1. Feudal Chiefs.-These are almost entirely Rájpútssome few of whom have been converted to Islám-and are either heads of clans, entitled to be called Rája, or descended from leaders of offshoots of clans, and known by the honorific appellations of Bábú, Bhya, or Thákur. These had all undeniable rights in the soil at the time of annexation in 1856, which must have been recognised by any Government, whatever its speculative opinions as to the ideally best form of land tenure, so long as it admitted the existence of private property in the land at all. For all the feudal chiefs possessed a greater or smaller number of villages or portions of villages, in which their rights of ownership were undisputed. These formed the nucleus. round which they had in troubled times accumulatedsometimes by force, sometimes by collusion with the officials of the native government, sometimes by purchase, sometimes by bona fide agreement with the zamíndárs,—a number of other and previously independent villages. It was over these latter, principally, that the land war raged so long and so fiercely in our settlement courts. But of this hereafter. Ancestral lands, it may be here observed, are commonly known as bapans; purchased land as molans; and land acquired by force or fraud as dabans. The latter term is nearly, if not quite, as common as the two former, though it has not, like them, found its way into Mr. Carnegy's latest publication; perhaps because it was not considered sufficiently "technical" to be recognised in a "kachahri."

2. "Mushroom" Taluqdárs.-These were generally either officials of the King of Oudh's Government, who made use of their uncertain but, while it lasted, practically unrestrained power to get together an estate for themselves; or capitalists, who acquired village after village by giving security for the embarrassed proprietors. When the latter failed to discharge the revenue demand, their lands were made over by the Názim or Chakladár to the sureties. A footing once gained in this way was very often maintained for many years previous to annexation, so that the application of our twelve years' law of limitation barred the claim of the original

zamíndárs. Taluqdárs of this class are generally either Musalmáns or Kayaths. But the largest and most conspicuous specimen of a "Mushroom" estate is at present in, or on, the hands of a Deputy Commissioner as manager on behalf of a Bráhman proprietor.

3. Loyal Grantees, or Khairkhwáhs; literally, well-wishers. -These are mainly Panjabis, who were given estates in reward for their services during the Mutiny. They are sometimes profanely styled "Carpet-baggers," and though not unfrequently good landlords, as Indian notions of a good landlord go, are still generally regarded by the people somewhat in the light in which American Southerners regard the Northern leeches who prey upon them, or as Irish peasants regard an English capitalist who manages his estate without much reference to Irish ideas. The grantees, however, as being mainly an exotic and not very numerous class, and being almost confined to two districts, Rai Bareli and Bahraich, need not here be discussed at any length.

Even this brief sketch suffices to show that the Taluqdárs are by no means a homogeneous body, and that they differ widely in race, birth, religion, and habits. There is, indeed, perhaps only one point common to them all without exception. They are all, as Hamlet puts it, "spacious in the possession of dirt," a peculiarity which they share with every other body of large landlords known to history. There is still, moreover, an undeniable difference, speaking generally, in the attitude of the people towards these three different classes. Yet these differences should not, I think, be recognised in any steps that may hereafter be taken towards modifying the system and its working. The practical ground for this opinion is that the differences themselves are yearly decreasing. Feudal sentiment, if nowhere actually dead, is certainly on the wane; and it seems highly probable that in no very long time the relations between each Taluqdár and the under-proprietors and tenants on his estate will depend almost entirely on the mode, beneficent or otherwise, in which he employs the great power over them which his position necessarily gives him, and not to any appreciable extent on the mode by which he attained that position, whether as

the descendant of a long line of chieftains, or as the son or grandson of a lucky revenue farmer or speculative capitalist.

From an abstract point of view, again, the relation of all Taluqdárs alike to the British Government and their claims upon it are based solely and simply on their sannads, and on our acts and proclamations since the Mutiny, which abrogate any distinctions between them that previously existed, except such as are specially recognised by us in the sannads themselves or otherwise. We owe them all alike a faithful observance of our promises, so long as they observe their engagements, and we owe none of them a jot or tittle niore than this. None of the existing Taluqdárs can well be said to have received less at our hands than he was entitled to, and if some have obtained more, that is no reason for now yielding anything more to those, if any such there be, who have received only what was their due. If I dwell on this point with what may seem needless prolixity, it is because there has been noticeable in some quarters a tendency to insist on the gulf that separates the "Chieftain" from the mere Taluqdár-(which is no doubt true and interesting as a historical fact)-without stating the supplementary fact that the distinction is one on which no practical action can now be advantageously taken. It is a sorrowful admission to have to make, that we have fallen into an irretrievable blunder, and have by our own act cut ourselves off from all hope of ever settling the land question of Oudh in an ideally satisfactory manner. But the done thing cannot be undone, and it only behoves us to accept as loyally and solve as wisely as we may the problem on the condition under which it has been handed down to us.

