CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 PRESENTED TO 
 
 CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
 BY EVERETT H. RANKIN, 1912 
 
 IN MEMORY OF 
 
 LOUISE SPIEKER RANKIN 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR 5549.T36T5 1880 
 
 Tippoo Sultaun; a tale of the Mysore war 
 
 3 1924 013 558 139 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 92401 35581 39 
 
TIPPOO SU LTA U N. 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 I. 
 RALPH DARNELL. New and Cheaper Edition, with Frontispiece. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, price 6s. 
 
 II. 
 THE CONFESSIONS OF A THUG. New and Cheaper Edition, with 
 Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, cloth, price 6s. 
 
 'A story so powerfully and graphically told does not soon lose its hold on the 
 imagination.' — Daily News. 
 
 III. 
 TARA : A Mahratta Tale. New and Cheaper Edition, with Frontis- 
 piece. Crown 8vo, cloth, price 6s. 
 
 * We recommend it to all who care to know something of native life in India on 
 its nobler side, as a book of very high calibre.* — Spectator. 
 
 IV. 
 
 A NOBLE QUEEN : A Romance of Indian History. 3 Vols, crown Svo, 
 cloth. 
 
 V. 
 
 SEETA. 3 Vols, crown Svo, cloth. 
 
 London : C. KEGAN PAUL & CO., i Paternoster Square. 
 
TiPPOO SULTAUiN. 
 
 P. 397. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN; 
 
 A TALE OF THE MYSORE WAR. 
 
 BY THE LATE 
 
 COLONEL MEADOWS TAYLOR. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 LONDON: 
 C. KEGAN PAUL & CO., i PATERNOSTER SQUARE. 
 
 1880. 
 
COLSTON AND SON, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. 
 
 \Tke Rights of Translation and of Reproduction are reserved.\ 
 
TO 
 
 WILLIAM NEWNHAM, Esq., 
 
 MY BEST AND EARLIEST FRIEND IN INDIA, 
 
 THIS VOLUME 
 
 IS WITH GRATEFUL ESTEEM 
 DEDICATED. 
 
TIP POO SULTAUN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 iJOWARDS the close of a day of intense heat, about the 
 middle of the month of June, 1788, a party consisting 
 of many persons might be seen straggling over the plain 
 which extends southwards from the Fort of Adoni, and 
 which almost entirely consists of the black alluvial deposit 
 familiarly known in India under the name of ' cotton soil.' 
 
 The leader was a man perhaps about fifty years of age ; he 
 rode a powerful Dekhan horse of great spirit, but whose usual 
 fiery comportment was tamed by the severe exertion he had 
 undergone, from the miry roads through which he had travelled 
 the greater part of the day. Indeed he began to show evident 
 symptoms of weariness, and extricated himself from every succeed- 
 ing muddy hollow — and they were very frequent — with less power. 
 His handsome housings too were soiled with dirt ; and the figure 
 of his rider, which merits some description, was splashed from 
 head to foot 
 
 It has been already stated that he was a man of advanced age. 
 His face, which was wrapped up, as well as his head, in thick 
 folds of muslin, in order to protect them from the scorching heat 
 of the sun, showed a dark complexion much pitted with the 
 smallpox ; but his eyes were very large, and of that intense black 
 which is but rarely seen even among the natives of India, and 
 which appeared to flash with a sudden light when any stumble of 
 his gallant horse provoked an impatient jerk of the bridle, and a 
 volley of curses upon the mud and the road, if such it could be 
 called. His dress was of cloth-of-gold, — a suit which had been 
 once magnificent, but which, soiled and tarnished as it was, he 
 had chosen perhaps to wear as a mark of his rank, and thus to 
 
2 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ensure respect from the people of the country, which might have 
 been denied to money alone. It was open at the breast, and 
 under the shirt of mushn worn within the alkhaluk, or upper 
 garment, a broad rough chest could be seen, — a fair earnest of 
 the power of him we describe. 
 
 A handsome shawl was girded around his waist, and his some- 
 what loose trousers were thrust into a pair of yellow leather boots, 
 which appeared to be of Persian workmanship. Over his shoulder 
 was a gold belt which supported a sword ; but this in reality was 
 qonfined to the waist by the shawl we have mentioned, and 
 appeared more for ornament than use. A bright steel axe with a 
 steel handle hung at his saddle-bow on the right hand ; and the 
 butt-end of a pistol, much enriched with chased silver, peeped 
 forth on the left, among the fringe of the velvet covering of the 
 soft saddle upon which he rode. A richly ornamented shield 
 was bound to his back by a soft leather strap passing over his 
 chest ; and the shield itself, which hung low, rested between his 
 back and the cantle of the saddle, and partly served as a 
 support. 
 
 In truth, soiled and bespattered as he was, Abdool Rhyman 
 Khan was a striking figure in those broad plains, and in his own 
 person appeared a sufficient protection to those who followed 
 him. But he was not the only armed person of the party. Six 
 or seven horsemen immediately followed him, — his own retainers ; 
 not mounted so well nor dressed so expensively as the Khan 
 himself, but still men of gallant bearing ; and the party, could 
 they have kept together, would have presented a very martial and 
 imposing appearance. 
 
 At some distance behind the horsemen was a palankeen, 
 apparently heavily laden ; for the bearers, though there were as 
 many as sixteen, changed very frequently, and could but ill 
 struggle through the muddy road into which at every step they 
 sunk deeply ; nor did the cheering exclamations of those who 
 were not under the poles of the palankeen appear to have much 
 effect in quickening the pace of those who carried it ; and it was 
 very evident that they were nearly exhausted, and not fit to travel 
 much further. 
 
 In the rear of all was a string of five camels, which required 
 the constant attention of the drivers to prevent their slipping and 
 falling under their burdens; and with these were a number of 
 persons, some on foot carrying loads, and a few mounted on 
 ponies, who were the servants of the Khan, and were urging on 
 the beasts, and those laden with the cooking utensils, as rapidly 
 as it was possible to proceed m the now fast-closing darkness. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 3 
 
 Behind all were two led horses of much beauty, whose attendant 
 grooms conducted them through the firmest parts of the road. 
 
 ' Alia ! Alia ! ' cried one of those mounted on a stout pony, — > 
 he was in fact the cook of the Khan, — ' that I, Zoolficar, should 
 ever have been seduced to leave the noble city of Hyderabad, 
 and to travel this unsainted road at such a time of year ! Ai 
 Moula All,' he continued, invoking his. patron saint, 'deliver us 
 speedily from this darkness ! grant that no rain may fall upon 
 this, already impassable road ! I should never survive a night in 
 this jungle. What say you, Daood Khan— are we ever to reach 
 the munzil?* are we ever to be released from this jehanum, 
 where we are enduring torment before our time? Speak, O 
 respectable man ! thou saidst thou knew'st the country.' 
 
 'Soldo, Ocowardi Whatistjieuseoffiilling our ears with these 
 fretful complaints ? Hath not the munificence of the Khan pror 
 vided thee with a stout beast, which, with the blessing of the 
 PropTiet, Avill carry thee quickly to thy journey's end ? Was it 
 not the Khan's pleasure to pass Adoni, where we might have 
 rested comforta;bly for the night ? and are we who eat his salt to 
 grumble at what he does, when we saw that the Khanumt Sahib 
 (may her name be honouined !) was willing to travel on? Peace, 
 then ! for it is hard to attend to thy prating and pick one's way 
 among these cursed thorns.' 
 
 ' Well, I am silent,' replied the other; 'but my mind misgives 
 me that we never reach the munzil, and shall be obliged to put 
 up in one of these wretched villages, where the kafir inhabitants 
 never kill meat ; and we shall have to eat dry bread or perhaps 
 dry rice, which is worse, after this fatigue,' 
 
 ' Ah, thou art no soldier, Zoolfoo,' cried another fellow who 
 was walking beside him, ' or thou wouldst not talk thus. How 
 wouldst thou like to have nothing for two days, and then perhaps 
 a stale crust or a handful of cold rice, and be glad to thank the 
 Provider of good for that, — how wouldst thou ? ' 
 
 ' No more, I pray thee, good Nasur ! ' cried the cook, visions of 
 starvation apparently overpowering him, — 'no more, I beseech 
 thee ! Methinks thy words have already had a bad effect on the 
 lower part of my stomach, and that it begins to reproach me for 
 a lack of its usual sustenance. I tell thee, man, I can put to my- 
 self no idea of starvation at all, I was never able to keep the 
 Rumzan (for which I pray to be pardoned), and am obliged to 
 pay heavuy every year for some one to keep it for me, — may 
 grace abound to him ! I pray Alia and the Prophet, that the 
 Khan may strike off somewhere in search of a roof for the night.' 
 • Stage. + Feminine of Khan ; as Begum, feminine of Beg. 
 
4 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 The Khan had stopped : the increasing darkness, or rather 
 gloom, — for there was still somewhat of daylight remaining, and 
 the sun had not long set, — ^the muttering of thunder, and the more 
 and more vivid flashes of lightning proceeding from an intensely 
 black and heavy cloud which occupied the whole of the horizon 
 before him, were enough to cause anxiety as to his proceeding 
 further or not 
 
 A hard or tolerably firm road would have relieved this, but the 
 track upon which they journeyed became almost worse as he pro- 
 ceeded j and the man he had sent on some little distance in 
 advance, to observe the best passage for the horses, appeared to 
 be guiding his with increased difficulty. 
 
 ' I was an ass, and the son of an ass, to leave Adoni,' muttered 
 the Khan ; ' but it is of no use to regret this now : — ^what had 
 better be done is the question. My poor Motee,' he continued, 
 addressing his horse, ' thou too art worn out, and none of thy old 
 fire left in thee. How, my son, wouldst thou carry me yet 
 further ? ' and he patted his neck. 
 
 The noble beast appeared to understand him, for he replied to 
 the caress by a low whinny, which he followed up by a loud 
 neigh, and looked, as he neighed, far and wide over the plain. 
 
 ' Ay, thou see'st nothing, Motee ; true it is, there is no village 
 in sight : yet surely one cannot be far off, where if they will admit 
 us, we may get food and shelter. What thinkest thou, Ibrahim,' 
 he continued, addressing one of his retainers, ' are we near any 
 habitation ? ' 
 
 ' Peer O Moorshid,' replied the man, ' I know not ■ I never 
 travelled this road before, except once many years ago, and then 
 I was with the army; we did not think much of the road then.' 
 
 ' True, friend,' answered the Khan, ' but now we have need to 
 think. By the soul of Mohamed, the cloud beyond us threatens 
 much, and I fear for the Khanum; she is ill used to such 
 travelling as this ; but she is a soldier's wife now, and I must teach 
 her to bear rough work.' 
 
 ' The Palkee will be with us presently, and I doubt not the 
 bearers well know the country, Khodawund,' said another of the 
 horsemen. 
 
 ' True, I had not thought of them ; perhaps when it arrives, it 
 would be advisable to stop a little to take breath, and then again 
 set forward.' 
 
 A few moments brought the bearers and their burden to where 
 the Khan stood ; and a few hurried questions were put to them 
 by him as to the distance to the next village, the road, and the 
 accommodation they were likely to find for so large a party. 
 
TIPPOO SVLTAUN. S 
 
 • Huzrut ! ' said the Naik of the bearers, ' you have but little 
 choice ; we did not think the road would have been so bad as 
 this, or we would never have left the town or allowed you to 
 proceed; but here we are, and we must help to extricate you 
 from the difficulty into which we have brought you. To return 
 is impossible j there is no village at which you could rest, as you 
 know. Before us are two ; one not far off, over yonder rising 
 ground — my lord can even see the trees, — and another beyond 
 that, about a coss and a half; to which, if the lady can bear 
 the journey, we will take her, as there is a good bazaar and every 
 accommodation. My lord will reward us with a sheep if we 
 carry her safely?' ' 
 
 ' Surely, surely,' said the Khan, ' ye shall have two ; and we 
 will travel a short stage to-morrow, as ye must be tired. So what 
 say you, my soul?' he cried to the inmate of the palankeen; 
 'you have the choice of a comfortable supper and a dry lodging, 
 or no supper and perhaps no roof over your head ; you see what 
 it is to follow the fortunes of a soldier.' 
 
 ' Let no thought of me trouble you,' replied a low and sweet 
 voice from the palankeen ; ' let the bearers and yourself decide, 
 I am content anywhere.' 
 
 ' How say you then, Gopal?' 
 
 ' Let us smoke a pipe all round, and we will carry you to the 
 large village,' replied the NaiL 
 
 ' 'Tis well, — do not be long about it ; I doubt not we shall be 
 all the better for a short rest.' 
 
 Fire was quickly kindled; every one dismounted from his 
 beast, and all collected into groups. Tobacco was soon found, 
 the hookas lighted, and the gurgUng sound of half-a-dozen of 
 them arose among- the party. 
 
 A smoke of tobacco in this manner gives almost new life to a 
 native of India. The trouble of the journey or the work is for 
 awhile forgotten ; and after a fresh girding up of the loins and 
 invocation of the Prophet or their patron goddess (as the parties 
 may be Hindoo or Mohamedan), the undertaking is resumed 
 with fresh spirit After a short pause, the whole party was again 
 in motion. 
 
 No one had, however, observed the extremely threatening 
 appearance of the sky. The cloud, which had been still, now 
 began to rise gently ; — a few small clouds were seen as it were to 
 break away from the mass and scurry along the face of the 
 heavens, apparently close to their heads, and far below the larger 
 ones which hung heavily above them. These were followed very 
 quickly by others : the lightning increased in vividness at every 
 
6 TIPP06 SULTAUN. 
 
 flash ; and what was at first confined to the cloud which has 
 been mentioned, now spread itself gradually all over the heavens ! 
 behind — ^above — around — became one blaze of light, as it were 
 at a signal given by a rocket thrown up from behind the cloud 
 before them. In spite of appearances, however, they hurried 
 on. 
 
 ' It will be a wild night,' observed the Khan, replacing and 
 binding tighter the muslin about his head and face. 
 
 As he spoke he pointed to the horizon, where was seen a dull 
 reddish cloud. To an unpractised eye it looked like one of the 
 dusky evening clouds ; but on closer and more attentive observa- 
 tion, it was dearly seen to rise, and at the same time to be 
 extending right and left very rapidly. 
 
 • I beg to represent,' said Daood Khan, who had come from 
 behind, ' that there is a group of trees yonder not far from the 
 road, and, if my memory serves me well, there should be an old 
 hut in it ; will my lord go thither ? ' 
 
 ' It is well spoken, Daood,' said his master, ' lead on.' 
 There was no wind — not a breath — -but all was quite Still ; not 
 even a cricket or grasshopper chirped among the grass : it seemed 
 as though nature could scarcely breathe, so intense was the 
 closeness. 
 
 ' Alia ! Alia ! I shall choke if there is no wind,' said the fat 
 cook, fanning himself with the end of a handkerchief. 
 ' You will have enough presently,' said Nasur. 
 ' Inshalla ! ' exclaimed one of the camel drivers, ' the Toofans* 
 of the Carnatic are celebrated.' 
 
 ' Alas ! ' sighed the cook, and wished himself anywhere but in 
 the Camatic 
 
 At last a low moaning was heard, — a distant sound, as if of 
 rushing water. The rack above them redoubled its pace, and 
 went fearfully fast : every instant increased the blackness on each 
 side and behind. They could no longer see any separate clouds 
 ■ above, but one dense brown black ropy mass, hurrying onward, 
 impelled by the mighty wind. Soon nothing was visible but a 
 bright hne all round the horizon, except in front, where the wall 
 of red dust, which proved that the previous rains had not ex- 
 tended far beyond where they were, every moment grew higher 
 and higher, and came nearer and nearer. 
 
 They increased their speed to gain the trees, which were 
 discernible a quarter of a mile before them. ' Once there,' said 
 the Khan, ' we can make some shelter for ourselves with the 
 walls of the tents passed round the trees.' 
 
 * Storms. 
 
TIPJPOO SULTAVM. 1 
 
 No one replied to him j each was thinking of the storm, and 
 what would happen when it came. The horses even felt the 
 oppression, and sDjOrted violently at intervals, as though they 
 wished to throw it off. 
 
 At last, a few leaves flew up in the air : and some lapwings, 
 which had been nestling under the stones by the wayside, rose 
 and made a long flight to leeward with loud screamings, as though 
 to avoid the wind. 
 
 . One little whirlwind succeeded to another ; small quantities of 
 leaves and dry grass were everywhere seen flying along near the 
 ground over the plain. The body of dust approached nearer, 
 and seemed to swallow up everything in it. They anxiously 
 watched its progress, in the hope that it would lessen in fury ere 
 it approached them, for they could see the trees through the 
 gloom against the bright line of the horizon, apparently at a great 
 distance, disappearing one by one. 
 
 Meanwhile the roaring increased; the roar of the wind and 
 that of the thunder were fearfully mingled together. Amidst 
 this there arose a shrill scream from the palankeen; the fair 
 inmate had no longer been able to bear the evident approach of 
 the tempest. 
 
 The Khan was at her side in a moment. 'Cheer thee, my 
 rose ! ' he cried ; ' a little further and we shall reach a friendly 
 grove of trees. The road is harder now, so exert yourselves,' 
 he continued to the bearers ; ' five rupees, if you reach the trees 
 ere the wind is upon us ! ' 
 
 The men redoubled their pace, but in vain ; they still wanted 
 half the quarter of the mile when the storm burst. With one 
 fearful flash of lightning, so as almost to blind them, and to cause 
 the w'hole to stagger backward, a blast met them, which if they 
 had withstood they had been more than men. The palankeen 
 rocked to and fro, tottered under their failing support, and fell 
 at last heavily to the ground. There was no mischief done, but 
 it was impossible to proceed further ; they must abide the storm 
 where they stood in the open plain. 
 
