THE HUMOUR AND PATHOS OF
ANGLO-INDIAN LIFE

THE HUMOUR AND PATHOS
OF
ANGLO-INDIAN LIFE.
Extracts from his Brother's Note-book,
MADE BY
DR. TICKLEMORE.
EDITED BY J. E. MAYER, M.D.

LONDON:
ELLIOT STOCK, 62, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.
1895.

CONTENTS

No. I. INTRODUCTORY.—THE 'ELEPHANTA': CAPTAIN TREVANION AND MR. MARSTON.

If the reader could call back the flight of time some twenty years, and with an Ariel's wing transport him or her self on board the homeward-bound P. and O. steamer Elephanta, he or she would, on a certain evening between the hours of 7 and 8 p.m., or rather on most evenings at that time, have seen assembled in the saloon, near the piano, some twenty persons, ladies and gentlemen, standing, sitting, or lounging about. In the centre of the group stood Captain James Ward, the commander of the vessel, a tall, thin, wiry man, with handsome, but weather-beaten, features, who had been for many years in her Majesty's Navy, and retained in all respects the manner and bearing of a gentleman.

On the Captain's right hand sat Lady Jervois, the young widow of old General Sir Thomas Jervois, K.C.B., and a very pretty sample of widowhood the Lady Sarah was. Her mourning became her wonderfully, and showed the graceful outlines of her figure to perfection—a figure so beautifully proportioned that the most rigid censor could find nothing to object to, unless it might be a slight tendency to embonpoint, which many regarded as an additional charm. Generally Lady Jervois bore her recent loss with beautiful resignation; sometimes, indeed, the piquancy of her observations or replies showed that her vivacity, if subdued or scotched by affliction, was not altogether killed; and as the world at large, and especially small worlds like those on board ship, will ever build on slight foundations, the universal opinion seemed to be that she would not long remain a widow.

The two ladies next in place to the Lady Sarah were Mrs. Smythe and Mrs. Forbes; the former of these ladies sat on the Captain's left hand, and the latter next to Mrs. Smythe; both possessed pleasing features, and were good-looking persons, and both estimated the value of their respective positions to a hair's breadth. Both of them were wives of civilians in the Indian Service of about equal standing: the first a commissioner, the second a collector. In manners and appearance both these ladies had much in common; both exhibited certain points of difference, which attracted the attention of the oi polloi on board, and probably caused them some amusement. Mrs. Smythe was shocked, and felt immediately called on to correct the transgressor, if anyone was thoughtless or unmannerly enough to call her Mrs. Smith; and Mrs. Forbes, whose sister kept a milliner's shop in Ayr, lost no opportunity of calling attention to the pedigree of her husband. She possessed several books on heraldry, and was in some degree acquainted with the shields, cognizances, and crests of most of the titled families in Scotland. She was absolutely perfect in those with whom her husband's family had intermarried, or were entitled to claim kindred. Whenever an heraldic séance had taken place (as Mrs. Smythe used to term the researches and expositions of Mrs. Forbes), the former lady would compassionately remark, as soon as her friend was out of hearing, 'Poor thing! her little weakness in this respect serves to amuse her and occupy her mind; her own family were nobodies, that we all know, and she has no children, therefore we must make excuses for her.' Good-nature, perhaps, was not one of Mrs. Smythe's strongest points, and she was a little over-sensitive regarding the pronunciation of her own name, but, nevertheless, her talents as a musician won universal, well-merited admiration. A good voice had been greatly improved by good training, and the results were very charming. She was also a very superior performer on the piano, and was consequently regarded as a great acquisition to the whole party on board the Elephanta.

Two other ladies only (although the number of lady passengers was nearly forty) appear to have attached themselves to the Captain's party. They were both spinsters, Miss Perkins and Miss Wiseman. These two girls were certainly to be commiserated, inasmuch as they had gone out to friends or relatives in India in the hope of exchanging their maiden names for some others, and had not succeeded in effecting this much-coveted exchange. Their temporary protectors having been removed by death, sickness, war, or other unhappy causes, nothing remained for them but to return to the land from whence they came. Under such circumstances it is not wonderful that an air of disappointment hung over them, and that they sometimes gave utterance to remarks that betrayed the feeling which it would have been wiser to have concealed. How it happened that these young ladies failed to achieve their object I am quite unable to explain; they each of them possessed an average share of good looks and feminine attractions, nor were they destitute of most of those accomplishments in which young ladies strive to shine. They played and sang a little; they were grand at croquet, first rate at converting a glass or delft jug into a china vase; did card and shell marks; understood the language of flowers; could talk with their fingers; danced round dances with a constancy and resolution that defied fatigue, exhaustion, or even daylight; and, to crown all, they were proficients in the science of flirtation; they had, in fact, become graduates, by adopting the surest road to perfection; they had gained experience by a most extensive practice, which commenced before they were thirteen years old, and which since then they had never intermitted. With such winning cards in their hand, their failure does seem surprising, and might almost lead us to question the value of the last-mentioned accomplishment, and to ask whether, independent of the case-hardening of all young, fresh, and genuine feeling, it may not lead those who resort to it to become on all occasions more or less deceitful; and whether it may not sometimes recoil on the practitioner by teaching the opposite party to practise equal deceit. I leave these questions to be debated and considered by those whom it most concerns. I would only protest against any argument being deduced from the wide adoption of the practice.

I am not writing an essay on 'manners' or 'morals;' I will therefore content myself with submitting to the candour and judgment of those most likely to be affected by the issue, whether the practice of demonstrating special interest and liking for any person, where no such feeling exists, may not as often lose a husband as it gains one. I think I have seen several instances of such a result. I will not affirm that the two young ladies who gave occasion to these remarks were examples in point; it is not at all unlikely that they may have been, and that the mortification they were then suffering arose from the proficiency alluded to. Be this as it may, these two young people, smarting under disappointment, were objects for sympathy, as it seemed to me, but the society on board entertained, I believe, little of this feeling. 'As they have made their beds, so they must lie,' if I mistake not, spoke the general opinion regarding them. And the judgment of the passengers on board the Elephanta will, I fear, be that of the world at large. Let me here urge on those who make the pleasure of the moment their guiding star, to lay this truth to heart, that in the battle of life those who do not succeed must ever expect, rightly or wrongly, to have the cause of failure set down to some fault or failing of their own. With this note of warning we leave the ladies, and turn to the gentlemen composing the party we are speaking of.

On board our steamer there were several officers of higher military rank than Captain Trevanion, but as some of them were distinguished more by their epaulettes and cocked hats than by any special qualities, and as others did not belong to our party, they call for no special notice.

The reasons that induce us to give the young Captain of Artillery the first place in this sketch will appear immediately. His reputation as a gallant and accomplished soldier was attested, not only by the medals he sometimes wore, and by the general orders which recorded his services, but by the unanimous voice of those he commanded. The bursting of a shell, which he had caught up and carried to a distance in order to save his men, was the cause of his having been sent home; just as he flung it away it had burst, shattering his left fore-arm. At first he suffered much from the injury (which obliged him to wear the arm in a sling), but he rejoiced in it. He knew he had saved his battery, his men knew it, and his Queen, who had sent him the Victoria Cross on that account, knew it also. Since he had been at sea, so great an improvement had taken place that he was beginning to use his fingers again, and was able to join in the dance, or in almost any amusement proposed. He possessed, moreover, a good voice and a quick ear, which gifts, with a little drilling from Mrs. Smythe, soon enabled him to join her in part-songs and duets. In addition to his fame as a soldier, and good gifts as a vocalist, the Captain was a most unassuming person, always good humoured and obliging, for all which reasons, to say nothing of a commanding figure and polished address, he was the most popular man on board.

The young gentleman who stood next to Captain Trevanion in general estimation was Mr. John Marston, a young civilian, who during the fearful scenes so recently enacted in India, by his remarkable foresight, decision, and courage, and by the aid solely of his strong sense and keen perceptions, read the signs of the times with such accuracy, that before any acts of mutiny or rebellion had occurred in his district he had taken possession of an old mud fort, disused for years past, had it thoroughly cleaned out and repaired, that it might be ready, as he said, for use as a granary. He next had the well thoroughly cleaned and put in order; he then sent in supplies of every description. Having made these preparations, he gradually called in every European and Eurasian within his range. By personal application to the headquarters of the division, backed by an official request in writing, signed by the collector, he obtained a supply of arms and ammunition. Finally, by running up mud walls, cajan roofs, pandals, bamboo mats, etc., and tents of every size and description, he actually found accommodation for one hundred families, besides those of the collector and some immediate friends, so that when the impending storm burst on the locality in question, and was raging all around, the party in the old mud fort were, at least for a time, in safety. Within the area of the old mud walls, which were luckily very thick, and about thirty feet high, there were located a garrison, amounting to 120 men, counting both Europeans and Eurasians. Besides these, there were some twenty native servants, mostly ayahs; the men, all of whom, I think, were kitmunghars, or dressing-boys, did not amount to half a dozen. No native was suffered to go in or out of the place, and none were trusted with arms of any kind, for reasons that are obvious.

By means of the mats, punkahs, connats, pandals, etc., noticed above, the place was rendered habitable; but still, when all had been done that could be done, the ladies with their families had much to endure; they did it nobly, with a patient resignation and fortitude that had seldom been equalled, never surpassed. As time wore on the surging tide of treachery, blood, and cruelty made its way to the district in question, and at last the yelling, screaming, hooting crowd of butchers, threatening destruction in every shape and form, appeared before the fort, gradually spreading themselves on every side. The number of these ruffians might at this time amount to about 6,000. The nucleus of this swarm of armed natives was composed of the bulk of two regiments of Bengal Sepoys, amounting to about 1,000 men; the rest was made up of liberated gaol-birds, gang robbers, thieves, and the idle riff-raff to be found everywhere. At each angle of the fort small projecting turrets had been built, which, by means of some repairs and sandbags, were rendered tolerably secure. In each of these turrets four of the best shots amongst the defenders were placed, so that every face of the building was, to a certain extent, commanded. Sandbags between the embrasures were further employed all along the walls, thus affording additional protection to the defenders.

After the yelling and howling, accompanied by the beating of gongs and tomtoms, and by noises of all kinds, had continued for some time, the fire of small arms and gingals was resorted to, and kept up for two days and nights, with little intermission, varied by occasionally throwing fireballs into the place. These, however, except the burning of the cajans, or thatch, of some of the extemporized huts, did little or no harm. The continued discharge of gingals and musketry had inflicted no damage whatever. Seeing this, and that the siege made no progress, the leaders ordered scaling-ladders to be constructed, which was accordingly done, and two attempts at escalade were made; both were repelled, and considerable loss inflicted on the besiegers. In fact, the garrison had so well employed their guns, rifles, and muskets, that more than one hundred of their adversaries had been slain, and many more wounded. The besiegers had, in consequence, retreated beyond the reach of small arms, resolving, it seemed, to trust rather to the effect of starvation than to that of storm.

The siege had now lasted six days, and no damage had been sustained by the garrison, except the burning of some thatch already noticed, and the loss of one young man who had rashly exposed himself—he was shot dead—and a poor little girl, going to get water at the well, was killed by the rebounding of a gingal-ball. Some few others had been wounded, but not severely, and this was all. The great danger to be apprehended was that, as large bands of the rebel Sepoys were marching in every direction, the besiegers might be powerfully reinforced by numbers of men thoroughly well trained and disciplined, and that these last would effect by escalade what less numerous and less trained soldiers had failed to accomplish. The very thing so much feared did actually occur two days afterwards; several thousand of the trained traitors joined the besiegers, bringing with them a battery of field-pieces, luckily only nine-pounders.

Animated by the possession of artillery, and the presence of so large a force of regular soldiers, two desperate attempts to storm the place were made on two successive nights, the fire of the guns on each occasion having been kept up for many hours without intermission before the parties bearing the ladders moved forward; then the fire ceased, and the stormers, making a rush, succeeded in planting several ladders, up which the men swarmed with the greatest hardihood; but few reached the tops of the ladders, and fewer still reached the top of the rampart, or lived long enough to raise a cheer or shout to encourage their comrades. All were shot, or hurled over the walls; and most of the ladders were overturned before anyone could reach the upper steps.

The fire from the walls and turrets during these proceedings was so hot, that more than 200 men were slain outright, and many more wounded. The besiegers, in consequence, again drew off their forces beyond the range of rifle and musket. At this time, the number of foemen surrounding the fort could not be less than 9,000 or 10,000; they had completely encompassed it on every side. They had pitched tents and erected huts in every direction, seeming determined not to move from their position till they had effected by starvation what they had failed to compass by bolder and more rapid means. Provisions were beginning to fail the garrison; all felt they could not war against famine. They had defended themselves fifteen days, one against hundreds; but now their doom seemed approaching. All were oppressed with the most gloomy anticipations.

In this extremity Mr. Marston called a committee of all who could be spared from the walls. When about seventy of the brave defenders had assembled, he explained to them the state of matters unreservedly, but urged them not to despair, as it was clear, after counting the mouths and carefully reviewing the supplies remaining, that by giving out half-rations they could still hold out a week or ten days longer, and that in this interval there was every hope of relief, if any one of the officers commanding a loyal column of sufficient strength could be apprised of their situation. Several voices cried out that no one could pass through the numerous and watchful lines of the enemy, and that it would be certain death to attempt it. Mr. Marston smiled, answering that it would be certain death to all not to attempt it. 'I have taken measures,' he continued, 'relative to the course of action advisable, which I shall communicate when the fitting time arrives. Meanwhile, let every man hope for the best, and do his duty as he has hitherto done it.'

All, after hearing their young leader's words, and observing his cheerful countenance, felt their hopes and courage revive, and all determined to hold out to the utmost. Mr. Marston, having arranged for the serving out of the reduced rations, called aside two friends—Mr. Stewart, a civilian, junior to himself, but one on whose courage and determination he knew he could rely, and Assistant-Surgeon Manners, attached to the Collectorate, whose cool indifference under fire and whose fame as a daring and successful tiger-shot were well known. To them, and to Sergeant-Major White, whose services and experience had been invaluable during the siege, and who, though old and wanting one leg, retained still the courage of a lion unsubdued by years or wounds, he spoke as follows:

'My friends, in our present position I see there is but one thing to be done. I will myself attempt to penetrate through these thick-set lines. Should I succeed, I will, if human effort can effect it, bring you relief; if I fail, and fall into the hands of these butchers, you will know I did all I could, and died in doing my duty.' 'Marston, you shall not go!' exclaimed Manners. 'Your life is more valuable, your headpiece twice as good as mine. Send me; I am quite ready, and will do all I can.' 'No, no,' said Stewart; 'I am the youngest, and can best be spared. Manners, as the only medical man, cannot leave. Send me, my dear Marston; I will shrink from no peril, and will go at once.' 'Dear friends,' replied Marston, taking a hand of each, while the tremulous motion of his lips told how truly he felt their devoted friendship, 'this is not a time for words. I shall therefore only say, I feel your kindness deeply, but cannot accept of it. I am resolved to make the assay myself, and do not think me vain if I add that, from habits of study and observation, I think I shall run less risk than either of you would encounter in such an undertaking.'

The two young men continued to press arguments and entreaties on their friend, till he cut Manners short by saying: 'You must, as the only medical man, remain here.' And to Stewart he added, with a peculiar expression of interest: 'How could you think for a moment, Charlie, that I would run the chance of making Clara's bright eyes tearful for a lost brother, when I could have saved him! Fie, man! think better of your friend. And now for business. You must, all of you, in the first place, solemnly pledge your faith to say no word to any soul respecting my intention before I go, and afterwards to conceal my departure for as many days as may be possible. My only chance of safety depends on your silence, and your knowing this will, I am confident, ensure it.'

During the time of siege an aged peon, who had for thirty years been in attendance on the Collector, died. His belt, shield, tulwar, and dagger were brought into Mr. Marston's tent; then, under the plea of sunstroke, his head was shaved, and he was kept in bed till the browning of his face, hands, and body with coffee-berries was sufficiently strong; his moustaches were then dyed black. After these preparations, he equipped himself in every respect like a Collector's peon, and his disguise was so perfect when he stood before his friends that even those who had watched the various steps by which the metamorphosis was accomplished could scarcely believe that John Marston the civilian and the turbaned and belted peon before them were one and the same person. But, however well calculated for deception the brown skin, shaven head, and equipments may have been, Mr. Marston's fitness for the part he had to enact did not stop here; his knowledge of the Oordu, Bengali, and other dialects of Hindustani, was so remarkable, and so locally idiomatic, that he had no difficulty in personating any Moosulman character. He felt this, and therefore conceived that he was best qualified to face the perils to be encountered in carrying into effect the enterprise contemplated.

As soon as the night was sufficiently dark, the newly-manufactured peon stood on the parapet, ready, by means of a basket, rope, and pulley, to be let down, on that side of the fort completely in shadow, by his two friends and the old sergeant, who muttered: 'Had I but the other leg, I would gladly go instead of him; but I'm a useless old stump.' 'No, no, my good old friend,' said Marston, shaking him cordially by the hand; 'you are best where you are, and instead of being useless, will be invaluable to Stewart, who will find himself strong in your experience.'

The peon now seated himself in the basket, holding on to the rope. No words were spoken, except that 'God bless you!' was reiterated as his friends, with moistened eyes, lowered the basket. It soon reached the ground; the peon stepped out, and moving cautiously, always in the shade, was soon lost to sight. His friends watched him as long as he was visible, putting up silent prayers for his safety; but no one ever expected to see him again.

It would be too tedious to describe the numberless perils and trials encountered and surmounted by our wise young peon, through his perfect knowledge of the manners and customs of the Moslem race, his imperturbable coolness and presence of mind. It is enough to say that, after journeying three days and nights, he on the fourth day fell in with General Neill's column, who, with his undeviating kindness and humanity, as soon as he understood the imminent danger to which the party left in the old mud fort were exposed, marched to their relief without an hour's delay. During the march the General's only fear seemed to be that he might not arrive in time. His constant mutterings as he rode at the head of his men, with a wet cloth under his pith helmet, took something of this form: 'The bloody, dastardly, treacherous scoundrels! May God save the poor women and children, the poor defenceless creatures!' 'Keep up, my lads! keep up, for Heaven's sake! It's hot work, I know; but remember what you're striving for.' 'I pray God to grant us His help, to give us strength to get up before the butchers begin their work, and then'—his fiery spirit showing itself in his flashing eyes and firmly-set teeth—'then, if we don't let them know what cold steel means, may I never see the blessed sun again.'

The noble fellow did live to see the blessed sun again, but not before he had inflicted a crushing punishment on those leagued around the old mud fort, which he entered amidst the tears, blessings, and convulsive sobs of those he had rescued from torture and death. The General's eyes, as he looked around, were filled with moisture. 'Dear friends, I haven't a hundred hands. I wish I had; but God bless you all! He has granted my prayer; He has sent me in time; but had He not long since inspired my young friend here with indomitable courage, extraordinary knowledge, decision, and foresight, you would never have been placed in a position to be defended, nor have had the supplies to enable you to hold out, nor should I have had the opportunity, the blessed opportunity, of rescuing you.'

Here we bid good-bye to the noble, true-hearted General Neill, who, like almost all the men who are good and great, was vilified by the pitiful wooden-headed worshippers of red tape. He despised it and them, devoting his whole soul to saving the lives of his countrymen, with those of their wives and families. He died at the taking of Lucknow, comparatively young in years, though old in renown—died as he had lived, in the service of his country; but his name still lives in the hearts of Britain's sons, enshrined by that halo which undaunted courage, guided by strong sense and a pure unpretending love of country, alone can give.

The poor people whom he had rescued with one voice poured out their hearts in blessings, and with tears in their eyes joined in the prayers and shouted the names of Neill and Marston. At first they could scarcely realize to themselves that they were safe; after nearly a month of daily and nightly dread and danger they could scarcely believe that their sufferings were over. To describe scenes like these accurately is scarcely possible; such description must be referred to those endowed with the highest powers of expression and the most grateful hearts, since they alone may imagine, or can picture to themselves or others, what they would have felt had they been placed in such a situation, and this is all that we can do to make it understood.

In so far lifting up the veil from Mr. Marston's antecedents, more than enough has been done, we trust, to explain why, young as he was, his reputation stood so high. We feel that the amplitude of the narration amounts almost to a digression, yet if the details interest the reader half as much as they did the writer when first made acquainted with them, their want of brevity may perhaps be forgiven.

The young civilian, wise beyond his years, and the soul of all that had been done to shelter and defend his helpless friends, was throughout specially cautious that everything required should be done in the name of his chief, although the poor old Collector was so overwhelmed with the novelty and unexpected horror of the position, that his utmost contribution to the measures adopted amounted to no more than a 'Yes,' or 'By all means,' or a nod of his head: but by this caution Mr. Marston prevented any slur or blame from being thrown on his senior, who, though unable to act in such an emergency, was fully capable of appreciating the high feeling and delicacy evinced by his junior; and he loved and respected him for it, as did every member of his family.

When his friends had been placed in safety Mr. Marston was actively employed till the taking of Delhi, which put an end to this horrible war. Fatigue, exposure, and constant headwork, added to what he had previously undergone, at last broke down the young man's strength, and he became so ill that he was advised to return to Europe. The truth was that, the excitement being over, there was nothing to sustain him against the inroads of disease, and we consequently find him among the passengers on board our steamer. Youth, sea air, and buoyant spirits soon enabled him to rally, and he became one of the most light-hearted, joyous men of the homeward-bound party. He unpacked his cornet (on which he played really well) and in a short time almost rivalled the popularity of the Captain of Artillery.

There were many officers amongst the passengers who, in very trying situations, had nobly upheld their country's fame and honour, and several of these were not less worthy as men than agreeable as companions, but as they did not possess qualities or accomplishments that rendered them conspicuous, we do not notice them individually. The exceptions to be made to this somewhat sweeping assertion or statement refer to those gentlemen who sometimes described what they had seen on the line of march, or gave some account of the various engagements, or affairs of less importance, in which they had been personally concerned; or to those who sometimes favoured the company with sporting narratives, or finally to the doctor of the ship, Dr. Tobias Ticklemore, who was a man of observation, had read a good deal, and was withal a very good-natured fellow, so that while some smoked and others sipped brandy pawney, he could remember or invent some tale for their amusement. He therefore occupied a prominent place amongst those who belonged to the section of story-tellers, or, as our neighbours would term them, raconteurs. This partial sketch of the party assembled round the piano in the saloon of our noble steamer will, it is hoped, invest their conversation and remarks with some interest, which otherwise could hardly have attached to them. The ladies and gentlemen referred to shall now speak for themselves.

