Mark Seaworth. William Henry Giles Kingston

extending the whole way up, sometimes to the height of three stories, besides a large portico in front, the whole having a very picturesque appearance, especially when intermingled with forest trees and flowering shrubs. The houses are built of brick, covered with cement, which looks like stone and as even the more ordinary buildings are spread over a considerable extent of ground, they have a very imposing effect, unlike any inhabited by persons of the same rank in England. But close even to the palaces of the most wealthy are to be seen wretched mud huts; and rows of native hovels, constructed of mats, thatch, and bamboos, often rest against their outer walls, while there are avenues opening from the principal streets, intersected in all directions by native bazaars, filled with unsightly articles of every description.

      Sir Charles Plowden lived in a very large house, and though his own habits were very simple, the custom of the country required him to have a large retinue of domestics. Thus I was brought up in almost barbaric splendour, with a number of persons whose only business was to attend upon my wishes. My kind guardian, whenever his public duties permitted, had me with him, and himself superintended my education, which prevented the ill effects of the indulgence I was allowed. A sitting-room in India is very unlike one in England. The sofas, chairs, and tables are placed at a foot distance from the wall, on account of the reptiles which would otherwise find their way on to them. All the walls are pierced with doors, through which are seen, like ghosts, the servants, clad in flowing white garments, gliding about with noiseless feet in all directions. None of the inferior domestics keep themselves, as in England, in the background—the water-carrier alone confines his perambulations to the back staircases; all the others, down to the scullions, make their appearance in the state apartments whenever they please; and in Bengal even the lower orders of palanquin-bearers, who wear but little clothing, will walk into a room without ceremony, and endeavour to make themselves useful by dusting the furniture, setting it in order; at the same time, any of the upper servants would deem it highly disrespectful to their masters to appear without their turbans, or their other usual clothing.

      The punkah, a necessary appendage of every house, is worthy of description. It is formed of a wooden framework, a foot and a half or two feet broad, hung in the centre of the room, and extending nearly its whole length. This frame is covered with painted canvas or fluted silk, finished round the edges with gilt mouldings. It is suspended from the ceiling by ropes, covered with scarlet cloth, very tastefully disposed, and hangs within seven feet of the ground. A rope is fastened to the centre, and the whole apparatus waves to and fro, creating, if pulled vigorously, a strong current of air, and rendering the surrounding atmosphere endurable, when the heat would, without it, be very disagreeable.

      Captain Clayton was stationed up the country, where Mrs. Clayton took my little sister, and Ellen Barrow accompanied them. I was very sorry to part from all my kind friends, as well as my little sister, and often used to ask when they were coming back again. I missed my sweet playmate, Ellen Barrow, very much; for among all my obsequious attendants, no one could romp with me as she did, or amuse me half so much. I loved her dearly, and had I never again seen her, I think I should never have forgotten her countenance.

      I must be very brief with this part of my history, as the adventures I afterwards met with will, I doubt not, prove more interesting to my readers.

      I must, however, while I am talking of India, recommend my young friends to make themselves well acquainted with the geographical position of the most important places in it. I have often, since coming to England, been asked if I knew Mr. So-and-so of India, as if India was a town or an English county. A glance at the map will show the immense extent of the British possessions in the East. They are divided into three Presidencies, or Sub-governments—those of Bengal, Madras and Bombay. Connected with these are a great number of subsidiary and protected states. Some of the nominal rulers of these are tributary to the Company, others receive stipends from them; while a great many have British residents or envoys stationed at their courts, who advise them how to govern, and many have, besides, British troops, to keep them in order and their enemies in awe.

      The vast extent of country between the Ganges and the Indus, with the Himalaya mountains on the north, may be considered as almost entirely British; at all events, British troops are stationed in all directions, and British travellers may move north and south, and east and west, without let or hindrance. Thus it may be seen, that it is very possible for people to reside all their lives in India and not to meet; at the same time, as the British move about a great deal, especially the military, who, in time of war, are brought much in contact, they certainly meet oftener, and hear more of each other than would be expected.

      I feel assured that the rule of the British has proved a blessing to the people of India. Had it not done so, we should not, I think, have been allowed to keep possession of the country. At the same time, we might have proved a far greater blessing than we have been; for had we set a better example in religion and morality, I cannot but suppose that the divine truths of Christianity would have made greater progress among the inhabitants than they have. Very many of my readers may have their future fortunes cast in that land of wonders, and let me entreat them to remember the immense responsibility which rests on their shoulders. According to the example they set, so may the benighted natives be brought to perceive the beauty and excellence of true religion, or they may remain in their present darkness. Let me ask you a question: Who will be answerable for the ignorance and crimes of the poor natives—they who have never had the light presented to them, or you who might, by your example and precept, have offered it to them and would not?

      In saying this, I at the same time advise you to respect the prejudices and customs of the people. You can never win people over to the truth by insulting their superstition, however gross. I only urge you to be, in your own lives, a bright example.

      I now return to my history.

      Several years of the time of my childhood passed away very happily. Sir Charles was placed as ruler over a large Province in the interior, and he took me with him. His residence was situated on some lofty hills, which were cool even in hot weather, so that I grew up strong and healthy. Some British troops were sent to the same place, under the command of Captain, now Major Clayton, and thus I was once more united to my kind friends and young sister. Ellen Barrow was so no longer; she had become Mrs. Northcote; but was the same kind, lively creature as when I first remembered her. Major and Mrs. Clayton had no children of their own; and they therefore loved my little sister even as if she had been their infant.

      I must not omit to mention an occurrence which happened about this time, and is well worthy of note. My friends were residing in a sort of fort, situated on the hills, with a high wall surrounding the habitable portion. In the hot weather the windows are left entirely open, or are simply closed with a sort of venetian blind. The crib in which my sister slept was placed in a large apartment outside Major and Mrs. Clayton’s chamber, while beyond it were the sleeping-places of the nurses and other household domestics. It was used in the day-time as a sitting-room, and against the wall was a large and handsome mirror, and from the ceiling hung a lamp, which shed a soft and subdued light upon it. I am thus particular in describing the scene from the circumstances which follow. It was an hour or more past midnight, when Major Clayton was awakened, and from, to him, some unaccountable reason, he could not again compose himself to sleep. While he lay awake, he fancied that he heard a slight noise in the adjoining room, and throwing on his dressing-gown, he rose to discover what could have caused it. Think of his horror and amazement to see, in the centre of the apartment, as if about to spring on the cradle where the infant slept, a royal Bengal tiger of vast size! In a moment it might have seized the child, and before any human aid could have availed, it might have carried her away into the wild jungle. He stood almost paralysed, not knowing how to act. Had he moved to get his pistols from the next room, he might only have hastened the catastrophe he feared. He looked again; the fierce animal was lashing its tail and grinding its teeth with rage. Before its eyes, reflected in the mirror, was its own image, which it had beheld when just about to spring on its prey. It now stood, every moment its fury increasing, fancying that another of its species was there to contest the prize it had come to bear away. The major watched it with breathless anxiety; he was about to rush to the crib, at the risk of his life, to carry off the child, when the tiger sprung forward. Alas! It is too late, and the savage beast will destroy it; but no, the tiger expects to join combat with