 And now it came in pitiless earnest As if the whole power 
 of the winds of heaven had been collected and poured forth 
 bodily upon one spot, and that where they stood, — so did it 
 appear to them; while the dust, increasing in volume every 
 instant, was so choking, that no one dared to open his mputh 
 to speak a word. The horses and camels instinctively turned 
 their backs to the wind, and stood motionless ; and the men 
 at last, forcing the camels to sit down, crouched behind them 
 to obtain some kind of shelter from the raging storm. 
 
8 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 Thus they remained for some tune ; at last a drop of rain fell 
 — another, and another. They could not see it coming amidst 
 the dust, and it was upon them ere they were aware of it : they 
 were drenched in an instant. Now, indeed, began a strife of 
 elements. The thunder roared without ceasing one moment : 
 there was no thunder for any particular flash — it was a continued 
 flare, a continued roar. The wind, the rain, and the thunder 
 made a fearful din, and even the stout heart of the Khan sunk 
 within him. ' It cannot last,' he said ; — but it did. The country 
 appeared at last like a lake shown irregularly by the blue flare 
 of the lightning. 
 
 Two hours, or nearly so, did they endure all this : the tempest 
 moderated at length, and they proceeded. It was now quite dark. 
 
 ' Where is Ibraiim ? ' asked one suddenly. 
 
 ' Ay, where is he ? ' said another. Several shouted his name ; 
 but there was no reply. 
 
 'Ibrahim!' cried the Khan, 'what of him? He must be 
 gone to the trees ; go, one of ye, and call him if he be there.' 
 
 The man diverged from the road, and was soon lost in the 
 darkness ; but in a short time an exclamation of surprise or of 
 terror, they could not say which, came clearly towards them. 
 The Khan stopped. In another instant the man had rejoined 
 them. 
 
 ' AUa ! Alia ! ' cried he, gasping for breath, ' come and see ! ' 
 
 ' See what ? ' shouted the Khan. 
 
 • Ibrahim ! ' was his only reply, and they followed him rapidly. 
 
 They could hardly distinguish what it was that the man 
 pointed out j but what appeared like a heap at first in the dark- 
 ness, soon resolved itself into the form of a man and horse. 
 The Khan dismounted and approached ; he called to him by 
 name, but there was no answer. He felt the body — it was quite 
 dead ; horse and man had fallen beneath the stroke of the light- 
 ning. 
 
 ' We can do nothing now,' said the Khan. ' Alas ! that so 
 good a man, and one who has so often fought beside me, should 
 have thus fallen ! Praise be to Alia, what an escape we have 
 had!' 
 
 ' It was his destiny,' said another, — 'who could have averted 
 it?' 
 
 And they rode on, but slowly, for the road was undistinguish- 
 able firom the ground on each side, except where a hedge of 
 thorns had been placed to fence in some field. Here those who 
 were on foot fared very badly, for the thorns which had fallen, 
 or bad been broken off from branches, had mixed with the mud. 
 
TJPPOO SULTAUN. 9 
 
 and sorely hurt their naked feet. The rain continued to pour in 
 torrents ; and the incessant flare of the lightning, which revealed 
 the track every now and then, seemed to sweep the ground 
 before them, nearly blinding both horse and man : it showed at 
 times for an instant the struggles both were making in the now 
 deeper mire. 
 
 They reached the smaller village at last j there were only three 
 or four miserable houses, and in the state they were, there was 
 but little inducement to remain in want of food and shelter till 
 the morning ; so taking with them, much against his inclination, 
 one of the villagers as a guide whom they could understand, as 
 he was a Mohamiedan, and some rags soaked with oil tied on 
 the end of a stick to serve as a torch, they once more set 
 forward. 
 
 They had now scarcely three miles to travel, but these seemed 
 interminable. The rude torch could not withstand the deluge 
 of rain which poured upon it, and after a struggle for life it went 
 out. There remained only the light of the lightning. The 
 guide, however, was of use; now threatened, now encouraged 
 by the Khan, he showed where the firmest footing was to be 
 obtained, and piloted the little cavalcade through the almost sea 
 of mud and water, in a manner which showed them that they 
 would have fared but ill without his aid. 
 
 At last, O welcome sight ! a light was seen to glimmer for 
 awhUe amidst the gloom j it disappeared, twinkled again, ap- 
 peared to flit at a little distance, and was seen no more. 
 
 ' What was that, Rahdaree ? '* asked the Khan ; ' one would 
 think it was some wild spirit's lamp abroad on this unblessed 
 night.'_ 
 
 ' It is the village, noble sir,' said the man simply ; ' we have 
 no evil spirits here.' 
 
 • Ul-humd-ul-illa ! we are near our home then ; it cannot be 
 far now.' 
 
 ' Not a cannon-shot ; we have a small river to cross, and then 
 we reach the vUlage.' 
 
 ' A river ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, noble Klian, a small one ; there is no water to signify.' 
 
 But the Khan's mind misgave him. ' It must be full,' he 
 said to himself, ' after this rain ; how can it be otherwise ? Every 
 hollow we have passed has become a roaring stream ; but we 
 shall see. Ya, Moula Ali ! ' he exclaimed aloud, ' I vow a gift 
 to all the priests of thy shrine, if thou wilt protect me and mine 
 through this night' 
 
 * Guide. 
 
td TIPPOO SULTAPJSr. 
 
 They had not gone much filrther before the duU sound of the 
 river was heard but too plainly, even above the wind and the 
 thunder, which now roared only at intervals. One and all were 
 fairly terrified; and that there should be such an end to thek 
 really manful struggles through the tempest disheartened them : 
 but no one spoke till they arrived at the brink, where through 
 the gloom could be seen a muddy torrent rushing along with 
 fearful rapidity. 
 
 ' It is not deep,' said the guide; 'it is fordable.' 
 
 ' Dog of a kafir !' cried the Khan, ' thou hast deceived us, to 
 get us away from thy miserable village. By Alia ! thou deservest 
 to be put to death for this inhospitality.' 
 
 'My life is in your hands, O Khan!' returned the maii; 
 ' behold, to prove my words, I will venture in if any one will 
 accompany me ; alone it is useless to attempt it Will no one 
 go with me ? ' 
 
 But one and all hesitated; the gloom, the uncertainty, and 
 the dread of death alike prevailed. 
 
 ' Cowards ! ' exclaimed the Khan, ' dare ye not do for him 
 whose salt you eat that which this poor fellow is ready to under- 
 take because I only reproached him with inhospitality ? Cowards 
 and faithless ! ye are worse than women.' 
 
 'I am no woman or coward,' said Daood Khan doggedly. 
 ' Come,' he added to the guide, ' as thou art ready to go, give 
 me thy hand and step in, in the name of the Most Merciful ! ' 
 
 ' Bismilla ! Daood, thou hast a stout heart — I will remember 
 thee for this. Step on in the name of Alia and the twelve 
 Imaums ! Halloo when thou art on the other side.' 
 
 They entered the water carefully, holding tightly each other's 
 hand, and each planting his foot firmly ere he ventured to with- 
 draw the other. The torrent was frightfully rapid, and it required 
 all the power of two very strong men to bear up against it ; but 
 at length the shallow water was gained, and a joyful shout from 
 the other side told to the Khan and his expectant party that the 
 passage had been made in safety. 
 
 ' Now make haste and get a torch, and bring some people with 
 you,' shouted the Khan ; ' meanwhile we will make preparations 
 for crossing.' 
 
 Not much time elapsed before a few persons were seen ap- 
 proaching the river's bank from the village, bearing several 
 torches, which in despite of the wind and the rain, being all fed 
 with oil, blazed brightly, and cast their light far and wide. 
 
 The Khan had been endeavouring to persuade his wife to 
 trust herself to his horse, instead of to the palankeen, in crossing 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. II 
 
 the river; and after some repre^ntation of its superior safety, 
 he had succeeded. She was standing by him, closely veiled, 
 when the torches appeared on the other side. 
 
 What she saw, however, of the stream, as revealed fully by the 
 light, caused an instant change in her resolution : she was terrified 
 by the waters ; and indeed they were very awful to look on, as 
 the muddy, boiling mass hurried past, appearing, as was the 
 case, to increase in volume every moment. 
 
 'There is no time to lose,' shouted the villagers, observing 
 there was irresohition among the party ; ' the water is rising fast 
 — it will soon be impassable.' 
 
 ' The horse, the horse, my^ soul ! ' cried the Khan in despair ; 
 * the bearers will neveir carry you through that torrent' 
 
 * I dare not, I should faint in the midst ; even now my heart 
 is sick within me, and my eyes fail me as I look on the waters,' 
 replied the lady. 
 
 * Khodawund ! ' said the Naik of the bearers, * trust her to us ; 
 on our lives, she reaches the other side safely.' 
 
 ' Be it so then, Gopal ; I trust thee and thy party ; only land 
 her safely, and thou shalt be well rewarded.' 
 
 The lady again entered the palankeen; both doors were 
 opened in case of danger. The stoutest of the bearers were 
 selected, and the Naik put himself at the head. ' Jey, Bhowa- 
 nee ! ' cried one and all, and they entered the raging waters. 
 
 ' Shabash ! Shabash ! Wah-wah ! Wah-wah ! ' resounded from 
 the villagers, and from the Khan's attendants, &s the gallant 
 fellows bore up stoutly against the torrent. Oil was poured upon 
 the torches, and the river blazed under the light. The KhaA was 
 close behind on his gallant horse, which, snorting and uneasy, 
 was very diflScult to guide. There was not a heart on either 
 bank that did not beat with almost fearful anxiety, for the water 
 appeared to reach the palankeen, and it required the exertions of 
 all the men to keep it and those who carried it steady. 
 
 ' Kuburdar ! kuburdar !* a little to the right !— now to the 
 left !■ — well done ! well done ! ' were the cries which animated 
 and cheered them ; and the passage was accomplished all but a 
 few yards, when the water suddenly deepened — the leading 
 bearers sank almost up to their chests. Trials were made on 
 either side, but the water was deeper than where they stood ; the 
 eddy had scooped out the hollow since Daood had crossed. 
 
 ' Have a care, my sons ! ' cried the Naik, whose clear voice 
 was heard far above the din. ' Raise the palankeen on your 
 shoulders. Gently ! first you in front — now those behind ! 
 * Take care I take care ! 
 
12 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 Shabashl now let every man look to his footing, and Jey 
 Kalee!' 
 
 They advanced as they shouted the invocation j but careful 
 as they were, who could see beneath those muddy waters? 
 There was a stone — a large one — on which the leading bearer 
 placed his foot. It was steady when he first tried it ; but as he 
 withdrew the other, it rolled over beneath his weight and what 
 he bore : he tottered, stumbled, made a desperate effort to 
 recover himself, but in vain : he fell headlong into the current 
 
 The palankeen could not be supported, and but one wild 
 piercing shriek was heard from the wife of the Khan as it plunged 
 into the water. 
 
 ' Ya, Alia ! Alia 1 ' cried the Khan in his agony — ^for he had 
 seen all — ' she is lost to me for ever ! ' And throwing himself 
 from his horse, encumbered as he was, he would have been 
 drowned, but for one of the bearers, who supported him to the 
 brink, and, assisted by the rest who immediately recovered the 
 palankeen, bore him rapidly to the village. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The confusion which ensued is indescribable. The few persons 
 on the bank of the river rushed hither and thither without any 
 definite object j and screams from some women, who had followed 
 the men from the village out of curiosity, rent the air, and added 
 to the wildness of the scene. 
 
 On a sudden an exclamation broke from a youth who stood 
 not far off; and before they could turn to see what had oc- 
 casioned it, he had darted from the spot, and precipitated himself 
 into the waters. 
 
 Cries of ' He will be lost ! he will be lost ! ' flew from mouth to 
 mouth ; and a dozen turbans were unwound and thrown to him 
 from the brink, as he still struggled with the current, supporting 
 the slight and inanimate form of her who was supposed to have 
 been swept down the stream at first. 
 
 Without waiting for a moment to answer the numberless 
 queries which were showered upon him by the spectators or to 
 ascertain whether the senseless form he bore had life in it or not 
 he hastily covered the features from view; and, declining the 
 assistance of some old crones who thronged around him, he 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 13 
 
 pressed through them and hurried with the utmost rapidity to his 
 home. 
 
 Those who partly carried and partly supported the Khan him- 
 self conducted him to the chowrie or public apartment for tra- 
 vellers \ and seating him upon such carpets and pUlows as could 
 most readily be found, they proceeded to divest him of his wet 
 garments, arms, and boots, with an officious zeal, which, in spite 
 of the protestations of his servant Daood, all persisted in exert- 
 ing. The Khan suffered all patiently, apparently with almost 
 unconsciousness, only at times uttering low moans and inter- 
 jections, which showed his thoughts to be absorbed in the fate of 
 her he deemed lost for ever. Gradually, however, the kind 
 attentions of his servant, whose sobs could not be repressed as he 
 bent over him in his attempts to remove his inner vest, which the 
 others had hesitated to touch, recalled his wandering senses j and, 
 staring wildly about him, he demanded to know where he was. 
 Instantly, however, a fresh recollection of the scene which had 
 passed flashed into his mind, and all the words he could find 
 utterance for were an incoherent demand of Daood if the 
 Khanum had been found. 
 
 'Alas, Peer O Moorshid!' was the reply, 'your slave saw 
 nothing ; he assisted my lord here and — ' 
 
 ' Was she not instantly rescued ? What were all of ye doing 
 that she ever passed from your sight?' exclaimed the Khan. 
 ' Holy Alia ! give her back to me or I shall go mad,' he con- 
 tinued, starting up and rushing from the spot into the air, followed 
 by his attendant and a few of the others who lingered about 
 
 Distractedly the Khan hurried to the river-side, and in the 
 misery of despair began to search for the body of his wife. He 
 ran from place to place, shouting her name ; he looked every- 
 where for any trace of her remains, while his faithful attendant in 
 vain besought him to withdraw from the spot, for that further 
 search was unavailing. His words were unheeded : all the Khan 
 saw, through the almost inky darkness, was the faint glimmer of 
 the wild waters hurrying past him ; and the only sounds he heard 
 were their dull and sullen roar, above which arose the shouts of 
 his servants on the other side, and at intervals a shrill neigh from 
 one of the horses. Two or three persons only remained about 
 the river-side, and these seemed unacquainted with what had 
 occurred; all who had seen it had dispersed when the young 
 man bore off the insensible girl he had rescued. After some 
 time of fruitless search the Khan silently relinquished it, and 
 sadly and slowly turned towards the village. 
 
 Meanwhile the young man we have mentioned carried the 
 
14 TIPPOO SULTAUm 
 
 lady with the utmost speed he was able to his own home, a 
 respectable house situated on the other side of the village from 
 where the Khan was : without ceremony he entered the zenana, 
 still bearing her in his arms, to the astonishment of an elderly 
 dame, his mother, and several other women, servants and others 
 who happened to be there, and to whom the news of the disaster 
 was being brought piecemeal, as first one and then another hurried 
 in with parts of the story. 
 
 ' Holy Prophet ! what hast thou brought, Kasim Ali ? ' cried 
 his mother ; — ' a woman 1 By your soul say how is this, — where 
 didst thou get her? — wet, too ! ' 
 
 ' 'Tis the Khan's wife, and she is dead ! ' cried many at once. 
 
 ' I care not what she is,' cried the young man ; ' by the blessing 
 of Alia I saw her and brought her out of the water j she is still 
 warm, and perhaps, not dead ; see what ye can do speedily to 
 
 recover her. She is as beautiful as a Peri, and- ^but no matter, 
 
 ye can do nothing while I am here, so I leave you.' 
 
 Whatever Kasim' s thoughts might have been, he had sense 
 enough not to give them utterance ; and, leaving the fair creature 
 to their care, he again hurried forth, to see whether he could 
 render further assistance to the unfortunate travellers. 
 
 Left among the women of the house, the Khan's wife became 
 an object of the deepest interest to these really kind people. 
 Her wet clothes were removed ; cloths were heated and apphed 
 to her body ; she was rubbed and kneaded all over ; the wet was 
 wrung from her hair ; and after awhile they had the satisfaction 
 of hearing a gentle sigh escape her, — another and another a,t 
 intervals. 
 
 ' Holy Alia ! ' cried one of the women at last, ' she has opened 
 her eyes.' 
 
 The light was apparently too much for them, for she shut them 
 again and relapsed into stupor; but the respiration continued, 
 and the alarm that she had died ceased to exist. Gradually, very 
 gradually, she regained consciousness ; and ere many hours had 
 elapsed she was in a deep sleep, freed from all anxiety regarding 
 her lord, whom on her first recovery she had presumed was lost. 
 
 The Khan and Daood had scarcely again reached the chowrie, 
 when a large body of men with torches, shouting joyfully, 
 approached it. Daood's heart leaped to his mouth. « She can- 
 not have been saved ! ' he cried, as he advanced to meet them, 
 
 ' Ul-humd-ul-illa ! ' cried a dozen voices, ♦ she has, and is in the 
 Patdl's* house.' 
 
 Without any ceremony they broke in upon the unfortunate 
 * The chief or magistrate of a village. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. ij 
 
 Khan, who sat, or rather lay, absorbed in his grief. Alone, the 
 memory of his wife had come vividly over him ; and when he 
 raised his head, on their intrusion, his wet cheek very plainly told 
 that his manly sorrow had found vent. 
 
 ' Ul-humd-ul-illa ! ' cried Daood, panting for breath. 
 
 ' Ul-humd-ul-illa ! ' echoed Kasim. 
 
 ' Do not mock me, I pray you,' said the Khan sadly, ' for grief 
 is devouring my heart, and I am sad even to tears. And yet 
 your faces have joy in them, — speak ! she cannot live ! that would 
 be too much to hope. Speak, and tell truth ! ' 
 
 'Weep not, noble Khan,' said Kasim; 'she lives, by the 
 blessing of Alia, — she is safe in my own mother's apartments ; 
 and such rude care as we can give her, or su<;h accommodation 
 as our poor house affords, she shall have.' 
 