Captain Trevanion and Mrs. Smythe had just finished that charming duet between Don Giovanni and Zerlina, 'La ci darem,' to the general delight of the audience, and perhaps to their own, if we might guess so much from the obvious pleasure with which they received the thanks and applause of those around them. After a judicious interval, Captain Ward's voice was heard entreating someone to follow the good example that had been set. 'Come, ladies, come, gentlemen, do not let me beg in vain; we have had a sweet duet, sweetly sung, and previously we had Mr. Marston's cornet rendering of "Ah che la morte," which made us long more than ever to get home, that we may hear it once again from Mario the unapproachable. But we are losing time; will no one help us to charm the fleeting hours, yet make them seem too short?' 'Really,' said Lady Jervois, 'the Captain grows so poetical that we shall begin to suspect, when he tells us he is looking at the sun, that he is communing with Apollo.' 'No, dear Lady Jervois, I only seek to find the angle at which the sun's ray strikes my sextant, when my chronometer tells me it is twelve o'clock. I angle for nothing else.' 'Well,' returned the lady, laughing, 'if we accept that statement for fact, I fear you must stand convicted by your own admission of great disrespect to the god of day.' 'How so, lady fair?' 'Why, do you not admit that you seek, in an indirect way, to obtain certain information by your angling? And is that not equivalent to putting fishing questions to the day god, which is very disrespectful? So take care and rein in your wit.' 'How can I do that, Lady Jervois, when there is nothing to rein in?' 'What, angling again?' returned the lively lady; 'but you will catch no fish this time. I won't see the line.' 'Upon my word,' whispered Miss Perkins to Miss Wiseman, 'this is, I dare say, very witty, and I suppose classical, but I don't know anything about heathen gods and goddesses; nevertheless, it seems to me not a bad attempt on the part of my lady widow to get up a flirtation.' 'Not at all unlikely, I dare say,' replied Miss Wiseman. 'I didn't hear all; there seemed to be a good deal of laughing, though.'

Captain Ward's voice was again audible, begging that someone would sing a song. Then, after a silence, 'If that is too great a favour to expect, will no one give us an anecdote, or tell us a story? Surely, among so many gentlemen who have been in the field, and who are almost all of them sportsmen, there must be much to speak of? Come, gentlemen, a tiger hunt, a quarrel, a sample of Afghan clemency, a specimen of red-tape, a bit of pipeclay, anything, reminiscences, experiences, quelquechose pour passer le temps.' After a time, 'Is it really so, all silent? Then we must ask the Doctor; he has, I know, an inexhaustible stock; he is in this respect the double of the "Pasha of many tails." Come, Doctor, you are our sole resource.' 'I really can't see that,' returned the Doctor; 'upon my soul I can't! How can I be your sole resource so long as you affirm that I am the double of some other gentleman, which, if I really am, makes me singularly double; which, again, everyone must admit is doubly singular?' 'Oh, Doctor, Doctor! how can you go on so?' said the two young ladies, tittering. 'And after all your promises of reformation and amendment,' said Mrs. Smythe. 'Never mind, Dr. Ticklemore,' interposed Lady Jervois, 'your quips and quillets make us all laugh, whether we will or no.' 'Don't take his part, Lady Jervois,' said Captain Trevanion, 'he's incorrigible, and it was the same from the commencement of our acquaintance. The first inquiry I made on reaching the deck of the Elephanta was for the Doctor (the then state of my arm making me rather anxious to see him); a little sprat of a middy, who seemed to be the only person on board in the shape of an officer, answered my inquiry by informing me that the Doctor had taken a run on shore, but was to be on deck again before eight bells. These adverse conditions being beyond my power to control, I had nothing for it but to wait, and to amuse myself as best I could. Some tea and dry toast, which the steward sent me, and the last number of the Cornhill Magazine, enabled me to effect this pretty fairly, and by-and-by the looked-for son of Esculapius arrived, but in such a pickle that——'

'I say, Trevanion,' exclaimed the Doctor, 'fair play, no tales out of school; that would be taking a dirty advantage of a man's misfortunes, and be altogether unfair.' 'Well,' returned the Captain, 'there's no need to take any dirty advantage; the statu quo was dirty enough in all conscience.' 'Oh, let us hear,' exclaimed the ladies, 'pray let us hear, Captain Trevanion!' 'Come, Trevanion, don't be so shabby, said the Doctor; 'if the incident is to be told, at all events let me tell it myself.' 'On one condition,' replied the artilleryman, 'i.e., that the narrative is to be recounted bonâ fide, without alteration or subtraction; and you'll not make any addition to it, I'm quite sure.'

'But,' said Lady Jervois, 'in enforcing a confession of past misfortunes from poor Dr. Ticklemore you seem to me, Captain Trevanion, to be wholly oblivious of the charge you brought against him as incorrigible. You were about to adduce something in support of this charge, if I mistake not? Pray afford us the opportunity of judging of the value of this support, and we can hear Dr. Ticklemore's confession afterwards. We, who form the jury in this case, are not willing that the accused should be borne down by clamour or many words, as I have been told sometimes happens in other places.'

'You see, Lady Jervois,' returned Trevanion, 'I was interrupted in my narrative by the accused himself, who claimed to be his own reporter in this matter, which in courtesy I think we must allow him to be; therefore I will only say, judging from his crushed hat and sandy, muddy coat, that there had been a fall, and a closer connection with Mother Earth than gentlemen generally like to indulge in when attired for a ride on the Madras beach. Of how this came about, as he promises to inform all present truly, I say nothing, but at the time, seeing him under the influence of a little excitement, I did all I could to calm and soothe him; I advised his taking a glass of brandy and soda-water, which he did. I listened to his statement with a gravity which, considering the details, was truly marvellous, even to myself, and allowed him in silence to recover his equanimity by giving free scope to all and sundry of his pious little wishes for the benefit of more than one individual, but specially for that of a certain Mr. Jack Horseyman; whom, it would seem, though an old schoolfellow, the Doctor devoted for a long time to come to quarters which have so often been described with such precision and minuteness as almost to induce suspicion of personal acquaintance on the part of those who furnished the interesting details. But, be this as it may, this embarras des richesse entirely relieves me from the necessity of description. I will merely indicate the locality by remarking that I believe they don't want any coals there. Having shown my sympathy by my silence, by the gravity of my countenance, and by my attention as a listener, I endeavoured still further to soothe the Doctor's feelings by telling him some of my own mishaps in the hunting-field, and in particular, on the last occasion of my putting in an appearance there, the narrow escape that myself and my horse had, when both of us, in consequence of coming suddenly on a sloping rock, the face of which (from the severe weather) was a sheet of ice, slid down near a dozen yards, the horse, as it were, sitting on his haunches and actually scraping his hocks. "Oh," observed the Doctor, "that was nothing; merely a freak of Mr. Jack Frost, by which he converted you both into a pair of slippers." Now I appeal to you, after this, if his is not an inveterate form of a disease which, continually indulged in, becomes highly criminal, and if he is not justly condemned to suffer all the pains and penalties laid down in the statute provided for duly restraining and intimidating such stubborn offenders?'

'Why, truly,' said Lady Jervois, laughing merrily, 'you have brought forward strong evidence, I confess; but you know one swallow does not make a summer.'

'Oh, that argument can scarcely be admitted,' said Mr. Marston; 'I agree entirely with Trevanion, Ticklemore is really a dreadful character. It was but the other day I remonstrated with him on account of these evil proclivities of his. In reply, he asked me, in the gravest manner, if I did not know that he was a surgeon? "What's that to do with it," said I, "except that it's all the more reason that you should conduct yourself with greater sobriety?" "That's all you know about it," retorted he, "but you ought to remember that the study of the 'humerus' is a part of my profession. Ha!" continued he, "have I caught you on the funny-bone?" and then he went off chuckling. "Confound you, you catch one at every turn," I muttered, though I could not help laughing. You see, he's incorrigible.'

'I suspect,' replied the lady, 'there are more incorrigibles than one; but let us hear the Doctor; I see he is about to speak.'

After a pause, Dr. Ticklemore stood up, and with a solemn air spoke as follows: 'I thought till now that at least my fair friends would have granted me a fair hearing, but instead of that I have not even been allowed to state the reasons that make it impossible for me to comply with Captain Ward's request. I have been interrupted by false friends—I might say covert and insidious enemies'—('Hear, hear,' from Captain Trevanion and Mr. Marston)—'for no other purpose than to harrow my feelings, and exhibit their own malicious enjoyment of another's woe by trumpeting forth little matters not worth repeating, each discharging an envenomed arrow because of the trivial passing confidences which my guileless disposition and trusting nature had induced me to make. "Friendship's but a name," the poet says, and I, alas! have found it so.' (Loud laughter from the gentlemen, with 'Bravo, Doctor; you have made a capital defence,' the ladies joining in the laughter, allowed that the Doctor had come off with flying colours.) 'But,' said Lady Jervois, 'what about the crushed hat and muddy coat? I should like to hear something about these little matters.' (Cries of 'Explain, explain! listen to the Doctor's explanation.') 'Lady Jervois, and ladies and gentlemen all,' returned Dr. Ticklemore, 'I have promised that I would explain these mysteries, and I will do so; but, like men in more exalted places, when certain explanations are called for I do not find the present time convenient, or the public welfare will not permit me at present to be more explicit, so I would rather, if you will graciously concede so much to me, finish the argument referring to Captain Ward's request.' 'Oh!' said the lady, 'it is impossible to deny a solicitation urged in a manner so complimentary; pray proceed, Doctor, with your argument.' ('Go on,' from all sides.) 'You see,' said Dr. Ticklemore, 'I had not said half I intended to say when I was interrupted; but now that the sequence of the propositions has been broken, I am required to go on. It will not be so easy for me to show their logical dependence one on the other as it would have been. The fact is,' continued the Doctor, 'you were most of you in such a hurry to condemn me, that you would not let me speak when I was ready to do so, and now I must rearrange my ideas.' 'We admit you have been very ill used,' said Lady Jervois, 'but pray go on. We are all sure that there will be no difficulty about your ideas if you don't make any. Once more we pray of you to proceed.' 'Pray go on,' said Captain Ward; 'you may be sure, after this alarming preface, he has more crackers to let off.' ('Go on, Doctor; go on,' from all sides.) 'Well,' said the Doctor, 'to stop me in the middle of my speech, as you have done, is rather an Irish mode of getting me to go on, isn't it? But I suppose it's like the remark about the crackers, to be taken by contraries; you say, go on, but I apprehend you mean, go off!'

More tittering and laughter, but this time the Doctor would not be stopped.

He continued thus: 'You, Captain Ward, have gravely affirmed that I am someone's double, which is neither more nor less than stating that I am a ghost, an immaterial airy nothing; but let me tell you that it is not immaterial to me to be made nothing of; it is not treating me with the respect due to a man of my weight. Besides, although you are so ready to deny my gravity, and to accuse me of lightness in many respects, even in my behaviour, you will find that the force which pulls all things over the surface of the globe towards its centre requires upwards of twelve stone to counterbalance my corporeal entity, which, I take it, is a very good material proof that if I am a ghost, or, as you term it, a double, I am also an individual of some weight. Now if I am myself and also a double, I must be something besides myself; for such a one to attempt to comply with Captain Ward's request would not only prove him to be an insane double, but doubly insane; therefore you see——'

'Hear the fellow!' cried Captain Ward. 'Never did a thimble-rigging Political double as he is doing. I'll tell you what, Dr. Tobias Ticklemore, if you don't stop your atrocities, which are ten times worse than those of the Bulgarians,[1] for yours are not manufactured in nineteen cases out of twenty by the Russians, but are actually perpetrated before our very faces, and in the presence of those whose nerves ought to have been spared such terrible trials, I see, we shall be obliged to order a drumhead court-martial, and we'll call in Judge Lynch to act as provost-marshal, who always convicts, and not only convicts, but carries sentence into execution with such wonderful rapidity that the offender is suspended almost before he can look round; so be wise in time, Toby Tickle, or you'll get a tickler for Toby, that you may rely upon.'

'Oh,' replied the Doctor, 'if you really have the cruelty, the inhumanity, the barbarity, to threaten me with sus. per col., I fancy I must not hang fire lest I hang myself! Nevertheless, I think it due to myself to protest against the whole proceeding as illegal; there is a manifest flaw in the indictment. Your orthography is all wrong; I have neither three tails, nor many tails.'

'That's being hypocritical as well as hypercritical, Doctor, if not contumacious; spell it another way, and you have not three tales, but as many as you please.'

'Oh, oh!' said the Doctor, 'is that the plan you would adopt to get innocent people into trouble? but you won't take anything by your motion, for I shall presently show that, spell the words as you will, tails and tales are in truth equivalents. "T" is common to both words, and therefore goes for nothing, being equal to itself; and ales, at least in India and all tropical climates, is represented by ails; therefore, whichever way you spell the word, you gain nothing. For the second part of the word has been shown to be equivalent to the second part of the second word; and the first part of the first word having been found equal to the first part of the second word, the two wholes are found to be equal, Q.E.D.'

'Gentlemen,' said Captain Ward, 'what do you say to this—is it not intolerable? Is it not trifling, barefaced trifling, with authority? After the atrocities of which this man has been convicted, on the most unanswerable evidence, that of our own senses, for him to begin again in the same strain is clearly an aggravation of the original offence; to me it seems a case of unexampled audacity, deliberate and premeditated, with his logic, his mathematics, and his Q.E.D. I declare, I think there is nothing for it but to confirm the sentence reserved for consideration, and on account of the aggravation to order that the suspension be carried out in chains.'

'Oh, horrible! most horrible!' cried the Doctor; 'then I must bend to fate. No one likes suspense, to say nothing of the chains, and I in this am no exception to the world at large. True, I have seen men hung in chains who seemed to be proud of them, and wore them ostentatiously, but——'

'But, sir,' said Captain Ward, 'you are keeping us in suspense, thereby incurring heavier penalties. Remember, alacrity in the performance of duty is the only way to obtain mitigation, or the sentence will have to be carried out in chains.'

'Chains,' said the Doctor, 'are horrible—chains of all kinds, except silken ones, of which I have no knowledge save by hearsay.'

'Oh, oh!' cried Miss Perkins, 'who do you think will credit that statement, Dr. Ticklemore?'

'And why do you wear that gold locket that you never show to anyone?' said Miss Wiseman.

'I fear, ladies,' observed Captain Ward, 'that this Doctor is a gay and faithless character, and an old offender against a certain little deity that it is not necessary to describe more particularly just now; he has for other offences been convicted as an incorrigible, and is at this very time under sentence of sus. per col., unless he saves himself by ready obedience to the order of the Court; therefore it may be as well to postpone the consideration of this additional charge relative to the locket till we see how he conducts himself: if truculent and refractory he knows his doom, if, on the contrary, he exhibits a proper and decent penitence for his manifold offences, and incontinently addresses himself to his task——'

'Incontinently!' exclaimed the Doctor. 'Surely, Captain Ward, you would not recommend anything bordering on that in the present company.'

'You abominable misinterpreter of words! you know very well that I used the expression in the sense of quickly, immediately.'

'Oh,' said the Doctor, with as much simplicity as he could throw into his countenance, 'I am greatly relieved; but, in truth, Captain Ward, knowing my highly delicate and sensitive moral organization, you should be more considerate.'

While this colloquy was going on, a shade of more than usual gravity was visible on the features of the fair auditors, and the laughter of the gentlemen was immoderate. Captain Ward's only remark was: 'Really, the cool temperature of that fellow is without parallel; it is a pity he's not an Irishman. He ought assuredly to have been born one, for he certainly is what they term "a broth of a boy"; but come, let us have an end of this "bald, disjointed chat." Pray make yourself a little agreeable, Doctor; give us something to amuse us, and for a time forget your quibbles, your "pribbles and prabbles," as good Sir Hugh has it.'

'Well, as you ask so pretty, as our juvenile friends say, and will promise not to abuse me any more, I'll try what I can do; but it must be something very short. It will soon be eight bells, and then we break up for the evening.'

'Don't waste any more time, then,' said Lady Jervois, 'and instead of abusing we'll all combine to praise you.'

We have no record of Dr. Ticklemore's short tale. All we know of it is that it amused the ladies very much; and of course, being approved by the fairer half of the creation, the gentlemen were in a manner compelled to applaud too. The next morning the Captain appeared to be specially occupied with his maps and charts, and two of the boats, each in charge of a junior officer, were sent out to take soundings, while the Elephanta scarcely moved on her way. The Captain suspected that an under-current had carried the vessel several points to leeward, and, if this were not seen to in time, we should not make Suez so nicely as he wished. Leaving the Captain, who was not only a thorough seaman, but a most careful officer, to attend to these matters, the party on board occupied themselves according to their inclinations: the ladies brought up their work, as there was a fair breeze, which under the awning was pleasant enough; and the gentlemen either wrote, or read, or chatted, or made arrangements for the evening with the ladies who sang or played. 'I wish I was a vocalist,' said Lady Jervois. 'Do you?' said Captain Trevanion; 'tell me why.' 'Oh, everyone wishes to be accomplished as a musician, and I can do nothing in that way but play over the lessons I learned at school.' 'Suppose it be so, it is not too late to learn. When at home you will find numberless ladies capable and willing to help you to cultivate music.' 'Ah, Captain Trevanion, they can't give me a voice.' 'But how do you know that you have no voice?' 'Oh, they told me so at school, and I feel I have no voice.' 'You must not set things down against yourself; don't give up till you have had the opinion of a first-rate master, and, if I may advise, I should say, go about and hear as much good music and singing as you can.' 'I think I'll take your advice; it is at all events very agreeable, should it not eventually help me.' 'Ah, but I think it will!' said Marston, who had been standing by during the whole colloquy. 'And now, Lady Jervois, if you will go with us to the piano, and do us the honour to listen to our practice for the evening, you will, as it were, be taking the first step in your projected course of study, only under amateur musicians instead of masters. Mrs. Smythe will, I am sure, feel highly complimented by your attention to the practice. Here she comes.' 'Dear Mrs. Smythe,' said Lady J., 'will you permit an untaught ignorant creature like myself the pleasure and advantage of hearing your practice?' 'Dear Lady Jervois,' returned Mrs. Smythe, 'your presence at the practice will give us all sincere pleasure, and be esteemed a great compliment, too.'

Thus Lady J. became a regular attendant on the morning practice of the musical party, and of course became more intimate with them than she had been before. When the practice was over the party dispersed—some to chess, some to read, and some to play at the old game of 'Crambo' (in which they all eventually joined); and though they might not manage so well as Queen Elizabeth and Sir W. Raleigh did, still it caused some amusement.

When the din of tongues, and the mutual raillery and the laughing consequent on the game at 'Crambo' had subsided, Captain Ward and Trevanion sat down to a game at chess. They selected for their opening move that subtle one known as the Evans Gambit. They had scarcely begun when Lady J. came to the table, and seated herself near enough to watch the game. She said, 'Don't mind me; I promise not to speak a word; but though a very indifferent player, I am fond of the game.' After a tough battle it ended in a draw.

'I did not know you were a chess player, Lady J., or I should long since have asked for a game.' 'I fear you are laughing at me; I am not at all strong enough to contend with you.' 'But you will give proof, I hope, as I am one of those stiff-necked people who take nothing on trust.' 'Oh, you may take my word for that—on trust.' 'But will you not give me proof?' 'Certainly, to-morrow morning, if you like. It is too late to-day to begin a game.' 'But it is not too late, if you do not know it, to show you Philidor's legacy.' 'I do not; yet I should like to know it.' 'It arose in this way. It is admitted that you cannot give checkmate with two knights.' 'I think I have heard so.' 'In one of the cafés of Paris, and in Philidor's presence, this was strongly insisted on. He heard all that was said, and then asserted that he would give checkmate with one knight, and without any other piece or pawn to assist it. One of the speakers said in reply, "I'll bet you £1,000 you don't." "Very well, I take your bet," said Philidor. "Mind, you are not to have any piece or pawn to help you." "The checkmate shall be perfect and complete by the move of one knight alone," returned Philidor.' 'And, pray, how was it accomplished?' inquired Lady J. 'That I shall now have the pleasure of showing you,' said Trevanion. And to the lady's no small delight he showed how the checkmate with one knight was brought about. (I see since this was written that the final position in Philidor's legacy is published in one of the periodicals of the day as a problem, but without giving the credit to the famous old master, whose ingenuity and skill in playing the game so as to arrive at the position in question seems almost beyond human power to conceive.)

Lady J. had not attended the morning practice longer than a fortnight, when the benefit derived from it was perceptible, not only to herself, but to others. In order to gain courage and to strengthen her voice, she sang at first in unison with Mrs. Smythe a number of sweet and admired airs: 'Oh! come to me when daylight sets'; 'You shall walk in silk attire'; 'Oft in the stilly night,' and a great many simple melodies. Finding that she could remember these airs and sing them to herself gave great pleasure to Lady J. and to her friends too; she found that her voice was gaining power, and Mrs. Smythe declared that her ear was true, and that if the voyage had lasted another month she would have been able to take part in glees and duets. 'I fear you are flattering me too much,' returned Lady J.; 'but I certainly shall persevere.' 'I told you long ago that you were wrong to set the thing down against yourself, did I not?' said Trevanion. 'And I threw in my little help, did I not?' said Marston. 'You both did, and so encouraged me, that I am now hopeful of myself.' 'When we get home, and you meet with a good teacher, I'll bet a dozen pairs of gloves that in less than six months you take part in any of the duets or glees we are practising now.' 'I will not venture on a bet, but really, I do feel infinitely more hopeful than I was!'

The Elephanta was now at Suez, and as usual the weather was so dreadfully hot that no pastimes nor amusements could be thought of; to exist was a difficulty, and it was the same all through the Red Sea, and so it continued till the party reached Alexandria. Then came the bustle and trouble of transhipment to the steamer for England, and the delightful change of the Mediterranean breeze and cool climate for the dreadful heat of the Red Sea. All the passengers enjoyed the change immensely; the walking the deck was so enjoyable that it superseded all other modes of passing time. Trevanion and Lady J. were indefatigable in taking this exercise. This attracted the notice of Miss Perkins and her friend Miss Wiseman; the former observed that she perceived that the widow was a great general. 'She first flirted with Captain Ward, but finding that was of no use, she took up the singing line, and that seems to have answered much better. Trevanion is evidently spoony.' 'I thought so too, when I saw them walking the deck morning and evening.' 'The truth is, my dear, that there is no being up to a widow—no, they come over a man when he's not thinking of anything.' 'That's just it, they take him altogether unawares. Now, to think of that cunning creature pretending to want to learn to sing, merely to get on terms of intimacy with that spoon Trevanion, and he so dull and so besotted with his music that he does not see it.' Much more in the same strain was said, which it is not worth while to put down.

The new steamer, the Bucephalus, tore along at a great rate, and passed some of the most interesting and storied scenes the world has to show. As the Pillars of Hercules were passed, and the noble vessel pointed towards old England, the anxiety to get the first glimpse of the dear land was so great that some of the passengers sat up all night. At last the ship came in sight of the blessed shore, and shortly afterwards anchored off Southampton. When the ladies were safely landed, and with their luggage installed in the Grand Hotel, the gentlemen, after seeing that their own goods and chattels were all right, adjourned with the whole party to the breakfast-room.

