Bennington semi-weekly banner. (Bennington, Vt.) 1894-1902, 1894-11-16
AT HER CALL.

"What Is your name!' asked.
"Phooli-j Jan, Huzoor," she answered,
with brilliant, dazzling SMILE
I sat looking at her, wondering If 0
more appropriate name could have beer
found for that figure among the anemonea
and celandines-the primulas, pansies and
pinks-the thousand and one blossoms
which, glowing against their groundwork
of forgetmenots, formed a jewel mosaic
right to the foot of the SHOWS above us.
Powerful lifel Truly that was hers. She
had great bunch of scarlet rhododendron
stuck behind her ear, matching the cloth
cap perched jauntily on her head, and as
shesat herding her buffaloes on the upland
she had threaded chaplet on chaplet of OK
eyed daisies and hung them about heI
wherever they could be hung The result
was distinctly Powerful. Her face also
distinctly pretty, distinctly clean for a
Kashmiri girls. But coquette, airt mink,
were written in every line Of it and &C.
counted for a most unusual neatness and
brightness
She caught my eye and smiled again,
broadly, innocently.
1.-THE Huzoor would like to paint my
picture, wouldn't hef" she went on, in a
tone of certainty 1.-The sahib who came
last year gave me rupees. 1 will take 6
this year. Food is dear, and those base
born contractors of the maharajah seize
verything-one walnut in ten, one chick
en- in ten"
But was not going to be beguiled into
the old complaints could hear any and
every day from the hays in the village Up
here on the murg, within a stones throw
of the first patch of snow picketing the
outskirts of the great glacier of Gwash-
brari, liked if possible to forget how vile
man could be in the little shingle huts
clustering below by the river.
will not describe the place. To begin
with, it defes description, and next, could
I even hint at its surprising beauty, the
globe trotter would come and defle it. 1t
Is sufficient to say that murg is an up
land meadow or alp, and that this one,
with its forgetmenots and sparkling gla-
ciers, was like a turquoise set in diamonds.
had seated myself on projecting spur,
whence l could sketch a frowning defile
horthward, down which the emerald green
river was dashing madly among the hugo
rocks crowned by pine trees.
Il will give rupees also. That is
plenty" 1 remarked suavely, and Phooli-
jan smiled again.
"It must do for I like being painted.
Only few sahibs cOme-very few-but
whenever they see me they want to paint
me and the flowers, and it makes the 9TH
en- girls in the village angry. Then Goloo
and Chuchchu''- Here she went off into
perfect cascade Of smiles and began to
pull the eyelashes off the daisies deliber-
ately. There seems a peculiar temptation
for cruelty toward flowers in girlhood all
over the world, and Phooli-jan was pre-
eminently girlish. She looked IS, but I
doubt if she was really more than &c.
Even so, it was odd to find her unappro-
priated, so inquired if Goloo or Chuch-
ohu was the happy man.
"My mother is a widow" she replied
without the least hesitation. ut depends
which will pay the most, for we are poor.
There are Others, too, so there is no hurry.
They are at my beck and call.
She crooked her forefinger and nodded
her head as if reckoning to some one.
For sheer light hearted, innocent enjoy
ment of her own attraction 1 never saw
the equal of that face. 1 should have made
my fortune if l could have painted it there
in the blazing sunlight, framed in flowers,
but it was too much for me. Therefore
asked her to move to the right, farther
along the promontory, so that could put
her in the foreground of picture had
already begun.
There, by that first clump of iris,
said, pointing to patch of green sword
leaves, where Inc white lilac blossoms
were beginning to show.
She gave perceptible shudder.
"What? Sit on a grave! Not II Does
not the Huzoor know that those are graves?
1t is true. All our people are buried here.
We plant the iris over them always. II
you ask why, 1 know not. 1t is the flower
of DEATH"