Now, however, before venturing any further into the mazy imbroglio of Oudh land controversy, let us try to form something like a concrete conception of the Oudh Taluqdár as he is in the flesh and outside the Blue Books. Come with me, and let me introduce you to my friend Bábú Sídhá Singh of Saráwanpur, chief of a cadet but long separately established branch of the great Bais clan. His ancestors emigrated northwards from Baiswára some four or five centuries ago, drove out the Bhars, or whoever the aborigines

were, and mastered the country about Saráwanpur, which was then chiefly forest, with occasional patches of cultivation, but is now mostly under the plough, with insignificant strips of jungle interspersed. There is his house, that irregular, nondescript building, partly tile-roofed, partly thatched, surrounded by a high fence of thick bamboos, and with a weedy uneven approach, leading to a lofty square-topped gateway, the rough wooden doors of which are studded with iron nails, and are surmounted by a rude painting of a very scaly fish on each side. The fishes are the arms of the Muhammadan kingdom of Oudh, and correspond to our lion and unicorn. Our approach has been already announced to the master of the house, who hastens out to greet us, and escorts us into a good-sized courtyard. We take our seats in a verandah on the proffered cane stools, while our host sits down on his takhta, or large square wooden bench, and talks in his broad Doric patois of the crops, the new road that is being made from Saráwanpur to the head-quarters of the district at Banáoganj, the ravages of the wild pigs and nilgai in the neighbourhood, and other kindred topics, much as an English farmer would talk under similar circumstances. Meanwhile his servants, and a few neighbouring zamíndárs who had been smoking a morning hookah with him when we arrived, stand or sit around us, and contribute an occasional remark to the conversation.

He is still a fine-looking man, the Bábú, with his tall, wellset, stalwart frame, somewhat inclining to corpulence though it be, and his keen yet sturdy Aryan face, close shaven except for a large white moustache. Five and twenty years ago, in the stirring lawless times when every man's hands had to keep his head unbroken as best they might, he was a bold rider and a keen swordsman, and could drive his own elephant as well as any man on this side the Ganges. Then, too, he was adored by his clansmen, a body of four or five hundred sturdy Rájpúts, living here and there in the surrounding villages, who always rallied round him as their connecting link when there was a Názim to be passively, or a detachment of the king's troops to be actively resisted; and accepted as a not wholly unbeneficent law of nature by the

low-caste cultivators in his own special group of some thirty or forty villages. Of these latter he was the undisputed proprietor, though the same tenants went on paying the same rents for the same land from generation to generation. With the internal affairs of the forty or fifty other villages held by his clansmen he had, in an ordinary way, little or nothing to do. They generally paid their revenue through him, and presented him with a yearly offering in cash and kind, varying according to the size of their village, in token of his lordship. In short, he was generally accepted by his clansmen as their primus inter pares, and by his tenants as their earthly providence, and all things worked smoothly enough, so long as the Government officials allowed them to do so. Things, however, have changed a good deal since then. But little real alteration was made in the status quo by the summary settlement which followed immediately on annexation. Sídhá Singh retained his own undisputed villages, and those of his clansmen were settled with them directly. He grumbled somewhat at this arrangement, but his harvest offerings were spontaneously continued to him by the now independent zamíndárs, and things were finding their level when the Mutiny broke out. Our friend the Bábú took no very active share in the disturbances which followed. He stayed at home, for the most part, and awaited the course of events. He would have done more wisely had he diligently searched the highways and hedges if haply he might find a fugitive Englishman to whom to give shelter and solace. It would have been the best investment of hospitality he ever made in his life, as not a few Taluqdárs are now in a position to testify. Not being far-sighted enough for this, however, he sat still, except when he indulged in the prosecution of a long-standing feud, which had been temporarily checked by annexation, with the neighbouring Rája of Sázishábád. He went into Lucknow in obedience to the proclamation of amnesty, and under the new policy of Lord Canning, who was "in the giving vein" that day, was recognised as proprietor of the whole eighty villages which now constitute the Saráwanpur taluqa, instead of some five and thirty only, as before. Of his clansmen, some have re