cipally of barrack scandal, in which they dealt not leniently with the officers' wives, were all in common. Any little distance or constraint that their relative position in the regiment might have inspired, had long ago been merged into bonds of the strictest unity, cemented by a perilous land-journey from Deeza to Bombay (on arriving at which station they learned that their husbands had already sailed), and subsequently by a long and stormy passage in the John Thompson, whose state cabin, ten feet by eight and a half, was shared between them. They were Jane and Mary to one another, and certainly never were two ladies "more justly formed to meet by nature." Both obese and jolly, with about equal traces of those charms which had promoted them from the squalor of the padcherree to their present exalted stations. If anything, the balance of respectability rather preponderated on the side of her of lesser rank; for Mrs. Serjeant-major Jenkinson was generally satisfied to take her glass in private, after retiring for the night, whereas Mrs. Murphy, honest soul, made no scruple of confessing her penchant for grog; and it was well known that, in quarters, herself and husband consumed, between them, seven case bottles of gin hebdomadally. I might not, perhaps, have mentioned these ladies, but for a story connected with them, which certainly redounds not a little to their credit, as heroines. I said that their journey from Deeza to Bombay was perilous. The distance is some hundred miles, and mostly through what is called the Bheel, or Robber's country. Application was, consequently, made to the officer commanding the station, who allowed them a small sepoy guard for protection. For many days their course was unmolested; and such freedom from annoyance is sure, with the troops of Hindustan, unless officered by Europeans, to induce a relaxation of discipline, of which the Bheels, who had, probably, been tracking them for some time, were prompt to avail themselves. Breakfast was over, and arms piled in front of the travellers' little camp. That morning's march having been one of unusual fatigue, the vital precaution of placing sentries was entirely neglected, and the havildar, after lazily warning the men for duty to be on the look-out, placed his back against a mango tree, and dozed over his hubblebubble. On every side might be seen the form of Jack Sepoy, stretched on the greensward, his head nestled in numerous folds of linen, in the unmolested enjoyment of "blackman's fun," which every Anglo-Indian is aware is neither more nor less than deep sleep. Such was the disreputable posture of affairs, when a shout was heard, followed by a hailstorm of arrows, and in a moment the ground was covered with Bheels, who, springing from the thicket, and, probably despising their inert opponents, fell at once upon a palankin which, from the information of their spies, they knew to contain the most valuable booty. The first impulse of the guard, naturally, was, to spring to their feet, unpile their arms, and discharge them wildly into the air; but there the instinct of discipline halted. The sepoy, who, well led, will follow his officer through the hottest fire-(I beg pardon; you know exactly every word I was going to say on that subject: if you don't, you have read precious little about India). These sepoys, I say, see Huts of the married soldiers, apart from the barracks. ing themselves far outnumbered, and the baggage which they ought to have guarded surrounded by an impassable barrier of foes, cast one look of blank dismay at the havildar, who was already slipping on his sandals for a run. And run they most assuredly would, had not the god of battles, and of bandboxes too, if such there be, at that very crisis, inspired the soul of Mrs. Mary Jenkinson, the sergeant-major's wife. Concealed in a contiguous palankin, she had watched, in mortal trepidation, the first onset of the Bheels. Terror had prostrated the powers of her active mind; but as the ruthless work of spoliation continued, her whole soul revolted. Leather shoes and pots of bear's grease were wisped up with shawls of real cachmere, and thrust into the robber's greasy cumberbund. But when, at length, sacrilegious hands were about to be imposed upon that blue bandbox, containing the chef-d'œuvrse of Madame Pelerin's last consignment to Bombay-the pent volcano burst. "Oh! queen of heaven," she exclaimed, "my French caps! real Valenciennes-twenty rupees a yard-and all paid for.-I'll die first!" So saying, and with the air of an enraged Pythoness, she sprang through the startled ranks of the Bheels, and placed herself at the head of her wavering guard. "Sepoys, 'tention! Close your ranks; order arms, with ball cartridge, prime and load.-Ready.-P'sent.-(Bang! bang! bang!) Port arms.-Charge bayonets !" Everything was executed according to her orders. The sepoys, thus aroused, poured in a murderous volley, and followed it with a charge as deadly, which left eight or ten of the enemy stretched upon the field, and completely routed the remainder, who fled, without casting another glance upon the much-prized box, the attempt to rifle which had cost them so dear. Such was Mrs. Sergeant-major Jenkinson: a woman, certainly, of no common courage; but being of a somewhat phlegmatic temperament, her relation of the affair would have been tame and spiritless; nor did I ever hear her attempt it; no-while, with a self-satisfied smile, she plied her everlasting needles, she left the onus explicandi entirely to her more voluble countrywoman. Ah! you should have dropped in amongst our little circle about the witching hour of night, some ten minutes before the cuddy lights were extinguished, and heard Mrs. Murphy expatiating on our daarin' conduct. Indeed, I was never quite sure whether she did not wish to represent herself as the heroine of the tale. A more thorough-paced, or unpretending coward, when not under the influence of grog, you would seldom meet with. I recollect, on one occasion, when we were taken aback by a white squall, and the sea broke over us (and, indeed, I should not like such a dose to be labelled "repetatur haustus"), seeing poor Jane Murphy's head compressed between the hands of her more resolute companion, to restrain the spasmodic action of her jaws, which rattled like castanets, under the influence of fear. Again, when we lay-to under an everlasting foul wind and heavy cross sea, Mrs. Murphy, after a two days' sojourn in her berth, crept to the upper regions, and, seizing the skipper by the arm, "Oh! captain, jewel," she exclaimed, "is there any hopes? for Mary and me has just looked out, and, the Lord be good to us! the never a stitch of cloth you've up at all-nothin' but