 The KJian started to his feet. ' Thou dost not mock me 
 then, youth ? Ya Alia ! I did not deserve this ! Who saved her ? 
 By the soul of the Prophet, any recompense in the power of 
 Abdool Rhyman, even to half his wealthi shall be his who 
 rescued her ! ' 
 
 ' He stands before thee, O Khan ! ' cried Daood, who had re- 
 covered his speech ; ' it was that brave fellow who rushed into 
 the water and rescued her, even while my lord was being carried 
 hither.' 
 
 In an instant rank and power were forgotten, and the Khan, 
 
 impelled by his emotion, ere Kasim could prevent him, had 
 
 folded him in a sincere and grateful embrace. Nay, he would 
 
 - have fallen at his feet, but the young Kasim, disengaging himself, 
 
 _ prevented it and drew back. 
 
 ' Not so, protector of the poor ! ' he cried ; ' your slave has but 
 done what any man would do in a like case. Kasim AJi Patdl 
 would have disgraced himself had he turned from that helpless 
 being as she lay in such peril on the bank.' 
 
 The ELhan was struck with admiration of the young man, who 
 with excited looks and proud yet tempered bearing drew himself 
 up as he uttered the last words ; and indeed the young Patd was 
 a noble figure to look on. 
 
 He had not attempted to change his clothes since his rescue 
 of the lady, but had thrown off his upper garment ; he was there- 
 fore naked to the waist, and his body was only partially covered 
 by the dark blanket he had cast over his shoulders. His tall and 
 muscular frame was fully developed ; and the broad chest, long 
 and full arms, and narrow waist, showed the power which existed 
 to be called into exertion when opportunity required. Nor was 
 his couuteuancc less worthy of remark. Although he had hardly 
 
i6 TIPPOO SqLTAUN. 
 
 attained manhood, yet the down on his upper lip and chin, which 
 was darkening fast, proved that perhaps twenty years had passed 
 over him, and added not a little to his manly appearance. His 
 dark expressive eyes, which glistened proudly as the Khan re- 
 garded him, a high aquiline nose, large nostrils expanding from 
 the excitement he had been in, exquisitely white and regular 
 teeth, and, added to all, a fair skin — far fairer than the generality 
 of his countrymen could boast, — showed that he was perhaps of 
 gentle blood, which indeed his courteous manner would have 
 inclined most observers to determine. 
 
 'Thou art a noble fellow, youth!' cried the Khan, 'and I 
 would again meet thee as a brother ; embrace me therefore, for 
 by the soul of my father I could love thee as one. But tell me, 
 — ^you saved her ? — how ? — and is she safe in your house ? ' 
 
 A few words explained all : the eddy in its force had cast the 
 lady upon a bank below, almost immediately after her immersion, 
 and fortunately with her head above the water. Had she not 
 been terrified by the shock so as to lose her consciousness, she 
 would have been able to drag herself upon the dry land, though 
 she could not have got to shore, as part of the river flowed round 
 the bank on which she had been cast. Thus she had continued 
 in very imminent danger until rescued; for any wave or slight 
 rise of the water must have carried her down the stream j and 
 who in that darkness and confusion would ever again have seen 
 her? 
 
 Gradually therefore the Khan was brought to comprehend the 
 whole matter; and, as it ought, his thankfulness towards the 
 young Kasim increased at every explanation. It is not to be 
 supposed, however, that he was the less anxious about her who 
 had been saved; he had been with some diflSculty restrained 
 from at once proceeding to the Path's house, and desisted only 
 when Daood and his companion declared that such a proceeding 
 would be attended with risk to the lady. She too had been 
 assured that he was safe, they said ; and in this comforting cer- 
 tainty, overcome by fatigue and excitement, she had fallen 
 asleep. 
 
 'But that is no reason why my lord , should not come to my 
 poor abode,' said Kasim; 'this open room is ill-suited to so 
 damp a night, and my lord has been wet.' 
 
 ' I need but little pressing,' he replied, and rose to accompany 
 him. 
 
 Arrived at the house, which, though only a large cabin, was 
 yet of superior extent and comfort of appearance to the rest in 
 the village, the Khan found that every preparation the inmates 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 17 
 
 had in their power had been made for him. A carpet was spread, 
 and upon it was laid a comfortable cotton mattress; this was 
 covered with a clean iine sheet, and some very luxurious pillows 
 placed against the wall invited him to repose. 
 
 Fatigue rapidly asserted its ihastery over even the Khan's iron 
 frame. He had been assured by Kasim's mother that his lady 
 slept sweetly, and, an ample repast conclud,ed, h^ attempted for 
 a time to converse with the young Pat^l, but Tyithout much 
 success. 
 
 The young inan took in truth but little interest in the replies. 
 The Khan himself was abstracted ; sleep gradually overpowered 
 him, and he sunk down upon the bedding in total uiicpnscious- 
 riess after a short tirne. 
 
 After seeing him covered, so as to prevent the cold and damp 
 coming to him, the young Patfl left him to the care of Dapod, 
 and withdrew. His own bedding, was iii an inner room of the 
 house, near to the apartments of the. women, and his mother 
 heard him gently pass to it, and joined him ere he had lain down. 
 * My blessings on thee, my brave boy ! ' cried the old lady, 
 melting into tears at the miiigled thoughts of w;hajt riiight have 
 been her son's danger, and his gallant conduct ; ' my blessing and 
 the blessing of Allah on thee for this ! thou ajit thy father's son 
 indeed, and would that he were alive to have greeted thee as 
 Ido!' " 
 
 ' It is of no use regretting the dead now, mother : what \ did 
 I am glad of, — and yet I could not have done otherwis!? ; though 
 i thought of thee, mother, when I cast myself into the raging 
 waters : thou wouldst have mourned if Allah had not rescued me 
 and her. But tell me,' he continued, to avert the old lady's 
 exclamations at the very thought of his death, ' tell me, by your 
 soul, — say, who is. she? she is fair as a Peri, fair as a Houri of 
 the blessed Paradise ; tell me if thou knowest whether she is his 
 wife, or; — or — ' 
 
 ' His daughter, thou v\«puldst say, my son.' 
 ' Ay, why not ? ' 
 
 ' I understand thy thoughts, but they must pass away from thee. 
 She is no daughter of his. She hath but newly used the missee ;* 
 she inust be his wife. Hast thou not asked the servants ? ' 
 ' I have not, mother ; but art thou sure of this ? ' 
 ' I am.' 
 
 'Then a bright vision has faded from my eyes,' said Kasim 
 despondingly : ' the brightest vision I have yet seen in my young 
 life. It seemed to be the will of Allah that she should be mine j 
 
 * A powder which women apply to their teeth only after marriage. 
 
 E 
 
i8 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 for she had been lost to the world and to him, only that I saved 
 her ! ' 
 
 ' Forbid such thoughts,' said his mother quietly, for she knew 
 the fiery yet gentle spirit of the young man, and how easily she 
 might offend where she only intended kindness. ' She can be 
 nothing to thee, Kasim.' 
 
 ' Her fate is with mine, mother : from the moment I was im- 
 pelled to rescue her from the waters, I felt that my life was con- 
 nected with hers. I knew not, as she lay on the sand-bank, that 
 she was beautiful or young ; and I could not have hesitated, had 
 there been a thousand devils in my path, or the raging waters of 
 the Toombuddra.' 
 
 ' Alas ! my son,' she replied, ' these are but the fantasies of a 
 young spirit. It was thy generous nature, believe me, which im- 
 pelled thee to rescue her, not thy destiny.' 
 
 But the young man only sighed ; and after awhile, finding that 
 her words had but little power to remove the feelings which the 
 events of the night had excited, she blessed him and retired to 
 her repose. 
 
 Left to himself, Kasim in vain tried to court sleep to his eye- 
 lids. Do what he would, think of what he would, lie how he 
 would, — the scene of the Khan's advance across the flood, — the 
 waters hurrying by, — the rough eddies caused by the resistance 
 to it made by the bearers, upon which the light of the torches 
 rested and flashed, — their excited cries, which rung in his ears, — 
 their every step which seemed before his eyes, — ^till the last, when 
 all fell, — and then that one wild shriek ! Again the despairing 
 shout of the Khan, and the eager assistance rendered to him 
 when he cast himself into the river, — the hurried search for the 
 body, and the exertions of the bearers to raise the palankeen in 
 hopes that it might be in it, — their despair when it was not, — the 
 renewed search, for some moments unsuccessful, — then the 
 glimpse of her lying on the bank, and his own efforts, — all were 
 vivid, so vivid that he seemed to enact over again the part he 
 had performed, and again to bear the lifeless yet warm and 
 beautiful body to his home with desperate speed. 
 
 ' I saw she was beautiful, O how beautiful ! ' he said ; ' I felt 
 how exquisite her form. I saw her youthful countenance, — hardly 
 fifteen can she be, — and she the bride of that old man ! Mon- 
 strous ! But it is my destiny : who can overcome that ? Prince 
 and noble, the beggar and the proud, all have their destiny ; this 
 will be mine, and I must follow it. Ya Alia, that it may be a 
 kind one ! ' 
 
 He lay long musing thus : at last there was a noise as though 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 19 
 
 of talking in his mother's apartment. He heard a strange voice — 
 it must be the lady's: he arose, crept gently to the door of 
 the room, and listened. He was right : her pure, girl-like and 
 silvery tones came upon his ears like music ; he drank in every 
 word with eagerness, — he hardly breathed, lest he should lose 
 a sound. 
 
 He heard her tell her little history ; how she had been sought 
 in marriage by many, since he to whom she was betrothed in 
 childhood had died : how her parents had refused her to many, 
 until the Khan, whose family were neighbours, and who had 
 returned from Mysore a man of wealth and rank, hearing of her 
 beauty, had sought her in marriage. Then she related how 
 grandly it had been celebrated ; how much money he had spent ; 
 what processions there had been through the noble city of Hyder- 
 abad ; what rich clothes and jewels he had given her ; and how 
 he was now taking her with him to his new country, where he 
 was a soldier of rank, and served the great Tippoo. AH this she 
 described very vividly; and with the lightheartedness and vivacity 
 of girlhood ; but at the end of all she sighed. 
 
 ' For all the rank and pomp, she is unhappy,' thought Kasim. 
 
 Then he heard his mother say, ' But thou sighest, Khanum, 
 and yet hast all that ever thy most sanguine fancy could have 
 wished for.' 
 
 ' Ay, mother,' was the reply, ' I sigh sometimes. I have left 
 my home, my mother, sisters, father, and many friends, and I go 
 whither I know no one, — no, not one. I have new friends to 
 make, new thoughts to entertain, new countries to see ; and can 
 you wonder that I should sigh for the past, or indeed for the 
 future?' 
 
 ' Alia bless thee ! ' said the old lady ; and Kasim heard that 
 she had blessed her, and had taken the evil from her by passing 
 her hands over her head, and cracking the joints of her fingers 
 against her own temples. 
 
 ' Thou wilt be happy,' continued his mother ; ' thou art light- 
 hearted for thine own peace, — thou art very, very beautiful, and 
 thy lord will love thee : thou wilt have (may Alia grant many to 
 thee !) children, of beauty like unto thine own ; and therefore do 
 not sigh, but think thou hast a bright destiny, which indeed is 
 evident. Thy lord is young and loves thee, — that I am assured 
 of, for I have spoken with him.' 
 
 •With him, mother?' 
 
 • Ay, with him ; he came a little while ago to the screen to ask 
 after thee, and spoke tenderly : young, wealthy, and a soldier too, 
 ah 1 thou art fortunate, my daughter.' 
 
20 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' But he is not young, mother,' she said artlessly. Kasim was 
 sure there was regret in the tone. 
 
 ' Why then, well,' said the old lady, ' thou wilt look up to him 
 with reverence, and as every woman should do to her lord. But 
 enough now; thou hast eaten, so now sleep again. May Alia 
 give thee sweet rest and a fortunate waking ! ' _ 
 
 Kasim heard no more, though he listened. His mother busied 
 herself in arranging her carpet, and then all was still. He 
 thought for awhile, and his spirit was not easy within him : he 
 arose, passed through the outer chamber, where the Khan still 
 sleptj and his servants around him, and opening the door very 
 gently passed on in^o the open air. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 It was now midnight, and the storm had passed away. In the 
 bright heavens, studded with stars, through which the glorious 
 moon glided, almost obliterating them by her lustre, there existed 
 no sign of the tempest by which it had so lately been overcast. 
 The violent wind had completely lulled, if indeed we except the 
 gentlest breath, which was hardly enough to stir lazily here and, 
 there the leaves of an enormous Peepul-tree that occupied an 
 open space in front of the Patdl's house, and which also appeared, 
 sleeping in the. soft light ; while on every wet leaf the rays of the 
 moon rested, causing them to glisten like silver against the sky. 
 The tree cast a still shadow beyond, partly underneath which tiie 
 servants of the Khan and the bearers of the palankeen all lay 
 confusedly, — so many inanimate forms, wrapped in their white 
 sheets, and reposing upon such straw or other material as they 
 had been able to collect, to protect them from the damp ground. 
 In the broad light, the camels of the Khan were sitting in a 
 circle around a heap of fodder, into which every now and then 
 they thrust their noses, selecting such morsels as they chose from 
 the heap ; while the tiny bell which hung around the neck of each 
 tinkled gently, scarcely disturbing the stillness which reigned 
 around. Beyond, the moonlight rested upon the white dome and 
 minarets of the small village mosque, which appeared above the 
 roofs of the houses ; and the Hindoo temple also caught a share 
 of her beams, revealing its curious pyramidical form at some 
 distance, among a small grove of acacia trees. Far away in the 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. ai 
 
 east the cloud wKch had passed over still showed itself, — its top 
 glistening brightly against the deep blue of the sky : while from 
 it issued frequent flickerings of lightning, which played about it 
 for an instant and disappeared j and a low and very distinct mut- 
 tering of thunder succeeded, showing that the tempest was still 
 proceeding on its threatening yet fertilisiii'g course. The cloud 
 and the distance all seemed iii one, for the light of the moon 
 did not appear to illuminate much beyond Kasim's immediate 
 vicinity. 
 
 He stood for a mqnienti and gazed around, Shd into the sky at 
 the glorious orb. She looked so niild, SO peaceful, riding in 
 silence ; whilst all ai'ourid Was so mellowed aiid .softened by the 
 blessed light, that, in spite of his hibitual indifference to such 
 scenes — an indiffei'ence comihon to'allhrs couhtfynieh— he could 
 hot help feeling that his heart was softened too. 
 
 The natives of India are perhips heedless of natural beauties, 
 but if there be any to which they are not indiffferent, it is those of 
 the glorious moonlights which are seen in the East, so unlike 
 those of any other country. There, at almost every season, but 
 particularly in the wariilest, it is impossible for nature to supply 
 anything more worthy of exquisite enjoyment thin the moonlight 
 nights ; there is something so soft, so dreamy, in the bright but 
 sUvery %ht, so refreshing, from the intense glare of the sun 
 during the day,^So inviting to quiet contemplation, or to the 
 enjoyment of society, mth whonisoever it may chance to be, — 
 that it is no wonder if the majority of Asiatics, both Mahdmedans 
 and Hindoos, should love it beyond the day, or appreciate more 
 keenly the beauties it reveals. There, too, moonlight in those 
 seasons has no drawbacks, no dangers ; there are no dews to 
 harm, nor cold to chill ; and if there be a time when one can 
 enjoy warinth without oppression, light without glare, and both in 
 moderation, it is at the time of full moon in most months of the 
 year in India. 
 
 After regarding with some feelings of envy perhaps the sleeping 
 groups, Kasim sauntered leisurely towards the river's baiik, his 
 limbs mechanically obeying the action of his thoughts. The 
 stream was still swollen and muddy, but it had subsided greatly, 
 and the bank upon which the lady had been thrown was now 
 no longer an island. Kasim walked there. ■ It was here,' he 
 said, ' that she lay : another moment, perhaps, arid she would 
 have been sw'ept away into eternity ! I should have fell for the 
 Khan, but I should have been more at rest in fliy heart than 
 I am ndw.' 
 
 Kasim Ali, or Meer Kasim Ali, as he was also called, for he 
 
82 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 was a Syud, was the only son of the Patdl of ; indeed the 
 
 only child, for his sisters had died while they were very young. 
 His father was of an old and highly respectable family of long 
 descent, which had won renown under the Mahomedan sovereigns 
 of Bejapoor in their wars with the infidels of the Camatic, and had 
 been rewarded for their services by the hereditary Patdlship or 
 chief magistracy, and possession of one or two villages, with a 
 certain percentage upon the collections of the district in which 
 they were situated. They had also been presented with some 
 grants of land to a considerable extent, and the family had been 
 of importance and wealth far superior to what it was at the period 
 of our history. The troublous times between the end of the 
 Bejapoor dynasty and the subsequent struggles of the Mahratta 
 powers, the Nizam, and Hyder AU, for the districts in which their 
 possessions lay, had alienated many of them, and caused them to 
 pass into other and stronger hands. 
 
 The family however was still respectable, and held a good rank 
 among those of the surrounding country. S)^d Noor-ud-deen, 
 the father of Kasim, was much respected, and had at one time 
 served under the banner of Nizam Ali in his wars against the 
 Mahratta powers, and had been instrumental in guarding the 
 south-western frontiers of his kingdom against their incursions. 
 
 But his death, which had occurred some years before the time 
 of which we were speaking, had still more reduced the consequence 
 of the family ; and his widow and only son could not be expected 
 to retain that influence which had resulted partly from the station 
 and partly from the unexceptionable conduct of the old Patfl. 
 
 Still there were many who looked forward to the rapid rise of 
 the young man, and to the hope that he would in those stirring 
 times speedily retrieve the fortunes of the house. On the one 
 hand were the Mahrattas, restless, greedy of conquest ; among 
 whom a man who had any address, and could collect a few horse- 
 men together, was one day an adventurer whom no one knew, — 
 another, a leader and commander of five hundred horse. On the 
 other was the Nizam, whose armies, ill-paid and ill-conducted, 
 were generally worsted in all engagements ; but who still struggled 
 on against his enemies, and in whose service titles were readily to 
 be won, sometimes, but rarely, accompanied by more substantial 
 benefits. Again, in the south, the magnificent power of Hyder 
 Ali had sprung out of the ancient and dilapidated kingdom of 
 Mysore, and bid fair, under his successor Tippoo, to equal or to 
 surpass the others. 
 
