Читать книгу The Humour and Pathos of Anglo-Indian Life - J. E. Mayer - Страница 4

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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.