton destruction of his property, and this suit was still pending when the Governor paid his visit. The landowner, or, as they are called, the zemindar, had been asked to subscribe towards the fund for suitably receiving the Governor, and had subscribed Rs. 150, whereupon he received a card of invitation to attend the function of the Governor's reception. A few days before the reception, however, he was informed by a local official that unless he withdrew his action against the authorities for

damage done to his property, the invitation would be withdrawn.

He appealed to the Governor, but all in vain; and in the end was not allowed to attend the reception. The case for damages was finally decided in his favour. Thus for refusing to assent to an illegal outrage, involving the destruction of property, this local gentleman was branded as a rebel not only by the local officials, but also by the Lieutenant-Governor himself. Such a thing would of course be impossible at home, though in India it was done apparently as a matter of course. Mymensingh is one of the proclaimed districts in which no meetings are permitted, and the police, armed and unarmed, were, as already stated, in evidence all day long.

From Mymensingh the next stage in the journey was Barisal, which we reached in the evening, and where apparently the entire population had turned out to offer their welcome. The way to the Dak bungalow was brilliantly illuminated, and the streets were filled with cheering crowds. I addressed a few words of thanks from the bungalow steps.

Among the information received at Barisal was the fact, subsequently substantiated by personal investigation, that in one part of the district, where, owing to the strength of the Swadeshi movement, nobody could be got to sell foreign goods, two policemen, who were still in the pay of the authorities, had been set up as shopkeepers. There were also further tales of houses being ransacked and pillaged by policemen without warrant or