 As Kasim Ali grew to manhood, his noble appearance, his 
 great strength, skill in all martial exercises and accomplishments, 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 23 
 
 his respectable acquirements as a Persian scholar, and his known 
 bravery, — for he had distinguished himself greatly in several 
 encounters with the marauders and thieves of the district, — had 
 caused a good deal of speculation among the families of the 
 country as to whose side he would espouse of the three Powers 
 we have mentioned. 
 
 Nor was he in any haste to quit his village : naturally of a 
 quiet, contemplative turn of mind, fond of reading and study, he 
 had gradually filled his imagination with romantic tales, which, 
 while they assisted to develop his susceptible temperament, also 
 induced a superstitious reliance upon destiny, in which he even 
 exceeded the prevailing belief of his sect. 
 
 His mother, who read his feelings, had repeatedly besought him 
 to allow her to negotiate for the hand of many of the daughters of 
 families of his own rank in the neighbourhood, and even extended 
 her inquiries to those of the many partly decayed noble families 
 of Adoni ; but no one that she could hear of, however beautiful 
 by description or high by birth or lineage, had any charms in the 
 eyes of the young Kasim, who always declared he chose to remain 
 free and unshackled, to make his choice wherever his destiny 
 should, as he said, guide him. 
 
 It is not wonderful, then, that upon one thus mentally consti- 
 tuted, and whose imagination waited as it were an exciting cause, 
 the events of the night should have had effects such as have been 
 noted : — but we have digressed. 
 
 ' Ay,' thought Kasim, ' her beauty is wondrous, — even as I 
 saw it here by the light of the torches, as I wrung the wet from 
 her long silky hair, and when, lifeless as she appeared, I laid 
 her down by my mother, — it was very wondrous. What then 
 to see her eyes open — her lips move — to hear her speak — to 
 see her breathe, to see h6r move ! and what to sit with her, 
 beneath the light of a moon like this, and to know that she 
 could only live for and love but one ! to lie beside her on some 
 shady terrace — to hear no sound but her voice — to drink in her 
 words like the waters of the blessed well of Paradise — to worship 
 her on the very knees of my heart ! This,' cried the enthusiast, 
 ' this would be Heaven before its time, — this, one of the seventy 
 Houris, whom the Prophet (may his name be honoured !) has 
 promised to the lot of every true believer who doeth his law. 
 But I have no hope — none ! What if the Khan be old, he is 
 yet her lord, her lawful lord ; and shall the son of Noor-ud-deen, 
 that light of the faith and brave among the brave, shall he dis- 
 grace his name by treachery to him upon whom he hath exercised 
 hospitality? No, by Alia, no,' cried the young man aloud, 
 
24 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' I will not; better that I should perish than hold such thoughts; 
 but, Alia help me ! I am weak indeed.' 
 
 And thus arguing with himself, exerting the better principle, 
 which ever hiad been strong *ithin him, Kasim_ returned to the 
 house, entered it as gently as he had quitted it, and unknown 
 to any one reached his chamber ; there, soothed by his ramble 
 in the calm air and the tone of hfe later reflections, he sank at 
 last into sluihber. 
 
 But his dreams Averfe disturbed, as often follows excitir^ causes ; 
 and visions, now happy now perplexing, of the fair inmate of his 
 house flitted across his mind while he slept ; they were inde- 
 finite shadows perhaps, but he did hot wake so calmly in the 
 morning as he Md goiie to rest ; and his heart was neither so 
 light, nor his spirit so free Of care, as before. Nevertheless he 
 repeated the morning prayer with fervour, and commended him- 
 self to the blessed Alia, to work out his destiny as best he pleased. 
 
 It was late ere the Khan rose, for fatigue had oppressed him^ 
 and he had slept heavily. It was reported to his anxious in- 
 quiries that the lady had arisen, bathed, and was well ; nor could 
 the Khan's impatience to behold once more one who was really 
 dear to him be longer delayed. The apartment where his wife 
 rested was made private, and in a few moments he was in her 
 presence. 
 
 How thankful was he to see her well — nay with hardly a trace 
 of any suffering upon her ! Her eyes were as bright, her smile 
 as sunny and beautiful, as they had ever been. Her hair, which 
 she had washed in the bath, and which was not yet dry, hung 
 over her shoulders and back in luxuriant masses; and if its 
 quantity, and the manner in which it was disposed accidentally 
 about her face, caused her fair skin to seem paler than usua^ 
 it only heightened the interest her appearance excited. 
 
 'Alia bless thee !' said the Khan, much moved, as he seated 
 himself by her, — for she had risen upon his entrance, — ' Alia 
 bless thee ! it is more to Abdool Rhyman to see thee thus, than 
 to have the empire of Hind at his feet. And thou art well ? ' 
 
 ' Well indeed, my lord, — thanks to him who protected me in 
 the tempest,' she said, looking up devoutly; 'and thaiiks to her 
 who, since I was brought hither, has not ceased to tend me as a 
 daughter.' 
 
 'Ay, fairest,' said her lord, ' what do we not owe to the inmates 
 of this house, and indeed to all this village ? without their aid we 
 had been lost' 
 
 ' I have an indistinct remembrance of some danger,' said the 
 lady; ' I think I recollect the palankeen entering the waters, and 
 
tiPPOO SULTAUN. 25 
 
 their frightful appearance, and that I shut my eyes ; and I think 
 too,' she added after a pause, and piassing her hand across her 
 eyes, ' that it seemed to slip, and I shrieked ; and then I knew 
 nothing of what followed, till I awoke all wet, and the women 
 were rubbing me and taking my clothes off. And then I re- 
 member 'tiraking again, and speaking to the kitid lady Who had 
 so watched me-; and I think I asked her how I had been brought 
 here; but she inade light of it, would not let me speak much, 
 and so I went to sleep again, for I was weary. They said too 
 thou wert weU;-^yetj' she continued after a paiiise, 'something 
 tells me that all was hot right, that there was danger. But my 
 memory is very confused^ — ^v6ry.' 
 
 ' No wonder^ my pearl, my rose ! ' ciied the Khan ; ' and how 
 I bless that good lady for keeping the truth from thee ! as thou 
 wert then, the remembrance of it rhight have been fatal. And 
 so thou dost liot know that thou wert nearly lost to me for ever, 
 — that I had seen thee plunged beheath that roaring flood, 
 and little hoped ever to have been greeted by that sweet smile 
 again?' 
 
 ' Alas, no ! ' said the lady shuddering ; ' and was I indeed in 
 such peril ? who then saved me ? — it was thou surely, my noble 
 lord ! and I have been hitherto unmindful of it,' she cried, bow- 
 ing her head to his feet ? ' how insensible must thou not have 
 thought me ! ' 
 
 ' Not so, beloved, not so,' was the eager reply of the Elian as 
 he raised her up ; ' I had not that happiness. I cast myself, it 
 is true, into the waters after thee When the bearers fell, but it 
 was useless. I should have been lost, encumbered as I was 
 with my arms, only for the bearers who saved me. No, even as 
 Alia sends visitations of evil, so does he most frequently in his 
 wisdom find a path of extrication ffoili them ; there was a youth 
 — !a noble fellow, a Very Ro'ostum, and by Alia a Mejhboh in 
 countenance, — who saw the accident. His quick eye isaw thy 
 lifeless form cast up by the boiling water, and he rescued thee at 
 the peril of his own life, — a valuable one too, fairest, for he is 
 the son of a widow^ the only son, and the head of the family, — 
 in a Word the son of her who haS tended thee so gently — ' 
 
 'Holy Prophet !' exclaimed the lady, 'was I in this penl, and 
 so rescued? At the peril of his own life too, — and he a widow's 
 son, thou saidst? What if he had been lost?' And she fell to 
 musing silently. 
 
 Gradually however (for the Khan did not hazard a reply) her 
 bosom heaved : a tear welled over one of her eyelids, and fell 
 upon her hand unnoticed,^-another, and another. The Khan 
 
2fi TIPFOO SULTAUN. 
 
 let them have their course. ' They will soothe her better than 
 my words,' he thought, and thought truly. 
 
 After awhile she spoke again ; it was abruptly, and showed her 
 thoughts had been with her deliverer. 
 
 'Thou wilt reward him, noble Khan,' she said; 'mine is but 
 a poor life, 'tis true, but of some worth in thy sight, I know, — 
 and of much in that of those I have left behind. My mother ! 
 it would have been a sore blow to thee to have heard of thy 
 rose's death so soon after parting.' 
 
 ' Reward him, Ameena ! ' cried the Khan, ' ay, with half my 
 wealth, would he take it ; but he is of proud blood and a long 
 ancestry, though he is but a Patdl, and such an offer would be an 
 insult. Think — thou art quick-witted, and speak thy thought freely.' 
 
 ' He would not take money?' thou saidst. 
 
 ' No, no, — I dare not offer it' 
 
 ' Jewels perhaps, for his mother, — he may have all mine \ thou 
 knowest there are some of value.' 
 
 ' He would set no value upon them; to him they are of no use, 
 for he is not married.' 
 
 'Not married ! and so beautiful ! ' she said, musing aloud. 
 
 ' Nor to his mother,' continued the Khan, who had not heard 
 her exclamation, — ' she is an old woman. No, jewels would not 
 do, though they are better than money.' 
 
 ' Horses, arms, — they might gratify him, if he is a soldier.' 
 
 ' Ay, that is better, for he is a soldier from head to heel. But 
 of what use would they be to him without service in which to 
 exercise them ? Here there are no enemies but plunderers now 
 and then; but — I have it now,' he continued joyfully after a 
 pause, — ' service ! ay, that is his best reward, — to that I can help 
 him. By the Prophet, I was a fool not to have thought of this 
 sooner. He will be a rare addition to Tippoo's Pagha. I am 
 much mistaken, too, in a few months, if he have an opportunity 
 (and, by the blessing of the Prophet, it is seldom wanting against' .'i 
 either the English or Hindoo Kafirs), if he do not win himself 
 not only renown, but a command perhaps like my own. Tippoo 
 Sultaun is no respecter of persons.' 
 
 ' Ay, my noble lord, such an offer would be worthy of thy 
 generosity and his acceptance,' was the lady's reply : 'and he 
 could easily follow us to the city.' 
 
 ' And why not accompany us ? I for one should be glad of 
 his society, for he is a scholar as well as a soldier, and that is 
 more than I am. Besides one of my men fell last night, and his 
 place is vacant,' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. a? 
 
 ' Fell ! was drowned ? ' she exclaimed. 
 
 ' No, my pearl, his hour was come ; he fell by the hand of Alia, 
 struck by lightning.' 
 
 'Ay, it was very fearful,' she said shuddering, 'I remember 
 that ; — who fell, didst thou say ? ' 
 
 ' Ibrahim.' 
 
 ' Alas ! it was he that twice saved thy life.' 
 
 ' It was; but this was his destiny, thou knowest : it had been 
 written, and who could have averted it ? What sayest thou, shall 
 I offer the Patdl the place.' 
 
 * Not Ibrahim's, since thou askest me,' she said ; ' as he is of 
 gentle blood, ask him to accompany thee ; or say, " Come to 
 Abdool Rhyman at Seringapatam, the leader of a thousand horse," 
 — ^which thou wilt. Say thou wilt give him service in thine own 
 risala, and hear his determination.' 
 
 ' Well spoken, my rose ! ' said the blunt soldier ; ' verily I owe 
 him the price of thy glorious beauty and thy love, both of which 
 were lost to me, but for him, for ever. So Alia keep thee ! I 
 will not disturb thee again till evening, and advise thee to rest 
 thyself from all thy many fatigues and alarms — Alia Hafiz ! ' 
 
 ' A very Roostum ! a Mejnoon in countenance,' thought the 
 fair creature, as, shutting her eyes, she threw herself back against 
 the pillows ; ' a noble fellow, my lord called him, and a scholar, 
 — how many perfections ! A widow's son, — very dear to her he 
 must be, — she wUl not part with him.' 
 
 Again there was another train of thought. ' He must have 
 seen my face, — holy Prophet ! I was not able to conceal that ; 
 he carried me too in his arms, and I was insensible ; what if my 
 dress was disordered ? ' and she blushed unconsciously, and drew 
 it instinctively around her. ' And he must have seen me too in 
 the broad light when he entered this room : what could he have 
 thought of me? they say I am beautiful.' And a look she 
 unthinkingly cast upon a small mirror, which, set in a ring, she 
 wore upon her thumb, appeared to confirm the thought, for a 
 gentle smile passed over her countenance for an instant. ' What 
 could he have thought of me ?' she added. But her speculations 
 as to his thoughts by some unaccountable means to her appeared 
 to disturb her own; and, after much unsatisfactory reasoning, 
 she fell into a half dose, a dreamy state, when the scenes of the 
 night before — the storm— the danger — the waters — and her own 
 rescue, flitted before her fancy ; and perhaps it is not strange, 
 that in them a figure which she believed to be a likeness of 
 the young Pat^l occupied a prominent and not a disagreeable 
 
 situation, 
 
28 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 It was now evening: the gentle breeze which came over the 
 simosa-grove loaded the air with the rich perfume of the blossoms. 
 Cattle, returning from the distant pastures^ lowed as they ap- 
 proached the village; and a noisy herd of goats, driven by a few 
 half-naked boys, kept up an incessant bleating. Far in the west 
 the sun had set in brilKancy j and a few light and exquisitely 
 tinted clouds floated away towards the rocky range of the Adoni 
 fbrtress, whose rugged outlines could be seen sharply defined 
 against the sky. There Were many beauties there, but they only 
 remained to the living. 
 
 The grave of thte Khan's detainer had been filled in, and the 
 long narrow mound raised on the top : one by one, those who 
 had a,ttended the funeral turned away and retired ; but the Khan 
 and Kasim, anxious to pay the last marks of respect to the de- 
 ceased, stayed till all had been smoothed down, and the place 
 swept Garlands of flowers were strewn upon the grave, — they 
 left the dead to its corruption, and returned home. 
 
 But among soldiers, especially Asiatics, — ^whose belief in 
 fatality, while it leads them to be often reckless of life, yet when 
 a stroke of sorrow comes teaches them resignation — death inakes 
 perhaps but little impression, unless any one near or dear is 
 stricken down. The Khan and his host, having partaken of the 
 hearty meal supplied by the Pat61, and most exquisitely cooked 
 by the stout functionary we have before alluded to, and having 
 each been supplied with that soother of many mortal ills a good 
 hooka, had already almost forgotten the ceremony they had assisted 
 in, and were well disposed to become excellent friends, and to 
 detail to each other passages in their lives, which they would for 
 ever have remained ignorant of but for the fortuitous circum- 
 stances in which they had been placed. 
 
 And it was after a recital of his own deeds, which, however 
 modestly given, could not fail of having impressed Kasim with a 
 high sense of his gallant conduct, that the Khan said, 'My 
 brother, I was an adventurer, as you might be ; young and active, 
 hairbrained perhaps, and ready for any exciting employment, with 
 only my arms and an indifierent horse, I entered the service of 
 Hyder Ali. You see me now the commander of a thousand 
 horse, having won a reputation at the sword's point second to 
 none in his gallant army. Why shouldst thou not have the same 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 29 
 
 fate, — thou who hast personal attractions, greater power, and 
 scholarship to aid thee — all of infinite value to an adventurer? 
 What sayest thou then, wilt thou serve him whom I serve^ — 
 Tippoo, the lion of war, the upholder of the Faith ? Speak, O 
 Pat^l, for I love thee, and can help thee in this matter.' 
 
 'My lord draws a bright picture to dazzle mine understanding,' 
 he a,nswered; 'I have dreamed of such things, of attaining 
 to giddy eminences even of rank and power ; but they are no 
 more, I well know, than the false visions of youth, the brighter 
 and more alluring as they are the; more decefttive and unattain- 
 able.' 
 
 ' By my beard, by your salt, I say no ! ' cried the Khan ; ' I 
 have said nothing but what is a matter of every-day occurrence 
 in the army. What was Hyder's origin ? — lower, infinitely lower 
 than thine own. Thy ancestry was noble, — his can be traced 
 back a few generations, beginning with a Punjabee Fakeer, and 
 descending (not much improved i' faith) to his father Hyder, 
 whose mother was only the daughter of a cloth-weaver of Allimd, 
 somewhere by Koolburgah. It is destiny, young man, destiny 
 which will guide thee — ^which, on thy high and broad forehead, 
 shines as brightly as if thy future history were already written 
 there in letters of gold." 
 
 ' My lord's words are enticing, very enticing,' said the youth, 
 ' and ever have I felt that the inactive life I am leading was a 
 shame on me in these times ; but I like not the service of the 
 Nizam, and the Mahrattas are infidels ; I would not shame my 
 faith by consorting with them.' 
 
 'Bravely spoken! hadst thou come to Tippoo Sultaun mounted 
 and armed as thou shouldst be, — even alone and unbefriended as 
 I did to his father, — he would have eiiroUed thee upon handsome 
 pay at once in his own Pagha.* With me, thou wilt have the 
 benefit of a friend ; and I swear to thee upori this my beard, and 
 thy salt,' cried the Khan generously, ' I will be a friend and a 
 brother to thee, even as thou hast been one to me, and her who 
 is as dear to me as my own life's blood. I owe this to thee for 
 her life^— for the risk of thine own, when we were nothing to thee, 
 by Alia, but as the dust of the earth, — I owe it for thine hos- 
 pitality; I desire thee for a companion and a friend; and, 
 above all, my spirit is vexed to see one like thee hiding here in 
 his village, and marring his own destiny by sloth and inaction. 
 Dost thou think that service will come to seek thee, if thou 
 dost not seek it ? ' 
 
 The young man felt the spirit-stirring address of the rough but 
 * Household troops. 
 
30 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 kind soldier deeply, but he still hesitated : the Khan tried to 
 guess his thoughts. 
 