The breakfast was scarcely finished, when two strangers appeared to take charge of Mrs. Smythe and Mrs. Forbes; one of them a brother of the first-named lady, the other first-cousin of the latter. These gentlemen, anxious not to lose the train for Scotland, scarcely allowed the two ladies time to say good-bye to their friends who had been their late shipmates. This was, however, at last accomplished, with promises of corresponding, the gentlemen vociferating, 'Come, or you will lose the train!' and they were off to the land of cakes. Shortly after breakfast was over, down came Lady J. dressed for travelling. 'You go, I think,' said Trevanion, 'to your aunt, Lady Drummond, in Eaton Square?' 'Yes,' replied Lady J.; 'and you go to the Army and Navy Club?' 'Yes,' said Trevanion. 'And I,' said Marston, 'am bound for the Selwyns' in Devonshire.' 'I think I have heard a whisper that there are certain bright eyes in Devon that are irresistible on this occasion.' 'Ah, Trevanion,' said Marston, looking a little red and conscious, 'you have been a traitor! I see how L. J. has become possessed of my secret.' 'I really could not help it,' said Trevanion, laughing. 'Let me say,' said Lady J., 'though I have never seen the fair young creature, that with all my heart I wish you every success, Mr. Marston, and every future happiness.' 'Hearty and sincere thanks,' returned the young gentleman, blushing deeply, in spite of himself; 'and may I shortly be in a position to congratulate you, Lady Jervois?' It was now the lady's turn to look down to her feet, as a blush mantled over her beautiful features. 'Well, Marston,' said Trevanion, coming to the lady's assistance, 'when shall we see you in town again? But, perhaps that is not a fair question, as it will probably depend on another's will.' 'Come, come, you shut up! It's a comfort to think that there are a pair of us. Now let me shake hands, and bid good-bye to Lady Jervois.'

When Marston was gone, only Miss Perkins and Miss Wiseman, beside themselves, were left of all the party which had landed that morning. Lady J., with her usual kindness, asked them if they were bound for London; they said they were. Then said Lady J., 'You had better come with us; Trevanion and I have secured a first-class carriage to London, therefore your doing so will put us to no expense, and no inconvenience.' 'How can you say so!' whispered Trevanion. 'I reckoned on the privacy of our ride to say a great many things that I could not so well say before. But you, you wicked creature, have entirely spoilt my plan.' 'And did you not deserve it, sir, for planning anything so deliberately wicked?' And as she said this her eyes sparkled and danced with sportive malice, and Trevanion was more hopelessly in love than ever.

In the meantime the two young ladies were profuse in their acknowledgments of Lady J.'s kindness and generosity. And so the party managed to get to London, where the young ladies made their adieux; and then Trevanion, having ordered a close carriage to take them to Eaton Square, looked exultingly at Lady J.; but she was peremptory, and then an open carriage was ordered. I am quite at a loss to guess why she was so determined as to these arrangements, but, nevertheless, the ride was very delightful. Trevanion held Lady J.'s hand in his all the way, and this rewarded him for everything! There was a sweet long pressure of hands ere the two parted, and the look of tenderness that stole from Lady J.'s eyes overcame Trevanion so entirely that he hardly knew what he was doing or saying. Lady Drummond sent out the most kindly invitation to Trevanion, which he did not accept, begging to be excused till the next day; he then bade adieu to Lady J., and as he did so felt more depressed than he had ever felt in his life, and as if all around was gloom; he felt truly that the sun of his life was gone.

The next day, about two p.m., Trevanion called in Eaton Square, and to his great mortification found that the ladies had gone out; he left a card for each of them, and tried to console himself as best he could. He then went to look at a horse that Colonel Brisbane, who was about to return to India, wished to dispose of; a very handsome creature, warranted to be sound in wind and limb, for which eighty guineas was to be paid. 'Well,' said Trevanion, 'I'll try him in the "Row" this evening, and if he suits me, I'll buy him.' The horse went beautifully, and seemed to feel at once that he had a rider on his back, and the rider was so pleased with him, that he made up his mind to take him; and after he had been round the Row, he was enjoying an easy canter, when he was obliged to rein up by a stylish pony phaeton, drawn by a pair of silver grays not quite fourteen hands high, but very lovely. Two ladies sat in the front, and the younger one was driving; a groom sat behind. The recognition between Trevanion and the younger lady was instantaneous, and immediately after the introduction to Lady Drummond had taken place, she said that she regretted she was out when he called, but they did not think he would have chosen so early an hour, and thought that they should be at home in time to see him.

'Ah!' said Trevanion, 'all this arises from those vile Indian customs I have got used to, but I shall become more civilized by-and-by.' 'No, no,' said the lively old lady; 'it arises from your formality and stiffness in refusing my invitation yesterday.' 'You are exceedingly kind to say so,' returned Trevanion. 'I suppose you'll adhere to it now by refusing my invitation for this evening?' 'No, Lady Drummond, I accept it with great pleasure, but as I have no groom with me, I must ride back with the horse to Colonel Brisbane's stables, and return for the evening; he won't be mine till the Colonel has got his price.' Both the ladies were loud in their praises of the horse, and were glad that he was to become Trevanion's property. 'And now,' said the gentleman, 'I must go and dress, and I have no time to spare.' 'Now, mind you are there in time—eight p.m. precisely.' 'I will be punctual, depend upon it, Lady Drummond.' 'Well, I do in some sort depend upon it, for reasons I don't think it necessary to mention just now,' and away went the ladies, and away went Trevanion, after the bows and au revoirs had been duly paid.

As he anticipated, he spent a most pleasant evening. He found Lady Drummond a very agreeable, sensible, and frank old lady, and consequently found himself at home at once. The presence of Lady J., a real personification of grace and beauty, whose quiet happiness beamed in every glance, insensibly enhanced the enjoyment and pleasure of all three, the two ladies and their visitor. Trevanion, in fact, reckoned this evening as one of the white periods of his life.

It will be neither amusing nor instructive to trace the progress of a courtship where everything was in favour of the lovers. The consent of friends, mutual inclination, and ample means, made everything smooth. The one cloud was the necessity of going to India for some years. At this time cards from Mr. and Mrs. Marston reached our friends, with letters in which M. declared that he would stay at home to the last possible day, his Clara not liking the thought of India, though the darling was willing to go anywhere with him. Trevanion wrote back to say that his marriage was finally arranged, and would shortly come off, which it did on the 10th of the following month, when Captain Trevanion and Lady Jervois were made one. They spent their honeymoon at a pretty old ivy-covered place called the Priory, which was lent to them for the occasion by a friend of Lady Drummond's. When the honeymoon was over, they went to Italy, where they spent some time. They visited Juliet's reputed tomb in Verona; then they passed on to Venice and read Shakespeare and Otway with redoubled zest, 'swam in gondolas' daily while there, then returned on their footsteps, stayed a few days at Fiorenza, and did not forget to see and admire 'the statue that enchants the world.' They then determined on a short stay at Rome, where the wonders of the Vatican delighted them greatly. The exquisitely expressed agony of the Laocoon, the matchless, manly beauty of the Apollo, the resolute endurance and suffering of the Dying Gladiator, indelibly impressed themselves on their remembrance. To use their own words, these marvels spoke in stone. Nor were the masterpieces of Michael Angelo, Raphael, and others overlooked, but the bare enumeration of them would take up too much of our space and time.

They returned home saturated with admiration and enthusiasm for Italian sculpture and painting. Nor did they come home altogether empty-handed. They brought with them some lovely specimens of Italian work as presents for friends and relatives. These were too many to be separately noticed, but a Hercules destroying two centaurs was particularly admired, and was much prized by Lady Drummond, to whom it was given; and a Theseus delivering Ariadne from the sea monster, which was sent to Mrs. Marston, was so much thought of by that lady and her friends, that she declared it to be the most beautiful specimen of sculpture she had ever seen, and she wrote such a charming letter to Lady Trevanion on the subject, that it gave rise to a kind and affectionate correspondence between the two ladies, though they had never seen each other. However, in the spring Mrs. Marston, with her little boy, arrived in town, and there the ladies became almost inseparable. The last we heard of them was, that they were the two special attractions at a grand ball given by Lady D. just before Captain and Lady Trevanion sailed for India. Mr. and Mrs. Marston remained at home another year, then reluctantly embarked for the land of the East.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] The author is quite aware of the anachronism, but hopes it may be pardoned for the sake of its applicability.

No. II. CAPTAIN WHISTLER, AND LIFE IN CANTONMENT AT SECUNDERABAD.

In the year 18—, the —— Regiment, Madras N.I., marched for the cantonment of Secunderabad. The march was accomplished in the average number of days without any more serious mishap or sickness than was usual in those days, owing to the wise precautions taken by the officer in command, in communication with the doctor of the regiment. The length of each march being known, the hour of rising and commencing it was so fixed as to enable the men to reach the ground appointed before the sun was powerful; this, on an average, fell out between six and seven a.m. No encamping ground whereon any large party of human beings, or any other regiment, had halted was ever made use of for their purpose, experience having shown that the poison of cholera dwells in such places long after the people have departed from them, and in some cases even when (as reported) the former sojourners had not been afflicted with this terrible disease. The débris which they leave, and other foul matters, appear to generate the plague when fresh men occupy the ground, if such incautious reoccupation occurs within the period of twenty or thirty days. The camp was always pitched as far from the villages as convenience would permit, and placed, wherever possible, on high open ground. The reward of these precautions was that the regiment reached Secunderabad without losing a man.

We had escaped the cholera, but as we approached the Kistnah we became unpleasantly acquainted with another of the pests of India. It is true that tigers are found more or less frequently all over the country, but wherever there is much low jungle, high grass, reeds and rushes, these monstrous striped cats are very numerous. The complete cover afforded by this kind of vegetation encourages their increase greatly, and then they become so formidable that no one dares singly, or, indeed, without a strong escort, to pass or repass through such places. They will even, if they are hungry, attack a whole regiment, which, with the families of the Sepoys and followers, will scarcely number less than 4,000 or 5,000 souls—men, women, and children; accompanied by some hundreds of animals—horses, dogs, donkeys, and bullocks, and sometimes also by elephants and camels. The noise and hubbub of such a camp, the lights and fires at night, would, it might be imagined, be sufficient to keep these beasts at a distance, but it is not always so. Even before eight p.m., when silence is (in well-regulated camps) imposed on all, as all are supposed to retire to rest at this hour in order to rise for the early march, the tiger will spring into the midst of men and animals, tents, etc., seize an unfortunate tatoo, or donkey, or man, and bound with his prey over all impediments. But more commonly he defers his attack till all is quiet, and most of the lights and fires are extinguished or reduced to a few glowing embers here and there, and when nothing is heard but the sentry's 'All's well!' Then is the time when this ferocious animal is most to be feared, especially if the moon is up, as it affords him light enough to select his victim, but does not give the latter time or opportunity to provide against it, neither can others follow in pursuit, the robber being generally lost to sight in a few seconds; but even in this case the rule is not absolutely without exception, as I shall shortly show.

The loss sustained from these feline thieves during our march was first that of a draught bullock, which was taken out of the midst of the camp, or out of that part of it occupied by the camp followers. There was a great noise of men and dogs, and some Shikaries, who were with the camp, sent a few shots after the thief, but he was so soon lost to sight that they may have been fired less from sight than from guess. The second capture occurred on the night following that on which the bullock was carried off: it was of an unfortunate tatoo (pony) belonging to a Jemadar, who could ill afford to lose it, as he was an old man not well able to march. He had not long, however, to overtax his strength by marching, as the officers of his company subscribed twenty rupees to enable him to buy another pony, which he soon did, rejoicing that the tiger had taken his former one away, as, by the generosity of the officers, he had secured a much younger and better one.

The next march brought the regiment to the banks of the Kistnah, one of the large rivers of India; there the officers and men had an opportunity of seeing those round boats which we read of in Herodotus, and which we are told were used in the days of Semiramis. They certainly answered the purposes for which they were used exceedingly well. They are made of pieces of split bamboo and bamboo mats, and externally they are covered with bullock hides sewed together and stretched whilst moist over the bamboo frame-work, to which they are securely fastened. It is astonishing what weights these round boats will carry when they are new and well made. Guns, with their carriages, every kind of cart, besides men and animals, go safely across deep and broad rivers. This, however, we did not practically know till the next morning, when, in obedience to orders, the regiment crossed the Kistnah on these primitive machines, and without difficulty or accident.

On the day before the crossing was effected, a man was taken out of the very midst of the camp shortly before eight a.m., and that although everyone was on the alert and watchful, knowing that they were in near vicinity to high grass and jungles abounding with tigers, and bearing in mind, besides, the warnings which they had received on the two preceding nights. In consequence of this state of watchfulness, scarcely two minutes elapsed before a strong party of men and officers were in hot pursuit of the man-eater, aided by several dogs. The beast was, as heretofore, almost immediately lost to sight, but the dogs showed the track the tiger had taken, so the men were able to continue the chase. The sagacity of the dogs in following up was very remarkable, either instructed by the experience of the two preceding nights or by their natural intelligence. Though following the scent continually, they were very careful not to go farther than a few yards in advance of their masters, seeming to be quite aware that they would be wholly unable to cope with the enemy they were in pursuit of. This prudence on their part was noticed by the men and the officers, and was encouraged by them.

Suddenly the dogs halted, barked, and uttered a plaintive cry; the officers brought their rifles forward, but, not perceiving the tiger, they carefully walked forward, ready to fire on the instant. At this moment a Shikari called out that there was something on the road, and the next instant that it was the man who had been carried off. All then hastened up to him, and found him weltering in a pool of blood, which, on interrogating him, they found was not his own; it was almost entirely that of the tiger. The poor fellow had been so shaken and exhausted that at first he could scarcely explain himself; however, a small dose of brandy, the sense of safety, and the encouragement he received from all round him, soon restored him sufficiently to enable him to explain how he had effected his marvellous escape. It further appeared, both by his own statement and that of the surgeon (who was one of those who had gone in pursuit), that though his side was torn and lacerated by the teeth of the beast, he had sustained no broken bones, nor, indeed, any actual injury.

His story was this: at first he was so stunned by the shock of the tiger's spring that he was hardly conscious of the grip that fastened on him, or of the spring which carried him out of the camp; his first feeling of consciousness informed him of his position, and that he was being rapidly carried along to be devoured at leisure. The prospect was so unpleasant that he bethought him whether there was any possible mode of extrication. He had his bayonet with him, having, when seized, just come off guard. This 'Koodah-ki-fuzzul sey,' as he said, put it into his head to attempt to get free. The skin and flesh of his left side was in the tiger's mouth, and his right hand and arm were free. With his hand he felt for the heart of the tiger, then slowly drawing his bayonet out, he placed the point of it between the animal's ribs, just opposite the beat. Having thus prepared matters, he drove in the point with his whole strength, and with such effect that the tiger, making a spring and a cry at the same time, let his prey fall, and after limping a step or two fell down, himself bleeding copiously. He, however, rallied so far as to be able to crawl on farther, but, added the little hero (a Sepoy, five feet one inch in height), 'I am certain he cannot go far.'

On hearing this, the pursuit was immediately resumed; the doctor, greatly to his annoyance, was ordered to remain by the side of the sepoy, who, as soon as a dhooly could be got, was carried in a sort of cradle back to the camp. His story was so wonderful, and his escape so extraordinary, that had not the doctor's orders been peremptory, the poor little fellow would have had no sleep all the night; such numbers were anxious to see him, and to hear him repeat the narrative of his defeat of the 'burrah bhague.' Indeed, it is said that for a week after he was out of hospital he was still called on occasionally to tell the story.

The party who went after the wounded beast, by the aid of dogs, lanterns, flambeaus, and the stain of blood, soon tracked the foe (it was a female tigress) to a cave near at hand, where they found her dying, and three splendid little cubs about two months old, which they lost no time in taking possession of. They were very desirous of making acquaintance with the proprietor of the cave, but this gentleman, it would seem, was absent from home. His anxious friends spent an hour in searching for him, but without success. This probably was fortunate for them, as it was a very imprudent thing to search for such a customer by torchlight. The officer commanding, indeed, positively forbade any repetition of that kind of search, for which he properly thought the daylight was essential. One of the party, before they left the cave, gave the tigress a bullet, which put an end to her lingering struggles.

So far is simply Lieutenant B.'s story just as it was told to me; but the sequel I can positively affirm to be true, from my own knowledge. When I landed at Madras in 18—, the little hero of the tiger incident was on guard at the entrance of the Adjutant-General's Office in the fort, and was really the best show of the place. The little Sepoy who had come off victorious after being in the jaws of the tiger was the lion of the fort, and it was customary for every new-comer, to whom he was presented, to give him a rupee. Thus the little man reaped, independent of his pension, a revenue which, to him, was very considerable, and the Government was exempted, or conceived itself to be exempted, from making any special provision for him. What finally became of this wonderful small man I do not know. I suppose, in the language of a great conqueror of another race, ivit ad plures. 'The paths of glory lead but to the grave,' so sings the poet and the moralist; and probably poor little Ram Sing was no exception to the rule.

But we are digressing, and it is necessary to resume Lieutenant B.'s account of the march. The very word 'march,' while sitting by a comfortable fire in a nicely-carpeted room, is fearful. The getting up at one or two a.m.; those dreadful taps (striking the tent pegs), and the tents falling about one's ears—the whole is appalling—horresco referens—and yet, instead of the gout and other infirmities of age, how gladly would I face it over again, with the untold privations, fatigue, and sun superadded, could I but feel again the elasticity, the glow of health, youthful energy, courage, and confidence in my own strength and endurance, which I once possessed; but nunquam retrorsum is the banner of existence, and all must submit to it. I return, therefore, to Lieutenant B.'s account of the march of his regiment to the cantonment of Secunderabad. The only incident deserving of any notice during progress through this part of the Deccan was, on more than one occasion, a difficulty about supplies. Who was to blame no one could clearly make out, opposing statements being freely made use of; it was an old disputed responsibility, but there could be no dispute that the Sepoys suffered. They were reduced to short commons several times. On one occasion there were absolutely no supplies to be had when the men arrived on the encamping-ground. The poor fellows had already marched fourteen miles, and had done it well, reaching the ground before seven a.m. They had started at half-past two a.m., and were just congratulating themselves at having got over the march before the sun was very powerful. Their congratulation was, however, short-lived, as they soon learned from the quartermaster that they must go on to the next village, i.e., another fourteen miles, to obtain food. The sun was then quite hot enough in all conscience, and to proceed another fourteen miles under progressively increasing heat was appalling; but there was no help for it, the peril must be faced.

The officers at that time wore those horrid little forage-caps covered on line of march with black oilskin. To ride fourteen miles with such a covering to the head, under a burning sun, was infinitely worse than being exposed to the hottest fire. My informant, the doctor, assured me that if he had not devised a special defence he must have fallen from his horse from sunstroke. His plan was this: he arranged with the regimental puckally (that is, the man who attends with a bullock carrying two mushues, or bullock-hides, filled with water) to be always close at hand during the march. Nothing but this could have saved him. He utilized the mushues in this way: before starting on the second march he had taken out two towels, which the puckally kept constantly soaked with water. One, well-soaked, was placed under the forage-cap, and as soon as it got heated it was replaced by the other. All the officers resorted to the use of wet cloths, but no one carried out the plan so systematically as the doctor did, and he escaped as well as any of them, though he had previously suffered from sunstroke.

At last the second march was accomplished, but the men were so tired and exhausted that they had taken five hours and a half to do it, though they had performed the first fourteen miles in little more than four hours. Both men and officers were so dead-beat that, on reaching the ground, everyone wanted to throw himself down where he stood; but necessary duties had to be attended to. Luckily some Bamans, Bunganies, as they were called, had halted at this stage, and readily supplied the men with the various grains they wanted; and large mango-tops afforded shelter from the sun, and gradually food and rest were obtained. By-and-by palanquins, tents, and carts arrived, and the officers got better shelter and their usual food; and as there was a halt for the next day, all things gradually fell into working order. On the morning after the halt, the march was resumed, and in a week the regiment reached the cantonment of Secunderabad.

To give a full account of the European mode of life in cantonment, even at the largest station, would scarcely repay any reader. The reveille, the parade, or sham-fight, the general's concluding remarks to the men and officers, the march home, the conversation on reaching the barracks, the disencumbrance of the war-paint, the chatty bath, breakfast, and the edifying chat respecting dogs, horses, guns, or billiards; he must indeed be fond of pipe-clay who can be entertained by such things. And when the coffee and tea and toast, the eggs, the grilled moorgey (a sudden death, and accordingly as tough as need be), with the curry, chutnee, etc., have been discussed—as well as Ensign A.'s wonderful leap, or Captain B.'s splendid shot, or Major C.'s grand display at the billiard match, have all been served up, and duly commented on; or arrangements made for a shikar-party—nothing is left but to adjourn to the billiard-room. All this is the very embodiment of Shakespeare's twice-told tale, 'stale, flat, and unprofitable.' It is repeated at every station year after year, and it has besides been given in detail so well and so often in works of fiction relating to India, that it would be no less foolish than impertinent to reproduce it here. The same may be said of the occupations of the fairer half of the creation: wherever it may be, it is the same thing—the morning exercise on horseback, the ball, the breakfast, the toilet, the staying at home to receive visitors, or going out to pay visits, the remarks on the last party, or the one that is expected; Mrs. W.'s dress, and Miss L.'s good looks, Miss M.'s engagement, and a thousand other topics of equally overpowering importance. These, and the all-imperative duty of leaving cards for everyone, which, if neglected, or even postponed, is an offence that nothing can expiate, an offence never forgiven, and one that has probably, in this land of the sun, produced more quarrels, more heart-burning, and more bad feeling than any other cause that can be named. Mrs. General D. goes in her carriage to pay Mrs. Ensign Smith a visit, and never omits to leave her card. Mrs. Captain G. goes in her palanquin-coach to pay a visit to whom you please, and scrupulously leaves her card. Mrs. Quartermaster goes in her bullock-coach to visit the ladies of the regiment, and never fails to leave cards wherever she stops. The system is indeed so universal, and so well understood, that even the bullocks themselves have adopted it, as all those who know the habits of these animals can testify. It is indeed a positive fact that, whenever the owner of the coach stops at anyone's door, the polite creatures never fail to leave a S.P.C.—strange, no doubt, but nevertheless true.

