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AMANULLAH

over their shoulders, displayed their silver epaulettes,
and clanked their swords along the gravel paths of the
gardens. Their glorious career had reached its climax.
Pierri and I were still speechless.

The meeting of the first Parliament had been arranged
in a corner of the gardens. It was a natural arena,
provided with chairs and long wooden seats, and was
gaily beflagged.

There were microphones already in position, in charge
of an Indian electrician who had brought them from
Delhi. Towards this arena the black-suited delegates
were shepherded by the police.

Pierri and I went along with them. They were still
self-conscious and half-afraid. The boots were begin-
ning to pinch. The black knots round their throats were
already untidy and tended to escape from their waist-
coats. They felt, above all, ridiculous and naked with-
out their beards.

They were ushered into their places. Before them,
keeping them from the arena, were double strands of
barbed wire. No risks could be taken with the first
delegates of His Majesty's first modern Parliament.
Once in the arena, they might slide back to their
old habits. They might even sit on the green grass.
Such conduct would rob the first Parliament of its
dignity.

They were led to the long rows of benches and induced
to sit on them. They did so, and when I approached
in front of the barbed wire and took their photographs,
they were too sheepish to object. The police, at the
side of the black phalanx of modernised M.P.'s, saw to
it that they did not break their ranks or wreck the
dignity of the meeting.

On another side were the principal delegates. The
grey topper of Sir Francis Humphrys stood out in the

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