 'Dost thou think,' he said, 'that I have sweet words at my 
 command wherewith to entice thee ? Ay, that is my mistake, and 
 I have spoken too freely to one who has never yet known con- 
 tradiction nor received advice.' 
 
 ' Not so, not so, noble Khan, almost my father ! ' cried Kasim ; 
 ' I beseech thee not to think me thus haughty or impatient. By 
 your beard, I am not — I thought but of my mother — of the sud- 
 denness of this — of my own — ' 
 
 ' Poverty, perhaps,' said the Khan ; ' do not be ashamed to 
 own it. Thou wouldst go to service as a cavalier, as thou art, 
 gallantly armed and mounted, — is it not so ? ' 
 
 ' It is : I would not serve on foot, nor have I money to buy a 
 horse such as I would ride into battle.' 
 
 ' Right ! thou art right, by the Prophet, but let not this trouble 
 thee. We spoke of thee this morning : we dare not offer thee 
 money — nay, be not impatient — we dare not offer thee jewels, 
 else both were thine. We could offer thee honourable service ; 
 and, if thou wilt accept it, as my brother thou art entitled to look 
 to me thine elder, thou knowest, for such matters as thou needest. 
 With me are two horses, the best of the Dekhan blood, beside 
 mine own Motee : him thou canst not have : but either of the 
 others, or both, are thine ; and if they do not suit thee, there are 
 others at the city where thou shalt be free to choose. See, I have 
 conquered all thy scruples.' 
 
 The young man was much affected, and the Khan's kindness 
 fairly brought the tears to his eyes. ' Such service as I can do 
 thee, O generous being,' he exclaimed, ' I vow here under mine 
 own roof and by the head of my mother, — I will follow thee to the 
 death. Such honourable service as I would alone have ever 
 accepted is in my power, and I accept it with gratitude to thee and 
 thine, whom the Prophet shield with his choicest care ! ' 
 
 ' It were well that your arrangements were quickly concluded, 
 for I cannot wait beyond to-morrow,' said the Khan. 
 
 'It will be ample for my slender preparations,' replied the 
 youth. ' I will break this to my mother now.' 
 
 ' You do right, Meer Sahib ; I honour thee for thy consider- 
 ation ; and I too will to the Khanum : she will be glad to hear 
 that her deliverer and her lord are now friends and brothers in 
 service.' 
 
 Kasim sought his mother ; she was with her guest as he passed 
 the door of the inner chamber ; so he desired a girl who was with- 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 31 
 
 out to inform his mother he desired to speak with her in his own 
 apartment. 
 
 There was not much to tell her, and yet he knew that it would 
 grieve the old lady. ' But -I cannot continue thus,' he thought 
 aloud ; ' the fortunes of our house have fallen, and the Khan's 
 words bear conviction with them. I can retrieve them, — I may 
 perhaps retrieve them, I should rather say; and, after all, she will 
 rejoice to hear of me, and the fortune and rank I shall, by the 
 blessing of Alia, speedlywin; and then — ' but here his thoughts 
 became quite inexpressible, even to himself; for there rushed 
 suddenly before his imagination such a tide of processions, 
 soldierji^ elephants, wars, camps, as almost bewildered him ; while 
 here and there a figure mingled with all, which, had he been 
 closely questioned, he must have admitted was that of the fair 
 Ameena. But his mother interrupted what we will say he was 
 striving to put from him, by entering and standing before him. 
 
 ' Thou didst send for me, my son,' she said ; ' what news 
 hast thou to tell? Was the Khan pleased with the Zeafut?* 
 was the meat well cooked ? By the Prophet, he hath a glorious 
 cook ; what dishes he sent into the Khanum, of which we have 
 been partaking ! By thine eyes, I have not tasted such since — 
 since — ' 
 
 But while the old lady was trying to remember when she had 
 last eaten of such savoury messes as she spoke of, her son gently 
 interrupted her, and said gravely, as he rose and seated her in 
 his own place, ' Mother, I have much to teU thee, so collect thy 
 thoughts and listen.' 
 
 She was attentive in a moment, and eagerly looked for what 
 he should say, — with not a little apprehension perhaps, for there 
 was sadness, nay even a quivering, perceptible in the tone with 
 which he spoke. 
 
 Her grief was uncontrollable at first : — yet he gradually un- 
 folded all his hopes — his previous determination to enter service 
 when he could with honour — his desires for an active life — and 
 his great chances of speedy advancement under the patronage 
 of his friend ; — and he laid them before his mother with a natural 
 eloquence, under which her first sudden shock of grief fast 
 yielded. Kasim saw his opportunity, and continued, — 
 
 ' So much as thou lovest me, mother, wilt thou not have pride 
 when I write to thee that I command men, that I have fought 
 with the infidel English, that I have been rewarded, that I am 
 honoured ? Wilt thou not feel, and then say, — " If I had pre- 
 vented him, there would have been none of this." And doth it 
 * Entertainment 
 
32 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 not behove every believer now to draw his sword in defence of 
 the faith ? Look around : — the English are masters of Bengal 
 and Oude ; they hold Mahamed Ali of the Carnatic arid him of 
 Oude in a base thraldom ; they thirst for conquest, apd are as 
 brave as they are cunning ; — the Mahrattas have taken Hindostan 
 and the Dekhan, and are every day making encroachments upon 
 Nizam All's power, which totters upon an insecure foundation;— 
 and do not the eyes of every true believer turn to Tippoo, a ma,n 
 who has raised himself to be a monarch? I say, mother, I 
 believe it to be my destiny to follow his fortunes : I have long 
 thought so, and have eagerly watched the time when I should be 
 able to join him. It has come, and dost thou love thy son so 
 little, as to stand in the way of fame, honour, wealth, everything 
 tha,t is deaf to me as a man, and as thy son ? ' 
 
 The old lady, could not reply : but she arose and cast herself 
 upon tlie manly breast of her son, and though she sobbed bitterly 
 and long, yet, at last she told him in accents broken by her 
 emotiori she was convinced that he was acting wisely, and thaj; 
 her prayers night and day would be for his welfare. 
 
 And her mind once being reconciled to the thought of parting 
 with him, she made every preparation with alacrityt Such few; 
 garments as were necessary, and were the best among his not 
 over-abundant stock, were put aside and looked over ; and one 
 or two showy handkerchiefs and scarfs which she possessed, with 
 deep gold borders to them, were added to his wardrobe. ' I 
 shall not want them,' she said ; ' I am old, and ought not to 
 think of finery.' 
 
 Nor did Kasim neglect his own affairs ; having made the com- 
 munication to his mother, he at once sought the Kurnum, or 
 accountant of the village, and disclosed his inteiitions to that 
 worthy functionary. Though somewhat surprised at his sudden 
 decision, he did not wonder at its being made ; and, as he was 
 a rich man, he liberally tendered a loan of money to enable 
 Kasim to live respectably, until such time as he should receive 
 pay from his new master. He despatched a messenger for his 
 uncle, his mother's brother, who arrived at night ; and early the 
 next morning he had concluded every arrangement for the man- 
 agement of his Uttle property and the care of his mother. 
 
 These matters being arranged to his satisfaction, Kasim sought 
 the Khan with a, light heart and sincere pleasure upon his coun- 
 tenance. He found him busied inspecting his horses, and greeted 
 him heartily. 
 
 ' Well,' asked the Khan, ' how fared you with the lady your 
 mother after you left me ? ' ' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 33 
 
 •Well, excellently well,' was the reply; 'she made some 
 opposition at first, but was reasonable in the end' 
 
 ' Good ! then I have no blame on my head,' he said laughing ; 
 ' but tell me, when shalt thou be prepared ? ' 
 
 ' Now, Khan Sahib, even now am I ready j speak the word, 
 and I attend you at once.' 
 
 ' Why then delay, Kasim ? Bismilla ! let us go at once ; the 
 Khanum is well, and if thy gpod mother can but give us a plain 
 kicheree* we will set off soon ; the day is cloudy and there will 
 be no heat' 
 
 ' I will go bid her prepare it : and when I have put on some 
 traveUing garment better than this. Khan Sahib, and got out my 
 arms, as soon as thou wilt we may be in our saddles. I am 
 already impatient to see the road.' 
 _ The meal was soon despatched by master and servant — the 
 camels loaded — the horses saddled. No one saw the farewell 
 Kasim took of his mother ; but it was observed that his cheek 
 was wet when he came out of his house accoutred and armed, — 
 a noble figure indeed, and one which drew forth an exclamation 
 of surprise and gratification from the Khan. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 And in truth, accoutred as he was, and dressed in better clothes 
 than he had hitherto worn, Meer Kasim Ah was one on whom 
 the eye of man could not rest for a moment without admiration, 
 nor that of a woman without love. He wore a dark purple silk 
 vest, bordered round the throat and openings at the chest with 
 broad gold lace and handsome gold pointed buttons ; a crimson 
 waistband with a deep gold border was around his loins, in which 
 were stuck several daggers of various forms and very beautifully 
 chased silver handles; and on his shouldar was a broad gold 
 belt or baldric, somewhat tarnished it is true, but still handsome. 
 This supported a long sword, with a half basket-hilt inlaid with 
 gold and lined with crimson velvet ; the scabbard was of the same, 
 ornamented and protected at the end by a deep and richly chased 
 ferule. At his back was a shield much covered with gilding and 
 brass bosses. 
 
 • Rice and pulse boiled together. 
 C 
 
34 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 'By Alia and the twelve Imaums!' cried the Khan, 'thou art 
 worthy to look on, and a jewel of price in the eye of an old 
 soldier. But there are the steeds, — ^take thy choice ; the ches- 
 nut is called Yacoot;* he is hot, but a gallant beast, and perfect 
 in his paces. The other I call Hyder, after him who was my 
 first master ; he is steadier perhaps, and not so actiye : say which 
 wilt thou have ? ' 
 
 'I think, with your permission, Khan Sabib, I will mount 
 Yacoot;' and so saying, he approached him and bounded into 
 the saddle. 
 
 • Alia, what a seat t ' cried the Khan in an ecstasy of admiration, 
 after Kasim had mounted, and the horse had made several 
 wonderful bounds : ' he does not move,— no, not a hair's-breadth ! 
 even I should have been disturbed by that Inshalla ! he is a 
 good horseman. Enough, Meer Sahib,' he cried, ' enou^ now ; 
 Yacoot is a young beast and a fiery devil, but I think after all he 
 will suit thee better than the other.' 
 
 ' I think Yacoot and I shall be very good friends when we 
 know each other better,' said Kasim; 'but see, the Khanum 
 waits, and the bearers are ready. Put the palankeen close 
 up to the door that it may be more convenient,' he added to 
 them. 
 
 They obeyed ; and in a few moments a figure enveloped from 
 head to foot, but whose tinkling anklets were deUcious music in 
 the ears of Kasim, emerged from the threshold of the house, and 
 instantly entered the palankeen. Another followed, and busied 
 herself for a few moments in arranging the interior of the vehicle. 
 This was Kasim's mother, whose heart, almost too full for 
 utterance, had much difiiculty in mustering words sufficient to bid 
 her lovely guest farewell. 
 
 ' May Alia keep you !' said the old lady, blinded by her tears ; 
 ' you are young, and proud and beautiftil, but you wiU sometimes 
 think perhaps of the old Pat^lne. Remember all I have told you 
 of my son ; and that as the Khan is a father to him, so you are 
 his mother i~-yt have now the care of him, not I. May Alia 
 keep thee ! for my old eyes can hardly hope to see thee again ; ' 
 and she blessed her. 
 
 ' WilUngly, mother,' she replied ; • all that constant solicitude 
 for his welfare can effect, I will do ; and while I have life I will 
 remember thee, thy care and kindness. Alia Hafiz I do you too 
 remember Ameena.' 
 
 The old lady had no reply to give ; she shut the door of the 
 palankeen with trembling hands — and the bearers, understanding 
 
 • Ruby. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 35 
 
 the srgnal, advanced, raised it to their shoulders, and bore it 
 rapidly forward 
 
 ' Come,' cried the Kh'an, who had mounted ; ' delay not, 
 Kasim.' 
 
 'Not a moment — a few last words with my mother, and I 
 follow thee.' 
 
 She was standing at the door ; he rode up to her and stooped 
 down from the horse gently. ' Thy blessing, mother, again,' he 
 said — ' thy last blessing on thy son.' 
 
 She gave it ; and hastily searching for a rupee, she drew a 
 handkerchief from her bosom, and folding it in it, tied it around 
 his arm. ' My blessing, the blessing of the holy Alia and of the 
 Imaum Zamin be upon thee, my son ! May thy footsteps lead 
 thee into happiness — -may thy destiny be great ! May I again see 
 my son ere I die, that mine eyes may greet him as a warrior, and 
 one that has won fame ! ' 
 
 ' I thank thee, mother ; but saidst thou aught to her of me ? ' 
 
 ' I told her much of thee and of thy temper from, thy youth up : it 
 appeared to interest her, and she hath promised to befriend thee.' 
 
 ' Enough, dear mother ! remember my last words — to have the 
 trees I planted looked to and carefully tended, and the tomb 
 protected. Inshalla ! I will return to see them grown up, and 
 again be reminded of the spot where I saved her life.' 
 
 And so saying, and not trusting himself to speak to many wha 
 would have crowded around him for a last word, the young man 
 turned his horse, and, striking his heels sharply into its flank, the 
 noble animal bounding forward bore him away after his future 
 companions, followed by the blessings and dim and streaming 
 eyes of most who were assembled around the door of his mother's 
 home. 
 
 The old lady heeded not that her veil had dropped from her 
 face ; there was but one object which occupied her vision of the 
 many that were before her eyes, and that was the martial figure 
 of her son as it rapidly disappeared before her. She lost sight of 
 him as he passed the gate ai the village ; again she saw him be- 
 yond. There was a slight ascent, up which the party, now united, 
 were rapidly advancing : he reached them. She saw him ex- 
 change greeting with the Khan, as he checked his bounding 
 steed, fall in by his side, apparently in familiar converse, and for 
 a short time more the whole were brightly before her, as a gleam 
 of sunlight shone forth, glancing brightly from their spear-heads 
 and the bosses on their shields, and upon the gay colours of their 
 dresses. A bright omen she thou^t it was of the future. But 
 they had now attained the sumOiit. Kasim and the Khan dis- 
 
36 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 appeared gradually behind it; then the attendants — the palan- 
 keen — the servants — the camels, one by one were lost to her 
 gaze. Suddenly the place was void; she shook the blinding 
 stream from her eyes, and looked again — but there was no one 
 there ; her son and his companions had passed away, she 
 thought for ever. Then only, she perceived that she was un- 
 veiled, and hastily retreating into her now lonely and cheerless 
 abode, for the while gave herself up to that violent grief which 
 she had been ill able to repress as he left her. 
 
 ' Ay, now thou lookest like a gentleman, as thou art in very 
 truth,' said the Khan, after they had ridden some miles. ' What 
 sayest thou, Meer SaJiib, hast thou been instructed in the use of 
 the arms thou wearest ? Canst thou do thy qusrut* — use a mug- 
 doorf — play with a sword and shield ? and what sort of a marks- 
 nuin art thou ? ' 
 
 'As a marksman. Khan, I have pretty good practice at the 
 deer which roam our plains and devastate our corn-fields ; as to 
 the rest, thou knowest I am but a village youth.' 
 
 ' Modestly spoken, Meer Sahib. Now take Dilawur All's 
 matchlock, and kill' me one of those deer yonder ; ' and he 
 pointed to a herd which was quietly browsing at some distance : 
 ' we will put it on a camel, and it will be a supper for us.' 
 
 ' I will try. Khan Sahib,' returned Kasim joyfully and eagerly ; 
 ' only stay here, and dismount if you will, lest they should see 
 you ; and if I can get within shot, thou shalt have the deer.' 
 
 'Give him thy gun then,' said the Khan to his retainer; 'is it 
 properly charged ? ' 
 
 The palankeen was put down, and all waited the issue with 
 much interest and anxiety.' 
 
 The Khan went to the palankeen. ' Look out, my rose,' he 
 said ; ' I have dared the Patdl to shoot a deer, and he is gone to 
 do it. Look, see how he creeps onward, like a cat or a panther.' 
 
 The lady looked out. It was very exciting to her to see the 
 motions of the young man ; and, if it may be believed, she actually 
 put up a mental prayer for his success. 'Ya Alia, give him a 
 steady hand ! ' she said inwardly, and looked the more. 
 
 ' He will be near them soon,' said the Khan, shading his eyes 
 with his hands ; ' there is a nulla yonder which will afford him 
 cover ; canst thou see ? Mashalla ! this is better than shooting 
 one oneself.' 
 
 ' They have seen him ! ' cried the lady, as one of the deer which 
 had been lying down got up and gazed warily about They will 
 be off ere he can get within shot' 
 
 • Gymnastic exercises. + A heavy cinh. 
 
TIPFOO SULTAUN. 37 
 
 ' Not so, by your eyes ! ' cried the Khan ; ' he has crouched 
 down. See ! raise thyself a little higher ; look at him crawling.' 
 
 Kasim's progress was slow, and had he been alone he would 
 have given up the pursuit ; but he knew the Khan was observ- 
 ing him, perhaps Ameena. It was enough, — he crept stealthily 
 on. 
 
 ' He will never get near them,' said the fat cook. ' Who is he 
 — 2l village Pat^l — that he should shoot ? Ay, now, at my city 
 we have ' the real shooting ; there, over the plains of Surroo 
 Nuggur; thousands of antelopes are bounding with no one to 
 molest them, except Nizam Ali, who goes out with the nobles and 
 shoots a hundred sometimes in a day. I was once there, and 
 killed—' 
 
 ' With thy knife, Zoolfoo, and roasted it afterwards I suppose,' 
 said Nasur : ' don't tell us lies ; thou knowest thou never hadst a 
 gun in thy hand since thou wast born.' 
 