The monotony of cantonment life is not unfrequently varied, I regret to say, by scandals, and stories circulated to the detriment of this or that lady. They may be true, or they may be false, but as a rule there is generally some imprudence or want of due circumspection on the part of the lady pointed at; and if her fault is of the most venial nature, her female friends are sure to attribute the worst to her; their own virtue is so pure and perfect that they cannot bear the remotest suspicion of the reverse in any of their friends. A curious and instructive instance of this noble, amiable, and highly moral disposition occurred at the house of Mrs. O'N. Lady G. entered just as a lady who had paid her a visit got up to leave. Mrs. O'N. offered Lady G. the seat her former visitor had vacated, which was refused in this way: 'Was not the person who left the room Mrs. S.?' 'Yes,' said the hostess. 'Then,' returned Lady G., 'pray give me any other chair.' Her wish was complied with, and she paid her visit without suffering the contamination she dreaded. When Lady G. departed Mrs. O'N. indulged in a hearty laugh, which she explained to another visitor by telling her of Lady G.'s horror at the thought of sitting on a chair that had been occupied by a questionable character. 'She was herself so chaste, my dear,' said Mrs. O'N., 'that she couldn't bear the idea of anything of that kind.'

Scandal runs riot in all small societies, and therefore perhaps the scandals in Indian cantonments are, to a certain extent, merely en regle. But at the same time it must not be forgotten that after breakfast, for several hours, both sexes have nothing to do. The ladies dress and receive visitors as often as not when their husbands are away on shikar parties, or are amusing themselves at the billiard-table. These morning visits are sanctioned by custom. But in India they are not altogether without danger. First, both sexes, when they mingle in society, have nothing to occupy or amuse them but philandering, i.e., paying compliments or listening to them; and this, though innocent enough, it may be, in the beginning, is by no means so when often repeated by the same individuals. 'What a nice little creature Mrs. So-and-so is; I wonder how Captain B. can occupy himself so much away from home; he is always away on some shikar party, or at the billiard-room, or at the racquet-court, or on duty, or attending court-martial duty. I know if she was my wife I wouldn't leave her to herself or to others as —— does.' By-and-by something of this oozes out, and then there is a laugh, the young gentleman is roasted by his male friends in a gentle, or even an encouraging way. Something perhaps like the following will occur:

'What, Jack, are you getting spoony about Mrs. B.? She is an enticing creature, I must confess; but take care of B.: if he finds out that you're too sweet with his wife, he'll have you out as sure as fate.' 'Oh! I don't fear B.'s turning rusty; he knows very well I often make morning calls, and he often invites me to dinner.' 'The more fool he, especially as he leaves the lady at home so much.' 'I'll tell you what it is,' says another of these young philanderers, 'if a fellow won't stay at home to look after his own property, he must expect that other fellows will try and supply his absence. I know I should be dooced glad if the chance was mine.' And really you can't blame the petticoat much if she shows that she likes the attentions of one who gives her to understand, in every way he can, how he adores her and worships her, etc.; and though he may be only leading her into what is called a 'fools' paradise,' she doesn't know that until it is too late and she has disgraced herself, thrown away her good name, and made a serious scandal; or she is sent home and a divorce is obtained, or the husband calls out the Lothario and shoots him, or gets shot himself.

I have in my experience known a young gentleman pray heartily that the injured man would call him out, as then, being a good shot, he should certainly hit him, and in all probability put him out of the way, which would make all things smooth for him and Emma. These and unnumbered other results, more or less serious, arise from the want of occupation and the system of calling.

It is a saying as old as the hills, that a very prying inquisitive old gentleman always finds work for idle hands, and certainly Indian experience does not discredit the truth of it. The kind of morality that obtains in these matters amongst young men in general is not very exalted, whatever vocation or profession they follow, and amongst army men it is proverbially not very strict. I might put it the other way, but let it pass; they have a great deal more idle time than most other young men, therefore, according to the postulate above given, they are more likely to do wrong. Well, an idle young fellow pays a young married lady a morning visit; she may be very attractive both in manner and in person; she may possess a pretty face, may possess much intelligence, and may be an accomplished musician, may ride and dance well; and if she possesses these various attractions, or some of them, is it natural that an inconsiderate young fellow, who may also be clever, good-looking, gentleman-like, and withal a finely-figured man, one who may also be a vocalist, and a good dancer—is it natural, I say, that these two young people should spend an hour together without being more or less prepossessed in each other' s favour? This result is inevitable; the gentleman soon repeats his visit, he admires the lady more than before, and does not fail to let her see it; she, on the other hand, begins to think that Lieutenant —— is really a very pleasant and agreeable young man. So much being admitted, the frequent repetition of these morning calls, and perhaps some invitations to tiffin, or dinner, or to spend the evening, from the husband, who, all unsuspicious of mischief and danger, instead of being displeased, is rather proud that other men admire his wife, lead up to a footing of great intimacy. This, again, leads to morning rides, to engagements for partnership at dances, and to every kind of employment or pastime wherein the parties can be coupled together. This stage in the affair naturally excites the observation of the bystanders, the lookers-on, and they not only take note of the intimacy between Mrs. —— and Mr. So-and-so, but without more ado set down Mrs. So-and-so not as guilty of imprudence, and the indulgence of a little vanity, but of an improper and disgraceful intimacy, which up to this time has perhaps never been thought of, at all events has not been yielded to. Thus the lady, being at this time innocent, is rendered indignant, violent, and to some extent reckless, at being falsely accused, and she, in consequence of this state of feeling, unwisely and perversely argues thus: 'Oh! if society chooses to accuse and condemn me for nothing, what does its opinion signify? I am sure I am not going to give up my friends to please society. I have done nothing wrong, and I am not going to do anything wrong.' And perhaps she means what she says, and really thinks she has done nothing wrong, and perhaps truly means that she does not intend to do wrong; which, being expressed in plain English, means that she does not intend to commit adultery; and she may honestly mean to keep her word. Her really doing so is quite a different thing. After she has overstepped all the barriers, or almost all, that society, etiquette, and high moral feeling have established to restrain the intimacy between the opposite sexes, it is very questionable whether a lady has it in her power to say to herself: 'Thus far shalt thou go and no further.' From the hour that she admitted any exceptional degree of intimacy, from that hour she has placed herself on an inclined plane, and the further she descends on it the greater is the difficulty for her to draw back. In the very large majority of such cases, the truth of the French axiom is made painfully manifest: C'est le premier pas qui coute, and in those few cases where shame does not succeed to such intimacies, the escape is due to accidental causes. These appear to me to be simply the teachings of experience; but it would be altogether one-sided not to add that men, who, from unbounded reliance on the virtue of their wives, permit any continued attentions (however harmless) from any other man, are in a great measure responsible for the consequences. Nor should they leave their wives too much to themselves; if they do, other men will endeavour to step into their places, and it is a husband's duty to protect his wife against such endeavours. There are, no doubt, cases which of necessity involve long and continued absence. Military and naval men are specially exposed to these risks when on active service. In these cases the lady's honour, principle, and sense of religion should be her defence. In cases in which, from duty, office-work, or business, the husband is absent during the day, the lady should be able, if she is honest and true, to defend herself.

But these exceptions give no just warrant for a married man to go alone for weeks or months on tours of pleasure, of sport in distant lands, or fishing in distant seas, and, for such reasons, to leave a young wife without protection; nor are unhappy cases wanting to show the bitter fruits of such neglect.

Details of any intimacies such as those referred to here will scarcely prove interesting to the majority of readers, and if they were, my pen would feel too much disgust and sorrow to become the means of chronicling such unhappy doings. Neither do I think that the ordinary humdrum details of Indian life in cantonment would repay perusal. I therefore say nothing of the sensation created in the cantonment of Secunderabad by the arrival of Mrs. ——'s new dress, made in the latest mode by the French milliner at Madras, nor of the new carriage that reached its destination but last week from Simpson's for the Colonel's wife, nor of the pretty Arab that Captain S. sent down from Bombay for his wife. All, no doubt, tremendously important and absorbing events to those concerned, but not quite so much so to the general reader.

The only event that I will chronicle is Captain W.'s persevering and ultimately successful search for a man-eating tiger. All those who have been at Secunderabad know that there is a clump or collection of the ordinary gneiss rocks about a mile and a half from the cantonment, and on the opposite side to that on which the Hussain Sanger Tank is situated. These rocks have, time out of mind, been famed and feared by the natives as the abode of tigers; and sporting men, when stationed here, have, at different times, made raids, or shikar parties, with the view of destroying or driving away these deadly tenants of the rock-built towers and caves that Nature had made ready for them. The effects of these efforts, however successful for the time, have never been very long continued. Occasionally a royal beast has been killed by some lucky or well aimed bullet, and sometimes some of the beaters have been carried off in spite of numbers, guns, and determined foemen, and sometimes the beast and his family relinquished for a time their chosen lair; but ordinarily, unless some sporting men were at hand, a sort of compact or sufferance on the part of the natives existed, much after this fashion. At one time a native riot, or cultivator, lost a bullock, or a sheep, or a donkey; another time some other person lost one of such animals, or tatoos, and on a third occasion some other individual was the sufferer, and so on. As the injury was, as it were, distributed with something like equality, and as they did not, generally speaking, suffer in their own persons, they began to look on the infliction as a sort of necessary evil; it was their fate, their 'hickmut,' 'ickbal,' etc., and they bore it patiently, and with resignation. Indeed, so long as they were not themselves devoured, they rarely made any exertion to rid themselves of their enemy.

This passive state of affairs, however, only lasted so long as the striped gentleman kept his paws off human victims. If by dint of hunger or failure of other prey, he chanced to get the taste of human flesh, the fastidious beast would never, if he could get it, feed on any other. At first the villagers round about were struck with terror and grief. After the first man had been taken, not many days passed before another was carried off, and so on till fourteen had been seized and made away with. The poor people were in great dismay; they had made two attempts, by setting baits, and watching at night, to slay the marauder, but without avail. The baits were taken, but the wounds inflicted by the men were not, so it appeared, much thought of by the tiger, for he bounded off with his prey in spite of them. The villagers were in despair; they did not dare to go into the fields, or scarcely to appear outside their doors. All sorts of sacrifices were made to Muniah, and donations to the Fakeers and Brahmins, but nothing availed.

At last reports of the distress of the villagers reached the ears of the men of the M.N.I., and these mentioned them to their officers. The very next day a strong party of sportsmen and beaters set out for the rocks before mentioned. Besides Captain W., there were four crack ball-shots amongst the sportsmen, so that it was thought the fate of Mr. Burrah Bhague was tolerably certain, but in spite of the most careful and indefatigable search no tiger could be found.

A couple of hours had been spent in the search, and it was burning hot, so it was agreed that the whole party should adjourn for a couple of hours to the mess-tent, which had been pitched in the Maidan a few hundred yards off, to rest and refresh themselves. The effects of cold water, soda-water, dashed, I must admit, with some firewater, along with sundry cheroots, together with the shade and shelter from the terrific sun, soon restored the eyes and steadied the hands of the hunters, and as the man-eating gentleman seemed to have left his accustomed haunts, it was agreed to proceed some three miles farther, where there was another aggregation of rocks. The ghorrey wallehs were then called for, and soon led the various tatoos to their several masters, who, on reaching the second pile of rocks, at once dismounted, and after looking at their caps, proceeded to make the necessary arrangements for inspecting the new pile of rocks with care and caution.

Without troubling the reader with these details, it will be enough to say that every precaution which skill and experience could dictate was employed, but still without finding any beast. More than three hours had been spent in this second search; everyone was now greatly fatigued, and beaten by the sun, therefore at last they agreed to relinquish the search for that day, vexed and disappointed though they were. In remounting their ponies, a sullen silence weighed on the spirits and the tongue of everyone. How different to the volatile chatter and chaff that everyone indulged in at starting! The cheerful jest and saucy jibe of the morning, the uproarious and hearty laugh, were all hushed, and but a few gruff words were heard now and then. The only business of the entire party seemed to be to smoke and to meditate.

As they again approached the rocks first examined, Captain W. proposed that they should try again by making another examination, but he got no one to second his proposition; they were all so sunned and so tired, that all declined to do anything more that day. 'So be it,' said W. 'You're lazy fellows; go home, and I'll go by myself, and have another look for our shy friend. I'm certain he's there, though where I can't imagine. There's one peak that I didn't climb up, because I couldn't conceive that it led to anything; but it may, and I shall certainly examine it before I go home.' 'Oh, don't, Godfrey!' exclaimed his friends; 'for God's sake, don't! We're all so done up that we're fit for nothing.' 'My eyes are so dazed by the glare,' said B., 'that I couldn't see the beast, I verily believe, if he was standing a few yards before me.' 'Well, Master Frank, if you are in the happy condition you describe, whose fault is it? If you will empty your own flask, and then borrow mine, which I perceive is now empty also, how can you expect to see?' This smart rally from W. raised the laugh against B., who, though a most ready-witted fellow, had drunk so much that he couldn't say anything in reply. 'Don't go, Godfrey,' said poor Bob M., 'don't go. We're all so tired, that we really should be of little use.' 'Oh,' returned W., 'you're quite right; much better stay away. How do I know with that inflamed visage of yours that you would not take me for the tiger? No, no, Bobby; you've been too deeply associated with B., and have paid too much attention to his flask and your own to permit me to trust you.' Bob replied: 'Nonsense! I can see very well. Don't go. Upon my life, in such a place as that, to go alone is simply to throw your life away. I say again, for God's sake, don't go! We're none of us in a fit state to give proper help, and we can't let you go by yourself. Besides, it's unkind and unfriendly of you to undertake the thing single-handed, and thus to leave us out of it. Don't think of it, Godfrey, for to-day; we'll all be at your command to-morrow, or any other day you please.'

The other sportsmen, S. and C., said the same. C., who was a very experienced and successful tiger-shot, again pointed out the great and needless risk W. would run if, under such extraordinary disadvantages, he would alone go amongst the rocks, wherefrom, on any side, above or below, the beast might spring on him before a glimpse had been seen of it. All was to no purpose. W. was convinced that the animal was concealed somewhere in the rocks before them, and that in the morning he had omitted to search that particular peak he had spoken of, so nothing would content him till he had made a fresh search. Almost with the objurgations of his friends he went solus up the rocks again. His friends, though at that time not game, or rather too done up, to follow him, could not bear to leave him in a situation of such difficulty and danger. They halted under the shade of a few tamarind-trees near at hand, waiting in great anxiety for W.'s return, or for some signal from him. Some sat on their ponies, others dismounted, and made their boys spread mats for them with camblies, or anything that might serve for an extempore pillow. But, however they disposed of themselves, their tongues were not idle, and all were agreed that W.'s going up the rocks by himself was egregious folly, and that he was as determined and obstinate as he was foolhardy in doing it. W. was such a favourite that the great risk he was needlessly running made some very angry; some were in great fear and excitement, and some had called for water, and were bathing their heads, washing their eyes, etc., in order to go after him, being unable to endure any longer the painful suspense they were suffering.

M., C. and S. were just beginning to move towards the rocks when their footsteps were arrested by the sharp crack of a rifle, instantly followed by the roar of a tiger. 'My God! it's all over with poor Godfrey!' exclaimed M. 'I feared it would be so,' said S. 'Let's get forward,' said C.; 'we may not be too late to help. It was up this rock he went.' All were scrambling up, keeping their guns ready for instant use, when bang went another rifle-shot. 'That sounds healthy,' said M. 'Oh, it's grand!' said C.; 'you may depend on it he has found and killed.' 'On my honour,' said S., 'it's almost too good, too glorious, to be true.' Then arose shouts for Godfrey, and 'Where are you; how can we get at you?'

By this time some of the natives had found out where W. was, and then confused cries of 'Saib Ateha hi, hither owe! is turrup sey, hither owe! hither owe! Bhague murgia, koodah ki fuzzul sey, Saib my mana,' and many other cries and utterances and exclamations crowded on the ears of those who had lately been in such painful anxiety that they could bear it no longer. By-and-by W. was seen descending by a path so difficult and dangerous that it was hard to say whether the tiger or the pathway were the more so. At last he achieved his descent without broken bones, and could converse with his friends, who at once overwhelmed him with questions and inquiries. He was not hurt? No; he had not got a scratch! 'How was it? How did you find the beast?' 'It was just as I suspected. That rock which we neglected to examine this morning led to the beast's fortress. When I had climbed to the top of it, I found that there was a vast chasm between the rock on which I stood and all the surrounding rocks. I also observed that there was a ledge jutting out some two and a half feet from the body of the rock about twelve feet below me. This ledge ran along the face of the rock for some thirty yards, and then gradually descended on the left side from where I stood. From the sight of some half-gnawed bones that lay on the ledge nearly in a perpendicular line below me, I suspected that my friend's dwelling could not be far off, but how to let myself down puzzled me for a time. The precipice went down from the ledge probably near a hundred feet. I did not, therefore, like to risk a jump, lest I should lose my balance after landing on the ledge. I could let down my gun by means of my shot-belt and some twine I had about me, but I did not see how to let myself down so that I could be sure of keeping my balance. I walked from one end of the top of the ridge to the other, and thus found that at one part of it I could get down nearer to the ledge by two feet, and that by hanging from that part of the ridge I should only have two feet to drop. Having made these observations, I gently let down my gun, so that it rested on the ledge upright against the ridge. I then got down as far as possible, and afterwards dropped on to the ledge as gently as I could. On reaching the ledge I instantly seized and disembarrassed my gun. Two paces to the right brought me in front of a large and deep cave, formed in the body of the main rock, at the bottom of which I saw two balls of fire. I aimed just between them and fired. My shot was a very lucky one, as it hit the beast so hard that on attempting to spring he fell down almost at my feet. Could he have sprung, I must have been dashed to pieces by being knocked down the precipice. Finding that the animal was not quite dead, I gave him the other barrel, which was the second shot you heard.'

As soon as he had finished his explanation, he was so overwhelmed with laudation and congratulation of all kinds that he said: 'Come, let us think of getting home, and to do that we must get hold of the carcase of the cat, and we must take his measure before we take off his coat.' 'What a queer customer he is!' said B., who had from excitement and the persevering use of chatties of cold water in some degree recovered himself. 'Most fellows have their coats off before they begin to fight; this chap waits till the fight is over.' 'What! you've found your tongue, have you, Frank?' said W. 'I thought you were too far gone to have eyes or ears for anything.' 'Not a bit of it,' returned B.; 'I must have been dead drunk, indeed, if I had not heard the row that poor beggar up yonder kicked up when your messenger made him give tongue. But, by Jove! here he comes! What fellows these natives are! They have not taken ten minutes to sling the beast on bamboos, to get him out of his dark mansion, and to bring him down here.' This explained the tom-toms and songs and music, as well as the crowd of Sepoys and beaters and villagers that was now advancing from the rocks, bearing in triumph, and in a sort of procession, the enemy that had lately been so dreaded far and near. The tiger, an immense creature, was borne along slung by all fours to a bamboo carried at least by twenty men, for every villager tried hard, if only for a yard or two, to have a hand in carrying his enemy, not only to ensure future good luck, but to triumph over him. With all the sounds of rejoicing described the crowd brought the tiger, and laid him at W.'s feet. 'Ram Sing' (the naigue of his company), said W., 'how did you manage to get the beast here so quickly?' 'Oh, sir, we were all ready; we had bamboos, and ropes, and ladders all prepared, and plenty of willing hands anxious to do anything I told them.' 'Oh, that was it, was it?' said W. 'Well, my men have been wonderfully speedy. I'll reward them by-and-by; but now we must take the dimensions of our quondam friend.' 'But, sir, the villagers want leave to speak, if you will allow them.' 'Well, let them say their say, if they will promise not to make it long.'

Accordingly, the head men of the several villages which had lost inhabitants from the man-eater came forward, accompanied by the surviving relatives of those who had been carried off. These poor people, many of them with tears in their eyes, came and threw themselves at W.'s feet anxious to touch his garments or kiss his shoes. In their untaught and simple way they made poojah to him, i.e., they literally worshipped him as a superior being, and implored their deities to shower blessings on the brave Ingrasy Sahib who had rescued them and theirs from the fangs of the devourer. 'Well, that's enough,' said W.; 'you had better get up, now.' 'But,' replied the head men, 'we have not yet done what we came to do—we have a bag of 500 Rs. that we beg the Captain Sahib will take from us; it is contributed jointly by all the villages that have suffered.' W. knew well the general poverty of the villages, and being wholly unprepared for any such unusual demonstration from the natives, was for a moment thrown off his equanimity. He walked away a few yards, and it was observed that his eyes were moist, but he soon recovered his ordinary quiet and unmoved demeanour. Then, turning to the people kneeling and prostrate about him, he said, speaking Hindustani fluently: 'My good friends, for what I have done I am amply repaid in the consciousness of having delivered you from your enemy; besides, the search for large game is to a British officer and a sportsman a very great pleasure, and he would feel himself dishonoured if he accepted money or presents for anything he might do as a sportsman. Do not, my friends, suppose that it is from pride that I do not accept your bag of rupees; I feel grateful to you for the kindness shown in the offer, and to show my sense of it will accept from each of the villages that have suffered a pair of doves or quails. But as to money, that is out of the question. On the other hand, I am debtor to you all for the assistance and information you rendered me in the beginning in tracking and beating, and now in bringing down, the dead beast. I have ordered my head boy to pay to each of the villages 15 Rs. All I want you now to do is to lay the carcase straight, that we may measure the exact length from the nose to the tip of the tail' (which was found to be nine feet and nine inches—a grand specimen). And when this had been done, he said: 'Now all I have to ask is that you will help Ram Sing to take off the skin. Ram Sing knows all about that.'

When W. had finished speaking, the natives one and all again broke out into pæans of praise in behalf of their deliverer, so extravagant, indeed, judged by our notions, that W. was scandalized, or, if not, he feared ridicule; so he gave orders to his head boy to take them away, and to his friends he said, 'Come, let's get home; I am not a little hungry, and trust they've kept something at the mess for us, which I shall attack, as soon as I've had a bath, with as much ferocity as ever our dead friend his choice food.' 'We all say ditto to that, and God help the mess butler if he doesn't show to-day in good form, for he'll find us on this occasion all tigers.'