sticks and strings." Her courage, in short, was somewhat akin to that of the pot-valiant Schneider, who, being accidentally possessed of a sword, amused himself with decapitating a forest of thistles, wishing they were so many rascally Frenchmen, and declaring himself fit to face the prince of the powers of darkness. Even as he spoke, a venerable black goat, who had been there, taking his siesta, lifted his head with an expostulatory -Bah! "Oh! my lord devil," he exclaimed, falling on his knees, "have mercy on me, for I'm only a poor tailor!" Farewell, fair Jane and Mary! Your attractions were great, and worthy of an abler pen than mine. But I must not linger, for I have promised to tell you something, too, of Master Lees. The youth himself, a mere schoolboy, with manners quite unformed, would hardly claim notice, except as being connected, in some measure, with the tragical incident of that night; and, indeed, I have here introduced him to your notice, chiefly as a peg, whereon to hang a reminiscence. He had been sent out to India, some months previously, to join his parents; but, ere his arrival, his father had embarked for England, on sick certificate, and died on the passage home. Of his father, Nosey Lees, sometime Major in my dear old corps, I could write a volume. We called him Nosey, not so much from the size of the feature in question (though that was beyond the common), as from the astounding effect it had upon his articulation. You may have heard a drawl, a snuffle, or a grunt "from many a snout, With whiffling wheezes long drawn out;" but if you have not heard old Lees's word of command, which commenced with a long snore, and terminated in something resembling a rabid bark, you have but little idea of the to-kalon in nasological melody. A more helpless driveller, I suppose, was never girded with a brass scabbard; but "Nosey" has often "sprighted" us, as Shak spere has it, to the very verge of mutiny. The old hands used to grin and bear it; but the ensigns, being harum-scarum fellows, often gave him a quid pro quo. I recollect, one weary morning, he had taken some dislike to the sit of my cap, and I altered it more than fifty times without hitting his fancy. Either from the constant friction, or more likely from a petulant drag upon it, one of the side buttons gave way, and I flung the chin-strap from me. Such a deficit was not likely long to escape notice: the regiment was halted in the midst of a manœuvre, and, in the pause that ensued, Nosey demanded, in a grunt of thunder, how, without a chinstrap, I could expect my cap to stick upon my head. "I don't know, sir," I meekly replied, "unless, perhaps, by capillary attraction." This, of course, was Greek to him, but there were others present whose fancies were tickled by the double pun; and, as a titter always drove him wild, he vowed he would never forgive me, and he never did. But the hardest hit poor Lees ever encountered was on a church parade, one morning, when we were quartered at Parbutty. During the time that the officers were employed in inspecting companies, a hot dispute had arisen between Nosey and the sergeant-major: I should not, indeed, call it a dispute, for the latter, the most respectful of his class, confined himself to a simple remonstrance against some one of his superior's manifold blunders, which, as usual, was totally disregarded. I suppose our malicious sense of the ludicrous was a little too plainly evinced, for he forthwith charged down upon us, and swore that "those infernal colour ensigns were at the bottom of all the mischief in the regiment." "Never mind," whispered Harry T., "I'll pay him off presently." And, faith, Harry was the man to keep his word. His brain was a mass of half-digested learning, richly stored, too, with scraps of old plays and songs, which, with a rare facility of quoting, and a little ready versification of his own, he could, sometimes, make most provokingly applicable. The inspection being over, it is usual, as my military readers are aware, previous to the actual business of the parade, for the captains and subalterns to came to the front, saluting, as they pass, and grouping themselves in rear of the commanding officer, who sits on horseback, “alone in his glory;" the few other mounted officers being also in his rear, at a little distance. Methinks I have old Lees's figure, bodily, once more, as he sits before me on his Roman-nosed, ewe-necked Kattiewar. Though a large man, certainly, it were unjust to compare him with Falstaff, for that jolly mortal had his hide tightly blown with good beef and pudding, but what flesh, however well-fed, could stand the drainage of an Indian sun? Fancy a badly-stuffed feather bed, with a rope (the sash) tied round the middle, and you have the body; while the bolsters might not inaptly typify his legs, which were equally without form. His feet, stuck at right angles, seemed excrescences from his charger's flanks, while his hands, on which he chiefly depended for support, grasped the pommel of his saddle. And yet this animal prided himself on his equitation; and, truly, with such a figure, and with such a steed ("his back was like the bended bow, his foot not like arrow free, Mary"), the very fact of their continued combination was a mystery. We were drawn up, as I said before, in his rear; and Harry, whose eye boded mischief, had beckoned me up close to his horse's tail. "Tom," said he, in an emphatic voice, prefaced by a short cough, the import of which was well understood by his brother officers. "Well, Harry," I replied, in a tone equally emphatic. Harry thus continued. "Walking along, the other day, I met a Nose right in my way, "I called unto this Nose to stop; And when the man behind came up, "Curse me if I recollect the rest," he added, with perfect nonchalance, as though trying to tax his memory for some impossible word. I leave the result to the reader's imagination. (To be concluded in our next.) THE RACE-HORSE. A TALE. BY SIR JOHN DEAN PAUL, BART. PART III.-THE Dupe. ALL was arranged, the night was dark and cold, To learn their fate, behold the anxious pair, And stilly silence ruled the peaceful scene. To purple sky now changed the sober gray, Green tried to rally, but he tried in vain, Had come with Muff, and swore that he could fly. Intent they gazed-but scarcely could descry The gliding objects move against the sky. They've reach'd the corner-now they turn-they run— So close-so even-1 "See, see! one comes away," shouts Sly: "Enough He wins it easy: Bravo, Little Muff!" If Green were now elated by success, Capot's kind manner scarcely charm'd him less; He wish'd him joy, and proffer'd him his hand : 66 My service, sir, henceforward you command; |