The Wikar was a thin,
small, well-bred old gentleman, with a yellow silk robe and a necklace of
large emeralds. He was attended by a fat, jolly son in a green velvet
dressing-gown, and one tall, thin, sallow-faced youth, who looked like
a bird with the pip. We had a capital breakfast. The hall was full of
retainers and servants, who pressed me to eat as they served the dishes,
and "Take mutton cutlet, 'im very good" was whispered in my ear with an
excellent English accent. We then visited the jewellery of the palace,
a most beautiful collection; and the sacred armour, which surpasses
description. At last we saw something unique--an ostrich race. The
man mounts, sits back, puts his legs under the wings, and locks his
feet under the breast. The birds go at a tremendous pace, and kick
like a horse.
The next day we witnessed an assault-of-arms. There were about two
hundred performers, and three hundred to look on. There were some very
good gymnastics, sword exercises, single-stick, and so on. They also
showed us some cock-fighting, and indeed all sorts of fighting. They
fight every kind of animal, goats, birds, even quails and larks, which
are very plucky, and want to fight; but they pull them off if they
want to ill-use one another too much. I did not care to see this,
and went away.
The next day we drove to the country palace of the Amir el Kebir. He was
the third of the three great men in Hyderabad, who jointly managed the
Nizam's affairs.
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