W., in his extreme modesty, had sought to avoid the triumphal parade of bringing the tiger into the cantonment, and had therefore given the orders already mentioned. But his intended curtailment of the public triumph did not at all suit Ram Sing, or any of the natives, Sepoys, beaters, or villagers, in any way connected with the deed. They could not comprehend the doing a noble and daring action with the wish to say and make as little as possible of it. They therefore determined, whether W. liked it or not, that he should have a public ovation; and, accordingly, they entered the cantonment in grand procession, with lights and torches and drums, tom-toms, horns, trumpets, and all sorts of heterogeneous instruments, making a most infernal row and outrageous discords, in the centre of an immense concourse of people, bearing along the tiger, singing songs, setting forth Burrah Bhague's evil deeds, describing his conqueror as nothing less than Rustum, giving the attributes of a demigod to him, and describing his skill and courage as invincible and irresistible; these hymns of praise they assisted with all the noises they could bring together, not forgetting squibs, crackers, rockets, and all the fireworks they could procure. In this way they paraded through the whole cantonment, partly back again, till they reached the compound of the mess-house of the regiment. There, to W.'s intense disgust, they would have recommenced their tom-toms and their music, with fireworks and songs, but W. ordered them at once out of the cantonment. 'Confound the rascals!' said W. 'I shouldn't wonder if they set fire to the lines with their d——d folly.' W.'s indignation amused his friends amazingly. They exclaimed against his severity in this way: 'You, the hero of the day, the Roastum, ought to sympathize with the poor devils, and not be so irate with them for doing you honour in their own way.' 'The deuce take them! I wish they'd keep their honour and their d——d noise to themselves! If I had allowed them to remain in the cantonment, I shouldn't have had a wink of sleep all night long, besides the shame of having my name connected with their absurd proceedings. I declare I am sorry I told Saul Jaker to give them any money; perhaps he'll give them more than he ought to-night, and then the great majority of them will drink too much rack.' 'Well,' said B., 'if they do once in a way, it's a poor heart that never rejoices.' 'Quite true,' said W.; 'but sometimes the hearts that are not poor rejoice so much that they are not able to help their friends, however great the need of help may be.' 'Oh, Godfrey, that's a shame, to cast a fellow's misdeeds up to him in that way!' 'Why, then, do you take the part of such a noisy set of rascals as those yonder? Thank God, I can scarcely hear them now, so I'll go to bed, and wish you all good-night.'

Many years after, W. arrived at the French Rock, and was staying there for a day or two as a guest of the mess, being en route to Bangalore. There was at the same time a young lad, whom I shall call Gascoigne, who had but lately arrived from England. He had brought a letter of introduction to W. from some of his friends at home. The young gentleman, a studious and quiet lad, was, in consequence, putting up with W., who, as hospitable and kindly disposed as any man in the world, welcomed the youth cordially, and was, by shikar parties, and every other means in his power, trying to entertain him. On W.'s account, everyone in the regiment did the same. Young G. had besides, as a pretty horseman, and an excellently good shot for so young a man, won the hearts of most of the young men of the regiment. He came from one of the Midland counties famous for hunting and sporting, and was therefore quite at home.

After dinner one unfortunate evening, when all the men of the regiment and the two guests mentioned were sitting outside in front of the mess-house, with their teapoys, their cheroots, and their eternal brandy-pawny, the conversation turned on the different styles of horsemanship. The young stranger spoke rather in ridicule of the cavalry seat and the long stirrups it enjoins, and he wondered how anyone could possibly ride across country with them. His remarks produced some sharp replies from B., the cavalry man present. 'Well, G.,' said W. to his friend, 'although you and I prefer the short stirrup and the usual cross-country seat, others ride well and strongly with the long stirrup. Our friend B. here rides with a long stirrup, and few men ride better than he does.'

By such kind and judicious observations W. threw oil on the troubled waters, and for the time stopped any further unpleasant remarks; but he could not, on the part at least of B., do away with the irritation that had been caused by young G.'s observations, and the remembrance of them rankled in this officer's mind. However, W. turned the attention of the party to other matters, and all seemed smooth. After a time he said, 'Come, let's have an all-round rupee shot at that weathercock on the top of the school-room; the first man that hits it carries the pool, and we'll draw lots for the order of firing.' 'Agreed, agreed!' said all present. 'I'll hold the stakes,' said Colonel D., 'as I don't intend to compete.'

Accordingly the firing commenced, and great was the laughing and the chatter as the whole party one after the other missed the weathercock. 'I should have hit the confounded thing,' said B., 'but just as I fired the wind swirled it round, so that I lost my chance.' 'Well, never mind, you haven't lost your stake, and you can try again,' said the Colonel.

Accordingly a second stake was placed in the Colonel's hands, and the competitors fired all round a second time. Young G. claimed a hit, but almost at the instant he fired B. followed, and he said, 'Come, make me a bow, youngster, for wiping your eye.' 'I would with the greatest pleasure,' replied G., 'if you had done it; but my shot was a hit before you fired.' 'I deny it,' said B., 'and I claim the pool.' 'This cannot be determined by individual opinions,' said W. 'What does the Colonel say?' 'I really cannot say whose shot the hit was, as at the moment I had taken a pinch of snuff and was using my handkerchief.' 'This is unfortunate,' said W.; 'we must take the votes of all present.'

B. made some grumbling remark that was not audible, but he said nothing in direct opposition to W.'s proposition. The votes were then taken, and it appeared that the party were not agreed as to whose the winning shot was. Some were not watching, and of those who were, three were on B.'s side, and four on G.'s. There was a great deal of talking, and as the talking increased the excitement increased. W., who seemed to have a presentiment of the evil that was coming, exerted himself to the utmost to prevent mischief, by making proposition after proposition in order to put an end to the dispute, but without avail. He believed that his young friend had made the hit, and gave his vote accordingly, which, strictly speaking, should have decided the question, as it gave G. a majority; but this W. declined to insist upon. He wished that the two claimants should divide the pool, but this neither would consent to. Thus all his efforts to put out the fire were unavailing, and accordingly, as one word drew on another, it burst out in this way:

'Do you assert,' said Captain B. to G., 'that the shot which struck the weathercock was yours?' 'Yes, I do,' said the youngster, 'because I believe it was mine.' 'Then,' replied B., 'you lie!' Before G. could speak, W. said to B., 'If you say that the shot was yours, it is you that lie!' Instantly B. got up and rushed at W., who remained calmly seated. He warded off the blow aimed at his head by B., and said, 'That will do, B.; I understand you, and I will not disappoint you.' At gun-fire the next morning these two men stood opposite to each other at twelve paces. At the first exchange of shots W.'s cap was shot through, and the buckle of B.'s waist-belt was cut away, but neither party sustained any personal injury. The second shots were both misses, neither party being touched. The third exchange of fire were both hits, but still only coats and buttons suffered. Both men were desirous to have another exchange of fire, but their seconds refused to allow the matter to proceed; they added, that unless their principals chose to go into the jungle by themselves, they would not permit another shot to be fired.

The two men still remained on the ground dissatisfied, nor did they move until Colonel D. made his appearance. He had been made cognizant of what had been done, and all he said as he rode on to the ground was this: 'Gentlemen, any attempt to carry this further places both of you in arrest. Both of you know me; good-morning. Adjutant, you will see my orders strictly carried out, and tell Captain B. that he has my orders to proceed on his road within an hour.'

Young G., who was a plucky young fellow, though, as W. knew, wholly unacquainted with the use of the pistol, had been almost in a state of frenzy throughout the business. He swore he would follow B. and have him out wherever he could find him, till W. got him to calm down, and Colonel D. explained to him that he must place him in arrest and report him to the General commanding the division, if he did not give him his word of honour not to stir further in the matter. At first the young lad refused to pledge himself as required, but his refusal was as respectful as it was manly. His words were: 'How can I do that, sir? I have been called a liar publicly; surely no one who has the honour to bear her Majesty's commission can put up with that! and besides, the life of a valued and respected friend has, from his chivalrous generosity, been placed in danger to shield me, which, though I am deeply grateful for it, makes me blush, and places me in rather a humiliating position. It's no use for you, Godfrey, to shake your head and deny it. I know perfectly well why you anticipated me.'

He had in the few days he had been with W. learned to regard him as an elder brother, and, by his own request, to address him as the others did. W. and the Colonel looked at one another as young Gascoigne spoke, and when he had finished the Colonel said: 'The words you have spoken and the sentiments they convey do you credit, Mr. G., but you mistake if you suppose that either I or your friend Godfrey wish you to put up tamely with the gross insult that has been offered to you. I will obtain for you from Captain B. a proper apology, and at the same time I will take care that it is publicly known that I only obtained your promise to proceed no further in this matter on this assurance.' 'Well, sir, as you take so kind an interest in my good name, and will undertake to let it be known that there was the strongest wish on my part to right myself in the way that is usual amongst gentlemen, I will give you my word to do nothing more, especially as I see that Godfrey wishes me to do so.' 'That's a sensible lad,' said the Colonel: and Godfrey added, 'Yes, I do wish it; and you may rest assured that I should not do so were I not sure that your good name is perfectly safe in Colonel D.'s hands, who has acted on this occasion as he always acts.' 'Godfrey! Godfrey!' said Colonel D., 'I shall have to arrest your body, to arrest your tongue!' 'Well, that is hard,' returned W., laughing. 'This is the second time in one morning that I have been threatened with arrest by you.' 'All your own fault,' returned the Colonel, smiling. 'I must do my duty and obey the orders of the service, though other people choose to set a bad example and do otherwise.' 'There,' said W., 'you see, G., what military service is: you are liable to get it on both sides of the face before you can turn round.' 'Well,' said G., 'if this is getting it on both sides of the face, I trust that my commandant will be like Colonel D.; but that's too much good luck to expect.' Colonel D. again laughed, and said, 'You've got too much talk, young man,' though he was evidently pleased with the compliment. 'You've been in Ireland, I fancy.' 'No, I haven't, Colonel,' replied young G.; 'but I should like very much to go there, for a time at least.' 'I don't think,' said Colonel D., turning to W., 'that your young friend has any great need to go there to learn one of the accomplishments said to be in fashion there.'

So the three adjourned in high good humour with all the world to the parade ground, where a coursing match was to come off between two famous dogs. I will spare the reader a description of the beautiful form of these two canine heroes; it is enough to say that they were marvellously fine greyhounds, and that they killed in the most approved fashion, in spite of all the efforts and doubles of the poor hares. I must further confess that I was much more interested for these harmless creatures than I was for the dogs, though I dare say their performance was matchless in its way; so, at least, it was on all hands pronounced to be. I sank many degrees in the estimation of my regimental friends, I believe, for expressing unreservedly this opinion. The young lads could not understand how any man, even a doctor, could feel no interest in the performance of two such magnificent dogs as Juno and Jupiter. I admitted the merits and beauties of their canine friends—indeed, no one could admire them more than I did. Still, I could not enter into their feelings, nor share in their delight at seeing the hares writhing in agony in the fangs of Jupiter or Juno.

'You don't like fishing, you say, and we see you don't like coursing. What do you like?' 'To hunt the fox, or the jackal, or the wolf, I should think glorious sport.' 'Then,' said M., 'why don't you go out with us in the morning? Whenever we can get a chance we go after jackals. Foxes are rare, and wolves never let us get within rifle distance.' 'Besides,' said S., 'we can't afford to knock our horses off their legs, which we should do if we tried to run down those brutes so as to get within shot.' 'You know,' returned I, 'that in the morning I am not my own master. I have my hospital to attend, my patients to visit and prescribe for, to enter all cases in the journal and casebook, as well as to see that all other hospital books are kept up to date. Perhaps my superintending surgeon might not be altogether pleased if he heard (and these things do travel in an extraordinary way) that I postponed my visit to the hospital till after I had had my run with the dogs; and perhaps the Colonel might not altogether approve of my setting at naught the standing orders of the service, and before his face too.' 'You are quite right,' said W., 'you may rest assured that the Colonel would not approve of any such thing; indeed, he could not.' 'What's that, W., that the Colonel wouldn't and couldn't do?' said Colonel D., who, as he came up, had overheard the last part of W.'s remarks. These were explained to him, and what led to them. His comment was, 'Boys will be boys. The Doctor has acted perfectly right; he could not ride with us in the morning, as the standing orders lay it down precisely that he shall visit his hospital at certain hours, and these would, if we found anything, be just the hours when we should be at the best of the chase; and if he wished ever so much to join us I should not allow him to do so, and W. is quite correct in what he said.' This settled the question, and took away any distant hope I might indulge that the Colonel might now and then take no notice of any infraction of the standing orders as to the time of visiting the hospital. I departed, sorrowing that fate had destined me to be medical instead of military purely.

The subject of sport was, with my young friends especially, a never-ending one, constantly renewed, and still beginning. On my return from Bangalore, to which place I was called under circumstances so peculiar that I think the recital will repay perusal, although they necessitate a digression, and have nothing to do with sport, which is at present my legitimate theme, the possibility of my joining in the sporting was again introduced.

On account of the marriage of her brother's wife's sister, Miss S., my wife had gone to Bangalore and was to return to the F. Rocks in a few days. I was, in fact, anxiously looking for a letter to say on what day I might expect her. Instead of this, I received from her brother a communication stating that it was his and the Garrison-surgeon's opinion that if I wanted to see her again alive, I must start with the least possible delay for Bangalore. With tears in my eyes, and this letter in my hand, I went at once to Colonel D., who in the kindest way took on himself the responsibility of giving me permission to go. At the time, very luckily, there were no sick of any importance—some slight cases of fever, and some chronic cases there were in hospital which the dresser could treat. No officers sick, no children—I mean European children—sick or well, in the cantonment, and no lady, except Mrs. G., who had but lately been married, and was in perfect health. But the F. Rocks was a single station, and if any accident occurred, or sudden sickness broke out, no medical officer was to be had nearer than Bangalore. For at this time there was no Durbar surgeon at Mysore, fifteen miles off, and the dwelling-place of the Rajah. These circumstances being considered, to let me leave the cantonment was really taking on himself a serious responsibility which the General himself declined to incur. Bangalore was 87 miles from the F. Rocks, and the question was how to get there in the shortest time. Here was seen the brotherly feeling cherished in this regiment. I had no sooner made known my difficulty than almost every man of those present offered me his horses. I had two of my own, which I sent on, so that the one was to halt twenty miles from the station, the second forty; of the borrowed horses, one was to go with me the first twenty miles. With this help I started a little before gun-fire, and reached Bangalore about 4 p.m., and found that there was no need for anxiety; my wife had suffered from a severe hysterical attack, and was well enough to ride out that very evening. I was too much delighted at the condition in which I found her to find fault with a mistake which had in the end given me so much pleasure. The next morning I waited on the General, and the dialogue that took place was so peculiar that I shall endeavour to present it to my readers in its integrity, so far as my memory will allow me.

'Good-morning, General. I trust you will be kind enough to excuse the absence of the proper costume, as I had no time to put in any change of dress, I came off in such a hurry, General.' 'And where have you come from, sir?' 'From the F. Rocks, General G.' 'From the F. Rocks? Who gave you leave?' 'Colonel D., my commandant, General.' 'He gave you leave, did he? He has no power to do so.' 'I am here, General, to explain the circumstances.' 'Oh, you are here to explain the circumstances,' observed the General. 'Well, you'll be clever if you can explain how Colonel D. is authorized to take upon himself my duties. Let me hear, sir; but are you not the Assistant-Surgeon in medical charge of the regiment?' (The old gentleman had by this time recalled my features.) 'Yes, General.' 'How, then, did you presume to quit your charge without any provision having been made for the carrying on of the duties devolving on you?' 'Have the goodness to read that letter, General G.' 'It seems rather a long one; can't you give me the contents?' 'Certainly, General. It states, on the authority of the Garrison-Surgeon and Dr. L., that if I want to see my wife alive again I must lose not an hour in proceeding here. I showed this letter to Colonel D, and he very kindly allowed me to proceed hither. I rode in yesterday in twelve hours, but happily there was no occasion for me to have done so, as my wife is quite well; the attack was hysterical only, though it looked so serious. And now, having reported myself, and the unusual reasons for my being here, I beg that you will be kind enough to give me one day's leave to post back my horses.' 'The best thing I can do for you is not to know that you are here.' Then turning his chair round, he said, 'I don't see you; I don't know that you are here.' 'But, General, pray give me one day's leave, or I shall not be able to post my horses so as to divide the distances on the road.' 'I don't hear you, nor know that you are here; if I knew who you were, and that you had left your charge without any proper leave, it would be my duty to place you under arrest; but as I don't know who you are, or where you come from, or indeed anything about you, you see I can't do it.' 'But, General, I——' 'Don't say anything; I might find out who you are, and might be compelled to act on that knowledge. Now, I haven't seen you, and know not who you are, or where you come from, or anything else.' 'Once more let me entreat of you, General G.——' 'How many times must I repeat that I neither see, nor hear, nor know, that anyone is here? If I did, it could only be unpleasant for us both. I not only don't see or hear, but I am determined not to see or hear, or to know anything about you; so whoever you may be, return at once to the place from whence you came, and let me have no communication on the subject, of which, indeed, I am wholly ignorant and uninformed.' 'Permit me to wish you good-morning, General?' 'No, I can't permit anything to a stranger, and one I know nothing about. But as a courtesy one might offer to a stranger, I wish you good-morning.'

I rode home meditating on the mysteries of red-tape, but without being able to fathom them. Why should it be more orthodox to pretend to be ignorant of that which was perfectly well known, than it would be to admit the knowledge, and to say, 'Well, I am glad to learn that there is now no reason for anxiety; get back as fast as possible, and I will take no notice of the irregularity'? The need for enacting a palpable farce sorely puzzled me, and I went back to my brother-in-law's house to report the ill-success of my application. Then it was settled that I should lie perdu for the day, during which time I could post back the horses, and could start at gun-fire, or a little earlier, on my return to the F. Rocks. It was hard to leave my young wife, whom I idolized, after being with her only one day; but I had taken the shilling, and therefore it was a case of 'no compulsion, only you must.' So, after many kisses and moist eyes, I started just as the gun fired, and I rode into the mess compound at the F. Rocks just as the second bugle was sounding. There was a shout of welcome, and eager inquiries from all present after the state of my wife's health. Everyone heartily congratulated me on the letter being merely a false alarm. Then the dinner came, and I did great honour to it, being not a little hungry after my return ride, on which I received many compliments; the riding nearly 180 miles in two days with but one between was regarded as something of an equestrian achievement, and my pluck was commended accordingly.

This led to a renewal of the invitation, on the part of the younger men, to join them in their cheetah and tiger expeditions, which at first, being no ball shot, I was not anxious to do. No one likes to exhibit his want of skill in any exercise or pastime, and therefore I declined. My young friends, either out of playful malice, or out of an unacknowledged unwritten belief that medical men, not being combatant officers, are not equal to them in courage, overwhelmed me with banter and chaff (as the phrase now is) of all kinds. I cannot remember a tithe of it, but it was in the main something of this kind: 'Don't say any more, Bob; the Doctor is a clever fellow; he knows as well how to take care of himself as to whip off a fellow's leg, don't you, Doctor?' and before I could reply to this jibe B. said, 'Don't forget, all of you, what an important personage the Doctor is. If he was chawed up, what should we do? But if half a dozen of us poor devils came to grief that way it wouldn't much signify. We are paid for being shot, or for being ready to be disposed of; we are, in the customary phrase, "only food for powder and shot," and you see that's not the case with the Doctor.' Turning from one to the other as they discharged their little shafts, I was silly enough to get very angry, and my indignation broke out thus: 'Confound you, what has led you to make this dead set at me? If you fancy that I value my life one bit more than any one of you, you make a very great mistake, and you will compel me to give one of you an unpleasant proof of it if I'm to be subject to more of this kind of conversation.'

No one said anything, but the Colonel wore a broad grin on his face, and W. laughed immoderately. I was now in a towering passion. I got up, saying, 'I haven't often been your guest at mess, gentlemen, and I can't say I think my welcome on this occasion such as to induce me to intrude on your hospitality again.' W. started up and caught hold of my arm, saying, 'Surely you are not so silly as to take offence at a little harmless chaff? not one of us would intentionally say or do anything to hurt or annoy you. I really thought there was more manly stability in you than to fly off in this way.' 'And, pray,' said I, 'what have I said or done to give cause for your fit of laughter?' 'It was your getting so angry that amused me, but as you have taken it so much amiss, I am really sorry for it,' at the same time, with an open frank smile, offering his hand. Who could resist W.? I heartily shook his hand, and said, 'W., you make me ashamed of having shown such want of temper, but these young good-for-nothing scamps here, with their jibes one after the other, threw me off my balance for the moment.'

J., one of the three men who had been chief jokers, then said, 'But, Doctor, you ought to have known that if we had really suspected that there was anything of the white feather connected with your not joining us in our expeditions, we shouldn't have thought you worth poking fun at, and should never have cared whether you went out with us or not.' 'Pray say no more; I am convinced that I was hasty, and in the wrong to get so angry!' 'Now,' said the Colonel, 'after what the Doctor has admitted, let's say no more on the subject.' 'One word more, if you please, Colonel; I wish to prove to all my friends here that they did not judge me wrongly. The very next time you go after cheetah or tiger, I will go with you' (a shout of approval). 'Well said, Doctor!' 'I will lend you a rifle,' said W. 'Or I, or I,' said M. and S. 'And I, if I had one to lend,' said B., 'but as I haven't, all I can offer is a pith-hat with a brim as large as an umbrella, and if that doesn't of itself frighten the tiger, he must be a peculiarly unapprehensive beast; and I'll venture a trifle that the Doctor does more execution with the hat than he would with the gun, although he is such a peppery gentleman.' 'The pepper is all out of me now, B., and you may say whatever you like; and I would accept your redoubtable pith-hat, had I not one of my own. Besides that, I couldn't think of depriving you of such a powerful weapon, so if you mount your hat and have your rifle in your hand, you will be doubly armed, and will no doubt do double execution.' 'By Jove!' said B., 'the pepper isn't all out of you yet.' 'But you will take my rifle?' said W.; 'if you bring the double-sights in a line with the object, you can't miss him.' 'Best thanks, W., but as I am altogether unpractised, I shall go out without a gun or weapon of any kind, not even my friend B.'s pith-hat.' 'On my word, Doctor,' said the Colonel, 'that's the wisest resolution you could come to; it will be better for you to become a little familiar with the rifle before you go after tigers or cheetahs.' 'Besides,' said B., 'who knows but the Doctor might take a sly pot at one of us, and wing the unlucky individual for the sake of a little surgical practice; he's had none since he's been with us.' 'Well, B., that blow might have been effective if it had not been somewhat below the belt; at all events, it was not so bad as your shot at the pariah dog that you missed this morning, and that M. rolled over immediately after.' There was a general laugh at B.'s expense. 'And, pray, how did you know that?' said B. 'I only saw it, that's all!' 'Why, you rode past three or four minutes before we fired; you must have had eyes behind to see that.' 'Oh, B., if that's the style (stile), I shall leave you to get over it as you can; the present attempt is rather lame, and I wish you a steadier hand when you come to make close acquaintance with the striped or spotted coats, unless you've got M. behind you to wipe your eye.' Another laugh at poor B. 'Come, B., whip and spur,' said W.; 'don't let the Doctor walk over the ground.' 'Oh,' replied B., 'no one can fight against a fellow who has got eyes behind.'

