On the afternoon of the 19th August, 1892, I left Cawnpore for Lucknow. As I was a few minutes before time, I walked along the railway-platform to see the engine, and, strange to relate, the engine attached to the train which was to take me into Lucknow (under circumstances very different from those of 1857) was No. 93! In 1857 I had crossed the Ganges in the ranks of the Ninety-Third Highlanders, with the figures 93 on the front of my cap, and here I was, under very different circumstances, revisiting Lucknow for the first time thirty-five years after, and the engine to the train was No. 93! I need not say that I lifted my hat to that engine. As a matter of fact, I never do pass the old number without giving it a salute; but in this instance I looked upon it as a happy omen for the success of my journey.

I took my seat in the carriage, and shortly after was joined by a gentleman whom I took to be a Mahommedan; but to my surprise he told me that he was a Christian employed in the Educational Department, and that he was going to Lucknow for a month's holiday. He appeared to be a man of over sixty years of age, but said he was only fifty-four, and that he would retire from Government service next year. Of course I introduced the subject of the Mutiny, and asked him where he had been at the time. He stated that when the Mutiny broke out he was at school in Bareilly, and that he was then a Mahommedan, but did not join in the rebellion; that on the outbreak of the Mutiny, when all the Europeans were either killed or fled from Bareilly, he had retired to his village near ShÂhjehÂnpore, and remained there till order was re-established on the advance of the English into Rohilcund in May, 1858, after KhÂn BahÂdoor KhÂn had reigned in Bareilly twelve months.

In course of conversation I asked my companion if he could give any reason why it was that the whole rural population of Oude had joined the urban population against the British in 1857, whereas on the south side of the Ganges the villagers were in favour of the British, where they were not overawed by the mutineers? He told me a strange thing, and that was that he was fully convinced that the main reason why the village population of Oude joined the city population of Lucknow was owing to the oppression caused by our introduction of the opium-tax among the people.

At first I misunderstood him, and thought I had come across an agent of the Anti-Opium Society. "So you are against Government control of the opium-cultivation and sale of the drug," I said. "By no means," he answered. "I consider the tax on opium a most legitimate source of revenue. What I mean is that although a just tax, it was a highly obnoxious one to the citizens of Lucknow and the rural population of Oude at the time of the Mutiny." He went on to state that although a Christian convert from Mahommedanism and a strictly temperate man, he had no sympathy with the anti-opium party; that he considered them a most dangerous set of fanatics, who would set the whole country in rebellion again before a twelve-month if they could get the Government to adopt their narrow-minded views. Regarding 1857, he continued, and I quote his exact words, as I noted them down immediately after I got to the hotel:

"Under the rule of the NawÂbs of Lucknow many taxes were imposed, which were abolished by the British; but in their stead the opium-tax was introduced, which was the most unpopular tax that could have been devised, because it touched every one, from the coolie in the bazaar to the noble in his palace. Before the annexation of Oude opium was untaxed, and was largely consumed by all classes of the people, both in the capital and in the villages. Though the mass of the people were well-affected to British rule in general, disloyal agitators had merely to cite the opium-tax as a most obnoxious and oppressive impost, to raise the whole population against the British Government, and the same would be the case again, if ever the British Government were weak enough to be led by the Anti-Opium Society."

"Then," said I, "since you are so much against the Anti-Opium Society, I suppose you are also against Christian missionaries." "That by no means follows," was the answer. "Many of our most Christian and able missionaries have as little sympathy with the anti-opium propagandists as I have. The true missionary aims at reforming the people through the people, not by compelling moral reformation through the Government, which would be merely a return to the Inquisition of Rome in another form. I would encourage missionaries by every possible means; but they must be broad-minded, earnest, pious men, who mind their own business, and on no pretence whatever attempt to dictate to Government, or to control its action either in the matter of taxation or in any other way. I would never encourage men who go about the country railing against the Government for collecting revenue from one of the most just sources that can be named. Missionaries of experience know that the mass of the population are miserably poor, and a pill of opium is almost the only stimulant in which they indulge. Then, why attempt to deprive them of it, merely to please a score or so of sentimental faddists? Let the missionaries mind their own business, and render to CÆsar the things which are CÆsar's, and unto God the things which are God's. Let them confine themselves to proclaiming the Gospel to the heathen, and teach the Bible in their schools; but don't allow them to mix in politics, or in any way interfere with the government or taxation of the country. I would throw the English education of the people more into the hands of the missionaries. Our Government schools are antichristian, and are making infidels of the people."

THE END

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