I've been thumbing through the letters of Gertrude Bell and came across this splendid entry...
"The following preposterous conversation has just occurred:
G.B. loq: Oh! Fattuh, to whom does this poplar garden belong?
F.--To a priest, my lady.
G.B.--Doesn't he mind our camping in it?
F.--He didn't say anything.
G.B.--Did you ask him?
F.--No, my lady.
G.B.--We must give him some backshish.
F.--At your Excellency's command.
A pause.
F.--My lady.
G.B.--Yes?
F.--That priest is dead.
G.B.--!!! Then I don't think we need bother about the backshish.
F.--No, my lady.
The trouble is they don't use speech for the same purpose in the East as we do in the West."