Poor B.! that was his last speech and dying confession. Amidst the general laughing and chaffing going on, the Colonel said to B.:

'Better take more shots with the rifle, and fewer shots out of the flask, Mr. B., and then you won't miss your mark as it seems you did this morning.' B. said nothing, but walked off somewhat crestfallen. One after the other left, till at last only W. and myself were left with the Colonel. He then said: 'I'm truly sorry for B.; he's a frank, open-hearted young fellow, but I fear he's going too fast by a great deal; he was until recently a capital shot. It was just the same with poor Tom Manners, whom I knew intimately in Bengal. The first indication we got of his breaking up was his missing his aim; he had been the crack shot of us all, but sangaree (we used to drink sangaree in those days) and brandy was too much for him; he died of delirium tremens, a raving lunatic, after having tried to kill himself and two other persons. Now, I have stayed behind the others to say that I think it would be well done of both of you if you would take an opportunity of talking seriously with this unhappy lad. You, W., have great influence, and you can speak as a senior and an old friend: and you, Doctor, can speak as a professional man, and the medical officer of the regiment; choose your opportunity well, and the young fellow will then see that you mean kindly. Good-night to you both.' W.: 'Before you go, Colonel, I think it right to tell you, that I have more than once spoken seriously to B., but I regret to say hitherto without effect. I will, however, do so again.' 'And I, Colonel, will certainly do my best; but if W.'s advice has been of none effect, I fear mine will avail little. Once the pernicious habit has got hold of a man, it is such a besotting and besetting vice, that nothing seems able to cure it except placing the man under restraint for two or more years, and rigidly keeping all alcoholic stimulants away from him.' 'Well, try your best. Good-night again.' 'Good-night, Colonel.'

W. volunteered to walk home with me, the bungalow being but a few hundred yards off. As we leisurely strolled along, W. said, 'D. is really the most excellent commandant I ever knew. Without being over-strict, he knows well how to hold his own, and to enforce obedience; at the same time, what could be kinder, I might say more parental, than what he said just now? And what could be better than his taking on himself to let you leave the cantonment? Not one commandant in a hundred would have done it!' 'So I found out,' returned I. The singular scene that passed between myself and the General of Division was then told to him. He was greatly amused. 'You must let D. have the story, it is really too good to be lost; it only shows what a life of routine makes of a man, unless he has a mind powerful enough to raise him above such influences. I agree entirely in the view D. takes of B.'s condition; indeed, I have feared it for some time; the misfortune is, that I don't see what can be done to save him. Would it be possible to send him home on sick leave?' 'The case is this,' said I, 'the authorities and the medical board take what I regard as a narrow view of what is best to be done. They argue that it is encouraging drunkenness to send a man home on that account, and they would rather keep him in this country to die, or be dismissed the service, than they would sanction his being sent home for the effects of alcoholism. The only alternative is, that the doctor must make up a false case, at the risk of losing his commission, or the man must hang on till he gets his furlough. It has, I know, been placed before several boards officially, that many a man's life might be saved, and the evil habit subdued, if he were allowed to go home in time, and have the sea voyage, the European climate, and the home influences; but these representations have elicited nothing but anger and reproof. Such being the views adopted at headquarters, nothing is left to the executive officer but to act on them.' 'I am quite aware,' returned W., 'that what you say is correct. You have, in fact, scarcely gone far enough, for they add, that it is more for the advantage of the State to let in fresh blood, in the shape of fresh men, than to keep on the list men who have broken down from their own vicious habits by sending them home, and thus prolonging their lives. Such patched-up men, they say, can never go through fatigues, and wear and tear, that a sound man could and would go through. And to say the truth between ourselves, I think they are right. Compassion and friendship make one feel that the regulations are hard when they are applied to one of our own friends and intimates; but, looking to the advantage of the service only, I cannot say that they are ill-judged.' 'To some extent I agree with you, but everything is in degree, and a margin should be allowed. As you put it, to send a man home merely to prolong his life, I think, carries with it the condemnation of the whole system; had he been sent home in time, he would, in all probability, have been saved from any serious injury, but if the poor creature is to be kept here till he is at death's door before the medical officer dare recommend his being sent home, then likely enough it is as you put it, and he comes out injured in physique and in efficiency.'

W. would not enter my bungalow, but after good night slowly walked to his own. As I looked after him, recalling his generosity, and his unequalled bravery, as well as his superior wisdom, his powers of foresight and reflection, and contrasted all these high qualities with his singular and imperturbable calmness and self-possession when anything dangerous or unpleasant occurred, I could not but feel that he was a remarkably constituted man, or that he had suffered in his earlier years some bitter life-killing disappointment that had rendered him careless of, and indifferent to, every danger and risk. Too lofty a character to yield outwardly to despair, or to shorten the term of existence appointed for him, he seemed to dwell in an atmosphere of his own, that he suffered no one to share with him or even to approach. Some quiet sarcasm, always good-humoured, and the rare indulgence of the risible faculty, were the only indications I ever observed in him of any passing emotion strong enough to ruffle the glassy placidity of his existence. I could not help whispering to myself, 'a wrecked heart,' so deeply was I impressed with his gentle, kindly manner, and his utter recklessness of life, yet I knew nothing whatever of his early history; it was merely fancy's web woven without my knowledge or consent. Nevertheless, it impressed me with a feeling of sadness that I could not for the time banish, and I went to bed to dream of a tiger with an angel's face gnawing W.'s heart.

Not many days after my return to the F. Rocks, some of the villagers near at hand, or one of the Shikaries employed to look for game, brought in word that there was a cheetah to be had near at hand. As soon as possible after breakfast all the sporting men present were on horseback, or, rather, pony-back, to proceed to the spotted gentleman's lair. I accompanied them as a spectator, attended by beaters and villagers. Altogether, besides natives, there were fourteen of us. As we approached the jungle we dismounted, leaving the tatoos to the care of the ghorey wallahs. The primary rule impressed on all was to endeavour to preserve a line; but in a jungle where people could see but a very short distance on any side, this proved to be impracticable, and the consequence was that after the beast was disturbed by the beaters, and one or other of the guns caught sight of him, there was firing on all sides, or, rather, bursts of firing, cross firing, so that every now and then the singing and hissing of balls, and the cracking of branches, was heard on every side. During the whole time the firing lasted, I only caught sight of the cheetah once as he bounded from one thicket to another; but from the whistling and cracking going on all round, any one of us might have been shot a dozen times over.

Before the cheetah was disposed of he had been hit thirteen times, but in no mortal part; the last ball had, however, struck him in the loins, which prevented any more of his rapid springs and bounds. The next ball laid him at M.'s feet. He was a beautiful fellow, though not a large one; and he had made a gallant defence against a dozen guns. Though he had hurt no one seriously—his foes were so close and so many and such practised men, that he had no time to maul or mumble anybody, though it was evident that his intentions were good—he had knocked over two men, a Shikary and a beater; but in the first case a ball from S., who was close beside the Shikary, had sent him off with a broken forearm, and in the second case a ball from W. had driven him off with a wound in the side and two broken ribs, by which the ball, which otherwise would have been fatal, was turned aside. Both his springs were so strong that after knocking over the men he rolled over himself, once in the first instance, and twice in the second, before he could pick himself up, which gave W. the chance of giving a mortal blow; but, as I have said, the ribs turned the ball—all which particulars were learned when the beast was skinned, and the course of the balls traced. It was most extraordinary good-fortune that no one was shot on this occasion; but the folly and absurdity of the method adopted, as well as the greatly increased and unnecessary risk incurred by it, were obvious to everyone, and it was agreed nem. con. that no such large parties should ever go out again.

Some weeks elapsed before any fresh game and its whereabouts were discovered; but as soon as this was clearly made out, another shikar party was decided on. Four guns, and myself as guest or spectator, composed it. The sportsmen drew lots as to who the four should be, and the lots fell on W., M., B., and the Colonel. Not to weary the reader with repetition, it is sufficient to say that the beast, said to be a tiger, turned out to be a most superb cheetah, so large that he resembled a tiger in size; but this magnificent fellow was killed with the second shot. When disturbed by the beaters and by their noise and tom-toms, he looked at them for a moment, then, as if confident in his strength, in the most contemptuous way turned on his posteriors and began to walk slowly away. One of the guns—I think the Colonel fired—wounded the grand beast, who, with a terrible roar, turned at once and prepared to spring. Before he could do so, two shots lodged in his brain, and he fell at once and died almost immediately. Thus this huge cat made scarcely any fight, while the smaller one rolled over two men and took fourteen shots to dispose of him. W. and M. had fired at the same instant, and apparently both shots were mortal. They tossed up for the 'spolia opima.' M. won. The skin when taken off, stretched and dried was the finest I ever saw; in beauty it far exceeded W.'s tiger skin, and in size fell little short of it.

Had I been placed permanently in medical charge of the regiment, and it had remained in a sporting country, I should certainly have learned to use the rifle; but not many weeks after this I was relieved by Dr. B., the man for whom I had been acting. I did not consider it as a relief, I must admit. I had become attached to the men of the regiment, and it took away my chance of becoming a sportsman.

Previous to the date of my relief, a very singular incident occurred, while a third party, which, on account of hospital work, I was unable to join, were out after a cheetah. (I had the details from the men present, from W. himself, and from Ram Sing, the naigue of his company, who was in hospital at the time I left the regiment.) It occurred in this way: the cat had been tracked into a certain thicket, and it was expected that he would at any moment break forth. W. was about ten paces' distance from it, as was S. a little to the right of W. Both waited for some movement or sign on the part of the cheetah, but he made none. At last S., losing patience, actually stepped into the thicket they had been watching. He must, indeed, have all but put his foot on the cheetah, who was crouching down, well gathered together, just about to make his spring. He took no notice of S., though close to him, but sprang at W., who was at least seven or eight yards off, whom he rolled over, at the same time knocking his gun out of his hand. Most luckily the beast rolled over also, but with the speed of light he recovered himself, and was about to mumble W.'s shoulder, when he received a stunning blow from a heavy bamboo club in the hands of Ram Sing, the naigue already mentioned, who had kept close to his Captain from the beginning. This saved W. at the instant, and the repetition of the blow drew the furious animal's attention solely to the naigue. He left W., and jumping on Ram Sing, knocked him down, tore both his shoulders, one with either paw, and then before help came detached the scalp from the poor fellow's forehead. At this instant he received a mortal blow from S., followed by a second ball from W. (who had recovered himself sufficiently to use his gun), which pierced his heart. At less than two paces off the beast lay dead beside Ram Sing, who was at once taken to the hospital. This brave fellow wanted to walk, and tried to do so, till it was evident that his strength was unequal to it. As they were bearing him along, fainting from the shock and loss of blood, he whispered, 'Aggur murgisto Ram Sing, mesaka ney. Captain Saib ne marre.' (If Ram Sing dies, what matter? the Captain is not hurt.)

As soon as the poor naigue reached the hospital a dose of brandy, a little disguised and given as medicine, quickly overcame the syncope, and Ram Sing opened his eyes, sat up, and when he saw W., who had walked by the side of his litter to the hospital, standing by his side, his eyes brightened, and he said, 'Saib ne marre?' W., who spoke Hindustani fluently, assured him that, thanks to his courage and quickness, he had received no hurt. Ram Sing was then told to lie down, and to be silent, while his wounds were attended to. This was by no means an operation without pain, but not a word nor a sound did the man utter. He had saved his Captain's life, all the regiment knew it, and he was a man of mark from that day forth. I verily believe that the pride and pleasure that he felt in what he had done repaid him a hundredfold for the suffering he had undergone; and as for the risk, he was too truly brave to think for a moment about that, and, more than all this, he loved and respected W. with a devotion that is not easy to describe. W. was always his hero, his idol; W. could never do wrong in his mind. W.'s remarkable bravery, imperturbable quietude in danger, together with his kindness and generosity, had elevated him into the position of a sort of demigod or superior being, and I truly and sincerely believe that almost every native man in the gallant —th would have laid down his life for W. without hesitation. The feeling displayed by these men brought strongly to my mind that shown by Clive's Sepoys at the siege of Arcot, when rice was so scarce that he feared he should be starved into surrender, and when there were 20,000 foes surrounding the place.

This incident closes what we have to present regarding Captain Whistler, one of the most noble-minded, brave and generous men that ever adorned the Indian Service.

No. III. MISS B. AND HER PRESENT.

From my brother's memoranda, said the Doctor to the company on board the Elephanta, it would appear that several of the officers of the far-famed regiment, the 13th Dragoons, possessed merits considerably above the average. He gives sketches of most of them, portraits of a few. These I shall not attempt to reproduce, but I will venture to make some selections. He says:

'I found Colonel B., the officer commanding the regiment, one of the most courtly-mannered men I had ever met, and though his figure was by no means commanding, his easy elegant address was highly captivating, and his superior intelligence, marked by every look and word, gained respect at once, while the kind and urbane expression of his features challenged esteem and regard.' Within five minutes after his card had been taken in, and his name announced, my brother found himself, though previously a total stranger, chatting perfectly at his ease with his new commandant, such was the charm of Colonel B.'s manner.

Besides being the finished gentleman and accomplished soldier, Colonel B. was a very successful water-colour painter, as was proved by the various specimens adorning his study. My brother had not himself been wholly unsuccessful in this walk of art, having gained some prizes at the Society of Arts for his attempts; at all events, he knew enough of the art to appreciate the Colonel's beautiful performances, and he expressed his feelings freely and warmly, as well as in a way to show that he knew something of what he was talking about.

The result of the interview was that the Colonel took rather a fancy to the young assistant-surgeon who was to do duty with his regiment. On the part of my brother, the feeling was more than mutual, for the more he saw of his commandant, the more he liked and admired him. At the time I speak of, the 13th Dragoons were stationed at Bangalore, one of the most delightful localities in India, and I have already said that the native regiment, of which my brother was afterwards in medical charge, was stationed there also. The consequence of this vicinity was that in due course Colonel B. brought his wife to see my brother's wife, a visit which again in due course my brother and his wife returned. The ladies became friends, and the friendship has only been closed by poor Mrs. B.'s death. She was, at the time to which I refer, one of the handsomest, most queen-like women to be seen anywhere.

But it is rather of her gifted husband than of her that I wish to speak. Colonel B.'s talents were indeed so great and so various that they demand a far abler pen than mine to do them justice. Wit the most ready, sparkling, and unbounded, united with an unequalled address and manner, made him the most delightful companion that can be imagined. No company could resist his powers: laughter unrestrained and irresistible followed him wherever he went. I heartily wish I could recall even a few of the electric flashes of thought that, 'like orient pearls at random strung,' gave life and lustre, fire and fancy to his words. I fear, however, that I should only defeat my object if I ventured to make the attempt, I can never give the fitting time and place, the circumstance coincident, nor the look and manner that were so admirable and so appropriate.

On the occasion to which this extract chiefly refers, Lord Elphinstone, then Governor of Madras, and his friend Lord Cardigan, who was his visitor, were the guests of the regiment. Colonel B. was sitting at the mess-table between them in high spirits, his irresistible stories and anecdotes creating an atmosphere of merriment around him. My brother was not near enough to hear half that passed, but his eye took in the situation, and in spite of the noise, the clapping, and the laughter, his ear was very attentive and quick.

The first morceau ragoutant that reached him was Colonel B.'s account of what had taken place at Colonel C.'s public breakfast some four or five mornings before. Colonel C. was then the Commissioner for Mysore. While at breakfast, he received Lord Elphinstone's answer to an invitation requesting him and his friend, Lord Cardigan, to spend some time at Bangalore, and during their stay to give him the pleasure of being their host. The invitation had been accepted, and accordingly Colonel C. announced that the two noble lords would shortly be at Bangalore. There was a large party at the breakfast, among whom was Captain A., who was one of the Commission. As soon as this officer, whose intrinsic worth was not hidden by French, or, indeed, by any other kind of polish, heard the announcement, he broke out thus: 'Eh, sirs, twa lurds—twa lurds! What'll I do, how'll I boo?' a sally which occasioned no little merriment amongst those who heard it, and still more at the mess-table after the Colonel's recital, who followed it up by such a string of jokes and puns and telling repartees, that an old Bengal civilian, whose name was Potts, and who was the Colonel's vis-à-vis, appeared thoroughly bewildered. He never uttered a word, but sat looking from one to the other with his mouth wide open, drinking in, as it seemed, the stream of wit, the like of which he had never perhaps in his whole life heard before. The old gentleman's behaviour afforded Colonel B. a good deal of quiet amusement. Unnoticed, he made his friends aware of what had attracted his attention, and then, as soon as he saw that they were observing, he remarked to his opposite: 'Mr. Potts, you're quite chatty,'[2] which, it is needless to say, set the table off again.

When the laughter had a little subsided, Colonel B. recommenced by giving his guests a sketch of a certain Miss B., a young lady between forty and fifty years of age, who was a well-known character in the cantonment. He gave them to understand that this young lady still hoped. She could not, indeed, bring herself to believe that she would always remain Miss B., and, in consequence of this settled conviction, she not unfrequently afforded amusement to her acquaintances. Remarks to this effect, whenever she indulged in them, appeared to yield the ladies considerable enjoyment: 'You know, my dear, when I get married, or when I have a house of my own,' etc. These unintentional exhibitions of her hopes and wishes on the part of Miss B. led to a good deal of harmless quizzing, and to numerous inquiries, such as, 'On whom were her smiles chiefly bestowed?' 'Who was to be the happy man?' or 'Whether this lucky individual had been fixed on?' 'When would the ceremony take place?' and many more such seductive and insidious questions, which led the dear innocent into sundry admissions and confessions, tending to show that she had anything but a dislike to the holy state of matrimony, though she had not yet made her election. 'The state of affairs having thus been made sufficiently evident, several of the young scamps you see around you, who, as well as Miss B., are frequent visitors at my house, took it into their wise heads, for the sake of the fun, to declare themselves Miss B.'s admirers, partly with the sanction, at all events, with the tacit permission, of Mrs. B., who could not find it in her heart to object to anything in the shape of fun and frolic. So it has come to pass that a frequent amusement there is the violent love-making on the part of these young lads to this sweet young creature, who, to do her but justice, distributes her sweetness to A., B., or C. with an impartiality that really is quite charming. I sometimes fear that the young fellows are carrying matters too far with their protestations, their vows of devotion, their hopes of future bliss, their dread that she prefers another, their appeals to a cornelian heart she wears, which more than one of these describe as their mutual property, and a great deal more of like quality, which, with their kneeling and impassioned acting, is comical enough. Yet one thing to be remarked is, to my mind, more comical still—the more fervid the performance, the more the lady is pleased; but the crowning fun is that, under the continuance of the excitement, the dear old girl gets so dreadfully affectionate, that more than one of the performers has declared his conviction that ere long she will throw herself into the arms of one or other of them.'

'Well, B.,' said both his guests, 'you must give us an opportunity of being present at one of these scenes; we wouldn't miss the chance on any account. The fun must be "rich and rare."' 'Make your minds easy,' replied the Colonel; 'we'll have a rehearsal at which you shall be present in a few days. Let me see,' added he, 'I'm not sure that we can't manage it sooner.' 'The sooner the better,' said his friends. 'There is the sham fight,' resumed the Colonel, 'to-morrow, and it will occupy us from five a.m. to about ten, which is the hour for breakfast with C. We dine with General V. at seven p.m., but between breakfast and dinner we shall have several hours free, say from twelve a.m. to six p.m. Mrs. B. will order us a very light tiffin at two p.m.—some ices and blancmange, rien de plus, and then we can have, as an interlude before dinner, Miss B. and her lovers. How will that suit you?' 'The very thing,' said the 'twa lurds.' 'Nothing can be better.' 'That, then, is arranged,' said Colonel B., who continued: 'Now you would scarcely credit that anyone could be so full of faith as this ancient young gentlewoman is; but facts are stubborn things, you know, and therefore stubborn things are facts—at least, sometimes.' 'Ah, ha!' said his guests, laughing; 'breaking out of bounds, are you?' 'No, no,' returned the Colonel, 'only "verbum volans." But these same young men, who are now making such violent love to Miss B., played the lady rather a scurvy trick the other day. They continued, however, to make her believe that they were wholly innocent, and had had no concern in it. They affected great indignation against the perpetrators of the outrage, as Miss B. termed it, sympathized deeply with her under the infliction, and vowed signal vengeance if they could only find out the guilty parties. In a short time the confiding fair one believed again, forgetting all her suspicions and her anger, and now she listens with obvious delight to the vows and protestations of her simulating lovers.' 'She is truly, as you have mentioned,' said Lord C., 'a guileless, confiding innocent; but you have not told us what the young deceivers did.' 'The thing arose in this way,' said Colonel B. 'Some of our young fellows, having heard that Miss B. expected a parcel from Madras, determined that she should have one with as little delay as might be. They first sent the parcel to Madras (to Oakes's, I believe), directing him to take off the wrapper with his address on it, and then to forward the parcel inside to the address written thereon. They further managed so that the said parcel reached Miss B. while she was at my house. Most of the young lads in the cantonment were there at the time, and a large gathering beside.'

'"Oh, my parcel, my long-expected parcel, come at last!" exclaimed the lady. "Oh, won't you open it? Do open it, Miss B.," said numerous voices. "Let me help you"—from others. "But what is it?" said Mrs. B.; "is it anything that will break? Be careful; you don't know what it is." "It's only a silk dress, and some lace trimming." "Well," said one of the culprits, "whatever it is, they have wrapped it up well; I think this is the tenth paper I have taken off." "Still more to take off," said another. "Very extraordinary! What can it be? I'm sure it's not a silk dress; I feel something much firmer and stiffer than a silk dress." "I tell you it's only a silk dress," reiterated Miss B. At last the boldest of the conspirators took off the last envelope of gauze paper, and exhibited something. As he did so he said to poor Miss B., "Surely this is not a silk dress, is it, Miss B.?" "Oh, heavens!" screamed the astonished and horrified lady, running off at once into my wife's bedroom—"Oh, heavens! I shall never recover it. Such an insult!"' 'But what did the parcel contain after all?' inquired the two magnates. 'Ah! what did it contain?' asked several voices. 'What do you guess?' returned the Colonel. 'Oh, we can't guess; we give it up. Pray tell us'—from all sides. 'Well, then, what do you say to a pair of leather male garments, a pair of buck-skins—only a pair of buck-skins? I can't describe them by the popular denomination; there would be breaches in my good manners if I did.'

While Colonel B. was running on in this way, the company, and especially the two young lords, were convulsed with laughter. As soon as Lord C. could speak, he said, with tears in his eyes, 'Oh, B., you'll be the death of us if you go on in this way. E. declares that his sides are so sore that it almost makes him cry to laugh any more, and I'm just as bad. But who suggested this delicate compliment to Miss B.? I must have a glass of wine with him.' 'And I'll join you,' said his friend. 'Why, the truth is,' said D., 'there were three of us engaged in the matter, but which of us first thought of the leathers I can't say.' 'It is evidently a divided honour,' said the Colonel. 'I and Elphinstone will drink to you three,' said Lord C., and 'Hurrah for the buck-skins! hurrah for the buck-skins!' was shouted on every side.