 ' That is another lie,' retorted Zoolfoo. ' By the beard of 
 Moula Ali, if I was yonder I would have fired long ago : we 
 shall have no venison for supper I see plainly enough. See how 
 he is crawling on the ground as a frog would, — can't he walk up- 
 right like a man ? ' 
 
 ' He knows well enough what he is doing, you father of owls,' 
 was the reply. ' Inshalla ! we shall all eat venison to-night, and 
 thou wilt have to cook us kabobs and curries.' 
 
 ' Venison and mdthee-ke-bajee make a good curry,' mused the 
 cook; 'and kabobs are also good, dried in the sun and 
 seasoned.' 
 
 ' Look ! he is going to shoot,' cried the Khan ; ' which will it 
 be ? I wager thee a new dooputta* he does not kilL' 
 
 ' Kubool ! I agree,' said the lady ; he will kill by the blessing 
 of Alia, — I feel sure he will.' 
 
 But Kasim's gun went down. 
 
 'He is too far off yet,' she said: and he was. He saw a 
 mound at a little distance from him, and tried to reach it, 
 crawling on as before. 
 
 But the deer saw him. He observed their alarm, and lay 
 motionless. They all got up and looked : — he did not move. 
 The buck trotted forward a few paces, saw what it was, and ere 
 the young man could get his gun to his shoulder as he lay, he 
 had turned. 
 
 ' I told you so,' cried the Khan ; ' they are off, and I have 
 won.' 
 
 ' There is yet a chance,' said Ameena anxiously. 
 •Scarf. 
 
38 TIJPPOO SULTaVN. 
 
 ' I said he would not kill,' said the cook ; ' we shall have no 
 venison.' 
 
 They were all wrong. Kasim saw there was no chance 
 unless he rose and fired; so he rose instantly. The deer 
 regarded him for an instant, turned as with one motion, and fled 
 bounding away. 
 
 ' There is yet a chance,' cried Ameena again, as she saw the 
 gun pointed. ' Holy Alia ! he has won my wager ! ' she added, 
 clapping her hands. 
 
 He had, and won it well As the herd bounded on, he 
 waited tiU the buck was clear of the rest. He fired ; and spring- 
 ing high into the air it rolled forward on the ground ; and while 
 it yet struggled, Kasim had drawn his knife across the throat, 
 pronouncing the formula. 
 
 ' Shookr Alia ! ' cried the cook, ' it is Hulal* at any rate.' 
 
 ' Shabash ! ' exclaimed the Khan, ' he has done it : — he is 
 as good as his word, — he is a rare marksman. So thou hast 
 won thy wager, Pearee,'t he added. 'Well, I vow to thee a 
 Benares dooputta: thou shalt have one in memory of the 
 event.' 
 
 She would not, however, have forgotten it without. 
 
 ' Go, some of ye,' continued the Khan, ' and take the lightest 
 laden of the camels, for the Syud is beckoning to us : bring the 
 game hither speedily.' 
 
 The deer was soon brought, and laid near the palankeen, 
 where the Khan stood. The bright eye was already glazed and 
 suffused with blood. 
 
 'Ay, now thou canst see it,' he said to the lady, who, 
 closely veiled, yet had apertures for her eyes through which 
 she could observe distinctly. 'Is it not a noble beast? — 
 fat, too, by the Prophet ! It was a good shot at that 
 distance.' 
 
 ' It was partly accident. Khan Sahib,' replied Kasim. 
 
 ' Not so, by your beard, not so, Patdl ; it was no chance. I 
 should be very sorry to stand for thee to shoot at even further 
 than it was.' 
 
 ' I should be very sorry to shoot at my lord, or any one but an 
 enemy,' he returned, ' seeing that I rarely miss my mark whether 
 on foot or on horseback.' 
 
 ' I beUeve thee,' returned the Khan ; ' but where is that lazy 
 cook ? ' he cried, aftfer he had mounted. 
 
 ' Hazir ! 'J cried Zoolfoo, urging on his pony from behind as 
 fast as he could, for it shied at everything it saw. ' Your slave is 
 * Lawful to be eaten. t Beloved. % Present 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 39 
 
 coming,' he shouted,, as the Khan grew impatient. And at last, 
 joining his hands together, he was in his presence. 
 
 'Kya HookUm?' he asked, 'what orders has my lord for 
 his slave?' 
 
 ' See that there is a good curry this evening j and if diou canst 
 get m^thee, put It in ;— dost thou hear ? ' 
 
 'My lord and the Meer Sahib shall say they have never eaten 
 such,' said the functionary joyifully ! ' Inshalla ! it will be one fit 
 for the Huzoor himself.' 
 
 He fell back. ' 1 thought,^ Jie said, ' how it would be, — 
 venison and m^thee ; yes, 1 had thought as much ; nay lord has 
 a gopd taste.' And the idea of mdthee and venison comforted 
 him for the rest of the day's ]oum,ey. 
 
 And now the party rode on merrily, though not fast. The 
 Khan became more and more pleased with his new friend every 
 hour that they rode together. Kasiin's stores of learning were 
 not extensive ; but so far as he possessed knowledge of books he 
 unfolded it to the Khan. He recited pieces of Hafiz, — ^passages 
 froiri.the Shah Namah, of which he; had read selections. He 
 repeated tales from the Ikhlak-i-Hindee, from the Bostan, and 
 ghuzuls* from the earlier Oordoo poets ; until the Khan, who 
 had never thought of these accomplishments hiinself, and who 
 knew none who possessed them, was fairly astonished, 
 
 But after a few hours' ride they were near the village they were 
 to rest at. ' If thou knowest any one in it,' said the Khan, ' we 
 shall be able to get a good place for the night.' 
 
 'I knew the Pat^l well, Khan Sahib; he was my father's 
 friend. I will gallop on, and secure such a place as may be 
 ifitting for you and the Khanum to rest in,' 
 
 When they anived, they found the Patd with Kasim Ali ready 
 to receive them at the door of a neat but small mosque which 
 was in the village. A few tent walls were placed across the open 
 part, to screen them from the weather and the public gaze, — then 
 carpets spread; and soon some were resting themselves, while 
 others wandered into the bazaars or were employed in various 
 offices for the Khan. Particularly the cook, who, after sending 
 for a village butcher to skin and cut up the deer, selected some 
 prime parts of the meat, which he proceeded to dress after the 
 following fajhion, and which we cordially recommend to all 
 uninitiated. 
 
 The meat was cut into small pieces, and each piece covered 
 with the ingredients for seasoning the dish, which had been 
 ground with water to the consistence of paste. Then some 
 
 * Songs. 
 
40 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 butter and onions were put into a pan, and the onions fried till 
 they were brown. Into this was placed the meat, some salt, and 
 sour curds or butter-milk : then it was suffered to simmer gently, 
 while Zoolfoo every now and then stirred it with great assiduity. 
 When it was partly done, the vegetables were added ; and in a 
 short time most savoury steams succeeded, saluting the hungry 
 noses of a few lean and half-starved village dogs ; these, attracted 
 by the savour, prowled about with watering chops in the vicinity 
 of the fireplace, much cursed by the cook, and frequently pelted 
 with stones as they ventured a little nearer. Many kites were 
 wheeling and screaming overhead, and a good many crows sat 
 upon the nearest s*ones, — upon the wall and other slight eleva- 
 tions, — apparently, by their constant chattering and croakings, 
 speculating upon their probable share. 
 
 ' May your mothers and sisters be destroyed ! ' cried the cook, 
 at length fairly perplexed between the dogs, the kites, and the 
 crows, each of which watched the slightest inattention in order to 
 attempt to carry off anything they could see : ' may they be 
 destroyed and dishonoured ! Ya Alia ! ' he continued in excla- 
 mation, as he saw a dog coolly seize hold of and run away with 
 part of the leg of the deer, ' Ya Alia ! that is Jumal Khan's 
 portion ; — drop it, you base-born ! — drop it, you son of a vile 
 mother ! ' and he flung a stone after the delinquent, which 
 had happily effect on his hinder portion, and made him limp 
 off on three legs, howling, and without his booty. ' Ha ! I hit 
 you, did I ? that will teach you to steal ! ' and he picked up 
 the meat. 
 
 ' But, holy Prophet, I am ruined ! ' he again exclaimed. And 
 indeed it was provoking enough to see several kites in succession 
 making stoops at the little board upon which he had been cutting 
 up the meat for the kabob; at every stoop carrying off large 
 pieces, which, holding in their talons, they fairly ate as they 
 sailed over him, screaming apparently in exultation. 
 
 ' Holy Prophet ! that I should have eaten such dirt at the 
 hands of these animals. Ho ! Meer Sahib ! ' he continued to 
 Kasim who approached, • wilt thou keep watch here while I cook 
 the dinner? for if thou dost not there will be none left; one 
 brute had carried off this leg which I have just rescued, and while 
 I was about that, the kites ate up the kabob.' 
 
 The Syud could not help laughing at the worthy functionary's 
 distress. 
 
 ' Well, as there is no one near, Zoolfoo, I will sit here ; ' and 
 he seated himself upon a log of wood not far from him. ' Now 
 we will see if any of these sons of unchaste mothers will come 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 41 
 
 near thee : thou deservest this for what thou art doing for us 
 there, which smelleth well' 
 
 ' It is a dish for a prince, Meer Sahib,' said the cook, giving 
 the contents of the pot an affectionate stir. ' I say it is a dish 
 for the Huzoor, and such an one as I have often cooked for his 
 zenana,' 
 
 ' Then thou wast in the kitchen of Nizam All r 
 
 ' Even so, Meer Sahib ; there is plenty to eat, but little pay j 
 so I left the Huzoor to follow the fortunes of the Khan, — may 
 his prosperity increase ! ' 
 
 ' Ay, he is a noble fellow, Zoolfoo, and a generous one ; — see 
 what he hath done for me already.' 
 
 ' Thou didst enough for him,' said the cook drily. ' Knowest 
 thou that the Khanum is a bride, and that she is only fourteen or 
 fifteen, and as beautiful as the moon at the full ? ' 
 
 ' Is she ? ' said Kasim carelessly. 
 
 ' Is she ! ' retorted the cook ; ' I saw her three months ago, 
 for she was a neighbour of mine. I have known her for years, 
 but that she does not know.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! that is very extraordinary,' said Kasim absently. 
 
 ' Not at all,' replied the cook ; ' my sister was servant in their 
 house for some years, — nay, is there still. She told me all about 
 this marriage ; it was very splendid.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! ' said Kasim again. 
 
 * Ay, truly ; and the maiden was very loth to be married to 
 one so old. But she was of age to be married, and her parents 
 did not like to refuse when such a man as Abdool Rhyman 
 offered for her — Khan they call him, but he was only the son of 
 a soldier of the Huzoor's — quite a poor man. They said — indeed 
 Nasur told me — ^that he has two other wives at Seringapatam, but 
 he has no child.' 
 
 ' That is very odd,' said Kasim. 
 
 'Very,' returned the cook. But their conversation was 
 suddenly interrupted by one of the men, who approached, and 
 relieved Kasim of his watch. 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 They rested in the town of Bellary the next day ; and as there 
 was an alarm of parties of Mahratta horse being abroad, though 
 they could hear of no one having suffered from them, the Khan 
 
42 TTPPOO SlTLTAUN. 
 
 on account of the baggage he hdd with him, determined on 
 travelling the eastern road by Nundidroog; from thence he 
 could reach the city, either by BdAgalor^, or the western road, as 
 best suited him. But no enemy appeared, though several alarms 
 were given by the people. 
 
 At one place, however, after some days' travel, they heard that 
 a party of horse had passed tJxe day before ; and at the stage 
 after, they kept a watch all night, — ^with some need in fact, for a 
 marauding party of great strength were undoubtedly in their 
 vicinity, as was plainly to be seen by the conflagration of a small 
 village at some coss distant,, which could easily be distinguished 
 from the town wherein they rested for the night. 
 
 ' This looks like danger,' Said the Khan, as from the tower in 
 the middle of the village he and Kasim looked forth over the 
 wide plain ; — ' the rascals yonder are at their old work. Strange 
 that there are none of our horse hereabouts to check them, and 
 mdeed I marvel that the rogues dare venture so far into Tippoo's 
 country.' 
 
 ' If it were day we could see their number,' replied Kasim ; 
 ' as it is, we must take heart, — Inshalla ! our destiny is not so 
 bad as to cause us to eat dirt at the hands of those thieves.' 
 
 ' If I were alone, Kasim, I tell thee I would now put myself at 
 the head of ye all, and we would reconnoitre that village ; perhaps 
 it may only have been a chance fire after alL' 
 
 But soon after, one or two persons mounted on ponies arrived, 
 bringing the news that their village had been attacked in the 
 evening; and that, after the robbers had taken all they could, 
 they had set fire to several houses and gone off in a southerly 
 direction — ^it was Supposed towards Gootee. 
 
 ' Our very road ! ' said the Khan ; ' but let us not fear : we had 
 better travel on slowly, for it is probable that they have hastened 
 on, and long ere this are beyond the pass. In that case there is 
 but little fear of our overtaking them.' 
 
 'I will stand by you and the Khanum to the death,' said 
 Kasim, ' and that thou well knowest They said there were not 
 more than fifty fellows, and I dare say their fears exaggerated 
 them one-half at least. But if I might suggest anything, I would 
 bring to your consideration the propriety of hiring a few young 
 fellows from this village ; they will be able to protect the baggage, 
 and at least assist us Should there be any danger.' 
 
 ' A good thought, Kasim ; see thou to it when the dawn breaks 
 — nay now, if thou canst fihd any. I will remain here and watch.' 
 
 Kasim descended the tower, and at the foot found some of the 
 very men he wanted ; they were half-naked figures, sitting around 
 
T/PPOO StfLTAUrt. 43 
 
 the fire they had kindled ; their heavy matchlocks leaned against 
 the wall, and their waists were girded round with powder-horns, 
 small pouches filled with balls, and other matters necessary for 
 their use. There were two or three armed with swords and 
 shields, and the whole group had a wild and picturesque appear- 
 ance, as the fire, upon which they had thrown some straw at the 
 young man's approach, blazed up, illuminating the foot of the 
 tower and the house near it, and causing the shadows of the men 
 to dance about in distorted figures. Two or three were sitting 
 upon their hams, between whom a coarse hooka went its round, 
 and was every now and then tfepfenished ; whilst the rest stood 
 warming themselves over the blaze, or lounged about at no 
 great distance, 
 
 ' Salaam Aliekoom ! ' said Kasim, as he approached them ; 
 ' say which among you is the chief? ' 
 
 ' Aliekoom salaam ! ' returned one, advancing. ' I am the 
 Naik of these worthy men. Say what you want ; command us — 
 we are your servants. What see ye from the tower ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing but the blazing village/ said Kasim. 
 
 'The fellows have not lefl: a roof-tree standing, they say,' 
 rejoined the Naik; 'but the place was not defended, for the 
 young men were all absent ; and it is supposed the Mahrattas 
 had news of this before they attacked it^'they are arrant 
 cowards.' 
 
 ' You have found them so, then ? ' 
 
 •We have; we have twice beaten them off during the last few 
 days, and killed one or two of them.' 
 
 ' Mashalla ! thou art a sharp fellow ; what do they call thee ? ' 
 
 ' Nursingha is my name ; I am the nephew of the Patdl.' 
 
 ' Good ! Then what sayest thou, Nursingha, to accompanying 
 our party for a few days, until we are well past the hills, or 
 indeed to BalapoOr; thou shalt have a rupee a-day and thy food, 
 and six of thy men half, if thou wilt.' 
 
 ' What say you, brothers ? ' cried Nufsingha to the rest ; ' what 
 say you to the stranger's offer ? They seem men of substance, 
 and they are the Government servants — ^we can hardly refuse.' 
 
 ' What are we to do ? ' asked one. 
 
 ' Fight, if there is necessity,' said Kasim ; ' canst thou do that ? ' 
 
 'There is not a better shot in the Camatic that Lingoo 
 yonder,' said the Naik. 
 
 ' He may shoot well and not fight well,' returned Kasim. 
 
 ' I never feared Moosulman or Mahratta yet ! ' said Lingoo. 
 
 ' Crowed like a good cock ! ' cried Kasim ; ' but thou art on 
 thine own dunghilL' 
 
44 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' I have fought with Hyder Ali many a time; and he who has 
 done that may call himself a soldier,' retorted Lingoo. 
 
 ' Well, so much the better ; but say, what will ye do ? here are 
 ten or twelve ; half that number is enough to protect the village, 
 especially as the Mahrattas are gone on j will ye come ? ' 
 
 'Pay us half our due here first,' said the man, 'and we are 
 ready — six of us. Have I said well, brethren ? ' 
 
 ' Ay, that is it,' cried several. ' How know we that the gentle- 
 men would not take us on, and send us back empty-handed, as 
 the last did?' 
 
 'By Alia, that was shameful!' cried Kasim; 'fear not, ye 
 shall have half your money.' 
 
 ' Kasim, O Kasim Ali ! ' cried a voice from the top of the 
 tower, interrupting him, — it was the Khan's, and he spoke 
 hurriedly, — ' Kasim, come up quickly ! ' 
 
 ' Holy Prophet, what can it be ? ' said Kasim, turning to the 
 tower, followed by several of the men. They were soon at the 
 summit. . 
 
 ' What see you yonder ? ' asked the Khan, pointing to a light 
 which was apparently not very far off. 
 
 ' It is only a watchfire in the fields of the next village,' said 
 the Naik. But as he spoke there broke forth a blaze of brilliant 
 light, which at once shot up to the heavens, illuminating a few 
 clouds that were floating gently along, apparently near the 
 earth. 
 
 ' That is no watchfire,' cried Kasim, as it increased in volume 
 every moment; 'it is either a house which has accidentally 
 caught fire, or the Mahrattas are there. Watch, all of ye; if 
 there are horsemen, the light will soon show them.' 
 
 ' There again ! ' exclaimed several at once, as a bright flame 
 burst out from another comer of the village, and was followed by 
 others, in various directions. * It must be the Mahrattas and 
 yet none are seen ! ' 
 
 ' They are among the houses,' said the Khan ; ' they will not 
 come out till they are obliged.' 
 
