themselves. A fine performance, though it was said afterwards not without previous arrangement of who was to win. A peasant onlooker remarked that if he were allowed to take part he would wrestle the champion. So Mr. Bose took him at his word, and started the pair. Sure enough the peasant made good his boast; but the policeman, indignant at his defeat, suddenly threw his legs round his victor's neck before he could rise. The peasant was plainly choking; the spectators shouted for fair play; but the angry man would not let go, not even for Mr. Bose's orders; so he had to strike him sharply on the feet till he relaxed, leaving his unlucky victor half-strangled. The fellow was revengeful as well as angry; and at a quiet corner of the road he lay in wait for Mr. Bose, as he would come to the Jatra, the old form of Indian drama, to be played that evening. He missed his intended victim; so outside the big tent where the play was held, he egged on his fellow-policemen, who were also feehng humiliated before the peasants, to annoy and hinder them as they came to the performance, and keep them out of the tent, even with blows. Mr. Bose, hearing a scuffle, came up; and seeing the policemen were bullying, and without cause, demanded their sticks from them, and took up an armful. The ex-champion refused: Bose pulled the bamboo from his hands, and a sword fell out. With his criminal intent thus publicly exposed, the man fell down at Mr. Bose's feet, and confessed his intention to murder him. Then and there he was forgiven; 'Get up; go back to your duty.' He was a decent man ever afterwards.
Another story of the same type—of mercy following justice, instead of superseding it—is of a notorious dacoit to whom he had given a long sentence. After his years of jail were served, he came to Mr. Bose and said, 'What am I to do? I can get no honest employment: I have no chance as a released convict.' Said Mr. Bose, 'I will take you into my service: this little boy has to begin school; carry him there, and bring him back every day.’
