On entering, we found a
capital dinner laid out English fashion, and with a formidable army
of black bottles ranged along the table. The Maharajah, however, had
disappeared, and we were left to feed without a host. The grandees,
meanwhile, remained outside, and still enjoyed the dances, ranging
themselves upon their haunches in front of the rows of chairs which
not one among them would have dared to trust himself in for either
love or money. Considering that our entertainer was a Hindoo, and
that his dinner-giving appliances were limited, each person having
to bring his own knife, fork, spoon, and chair, we fared very well,
and after having drunk his health, again assembled in the court,
where we found Rumbeer Singh still occupied with the wearisome nach,
and reattired in a gorgeous dress of green velvet and gold. After a
short stay he got up, and we all followed his example, glad enough
to bring the entertainment to an end, and betake ourselves to our
boats. At the stairs there was a desperate encounter with innumerable
boatmen, each boat having six, eight, or ten sailors, and all being
equally anxious to uphold the credit of their craft by being the
first to land their masters safe, at home.
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