 He was right ; for while all were watching anxiously the pro- 
 gress of the flames, which they could see spreading from house 
 to house, there rushed forth in a tumultous manner from the 
 opposite side a body of perhaps twenty horsemen, whose long 
 spears, the points of which every instant flashed through the 
 gloom, proved them to be the Mahratta party. 
 
 ' Base sons of dogs ! ' cried the Khan ; ' cowards, and sons of 
 impure mothers ! — to attack defenceless people in that way ! — to 
 burn their houses over their heads at night 1 Oh for a score of 
 
IIPPOO SULTAUN. 45 
 
 my own risala, — ay, for as many more as we are now, and those 
 rogues should pay dearly for this ! ' 
 
 ' Who will follow Kasim Ali ? ' cried the young man. ' By the 
 soul of the Prophet, we are no thieves, and our hearts are strong. 
 I say one of us is a match for two of those cowards : who will 
 follow me ? ' 
 
 ' I ! ' — ' and I ! ' — • and I ! ' cried several \ and turned to follow 
 the young man, who had his foot on the steps ready to descend. 
 
 ' Stop, I command you ! ' cried the Khan ; ' this is no time to 
 risk anj^hing : look yonder,— you thought there were but twenty ; 
 if there is one, there are more than fifty.' 
 
 They looked again, and beheld a fearful sight. The now 
 blazing village was upon a gentle slope, hardly a mile from them ; 
 the light caused the gloom of night to appear absolute darkness. 
 In the midst of this there was one glowing spot, upon which 
 every eye rested in intense anxiety. Around the ill-fated village 
 was an open space, upon which bright ground were the dark 
 figures of the Mahratta horsemen in constant motion ; while the 
 black forms of persons on foot — evidently the miserable inhabitants, 
 in vain striving to escape — ^became, as they severally appeared, 
 objects of fearful interest. Now many would rush from among 
 the houses, pursued by the horsemen ; several would disappear in 
 the gloom, and they supposed had escaped; whilst others but 
 too plainly fell, either by the spear-thrusts or under the sword-cuts 
 of the horsemen. They could even see the flash of the sword 
 when the weapon descended; and sometimes a faint shriek, 
 which was heard at an interval of time after a thrust or blow had 
 been seen, plainly proved that it had been successful. 
 
 ' By Alia, this is hard to bear ! ' exclaimed Kasim ; ' to see 
 those poor creatures butchered in cold blood, and yet have no 
 means of striking a blow in their defence ! ' 
 
 ' It would be impossible for us to do any good,' said the Khan ; 
 ' suppose they were to come on here after they had finished 
 yonder. I see nothing to prevent them.' 
 
 ' Inshalla ! Khan, they will come ; but what thinkest thou, 
 Nursingha?' 
 
 *They owe us a grudge, and may make the attempt Nay, it 
 is more than probable, for they are stronger than ever, and they 
 cannot reckon on your being here.' 
 
 'We had as well be fully prepared,' said the Khan ; 'have ye 
 any jinjalls ? '* 
 
 • The Patd has two,' said the man. 
 
 ' Run then and bring them here, — also what powder ye can find ; 
 * Maavy w«ll-pieces on iwivels. 
 
46 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 bring the Patfl himself too, and alarm the village. Kasim,' he 
 continued, ' wait thou here ; there is an apartment in the tower, 
 — thither 1 will bring the Khanum, and what valuables we have 
 with us. I do not fear danger, but we had better be prepared.' 
 
 In a short time the Khan returned, conducting his wife; she 
 was veiled from head to foot, and Kasim heard them distinctly- 
 speaking as they were coming up the stairs. 
 
 ' Not there, not there ! ' said the lady ; ' alone, and in that dark 
 place, I should give way to fears ; let me ascend, I pray thee, — I 
 am a soldier's daughter, and can bear to look on what men and 
 soldiers can do.' 
 
 ' No, no, my life, my soul ! ' returned the Khan, ' it is not fit 
 for thee; if they should fire upon us, there will be danger; 
 besides there are many men, — thou wouldst not like it ; re- 
 member too I am near thee, and once the village is alarmed thou 
 wilt have many companions.' 
 
 ' I am not afraid,' she said ; ' I had rather be with men than 
 women at such a time.' 
 
 ' Well, well, Ameena, rest thou here now at all events ; should 
 there be need thou canst join us hereafter.' 
 
 The Khan a moment afterwards was on the top of the tower. 
 
 ' Seest thou aught more, Kasim ? ' he asked. 
 
 'Nothing, — the village continues to burn, and the men are 
 there ; but either the people have escaped, or they are dead, for 
 none come out now.' 
 
 ' Sound the alarm ! ' cried the Khan to some men below, who, 
 bearing a large tambourine drum and a brass horn, had assembled 
 ready for the signal. ' If the horsemen hear it, it will teU them 
 we are on the alert.' 
 
 The deep tone of the drum and the shrill ^d wild quivering 
 notes of the horn soon aroused the villagers from their sleep, and 
 numbers were seen flying to the tower for refuge, believing the 
 Mahrattas were truly upon the skirts of the village. The Pat^l 
 was among the rest, accompanied by his family. He was soon 
 upon the tower, and was roughly saluted by the Khan. 
 
 ' Thou art a worthy man for a Patdl ! ' cried he ; ' but for me, 
 thy village might have shared the fate of that one yonder. Look, 
 base-born ! shouldest thou like to see it burning as that is ? 
 Why wert thou not here to watch, O unfortunate ? ' 
 
 ' I — I did not know — ^ stammered the Pat^l. 
 
 * Not know ! well at any rate thou knowest now ; but as thou 
 art here, do something for thyself, in Alla's name. Where is thy 
 gun, thy sword ? ' 
 
 ' I can only use a gun, noble sir ; and that perhaps to some 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 47 
 
 purpose. Run, Paproo,' he said to a man near him ; ' bring my 
 gun hither. Now we are awake, the Khan shall see, if there is 
 occasion, that we g^ fight as well as sleep. 
 
 ' I had as well go down,' said Kasim, ' and prepare the men 
 below : the w'omer^ a,nd childjren can get into the tower ; those 
 whom it will not contain must remain at the foot in these houses. 
 It will be hard if aijy harm reacjjps them there.' 
 
 In a short time all was arrg^nggd : the women and children, 
 whose cries had been distracting, were in places of safety, and as 
 quiet as the neighbp^rhood pjf the Mahratta horse, the sudden 
 alarm, and the natural discordance of their own language (the 
 Canarese), would allow thenj ; and on the summit of the tower 
 about twenty men, for whong thef^ was ample room, were posted, 
 all well armed with matchlocks. The two jinjalls were loaded, a 
 good many men were stationed, around the foot of the tower, and 
 all were ready to give whatever should come a very warm recep- 
 tion. 
 
 The fire of the village burned lower and lower, and at last 
 became only a dull red glow, ^yith occasionally a burst of sparks, 
 While they speculajted upon the route of the horsemen, who had 
 disappeared, a few of the wretcji^f!d inhabitants of the village which 
 had been destroyed came runnjpg tjo, the foot of the tower. 
 
 ' Defend yourseljfes !, i^jend yourselves ! '' they cried with loud 
 voices ; * the Mahrattas are upon you — they will be here imme- 
 diately!' 
 
 ' Admit one of tlieip,', ^aid, t^e, ^han I 'let us question him.' 
 
 The man said he ha4, passed the horsemen, who were trying to 
 get across a small ri;^^!^^ the bed of which was deep mud ; they 
 had not been able to find tlie ford, and were searching for it ; 
 but they knew of the village, were elated with success, and 
 determined to attacls; it. 
 
 ' They shall have spmetbii^g fn^^ their trouble then,' said the 
 Khan ; ' they know not that Abdbol Rhymah Khan is here, and 
 they will buy a lesson : liet, th^P? 9«?!We, in the name of the Most 
 Merciful!' 
 
 ' Away, some of ye ! ' cried the Patfl to those below ; * watch 
 at the outskirts ! and, hark ye, thiey will come by the north side, 
 — there is an old house thpre, close to the gate, — when they are 
 near, fire the thatch ; as it burps, we sliall be able to see and 
 mark them.' 
 
 ' I thank thee for that,' said Kasim ; ' now let all be as silent 
 as possible. Listen for every sound, — we shall hear their horses' 
 feet.' 
 
 There was not a word spoken. Even tb.e wonien were still, 
 
48 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 and the children ; now and then only the wail of an infant would 
 be heard from below. All looked with straining eyes towards the 
 north side, and the best marksmen were placed there under the 
 direction of Kasim. 
 
 ' Thou art pretty sure of one/ said the Khan to him ; ' I wish 
 I could shoot as well as thou.' 
 
 ' A steady hand and aim, Khan Sahib ; — do not hurry ; if not 
 the man, at least thou canst hit the horse. Inshalla 1 we shall 
 have some sport.' 
 
 ' I had better take one of the jiiyalls ; the Feringhees (may 
 they be accursed !) have sorely plagued us often by firing a can 
 non full of balls at us ; so give me a few, I pray. I will ram them 
 down into the piece, and it will be less liable to miss than a 
 single bullet,' 
 
 ' Mashalla ! a wise thought,' said Kasim, handing him some 
 balls ; and a scattered fire of praises ran from mouth to mouth at 
 the Khan's ingenuity : ' we shall now see whether we are to eat 
 dirt or not' 
 
 They were now all silent for awhile. 
 
 ' Hark ! ' said Kasim at length ; ' what is that ? ' 
 
 They all listened more attentively; the village dogs — ^first one, 
 then all — barked and howled fearfiiUy. 
 
 ' They come ! ' cried the Khan j ' I have been too long with 
 bodies of horse not to know the tramp.' 
 
 'Now every man look to his aiml' cried Kasim cheerfully ; 
 'half of ye only fire. And you below, fire if you see them.' 
 
 Almost as he spoke, they saw the light] at first they were 
 uncertain whether the spies had fired the old house or not — it 
 burned so gently ; but by degrees the flame crept along the out- 
 side and round the edges ; then it disappeared under the thatch, 
 and again blazed jip a little. The noise increased, though they 
 could see no one in the gloom, but they could hear very dis- 
 tinctly. 
 
 ' If one of those owls would but pull away a little of the old 
 roof, it would blaze up,' said the Patll. ' By Crishna, look ! they 
 have even guessed my thoughts. Look, noble Khan ! ' 
 
 They saw one of the scouts advance from under the cover of 
 some of the houses, and pull violently at one of the projecting 
 rude rafters j and instantly the flame appear beneath. 
 
 ' Another pull, good fellow, and thou hast earned five rupees !' 
 cried the Khan in an ecstasy, as he held the butt of the wall-piece; 
 ' another pull, and we shall have a blaze like day.' 
 
 It seemed as if the fellow had heard the Khan's exclamation, 
 for he tugged in very desperation j they heard the roof crack ; 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 49 
 
 at last it fell in ; and the sudden blaze, illuminating all around 
 vividly, fell on the wild yet picturesque group which was rapidly 
 advancing over the open space before the village. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The Mahratta horsemen did not perceive the snare which had 
 been laid for them : they concluded that the fire was accidental 
 (and opportune, since it showed them the way to their plunder), 
 and on they came at a fast gallop, — ^fifty perhaps : wild figures 
 they would have been deemed at any time, — ^how much more so 
 when, brandishing their long spears, and with loud shouts, they 
 dashed forward ! The light shone broad on their muffled faces 
 and on the gay red housings of their saddles, and glanced from 
 their spear-points and other weapons. 
 
 ' Hurree B51 ! ' cried the leader to his men, turning round on 
 his saddle, waving his sword, which all could see was dim with 
 blood. 
 
 ' Hurree ! Hurree B5l ! ' arose the cry from fifty hoarse voices, 
 which mingled with the quick trampling of the horses. 
 
 ' Now ! ' cried the Khan. 
 
 ' Wait one instant, for the sake of Alia ! — let them come up,' 
 exclaimed Kasim. 
 
 They were close to the burning hut, when Kasim, whose 
 matchlock had been steadily aimed, resting upon the parapet, 
 fired. The leader reeled back in his saddle, waved his sword 
 wildly in the air, and fell. 
 
 ' Bismilla-ir-ruhman-ir — ! ' shouted the Khan ; the rest of the 
 invocation being lost in the loud report of the cannon. With it 
 were the flashes and reports of a dozen other matchlocks ; and as 
 the smoke cleared away, they could plainly see four of the men on 
 the ground struggling, and two or three others apparently badly 
 hit supporting themselves in their saddles. 
 
 ' Give me another gun, another gun ! ' cried Kasim ; ' there is 
 no time to load. Another gun, I say ! Will no one hand me 
 one ?' he continued, vainly endeavouring to load his own quickly. 
 
 ' Do you not hear ? ' exclaimed a female voice near him ; and 
 as he turned to look, he saw a figure snatch one from a villager, 
 and hand it to him : as she did so, her veil dropped — it was 
 Ameena ' 
 
so TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' Come on, ye base born ! ' cried the Khan, who was pointing 
 the remaining jinjall at the group, which, staggered by their loss, 
 had halted for a moment ' Come on, ye sons of dogs, — come 
 on ye kafirs and idol-worshippers, — come and taste of death from 
 the hands of true believers ! Ha ! do ye hesitate ? then ye shall 
 have it again, by Alia ! ' and he fired. ' Look you, Meer Sahib,' 
 he cried in exultation ; ' two are down — ^another ! by the Pro- 
 phet, well shot ! ' 
 
 ' Here is another gun, Meer Sahib,' said the same sweet voice; 
 and the lady handed him one. 
 
 ' What, thou here, my pearl ! Shabash ! thou shouldst have 
 shot too if thou couldst hit. So, thou wouldst not remain below; 
 no wonder, with those screaming women : and thou art welcome 
 here too, if thou darest to look on, and see those murdering 
 villains go down like sparrows. Another, by Alia ! See, the 
 dog fairly rolls over and over ! Why do ye not come, O valiant 
 eaters of dirt ? By your souls, come on, — we have more for ye ! ' 
 
 ' They have had enough, I think. Khan,' said Kasim ; ' they 
 are drawing off.' 
 
 And they were indeed. The plundering band, unprovided 
 with matchlocks, could make little impression on a village so 
 well defended, and hastily turned about their horses ; those who 
 had remained below were informed of this by the Patfl, who had 
 descended ; and, led by him, quickly advanced to the edge of the 
 village, from whence they could fire without exposing themselves. 
 
 ' Who will strike a blow with Kasim Patdl ? ' cried the youth, 
 who was not now to be controlled. ' Come, who will ? — ^there 
 are the horses saddled below.' 
 
 In vain was it that the Khan held him for an instant, and he 
 heard the voice of gentle entreaty from the lady : he hurried down 
 the steps, followed by several of the Khan's men, and throwing 
 themselves on their horses they dashed after the fugitives. 
 
 They soon cleared the village, and what followed was intensely 
 watched by the Khan and Ameena. 
 
 ' Holy Alia, protect the youth ! ' ejaculated the lady. 
 
 ' Ameen ! ' cried the Kha;n ; ' look ! he is upon them now, and 
 Dilawur-Ali, Moedeen, and Fazel after him. See — one goes 
 down beneath that cut ! ' for they saw the sword of Kasim flash 
 in the light. 'He is by another; the fellow cuts at him. 
 Well parried, by the Prophet ! now give it him ! A curse on 
 the darkness,' he continued after a pause, as, shading his eyes 
 with his hand, he endeavoured to pierce the thick gloom. 'Canst 
 thou see, Ameena?' 
 
 ' No, my lord. I lost him as you did — ^Alla be.his shield 1 ' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 51 
 
 ' To be sure he is : what could those cowards do against such 
 an arm and such a heart ? I tell thee, girl, we had eaten dirt 
 but for him.' 
 
 . Ameena sighed ; she remembered the excited cries of the 
 young man and his flashing eyes, as she handed him the gun. 
 ' He is a brave youth,' she said. 
 
 A few scattered shots here and there, which were further and 
 further removed every moment, showed that the marauders were 
 retreating, and soon the men began to return one by one j in a 
 few minutes they saw Kasim Ali and his companions approaching 
 quietly, which assured them there was no more danger, and that 
 the party had retired beyond the limits of safe pursuit 
 
 'Come down and meet them, fairest,' said the Khan; 'they 
 who have fought so well for us deserve a warm welcome.' 
 
 As Kasim and his companions rode up, they were greeted with 
 hearty congratulations on their success, and all crowded round 
 him so thickly, that he had much ado to force his way to where 
 the Khan stood. But he reached him after some little elbowing 
 and good-humoured remonstrance ; and just at that moment, a 
 torch which had been lighted was raised above the heads of the 
 crowd ; it disclosed his figure, apparently covered with blood. 
 
 ' Holy AUa, he is wounded ! ' exclaimed the lady ; ' he will 
 bleed to death!' and she moved as though she would have 
 advanced. 
 
 'Tut, tut, foolish one!' cried the Khan, holding her back; 
 ' it ought to be gladness to thee to see the blood of thine enemies 
 and mine. Thou art not hurt, Kasim ? ' 
 
 ' A trifle, I believe. Khan — a slight wound on my chest from 
 one of the rascals, which hath bled somewhat and stained my 
 clothes ; btit he paid dearly for the blood he drew.' 
 
 ' I'll warrant he did ; and as for thy wound, we must see to it. 
 I have some skill in such matters, and perhaps the Khanum will 
 be able to find an old sheet or something to tie it up. So sit 
 down here ; and do thou, Ameena, search for some rags. Well, 
 so thou canst give an account of some of them, Kasim ? ' 
 
 ' Of two. Khan Sahib ; one fellow I cut down as we started — 
 he is living, I think — the other fought better.' 
 
