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Updated: June 21, 2025
Besides the surgeon-poisoner I met at the Hutuktu's a lad of thirteen years, whose youthfulness, red robe and cropped hair led me to suppose he was a Bandi or student servant in the home of the Hutuktu; but it turned out otherwise. This boy was the first Hubilgan, also an incarnate Buddha, an artful teller of fortunes and the successor of Pandita Hutuktu.
The whole table arose, the company bursting with laughter, while Bandi, gasping and coughing, shook his fists at Mike during every brief respite his lungs allowed him, and cried, "I'll kill you I'll kill you!" And at last, when he began to feel better, he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up his big bony arms, and yelled hoarsely, "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!
I have been carried to the Laurentian library, where the librarian Bandi shewed me all possible, and many unmerited civilities; which, for want of deeper erudition, I could not make the use I wished of. We asked however to see some famous manuscripts. The Virgil has had a fac simile made of it, and a printed copy besides; so that it cannot now escape being known all over Europe.
Every one wished his neighbour a good appetite, and then fell to on his own account. At the head of the table sat Master Jock, with the Dean next to him; at the other end of the table Bandi Kutyfalvi presided, supported by Mike Kis.
"Yes, one he made in jail, and a splendid song it was too, I can tell you. Bandi! pipe it to his lordship on your tilinka as I have taught you."
These books are afterwards distributed through all the Lama Monasteries, temples and schools of Bandi. A Maramba read two selections: ". . . The beatific Bogdo Gheghen breathed on a mirror. Immediately as through a haze there appeared the picture of a valley in which many thousands of thousands of warriors fought one against another. . . ."
At such times Bandi Kutyfalvi was wont to exhibit his ancient tour-de-force, which consisted in swallowing with outstretched neck a whole bumper of wine at one gulp or, to use his own technical expression, without a single hiccough.
"Who is that?" asked Master Jock, with a face beaming with joy. "Come, guess now!" "My little brother Bélá!" said the old man. "Why, what the devil is the matter with you?" cried Bandi Kutyfalvi. He had expected the Nabob to be enraged, not rejoiced at the news. "Where is he? Where is he stopping?
Why did you leave him behind?" inquired Master Jock, amazing Bandi still more by the impetuosity of his delight. "He was with me in the next village; he was coming on to you with a birthday greeting, having only just left Pressburg, but was taken ill on the road, and had to put up at my house. Nevertheless he had brought his present with him, and will send it on this very evening.
Now, such a feat naturally requires for its performance an extraordinarily concave and well-practised throat, and, with the exception of Bandi, there were not above one or two others who could successfully accomplish it. "Why, that's nothing at all!" cried Mike Kis, accomplishing the feat without the slightest exertion.
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