๋จ๋ฝ์ ํด๋ฆญํ๋ฉด ์ดํยท๋ฌธ๋ฒ ํด์ค์ด ์ค๋ฅธ์ชฝ์ ํ์๋ฉ๋๋ค.
And whoso will, from Pride released;
Contemning neither creed nor priest,
May feel the Soul of all the East. About him at Kamakura. They entered the fort-like railway station, black in the end of night;
the electrics sizzling over the goods-yard where they handle the heavy
Northern grain-traffic.
ํด์ค ๋ณด๊ธฐ โ"This is the work of devils!" said the lama, recoiling from the hollow
echoing darkness, the glimmer of rails between the masonry platforms,
and the maze of girders above. He stood in a gigantic stone hall paved,
it seemed, with the sheeted dead third-class passengers who had taken
their tickets overnight and were sleeping in the waiting-rooms. All
hours of the twenty-four are alike to Orientals, and their passenger
traffic is regulated accordingly.
ํด์ค ๋ณด๊ธฐ โ"This is where the fire-carriages come. One stands behind that
hole"โKim pointed to the ticket-officeโ"who will give thee a paper to
take thee to Umballa." "But we go to Benares," he replied petulantly.
ํด์ค ๋ณด๊ธฐ โ"All one. Benares then. Quick: she comes!" "Take thou the purse." The lama, not so well used to trains as he had pretended, started as
the 3. 25 a. m. south-bound roared in. The sleepers sprang to life, and
the station filled with clamour and shoutings, cries of water and
sweetmeat vendors, shouts of native policemen, and shrill yells of
women gathering up their baskets, their families, and their husbands.
ํด์ค ๋ณด๊ธฐ โ"It is the trainโonly the te-rain. It will not come here. Wait!" Amazed at the lama's immense simplicity (he had handed him a small bag
full of rupees), Kim asked and paid for a ticket to Umballa. A sleepy
clerk grunted and flung out a ticket to the next station, just six
miles distant.
ํด์ค ๋ณด๊ธฐ โ"Nay," said Kim, scanning it with a grin. "This may serve for farmers,
but I live in the city of Lahore. It was cleverly done, Babu. Now give
the ticket to Umballa."
ํด์ค ๋ณด๊ธฐ โThe Babu scowled and dealt the proper ticket. "Now another to Amritzar," said Kim, who had no notion of spending
Mahbub Ali's money on anything so crude as a paid ride to Umballa. "The
price is so much. The small money in return is just so much. I know the
ways of the te-rain ... Never did yogi need chela as thou dost,"
he went on merrily to the bewildered lama. "They would have flung thee
out at Mian Mir but for me. This way! Come!" He returned the money,
keeping only one anna in each rupee of the price of the Umballa ticket
as his commissionโthe immemorial commission of Asia.
ํด์ค ๋ณด๊ธฐ โThe lama jibbed at the open door of a crowded third-class carriage. "Were it not better to walk?" said he weakly. A burly Sikh artisan thrust forth his bearded head. "Is he afraid? Do
not be afraid. I remember the time when I was afraid of the train. Enter! This thing is the work of the Government."
ํด์ค ๋ณด๊ธฐ โ