* * * * * *

'I think it's high time for us to depart,'said Lady Jervois; 'I'm not sure that we haven't stayed too long already. At any rate, it must be near eight bells.' 'I agree with you, Lady Jervois,' said Mrs. Smythe; 'but really I did not anticipate that Dr. Ticklemore would be so minute in his detail. I can't help suspecting that he has been taking rather unwarrantable liberties with his brother's memoranda, and that his description of poor Miss B. is little more than a mischievous libel on that ill-used lady.' 'I'm sure, Dr. Ticklemore,' said Miss Perkins, 'that no correct unmarried lady would go on as you try to make out that Miss B. did.' 'Really, Miss Perkins and ladies all,' replied the Doctor, 'I do assure you I have taken no liberties with my brother's memoranda, and not for the world would I dream of taking any with such a lady as Miss B.' 'Good-night, gentlemen; good-night, Dr. Ticklemore, with thanks for your narrative, or at least for part of it; but we must put you on your good behaviour for the future, or we cannot make a part of your audience.' 'Why, I haven't said anything that's not proper, have I?' 'No, no,' said Captain Ward; 'any exuberance in his descriptions he'll avoid in future, I'm sure. You pledge yourself, mind that, Ticklemore, on my guarantee.' 'Oh, certainly!' returned the culprit; 'I'm pledged, pawned, verbally and corporeally, to avoid all exuberance, though what kind of crime that is I don't quite know; but it's all the same,' sotto voce. 'Well, remember; you are only to be honoured with an audience on the promise of future good behaviour.' 'Aye, aye, sir,' said the nautical Esculapius.

* * * * * *

'Well, now that the ladies are amongst the departed,' said Dr. T., 'I can finish the sketch my brother has given us of Colonel B.'s sayings and doings relative to Miss B. and the present of the leathers. Mrs. B., though she enjoyed the joke as much as any of the conspirators, took compassion on the wounded sensibilities of the lady, made her pass the night at the house, and kept her there as a guest for some days; in short, she did all she could to soothe and console. She would not allow anyone who called to be admitted, and when, after a day or two of seclusion, the Colonel met Miss B. in the drawing-room, he spoke to her just as if nothing had occurred to ruffle her feelings; he was ever kind and courteous to everyone, and unwilling to give pain. He would not, therefore, have made any allusion to what had recently occurred, but Miss B. felt her wrongs were too great to be passed over in silence, and her sorrows were too weighty to be repressed. With a flood of tears she referred to the outrage, the indignity, the insult that had been offered to her; it was cruel, it was unmanly it was cowardly, it was disgraceful. By-and-by she ran herself out, and began to speak of less poignant afflictions. It was not enough that she should be disappointed in receiving the dress she had been so long expecting, but she must, in addition, be subject to such vile treatment. (Sob after sob.) "Why don't you say something to soothe her distress, Dick?" said Mrs. B., "you can comfort so well if you will." "Can I?" said the Colonel. "C'est bien, madame." Then turning to Miss B., he said, "Indeed I sympathize with you deeply. Such a wicked present as you received would naturally cause much disappointment. Empty compliments always do cause disappointment; and then to have to appear before your friends without your dress must have given you deep mortification, although it is said that 'beauty unadorned is then adorned the most.'" "Dick, Dick," interposed Mrs. B., "how can you go on so?" "How could Miss B. go on so, did you say? Well, how she could is difficult to understand." "Oh, stop, will you," said Mrs. B., "you're a horrid fellow; you won't even listen to all Miss B.'s troubles and distresses." "What, anything more," asked the Colonel, "beside the costume of the Buffs, or the want of costume, that vexed her so much?" "Hold that mischievous tongue of yours and listen. Miss B. will be obliged when she leaves our roof to go and live in the Fort, because her nephew, Mr. H., has been ordered to reside there for the present." "And if it be so," replied Colonel B., "I don't see any serious hardship or misfortune in it." "No; but Miss B. regrets that she will be three miles from her friends; and there within the walls of the Fort she will have nothing to amuse her, nothing except the goats and kids, sheep and rams, and lambs, and the bare walls to look at." "Ah, now," said the Colonel, "I admit she is to be pitied; to have nothing to amuse her, nothing even to look at, except the naked walls and ramparts, is a sad and melancholy occupation. I feel for you deeply, Miss B."

'This meagre sketch of Colonel B. would be more imperfect than it is if nothing was said of his wonderful power as an actor. This, however, my brother passes over very slightly, and it is much to be regretted, as in some characters he was really inimitable, unapproachable. All the Falstaffs that the stage has ever seen were not so perfect in the conception and exhibition of the matchless wit of the fat old knight as Colonel B.'s. Many bigger and lustier men, properly stuffed out, would no doubt exhibit the figure which Shakespeare has given to the hoary sinner more adequately, but no one, I believe, ever came up to the Colonel in the rendering of every sentence and every word spoken by Falstaff. He made the author's meaning plain and intelligible to almost everyone; his superlative acting explained what would otherwise have escaped notice, or have been misunderstood, or not understood at all. To read the play after having witnessed his portraiture of Falstaff was like looking at a butterfly's wing with the naked eye, and then viewing it under the microscope. My brother has some rather amusing remarks on the Colonel's powers and high qualities as an actor in other characters; he mentions Tyke, Alapod, Touchstone, and many others, in all of which Colonel B. was very admirable. But a Bangalore audience, at the time to which my brother's memoranda refers, was little fitted to appreciate the higher walks of histrionic art. Farces, Bombastes Furioso, and such kind of entertainments were better suited to their mental calibre. He illustrates his meaning by the following anecdote: The Colonel's acting, though so truly admirable, had never elicited much applause until in one of his characters (I forget which) he had to bray like a donkey. This performance elicited uproarious and long-continued applause. The Colonel's only remark after this was, "He knew now what suited a Bangalore audience." This closes the sketch I have consulted of this highly gifted and talented man. Both he and the audience that excited his contempt have passed away, almost all of them: but all who ever knew Colonel B. may well say, "When shall we look upon his like again?" Yet though I am without the sources of information that I have till now relied on, my memory would rise up in judgment against me if I did not say a few words in illustration of the undeviating kindness of heart, active benevolence, and unrivalled ability which so often prompted him to stand forth as the defender of those whom misfortune, or even momentary culpability, had brought into grave trouble and danger. I shall never forget the impression made on me merely by reading his masterly defence of poor Captain E., who was brought before a court-martial for being drunk while on main guard. I do not call to mind all the circumstances of the case, but I remember the prosecutor was Major S., then commanding H.M.'s 39th Regiment, and a noble regiment it was. The facts connected with the charge were chiefly as follows: Captain O. deposed that he visited the guard at the usual hour, and the prisoner came forward to give his report, but fell down on the ground before he was near enough to hand it to him; that he called to the sergeant of the guard, who handed him the report. Captain O. then asked the sergeant if he had seen what had occurred; the sergeant replied that he had seen it all. Captain O. then rode to the quarters of the officers commanding the cantonment, and at once reported the circumstance. Colonel L. then and there placed the defaulter under arrest, and ordered Captain G., the next on the roster for that duty, to relieve Captain E. immediately. These facts were all duly set forth in the various counts into which the charge was subdivided, and were all proved by viva voce evidence in court. The prisoner had, by Colonel B.'s advice, reserved his defence until everything that could be urged against him had been stated, and, as it seemed, fully substantiated; he then recorded the plea "Not guilty," adding that he had placed his defence in the hands of Colonel B., who had kindly offered his assistance. The Court having granted Colonel B. permission to plead for the prisoner, the Colonel, having thanked the Court for having conceded to him the position he had sought, commenced his address something to this effect: As a British officer, he felt that discipline, the strictest discipline, was the life of an army, the great distinction between a mob and a regular force, and that it must be enforced on all occasions, and under every possible condition; that the pain and grief that a generous heart must sometimes feel in carrying it into execution must never for an instant be allowed to interfere or suspend, or to mitigate, the penalties or punishments awarded by military law for military offences. "With these sentiments firmly fixed in my mind, I should be the last man in the army to come forward to advocate any cause, or support any plea, that would in the remotest way tend to undermine or weaken or impair discipline. But, sir, discipline is not opposed to justice; discipline is the strong arm of justice; discipline without justice could not long exist, for then it would be injustice, and injustice would be a breach of discipline. Discipline and justice, then, must go together; they cannot be disunited. These principles, sir, are as old as the world, and as fixed as the foundations of the world; and, sir, in making this appeal to you, and to every member of this Court of Honour, I feel as sure of the response as if I saw every generous heart laid bare before me. You will all, without a doubt, uphold discipline, but you will not forget that to uphold discipline you must do justice; and to do justice you must take nothing for granted, you must insist on having proofs, undoubted, undeniable proofs; no suspicions or suspicious circumstances must be accepted as proofs. Did you, or could you, accept any such as proofs, you would not do justice, and consequently would not uphold discipline. If any one count of the charge cannot be distinctly and unequivocally proved, that count is doubtful, and the law declares that when there is a doubt the accused is to have the benefit of it. But why do I speak of law? Your own feelings will tell you most emphatically that you cannot condemn when you are in doubt. Now to apply these principles. The prisoner is charged with being drunk on duty—an unpardonable crime in a military point of view—and you have had it in evidence on oath that this unfortunate officer was so incapable that, when advancing to give in his report, he fell on the ground. This has been stated on oath by Captain O. and Sergeant Maguire, both witnesses of unimpeachable credit, and both without any adverse bias or leaning. But, Mr. President and gentlemen, we must not forget that opinions are not proofs. To prove that the fall and the incapability resulted from drunkenness we must have more than opinions. First, we must inquire if any liquor or spirit was drunk at the guard-room. The prisoner admits that he drank while on guard the quantity that you see is absent out of this small flask. It was nearly full when he left home, and the Sergeant found it on the table in the guard-room, with this quantity in it; this he has sworn to. Thus it is clear that Captain E. did not, out of this flask, while on guard, drink more than one glass of brandy, and he was there for six hours. The Sergeant has further deposed that no liquor except that brought in the flask by the prisoner was brought into the guard-room by any other person. How, then, is the drunkenness to be accounted for? One glass of brandy taken in six hours will not make any man drunk. There is the fall and the incapability, but one glass of brandy in the time stated will not account for these. If they cannot be attributed to drunkenness there must be some other cause. The prisoner will, if cross-examined, confirm what I have now to state. During the day of that night when Captain E. was to remain on guard, he had suffered more or less from neuralgia of the left side of the face; he has, I may now state, ever since he was in Burmah, suffered at times from this complaint, and on account of this wearing and painful affection he has been obliged to take morphine and other narcotics to a great extent. He also admits that he had at times taken alcoholic stimulants in considerable quantity, and that shortly before going on guard he had done so. While on guard he further admits that he took several doses of morphine. To the combined effects of these remedies he attributed the fall and the incapability; he was overcome by the action of stimulants and narcotics, but surely this is not drunkenness? Dr. MacD. is also prepared to state on oath that he is fully aware of the fact that Captain E. has for a long time past suffered from neuralgia, more or less severe, and that he has on many occasions prescribed for him on account of it. These circumstances, I submit, relieve the case of its worst features, and I confidently appeal to the gallant officer who has felt it to be his duty to bring the charge into Court, whether he does not now feel that the case wears a new aspect? Major S. generously and frankly admits that he is not now so certain of the prisoner's guilt as he was when he first took up the case. Nothing less was to be expected from his well-known character, zealous as he is that the reputation of his far-famed regiment, primus in Indus, should remain unsullied and unspotted. Earnest as he is to preserve its honour and its discipline, he is yet too magnanimous, too just, too truthful, to press his charge unduly. He has admitted that he is not now so certain as he was. What do those noble words amount to? Do they not admit a doubt—a doubt entertained by a frank and lofty mind not shut against conviction? He says his opinion is not to decide. No, we know full well for what purpose this Court is now sitting; we know that a wife and family are now enduring the agony of suspense; we know that degradation and disgrace, nay, future poverty and misery, depend on your decision; we know that though you, too, are zealous and eager to uphold discipline, you are not forgetful of justice; we know that, not less magnanimous and truthful than Major S., you will, like him, not refuse to admit a doubt, where doubt really is; we know to whom we trust, and if trust cannot be reposed in such an assembly of British officers, it is nowhere to be found in the world! May I say one word more? May that Great and Just Being before whom we must all one day appear, direct and guide you so that your rest may be sweet and unbroken, and never be disturbed by the thought that you refused to a poor suffering brother that justice tempered with mercy which we all shall one day need, and all look to obtain, through merits not our own."

A hum and buzz of applause ran through the Court; then the President and members retired, and there was an interval of silence and suspense. Whispers were the only mode of communication employed. After nearly twenty minutes had elapsed, a member of the Court opened the door and directed Captain E. to attend him, that the sentence of the Court might be communicated by the President. It is not necessary to trace all the steps or forms adopted by military tribunals; all that is needful to record is that after a severe admonition, and the loss of some steps in rank, Captain E.'s sword was restored to him. Everyone in Court congratulated him warmly on his escape. The poor man seemed stunned; he could only say, 'Thank you, thank you.'

Colonel B., who was overwhelmed by compliments and praises, as soon as he could disengage himself from the General and Major S., came up to Captain E., and hurrying him into his carriage, drove him away amidst the cheers of the assembly. But words are wanting to describe the meeting of the wife and the husband. The lady wished to throw herself at Colonel B.'s feet, but he would not suffer it. He placed her in her husband's arms, and then left them with their mingled benedictions making sweet music in his ears, and gratitude too great for utterance streaming from their eyes. Colonel B. directed his coachman to go slowly round the racecourse before he drove home. Is there a living man who does not envy him the luxury of that solitary drive? And what are the compliments and praises of the world compared to the approval of that still small voice that God has placed within our breasts?

Let us leave the excellent man of whom we have been speaking to the sweet converse with that silent voice. That the rewards he thus experienced were inexpressibly dear to him is proved by his practice through life. He stood forth on every possible occasion as the champion of distress, making his unrivalled talents the servants of his humanity, and the ministers of relief and safety to many who, like Captain E., had none but him to help them.

Who, then, knowing these things, can doubt that the soldier with his motto, "En avant," has found the path to realms beyond the sky, to fields of glory unprofaned by blood and death, but yet where few shall go before him?

FOOTNOTE:

[2] To those who have not been in India it is necessary to explain that the word 'chatty' means in the Tamul language an earthen vessel or pot, which, combined with the fact of the old gentleman's taciturnity, being thus a silent receptacle of the flow of wit, made the remark doubly telling.

No. IV. THE DELIGHTS OF INDIAN MUSIC.

The ladies, who were present the following evening when Dr. T. had narrated Colonel B.'s exertions on behalf of Captain E., were loud in his praise, and in their acknowledgments of the gratification they had experienced. Lady Jervois said, 'We can now thank you, Dr. Ticklemore, without any reservation, for assuredly you have afforded us a glimpse of a very fine character; but, like a beautiful dissolving view, you have not allowed us to dwell long enough on the picture.' 'Most true, Lady Jervois,' remarked Mrs. Smythe, 'we have not often the opportunity of contemplating such various gifts, such high intelligence, and such nobleness of heart united in one individual. I am grieved that you have not more to tell us of so charming a man.' 'Bella and I,' said Miss Perkins, 'are both of us quite in love with Colonel B.; he must have been truly a delightful man.' 'Well, ladies, I am glad that my sketch of Colonel B. has not been unacceptable. I have a few words to say of Colonel MacC., who was a dashing soldier and a fine-looking man. These anecdotes, for they are nothing more, will just fill up the short time before we separate for the evening, and conclude the extracts I have made from my brother's memoranda, having reference to that glorious old Peninsular regiment, the 13th Dragoons. Colonel MacC. was at the time referred to second in command, but he had originally stood before Colonel B., being his senior in military rank, and his name was first on the list for purchase, and both officers had lodged the sum required. Unfortunately for Colonel MacC., his father, on account of some temporary pressure, withdrew the purchase-money; and, still more unfortunately for him, during the term of withdrawal, which was to have been but a few months, the colonelcy fell vacant, and, as a matter of course, the officer whose money was ready was gazetted as colonel-in-command. This occurrence was unfortunate, not only for Colonel MacC., but for all parties concerned, and for the regiment, as in spite of every effort on the part of Colonel B., it caused something like a split, a division into two parties, and it produced a soreness and estrangement between the two senior officers. Military usage, and the polished manners of the higher classes, could neither support nor altogether conceal this feeling, which occasionally peeped out—at least, on the part of Colonel MacC., never on the part of Colonel B. It is true that he was the winner, and the old saying, "Those may laugh who win," was made good—not literally, certainly, for Colonel B. was far too polished to do anything of the kind, or to show anything in the shape of exultation; still the former cordiality was gone, and a studied politeness obtained in its place.

'Between these two gallant soldiers, there were other points of difference, which, while they were fast friends, were never referred to; but now that these mutual feelings were altered, these springs of strife did sometimes make themselves evident. A short explanation of what these were appears to be called for. Colonel B. was what the world terms a novus homo. It is true that his father was a talented professional man; it is true that his sister, by the attraction of her wit, grace, and beauty, coupled with a spotless name, had married an earl; and it is true that he himself was a colonel of Dragoons; but all this, which only proved that he and his belongings were far above their neighbours in much that was most admirable and estimable, went for nothing against the one overpowering fact that Colonel MacC. was a man of family. He could trace back his family name I don't know how far, his clan was mentioned in very old records, and he himself claimed an unbroken descent (though this, it seems, other gentlemen of the same name disputed) from one Roderick MacC., termed the "Red-handed," from the fact that his hands were never long free from this peculiar colour. This very noble gentleman was at feud with several other clans, and his exploits in the way of storming their strongholds, extirpating the former possessors, or burning them altogether in their dwellings after the storm, were greatly celebrated and admired by all his friends and dependents; while by his neighbours of some other name he was as greatly feared and dreaded. The achievements of this most interesting character were lightened and alleviated by lifting cattle, or sweeping a particular district of everything movable.

'These frequent successful raids, varied only by the occasional abduction or violation of some unhappy female, put the finishing touch, the crowning halo, to the fame and glory of this superlative hero. That MacC., being a polished gentleman, not destitute of humanity, frank, and to the last point tenacious of his word, brave and generous, should consider his descent from the red-handed robber and murderer as a high distinction and a high honour may seem strange, but so it was.

'It is in all cases useless to argue against facts, and there are but few facts more distinct or positive than the pride with which the large majority of those whose birth enables them to do so deduce their descent from some iron-handed robber or murderer, provided he lived a long time ago. Time, it would appear, converts crime into virtue. If any warrior, knight, or lord committed, or attempted to commit, in these days, the crimes that his ancestors committed with impunity, he would be hanged or shot, and would, besides, incur the detestation of society.

'Colonel MacC. was proud of his name and his long line of ancestry, even though it included the red-handed gentleman, and many other smaller lights who did their best to emulate that worthy's achievements. Sometimes, when Colonel MacC. stayed longer at the mess-table than was his wont, he used to remark that the service had greatly deteriorated since he had entered it, and when the natural inquiry, "How so, Colonel?" or, "In what respect?" had been elicited, "the hidden anguish of his soul" would peep forth something in this wise: "Why, you see nowadays they put any man in command of a regiment. They only ask if he can purchase; if he can, the thing is settled, he gets the step. It signifies nothing whether his father was butcher or baker, tinker or tailor; if he can pay, he gets the step, even though it may be the command of the regiment; but in my young days a man's name did stand for something. They would not in those days have put Jack, Tom, or Harry in such a position, particularly when they had a man whose family was known, and who was in other respects qualified to take the command."

'Poor Colonel MacC.! he could not forget or forgive his supercession, but nevertheless he had many good qualities, and was a man to be liked and respected. He could also be generous even to a very contemptible character, as the following instance proves:

'Colonel MacC. was a thorough sportsman, an excellent man for cross-country, whether it was after a fox at home, or after a jackal in India; a capital shot, whether for tiger or elephant, or for partridge, pheasant, or snipe, and a man who, after his father's death, kept up a noble stud of horses. At Madras, at Hyderabad, at Bangalore, wherever there was a race, Colonel MacC.'s horses were entered. From inherited property, from being a bachelor, and from his position in the regiment, by which he received more pay than he spent, he became the richest man in it; he was, in consequence, enabled to indulge his desire to back his own horses, or to bet on others as he pleased, and this he did pretty heavily. At one of the Bangalore races, I cannot call to mind the year, Colonel MacC. had a bet of 3,000 rupees with a Mr. ——, an officer of one of the native regiments there stationed. The race came off, and the Colonel's horse won. Mr. —— immediately gave the Colonel a cheque on Messrs. Arbuthnot and Co. for the amount, and the matter was apparently settled; but a few days after the Colonel received a letter from Messrs. A., stating that they had in their possession no funds belonging to Mr. ——. This personage, when called on to explain his conduct, pleaded that he thought the agents at Madras did that sort of thing. He wrote a very extraordinary letter, covering four sides of paper, and concluding thus: "That if they did not forgive him, to-morrow's sun should smile upon his grave." Colonel MacC. laughed immoderately, and when the other members of the racing committee, or most of them, said, "MacC., you must bring this gentleman forward," the Colonel replied: "Not I; he's too paltry a creature for me to touch. Besides, he has afforded me a hearty laugh, which one does not enjoy every day. He will not show his handsome face amongst us again, that you may rely on; and if he takes my advice, he will get himself moved out of Bangalore as soon as practicable." And thus the matter ended; the Colonel lost his money, Mr. —— his character.

'About this time, or shortly after, it became known that a Highland regiment was to pass through Bangalore en route to Hyderabad—I should say Secunderabad, as the cantonment is called—situated about three miles from the native city, Hyderabad. The natives, who had heard highly-laudatory accounts of the Highlanders, were greatly excited. The noble qualities of these soldiers on the field of battle were magnified in their minds, and the dress they wore was described as grand and beautiful, surpassing everything they had yet seen of the Europeans. Many thousands of natives went out several miles to meet the regiment on the morning it was expected to reach Bangalore, and their enthusiasm knew no bounds when they beheld the stature of the men, their kilts, their plaids, and plumes. At last, as the regiment approached the cantonment, the pipers struck up, and this so enchanted the natives that they were absolutely beside themselves with delight. The regiment was halted as soon as it was known that the General and staff, with all the élite of the station and a great number of fair equestrians, were coming out to greet them. Every company dressed up, leaving between them the exact distances prescribed. Every man brushed the dust off his brogues or sandals; in short, everything was done that could be done to impress beholders.

'As the General and his party came in sight the pipes struck up again, and the regiment resumed its march. The General and staff drew up by the side of the road, and the regiment marched by, saluting; after which, accompanied by the whole cortège—General, staff, officers, ladies, and natives—the corps marched on to the racecourse, where their tents had been pitched. "Really," said a young Scotchman, who had lately joined the 13th Dragoons, "if I wasn't a mounted man, I'd like to belong to a Highland regiment." "Well," said another, not quite so deeply smitten with the appearance of the kilts, "I dare say any one of their young ones will exchange with you if you only make the offer." "Aye, McDougal; that will just suit you," said Vivian, "as you are such a devoted admirer of Signori Rossini, Verdi and Co." "I don't quite make you out," replied McDougal. "Why, don't you see," said Vivian, "you'll always have such glorious music; the natives are so mad about the pipes that they one and all declare they never thought, before they heard them, 'that the English knew anything about music.'" The young Scot, who was an accomplished performer on the violin, and perfectly fanatic in his admiration of Italian music, did not at first seem to relish the joke; but at last he joined in the laugh, protesting, however, that there was a time and place for everything, and that though the exquisite strains of "Lucia di Lammermoor" were fitter for the drawing-room or the opera, he would prefer the music of the pipes on the field of battle. "Well spoken, McDougal," said Colonel MacC.; "you could not have made a better distinction."

'Comparisons of the music of the pipes with that of the natives furnished abundance of fun and amusement during the evening, reference being constantly made to the ignorance of the English as to music, which, in the estimation of Hindoo critics, was profound, and was only relieved from being complete by the unexpected sounds they had heard that morning. At last the subject was allowed to drop, being reserved for other like fitting occasions, while it was recognised, nemine contradicente, to be "an argument for a week, laughter for a month, and a good jest for ever."

'The provoking malice and wicked fun towards Scotchmen, of comparing the pipes with the music of the natives of India, cannot be apparent to those who have never been in that country. Therefore the following attempt to convey a faint idea of the peculiar attractions of Hindoo music has been inscribed—first with the view of enlightening minds (or ears) uninstructed by experience; secondly with the view of giving point to the preceding remarks. The instruments on which native performers display their powers and skill are gongs and tom-toms, horns of different kinds, and sometimes a kind of hurdy-gurdy. I do not call to mind any others. By means of the gongs and tom-toms they mark time, and this is really the only approach (European ears being judges) to what we understand by the word "music"; but even this is so outraged by the stunning crashing noise made by these detestable contrivances, that the effect which would otherwise be produced by the regular recurrence of sounds at stated intervals is lost; while the horns and the trumpets, if such a name is allowable, and the squeaking, shrieking, wailing, grunting sounds produced by the instruments referred to, make up a tout ensemble that must be heard to be imagined. Every performer plays his own tune, or rather produces a series of sounds one only more diabolical than another—if such assaults on the sense of hearing can be called a tune—on his own instrument, and every man performs in his own key. The result is the most hideous and frightful discord that can be produced. If the gongs and tom-toms are in the ascendant, the noise is deafening. If the small pipes and horns predominate, the conversation of cats in the gutter, or the howling of jackals, roving about at night, or the screaming of women and children, or all three mingled together, are simulated. A child, once very dear to me, described the effect produced on his ears by the performance of a number of native musicians in these words: "Oh, there's the crying band again!"

'Not long after the Highlanders had passed through Bangalore, a young Scot, not a Highlander, was ordered to do duty with the 13th Dragoons, during the leave of absence granted to Dr. Clark, the regimental assistant-surgeon; two months later on his term of absence was drawing to a close, and consequently Dr. T., the temporary substitute, would, on its termination, be sent to do duty with an infantry corps, and lose the climate of Bangalore and one hundred rupees a month. All of these unpleasant consequences the said Dr. T. was naturally anxious to avert, or, at the worst, to postpone. He had, with this in view, some time back written to his friends at Madras to look about them and get him a strong letter to Colonel MacC.; they accordingly did so, and procured a strong letter from some Highland gentleman who either knew or boasted a fifty-ninth cousinship with Colonel MacC. The strong letter was presented the morning after its receipt with the required number of bows, and with the reverence supposed to be needful. All which I grieve to say were utterly thrown away on Colonel MacC.; he took the letter, and looked at the bowing youth who brought it, booted and spurred and buttoned up to the throat, with a scarcely concealed smile, pointed to a chair, and read his friend's communication. When he had concluded it, he refolded it, put it carefully on the table, and then, turning to Dr. T., said, "I fear Anstruther has put himself and you to trouble for nothing. In the first place, I never ask favours of anyone; and secondly, if I did, and you were my own son, I could not ask anything in the quarter you point at." Poor David T. was not a little taken aback at this rebuff, as the longitude of his countenance plainly announced; he got up, hoped he had not intruded, and begged to be excused if he had done so, made another of his best bows, and was about to beat a retreat, when Colonel MacC., whose somewhat sarcastic expression of countenance did not reach beyond the surface, said, "Sit down, Mr. T., I've something to say to ye. I can't serve you in the way that Anstruther asks, but maybe I can put you in the way of serving yourself." T.'s ears became doubly attentive. Colonel MacC. continued, "You have, of course, called on Colonel B.?" "Yes, Colonel, but he was out." "Oh, you found him out! Well, you took a shorter time to do it than I did; but never mind that: did you leave a card for the lady?" "No, Colonel, I did not." "And pray, sir, why did you not? Don't you know it's your duty to pay your respects to your commanding officer!" "But so I did, Colonel." "But I tell ye, so you did not! There, now be off, and try to make out the riddle, which I can plainly see you don't yet comprehend. Try and translate it into practice. You'll find the advice good if you know how to use it."

'A great deal more was said, which I do not feel called upon to repeat. Poor David T. departed in a charming state of conglomeration, and he confessed to my brother, to whom, under the seal of profound secrecy, he reported the whole conversation, that when he left the Colonel's house he scarcely knew whether he was standing on his head or his heels. My brother, after indulging in a hearty laugh, asked him if he had yet paid one visit recommended to him. "No," said David, "I'll take care how I do that!" "But, then," returned my brother, "you won't be able to see Colonel MacC. again." "No," replied David, "I'll take care how I do that, too!"

'David T. was in many respects a very good fellow, but he took everything literally, and actually had, I believe, a sort of horror at a joke, particularly if he did not understand it, which was commonly the case. He was not a fire-eating Irishman, or he would have rivalled Sir Brallaghan O'Callaghan in the play, who says, "And if you shall say anything that I will not understand," etc. David, however, did not resort to the ultima ratio when he did not understand; he waited to have the joke explained. He had, perhaps, never heard that wit explained is no longer wit; but, whether he had or not, neither the wit nor the explanation ever seemed to disorder his equanimity. The only witty story I ever heard him tell, was one of Professor B., who was one of David's masters when attending the classes at Edinburgh. This gentleman was in the habit of enlivening his lectures by asking questions of his pupils. He had, on the occasion under reference, been using some mechanical illustrations to show that if the spring of a machine be wound up too tight, the whole apparatus will go too fast, unless a counterbalancing force be brought into play. Thus if the weights are not sufficient, the clock goes too fast; and on the other hand, if the weights are too great, the clock stops, or goes too slow. In the more perfect arrangements, a pendulum supersedes the weights, and can be lengthened or shortened to produce like effects. "Similar laws," said the Professor, "obtain in morals and in physics. If a youth is going too fast you put him under restrictions—in other words, you put more weight on him, and vice versâ. Now," turning round to one of the students, he said, "if you found a youth who was under your charge, a younger brother, for instance, not going quick enough, in fact—going decidedly too slow, what would you do?" "I wad shorten his pend'lum, sir," replied the unlucky wight. Here roars of laughter put an end to the sentence and the lecture; as this little anecdote puts an end to our further knowledge of David, who was a steady and solid practitioner of medicine, painstaking and zealous in his duty, a good husband, a good father, and a good Presbyterian. He died of cholera, poor fellow! at Trichinopoly, lamented by all who knew him, except the snipes, who certainly must have rejoiced when they heard of his death, since when alive he was never known to miss one of them.

'Most men who possess adventitious advantages, such as rank, wealth, position, and power, indulge in certain peculiarities of manner, speech, or habit; and the reason is not far to seek. They are so independent that they consult only their own fancies. Colonel MacC. was no exception to the rule just noticed; he had some peculiarities of manner as well as speech, and, of course, these were well known to the men of the regiment. Peculiarities of manner no doubt they caricatured amongst themselves, but could not show that they did so. With peculiarities of speech it was different, and the men hit on a method of amusing themselves with them that was certainly ingenious.

'Colonel MacC., it has been already said, was a capital horseman, and when out with the regiment always liked to see every manœuvre executed in the most rapid manner. Whenever the men were not quick enough to satisfy his judgment, he used to indulge in this form of reprehension: "Move, you beggars, move!" By degrees it became familiar to the men, and then they commented on it by purchasing a parrot, which, being a young and teachable bird, was not long in learning and mastering his lesson, "Move, you beggars, move!" The bird soon became proud of his proficiency, and wanted little or no coaxing to make him display it. At any time it was sufficient to say: "Good-morning, pretty Polly! what does the Colonel say?" to bring out, "Move, you beggars, move!" to the great delight of the men, women, and children of the regiment; but every amusement or enjoyment has its drawbacks. On one particular occasion, when Colonel B. was on leave and Colonel MacC. in command, an inspection of barracks, hospital, etc., was ordered. Accordingly Colonel MacC., with all the officers present with the regiment, repaired to the barracks. While engaged in this duty everyone's ears were startled by the ill-timed sounds, "Move, you beggars, move!" No one took any notice, but glances were exchanged all round. By-and-by "Move, you beggars, move!" was repeated more emphatically than before; this was too much for the Colonel, who called out, "Who is that? who has the audacity to interrupt the duty in this manner?" No one answered. "Sergeant-major," called out the Colonel, "who is that? I insist upon knowing! Tell me at once who it is that is guilty of this insolence? Whoever it is, put him under arrest immediately! What are you standing there for, like a fool? Did you not hear me say put the fellow under arrest?" "Yes, sir," said the Sergeant, "but I don't think it's any of the men." "Don't think it's any of the men; what do you mean? Is it one of the women or children that dares to act in this way?" "No, sir, it's none of the women or children." "Who is it, then? Take care, Hopkins, solitary confinement and reduction to the ranks will be unpleasant things for you to face after so many years' service; but it seems to me that you are going the right way to get them. Once more I say, who is it?" "I think it's the parrot, sir." "The parrot! What parrot? Whose parrot? Why don't you answer? Who owns the parrot?" "I think, sir, the bird belongs to the regiment." By this time Colonel MacC. had recovered his good-humour. "So it belongs to the regiment, does it? Well, take it away, and don't let it interrupt us again." Colonel MacC.'s good-humour on this occasion endeared him to the men so much that there was nothing they would not do to please him; and though they kept the bird, they took the greatest care to keep him away or silent whenever the Colonel visited the barracks.'

No. V. THE PASSAGE-OF-ARMS BETWEEN COLONEL L. AND MRS. G.

During the year which passed before the Koorg War, and while Colonel L. was in command of the cantonment of Bangalore, a somewhat singular passage-of-arms took place between him and an old lady, Mrs. G., who was the widow of General G., who had, some six months before, died at Nagpore. This lady, having in earlier days dwelt at Bangalore, lost no time in quitting the dry, burning heat of the former locality for the delightful climate of the latter station. She had, through friends, secured a commodious bungalow, situated not far from the house afterwards occupied by the Commissioner for Mysore, and she had furnished her little house very nicely, and, in a word, made herself very comfortable. Having no family with her, her two sons being grown-up and both bearing commissions in the Company's Service, her means were ample for all her requirements, including her palankeen, carriage, and horses. Besides her pension she had her husband's savings, amounting to 8,000 Rs. or more.

She had inhabited the bungalow in question about three months, when she was surprised by a visit from the cantonment Staff-Officer, who came to announce to her that, by the new arrangement decided on by the General and officers commanding the cantonment, she would be obliged, on or before the 15th of the next month, to vacate her bungalow, as it, with several others, had been appropriated to the new staff-lines, and that he had come by order of the officer commanding the cantonment to give her due notice.

Mrs. G. replied that she was indebted to the officer commanding the cantonment for his politeness, but was sorry that Captain W. (the cantonment Staff-Officer) should have been put to trouble on her account. In a word, the politeness on both sides was perfect; everything was so sweet and agreeable that milk and honey could not exceed it.

The Staff-Officer—who was to the backbone of the unmitigated Pomposo breed, and who was generally known in the cantonment by the sobriquet of 'Immortal Jack,' being quite a young man at forty, dressing as such, although, to hide his premature baldness, he was obliged to wear a wig—retired quite delighted with his visit. He had sported his new staff uniform before the cantonment, and he had, as he thought, settled everything with Mrs. G., and so he reported to Colonel L.

Shortly after his departure, the lady sent for the houseman, who came at her call, making numerous profound salaams as he entered the house.

'Well, Veneaty,' said the lady, 'are you still desirous of selling your house? You told me when I first came here and took the remainder of Captain Turner's lease, if I recollect rightly, that you were willing to sell for 4,000 Rs. Is not that so?'

Now, Veneata-sawny, who was as cunning as a fox, having heard something of the projected staff-lines, answered with all the apparent simplicity of a child and all the practised skill of a lawyer: 'Missis please I sell. Missis like to buy, I like very much to sell.'

'Very good, Veneaty. You know my lease has only four years to run, and as I wish to make the house my own, I will speak to Mr. Cardoza, my lawyer, to draw up the necessary papers, and you can bring a vakeel, on your part, to see that all is right and just; and as soon as the papers are signed I will pay the money.'

'Missis very good lady. I do as missis tell. To-morrow I come—I and vakeel. Missis say what time.'

'Oh, you may come about ten o'clock; my breakfast will be finished before nine.' So Veneaty departed, after the usual salaams. Mrs. G. at once wrote to Mr. Cardoza, and on the morrow, a little before ten a.m., he repaired to his client's bungalow, and there found Veneata-sawny with his vakeel. A conversation something to this effect then took place.

The first question put to Veneaty by Mr. C. was: 'Have you obtained the General's permission to sell your bungalow, which is situate within the lines of the cantonment?'

'I had permission when I gave lease to Captain Turner five years before. Missis now got that lease.'

'That will not stand good now, I fear, as they are going to make new rules for the cantonment,' observed Mr. C.

'But, sar,' said the vakeel, 'Missis like to buy. Missis can sell again to Government.'

Now, this honest gentleman had ascertained that the utmost that could be got from the cantonment authorities, if they purchased, would be 2,000 Rs. He and his wily friend Veneaty were therefore strongly disposed to sell. Mrs. G. escaped the snare Veneaty had set for her through the caution of Mr. C, who ascertained the facts of the case at Captain W.'s office.

But though Mrs. G. did not buy, she held the lease of the house, and continued to inhabit it and to pay the rent as usual. On the 2nd or 3rd of the ensuing month, Veneaty again presented himself at Mrs. G.'s door with the usual salaams.

'Good-morning, Veneaty,' said Mrs. G.; 'come for your rent, I suppose.'

'Missis please to give, I take.'

'Here it is; count it,' said the lady, 'and see that it is right.'

'What for I count? Missis never make mistake.'

'But you must count to satisfy me.'

Veneaty had done this with his eye the moment he saw the rupees on the table, but he said: 'Missis give order, I count.' And count he did, as slowly and deliberately as a child.

'Well,' said the lady, 'is it right?'

'All right,' said Veneaty. 'Missis please take receipt.' Mrs. G. did so, and locked it up in her desk.

She then expected that the houseman would take his departure, but he continued standing at the table without offering to go. Then the lady said: 'What is it now, Veneaty? I see you have something more to say. What is it?'

'I no like to tell Missis; I too much fraiding.'

'But what are you afraid of?' said Mrs. G.

'Missis too much angry if I tell,' returned Veneaty.

'And if I am angry,' said Mrs. G. 'for I suspect what it is you wish to say, I shall not be angry with you.'

'Then I tell; but I too much sorry, not my fault.'

'What you want to say is,' said Mrs. G., 'that you want me to leave the house; is it not?'

'Missis never tell that word. I no want, but Mister Captain he too much want, therefore I tell; he tell too much; punish me you no leave the bungalow. What I do, I too much sorry.'

'Do not be afraid, Veneaty; he cannot punish you.'

'Missis how can tell. He tell Burra General Saib give order, and cantonment General Saib give order what I do.'

'You tell the Staff-Officer that you have asked me to leave the house; that will set you right.'

'But Mister Captain too much bobbery man; every man too much fraiding him.'

'Never mind what people say; you tell Captain W. that you have requested me to go out, and that I won't go.'

'No, Missis, I never tell that word. Mister Captain too much angry.'

'Very well,' said the lady, 'I will tell him myself; and I will also tell him that you have asked me to go out.'

'Missis too much good Missis, but I too much fraiding.'

'Well, Veneaty, never fear for me. I will take care of myself.'

Then Veneaty, with even greater reverence than usual, departed, thinking that Mrs. G. was a too-much brave woman.

Nothing fresh occurred till a day or two before the 15th, when Captain W. again made his appearance. Mrs. G. had in the meantime done nothing; everything was in its place, even to the vase of flowers. After the ordinary salutations, the Captain said: 'I fear you are driving things to the last moment, Mrs. G.; you have only to the 15th, by which time we must have the bungalow. I really fear you are putting yourself to unnecessary inconvenience.'

'Thank you very much,' returned Mrs. G.; 'I have not been put to any inconvenience.'

'But I fear you will be, if you don't make preparations in time.'

'Oh, never fear,' said the lady; 'I shall make preparations in time—that you may depend on.'

'Then I will take my leave with many thanks,' said Captain W.; 'you have relieved my mind very much.'

'You are very polite,'returned Mrs. G., 'but you have nothing to thank me for.'

'Oh, but indeed I have a good deal,' replied the Captain.

'Well, I am glad you think so,' said Mrs. G.; 'good-morning.'

'Good-morning,' said the gallant Captain, as he lifted his staff cap very gently for fear of displacing his wig, and galloped off.

On the morning of the 15th the same gallant officer appeared again, attended by a serjeant and several other people. He came to take possession of the bungalow, but this he found more difficult than he had anticipated. All the doors and windows were locked and fastened up except one window in the only upper room of the house, which was open, and at which Mrs. G. appeared.

'Really,' said Captain W., raising his cap, 'this is too bad, Mrs. G. You must pardon me for saying so, but it is too bad, after all the warnings you have had, and after the promises you have made.'

'I never made you any promise whatever,' said Mrs. G. 'You chose to put on my words a construction that suited your own ideas, and I tried to set you right; but you would not let me. I told you you had nothing to thank me for, but you persisted in doing so, somewhat to my amusement. Besides, I sent you word distinctly that I did not feel inclined to leave my house. Veneaty told me he had given you my message, but perhaps he did not speak the truth.'

'He did deliver your message, Mrs. G.,' said the Captain, 'but neither the General, nor the Colonel, nor myself thought for a moment that you really meant to act on it.'

'Well, sir,' said Mrs. G., 'you find your mistake; it is a pity that three such great men should fall into the same error, but by your own account so it is.'

'Well, ma'am, I am sorry you put me into such a painful position, that I feel I have no alternative. I must report your disregard of authority, and whatever happens, you must remember you brought it upon yourself.'

'Thank you, sir, for your advice; but, really, unless the Colonel and yourself resolve to burn my house over my head and me in it, I don't see what is likely to happen. I am a British subject, sir, although an unprotected woman. You threaten to break open my doors, and to expose my property outside the house, to be spoiled by sun and rain and night-dews; try it, sir, and lay yourself and your gallant chief open to a civil action in the Supreme Court. There the judges, thank Heaven! care not two pins for your cantonment law. You cannot bring me, being a woman, to a court-martial for disobedience to orders; and I am advised, by those who do know something of law, that as I came here before your new rules were made, and besides hold a lease granted under cantonment law five years ago, you cannot legally turn me out. Go home, sir, and think of some cunning way by which, as gentlemen, and men of honour, you can show courtesy and respect to an unprotected lady, the widow of a brother officer; turn over in your generous minds how by violence and intimidation you can effect that which you cannot effect by law.'

Here Captain Pomposo, all but frantic, called out: 'Mrs. G.—Mrs. G., pray consider what you say, pray have——' But Mrs. G. refused to consider anything, or to hear anything; she shut down the window and pulled down the blinds. The 'immortal' had nothing for it but to ride to Colonel L.'s house and report the success of his undertaking.

When Colonel L. heard the result of Captain W.'s attempt to take possession of the bungalow, he was utterly confounded—I might say almost horror-struck. Resistance to military authority in a military cantonment had never, even in his dreams, assumed a tangible shape, or appeared even as a distant or possible contingency; and now he had to face it as a positive, undeniable reality. Actually in a cold perspiration he said, after pausing a minute or two: 'But what are we to do? I never met with such a case before, and never heard of such a case; the thing is so preposterous and unnatural, as well as unprecedented, that I am really at a loss. If it was a man I had to do with I should know what to do; but really, independent of the scandal and absurdity of the thing, to engage in a contest with an old woman, and to run the chance of getting the worst of it, places me in a position I never for a moment contemplated. I am fairly perplexed, and truly would rather again face "la Vieille Garde" with Ney at their head than face this dreadful Mrs. G. Great pity women were ever admitted into cantonments; they always give trouble and always cause trouble.'

'They did so in the first cantonment ever marked out, so we are told,' observed Captain W. To this the Colonel made no reply, not relishing even an approach to a joke on so serious and distressing a subject. After a silence of some minutes, during which the Colonel endeavoured to overcome his indignation, though with but partial success, he said: 'Send for the houseman.'

'When shall I tell him to be here?' said Captain W.

'Send an orderly to fetch him here at once,' replied the Colonel.

An orderly was accordingly despatched for Veneaty, who in due season arrived, puffing and panting in consequence of the rapid mode of progression insisted on by his military companion. When brought into the presence of the Colonel his nerves seemed to be greatly discomposed, nor did the Colonel's manner and mode of address tend much to reassure him. The first question put to him was:

'Are you the owner of the house now occupied by Mrs. G.?'

'Yes, I am, General Saib.'

'Does she pay her rent regularly?'

'Yes, General Saib.'

'Does she hold a lease of that house?'

'She has taken Captain Turner's lease, General Saib.'

'When did she obtain that lease?'

'Four months ago, General Saib.'

'Four months? Are you sure?'

'Yes, General Saib.'

'It was not after the new rules were ordered, was it?'

'No, General Saib; it was more than three months before they were ordered.'

'Well, you see, W.,' said the Colonel, 'we shall gain nothing by parchment; we must try something else.'

'Veneaty, when you want a tenant to go out, what do you do?'

'If he no pay his rent, I get order to seize his property, then he pay or he go out.'

'But suppose he does pay his rent, and still you want him to go out, what do you do then?'

'I give written warning to go out.'

'Then can't you do that with Mrs. G.?'

'How can do that, General Saib? Mem Saib got lease.'

'Oh, I forgot that,' said the Colonel. 'What the devil am I to do?'

'General Saib not know, how can I tell?' returned Veneaty.

After a silence of some minutes, Captain W. said: 'In a case of like nature, or something like, that occurred at Bombay, they unroofed the house, and so got the tenant out. Won't you do that?'

'General Saib give order, I do; but Mem Saib, if she make complaint to High Court at Madras, what I do?'