 ' And is dead for his pains ; well, I do not begrudge thee this 
 cut, it will do thee no harm. See, here is the Khanum with the 
 rags — never mind her, this is no time for ceremony with such as 
 thou. Ho ! Daood, Zoolficar, some water here ! and do you, 
 Kasim, take off that vest, we shall soon see what has happened. 
 A trifle, a trifle, after all. AUa be praised 1 ' he continued, when 
 the garment was removed, and the broad and muscular chest 
 
Sa TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 of the young man exposed to view; 'a few days will heal 
 it up.' 
 
 But Ameena thought otherwise ; she had heard of wounds, but 
 this was the first she had seen ; and a gash which, though not 
 deep, extended half across the chest of the young man, was 
 in her eyes a more serious matter than her lord appeared to think. 
 She felt very faint and sick as she looked upon it, but rallied on 
 perceiving that Kasim considered it a trifle, as indeed it was, and 
 readily assisted to bind it up. 
 
 - She was very near him, and it was exquisite pleasure to feel her 
 gentle touch upon his shoulder, as she assisted to hold the band- 
 ages which the Khan passed round his chest ; he fancied too 
 that once her glance met his, and he could not help trying to catch 
 it again : he succeeded at last, through the veil. Her lustrous 
 dark eyes flashed very brightly; he could not see their expression, 
 but it was certain to him that they had sought his own, and met 
 them. 
 
 'We want still another handkerchief, or something, to tie 
 over all,' said the Khan when he had finished ; ' hast thou one, 
 Ameena ? ' 
 
 ' I have — here it is,' she replied ; ungirding one from around 
 her waist. ' The Meer Sahib is welcome to it.' 
 
 ' I owe a thousand obligations,' returned Kasim ; ' if I were 
 your brother you could not have done more for me : how un- 
 worthy am I to receive such attention — I who am but your 
 servant ! ' 
 
 ' Do not say so,' cried both at once ; ' thou art far more than 
 this to us.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' thought Kasim, ' I am but a moth playing around a 
 lamp, tempted by bright and dazzling light, and hardly as yet 
 warned. I am a fool to think on her ; but can I ever forget her 
 face as she stood yonder and cheered me by her presence ? — the 
 second time I have seen it, but perhaps not the last' The Khan 
 roused him from his reverie. 
 
 'Lie down,' he said; 'there will be the less flow of blood.' 
 
 Kasim obeyed readily ; for the same fair hands that had helped 
 to bind his wound had also spread a soft mattress for him, and 
 placed a pillow for his head. Perhaps the loss of blood had 
 affected him a little, for in a few moments he felt drowsy and 
 gradually fell asleep ; and Ameena sate watching him at a little 
 distance, for the Khan had gone to see what had been done with 
 the bodies of those who had fallen. 
 
 But, as is often the case after violent excitement, his sleep, 
 though at first heavy and profound, did not long continue thus. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 53 
 
 Perhaps too the wound pained him, for he was restless, and moved 
 impatiently from side to side. 
 
 The Khan was long absent, and Ameena still kept her watch ; 
 she might have withdrawn, yet there was something so exciting 
 and novel to her in her position — ^it was a source of such quiet 
 delight to her to watch the features of him who had saved her 
 life, and now had been wounded in her defence, — and she was so 
 thickly veiled that he could not see her even were he awake — that 
 she remained. 
 
 Rapidly her mind brought before her the events of the last few 
 days. Her own young life in the world had hardly begun, and yet 
 more dangers had been present to her than she had ever pictured 
 to herself, rife as her imagination had been upon the subject when 
 she left her home. She had been already rescued from' death, 
 now perhaps from violence ; and he who had been the sole in- 
 strument of her protection in the one ease, and who had fought 
 under her own eyes in the second, lay before her. She had 
 hardly heard him speak, yet she thought she could remember 
 every word he had spoken ; and then came vividly to her remem- 
 brance the glance, the earnest hurried glance, which told her would 
 have dwelt longer had it dared. And as she remembered this, 
 her heart fluttered under sensations very new and almost painful 
 to her ; she could not define them, — but involuntarily she drew 
 nearer to the sleeping youth and watched the more. 
 
 She saw his brow contracted as if with pain ; and, as he every 
 now and then stirred and the light fell on his features, she could 
 observe his lips move as though he spoke, but she could not 
 catch a word. For a few minutes it was thus, but at last he spoke 
 interruptedly; it was of war, of the fight he had lately been 
 engaged in ; and she could distinguish a few words, defiance to 
 the marauders, encouragement to the men around. Then there 
 was another pause, and he slept peacefully, even as a child. 
 ' May he rest safely, O Alia ! ' she said. 
 
 But again he dreamed ; sounds escaped him, — low mutterings 
 which were undistinguishable ; she bent her ear even closer j — she 
 could not hear aught for awhile that she understood, but at length 
 there was one word which made her very soul bound within her, 
 and caused in the moment a feeling of choking and oppression in 
 her throat almost unbearable, — ' Ameena ! ' it was repeated twice 
 distinctly, yet very softly. 
 
 ' Holy Alia ! he knows my name ! ' she said mentally ; ' he 
 thinks of me — I am present to his sleeping fancies amidst war 
 and turmoil which still pursue him. How could he have heard 
 my name ? ' 
 
S4 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 But the voice of the Khan was heard at some little distance, 
 and interrupted her chain of questions. ' He must not find me 
 here,' she thought, rising hastily, and gently stealing from the 
 spot into the place which had been screened off for her occupa- 
 tion. Indeed for the last few moments hidden thoughts had 
 suddenly sprung forth, and she could hardly await unconcernedly, 
 beside the sleeping youth, him who now sought her. 
 
 The Khan passed Kasim. • He sleeps well,' he said to Daood, 
 who was with him ; ' hath any one watched by him ? ' 
 
 ' No one, Khodawund : the men were all with my lord.' 
 
 ' That was ill ; one of ye should have remained ; where is that 
 idle cook ? he hath no need of rest ; let him sit up here, if he 
 can keep his eyes open ; and do ye all take what sleep ye can, 
 for we shall start, Inshalla ! ere noon to-morrow.' 
 
 ' You axe to remain with Kasim Sahib,' said Daood to the cook, 
 rousing him, ' and not to stir till morning breaks, or he awakes — 
 dost thou hear ? ' 
 
 ' I do, good Daood ; but methinks thou mightest sit with me 
 too, seeing that it is near morning. By thy beard, I do not like 
 being alone.' 
 
 ' O coward ! thou art not alone ; see, thou hast the hero of the 
 night lying beside thee — one who has slain some men since he 
 last ate ; whereas thou hast not even slain a fowl. I tell thee 
 there is no danger : yonder is my bedding — I shall not be far off 
 if thou wantest me.' 
 
 Soon all was silent around, even the village dogs had ceased to 
 bark ; the clamour of women and of crying frightened children 
 had subsided ; and, except the watchfires in several parts, which 
 threw up their strong red glare against the sky, around which 
 most of the villagers were assembled in groups, nothing indicated 
 that any conflict or alarm had taken place. Scattered about, the 
 Khan's attendants and servants lay wrapped in their sheets in 
 deep sleep. The horses even, apparently secure of rest, had lain 
 down, and all was still, except one of the horses which had been 
 captured, which every now and then sent up a shrill neigh that 
 sounded far and near in the stillness of the night. But above, on 
 the tower, the Patd and several of his best men still kept watch. 
 
 Kasim slept still restlessly, and often sighed and muttered in 
 his sleep. ' His thoughts are with the battle,' thought Zoolficar ; 
 ' they say it was a brave sight to see the Mahrattas go down one 
 by one before his aim : he shot them as he would deer in the 
 jungle — may their mothers be polluted ! Alia ! Alia ! guide us 
 safely now ; this is the third alarm we have had in this accursed 
 country — ^but hark ! What was that he said ? — Ameena ! again 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 55 
 
 Ameena! — the Khanum — why should he dream of her? Poor 
 youth, he woilld have been a fitter mate for her than that man of 
 camps and battles. But it may not be of her he dreams — perhaps 
 he has some one he loves of the same name. Ay, it is very 
 likely ; so dream on, Meer Sahib, may thy slumbers be lighter ! ' 
 
 But they were not ; after httle more than an hour's restless 
 slumber, he awoke, and found the worthy functionary by his side. 
 
 ' How ! thou here, Zoolfoo ! art thou not sleepy? ' 
 
 • It was my lord's order that I should watch you, noble sir, and 
 I only obey it. Methinks you have rested but indifferently, for 
 your sleep has been disturbed, and you have been speaking.' 
 
 ' Ah well, I have but few secrets,' he said gaily, ' so I fear not 
 for the words ; and in truth this cut is rather painful, and too 
 tightly bandaged. See if thou canst find a barber, 2k)olfoo ; I 
 will have these straps undone.' 
 
 'If my lord will trust me,' replied Zoolfoo, 'I will ease his pain. 
 Ere I was a cook I was a barber ; and Hyderabad is not an in- 
 different place to learn how to dress wounds. Mashalla ! our 
 young men are rare hands at street brawls.' 
 
 ' Well, do thy best — at this hour it will be hard to find any 
 one.' 
 
 Zoolfoo was as good as his word. In a short time the band- 
 ages were arranged more easily, as the bleeding had stopped in 
 a great measure, and Kasim found himself refreshed by the 
 change. A hooka too was not to be despised, and this Zoolfoo 
 soon brought from among his stores. 
 
 GraduaUy Kasim lead him to talk of his city, of his home, of 
 his family ; he earnestly wished to know more particulars of the 
 Khanum, of her early life, and her ill-assorted marriage. Zoolfoo 
 mentioned his sister. 
 
 'Ay, her who thou saidst was servant in the Klianum's 
 family.' 
 
 ' The same : she was the Khanum's nurse for awhile, and she 
 is very fond of her.' 
 
 'Why did she not bring her then?' 
 
 ' She wished to come, but the Khan said she would be a trouble 
 on the road, and he left her behind ; but — ' 
 
 ' Perhaps the Khanum did not wish it ? ' 
 
 'Not wish it? Sir, she was grieved to part with her, for 
 she had tended her from her birth, and loved her as her own 
 daughter.' 
 
 ' Then you have often heard of her ? ' 
 
 ' I have, a thousand times. My sister was her own attendant, 
 and never quitted her till the hour of her departure,' 
 
S6 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' Know yoii then how she came to marry the Khan ? You said 
 once before that he was of no family.' 
 
 ' I will tell you,' said die cook. ' Her father is a Munsubdar,* 
 of Nizam All's court nominally he has good pay, and one or -two 
 villages to support his rank ; but he Was expensive in his youth, 
 for he was a gay man, and perhaps not over scrupulous. Gradually 
 the difficulties of the Government caused all the salaries of the 
 officers to fall into arrears. Then came with that a train of dis- 
 tresses ; the elephant was sold, some jewels pledged, — ^then some 
 horses went, and their servants were discharged. There were 
 heavy mortgages made upon the villages, and other difficulties 
 occurred ; the interest accumulated, and the creditors grew very 
 clamorous j some more jewels were sold, and they were quieted 
 for awhile ; but lately they were in distress, I heard, — ^indeed my 
 sister told me her pay and that of other servants had been reduced, 
 and that the fkmily denied themselves many luxuries to which 
 they had been accustomed. This daughter, Ameena, was mar- 
 riageable, and her great beauty was known ; they had many offers 
 for her, but they looked high j they thought the Huzoor t himself 
 might ask for her, and that the fortunes of the house might rise ; 
 and while this was going on, the Khan Sahib, who had his emis- 
 saries abroad to look out for a beautiful wife, heard of her. He 
 offered himself immediately ; his low birth was not thought of, 
 for he had great wealth and bestowed it liberally, and finally the 
 marriage took place with much pomp. The poor child was 
 dazzled; and you see her here, Meer Sahib, exposed to all the 
 vicissitudes of travelling in unsettled times, — one day drowned, — 
 another, attacked by those villainous Mahrattas, — ^whom your 
 worship has freed us of, — when, rose as she is, she never ought 
 to have left the zenankhana of a youthful and valiant lord.' 
 
 Kasim sighed involuntarily. ' It was a base thing,' he said, 'to 
 sell one so fair and young.' 
 
 ' It was, Meer Sahib, — you have rightly called it a sale ; for the 
 Khan had to pay off a heavy mortgage upon two of the villages, 
 which has restored the family to affluence : however the thing is 
 done now, and there is no helping it. I pity the poor Khanum, 
 however, for she has to face two old wives, who will not thank 
 the Khan for bringing one so young and beautiful to his house.' 
 
 * You should keep a watch over her yourself, Zoolfoo.' 
 
 • I wiU, so may Alia give me power ! ' he said earnestly ; ' she 
 does not know me as yet, but I will soon contrive to let her know, 
 and thus I may be a;ble to serve her at a pinch.' 
 
 'And, remember, I am ever ready to aid you,' said the young 
 • A nobleman who holds an office in a native court. + Prince. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 57 
 
 man ; ' I have saved her life once, and, by the blessing of Alia, 
 no harm shall come to so fair a creature while I have power to 
 help her.' 
 
 Just then the morning, which had been long in breaking, 
 showed pretty plainly j and Kasim arose, and performing his 
 ablutions, cried with a loud voice the Azan, or call to prayers. 
 This too aroused the Khan, and joined by several others, they 
 repeated, as indeed was their wont, their prayers together. 
 
 ' I am as stout as ever. Khan Sahib, I thank you,' answered 
 Kasim in reply to the many inquiries of the former ; • the wound 
 pained me a trifle, and your good Zoolficar, who is very expert, 
 loosened the bandages for me ; since then it has been quite easy. 
 But how say you — march or halt, which shall it be ? ' 
 
 ' L£t us take counsel of the Patdl, he seems a decent fellow,' 
 returned the Khan, 'and abide by his advice, — ^he knows the 
 country.' 
 
 He was summoned, and the result of the consultation was 
 advice to them to depart immediately. ' I am disinterested, 
 noble sirs,' he said ; ' for if otherwise, my own fears would prompt 
 me to make you stay by me ; but after your conduct last night 
 I put myself and mywUage out of consideration.' 
 
 'And the men, Meer Sahib?' 
 
 ' I had half engaged them yesterday, when the alarm was given; 
 how say you, Patdl, can we have them ? ' 
 
 ' Surely, surely ! half of those I have shall accompany you ; for 
 I fear no further molestation.' 
 
 They were summoned, and at once expressed their readiness 
 to go ; after this, the preparations were soon completed, a hasty 
 meal of kicheree* was cooked and eaten, and, girding up their 
 loins carefully — seeing that their arms were properly loaded — 
 making every preparation for defence, if necessary, — the party 
 assembled to start. 
 
 Nine of the Mahrattas had fallen in the attack ; of these, two 
 lived, desperately wounded; five horses had been secured, two 
 had been kUled, and the remainder had been carried off by the 
 horsemen. 
 
 The horses the Khan appropriated to his own use, and gener- 
 ously gave what plunder was found upon them and on the bodies 
 to be divided among the sufferers of the village they had seen 
 burned, directing the Pat^l to account for the sum. He had in 
 vain attempted to press it upon Kasim. 
 
 Now, therefore, our travellers are once more upon the wide 
 plains, moving warily and close together : altogether they are 
 * Rice and pulse boiled together. 
 
S8 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 twelve good horsemen, and, with the six or seven villagers, armed 
 with long matchlocks, and the grooms mounted on the ponies 
 which the servants had ridden, present a very formidable appear- 
 ance ; while the dry gravelly road allows them to push forward at 
 a good pace without interruption. 
 
 The road from Bellaiy to the Mysore country appears flat, but 
 in reality is not so ; the land rises in long and gentle undulations 
 some thousand feet in the course of about one hundred miles, — 
 that is, from the town of Bellary to where it enters a rugged pass 
 between some mountains, one side of which is formed by the 
 rough and stony back of the fort of Pencondah. As the traveller 
 advances from Bellary, he sees these undulations, each of many 
 miles perhaps in length ; and when arrived at the top of one, 
 expecting to descend, he finds another spread out before him, 
 perhaps of equal length, the summit of which he must reach in 
 like manner. The difference this causes in the climate is most 
 remarkable; a few days' travel produces an entire revolution; 
 and from the steaming heat of the Carnatic, at Bellary and above 
 it, the traveller as he proceeds southward breathes a purer, cooler, 
 and more genial atmosphere. 
 
 The heat which had existed where we began our narrative, and 
 which rendered travelling irksome, had now given place to coolness, 
 which even at near midday made them glad to wrap shawls or 
 other warm garments around them ; and thus, while it invigorated 
 man and beast, enabled them to push on rapidly without fatigue. 
 
 They had travelled for two days without alarm, and were with- 
 in an easy distance of the entrance of the pass, when, on arriving 
 at the top of one of the summits we have mentioned, they saw 
 with some alarm a body of horse before them, scattered, and 
 apparently on the same track as themselves. 
 
 ' It is the Mahrattas 1 ' cried the Khan. 
 
 ' True,' said Kasim ; ' but I fear them not now — ^we are too 
 strong ; see, the rogues turn ! ' 
 
 ' They do,' said the Khan ; 'but never fear, let us spread out a 
 little on each side ; they think us some smajl party, whom they 
 can plunder with impunity.' The little manoeuvre was done, and 
 had an instant effect. The Mahratta horsemen, who were coming 
 down about a mile distant at the gallop, suddenly halted, held a 
 hurried consultation for awhile, and then struck off' to the right, 
 down a road which lead to the westward, and, having gone a 
 good distance, quite out of shot, again halted. 
 
 ' They are wary fellows,' said Kasim, ' and have profited by our 
 former lesson ; but as we pass them we will fire a shot or two : 
 that will teach them their distance, or I am mistaken.' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 59. 
 
 It was done, and had the desired effect Ajb^fiOiseinen moved 
 further away, though they travelled in a parMfil Un^r^vghots were, 
 however, discharged from time to time ; and the wnolepaxty, jn- 
 cluding the lady, were amused at their consternation, as they 
 scattered at every discharge. 
 
 Gradually, as they neared the pass, the Mahrattas dropped 
 behind; and after they had entered the rocky valley, the first 
 turn shut them from their view altogether. 
 
 ' Now we are properly on our own ground,' said the Khan, ' and 
 soon we shall see one of the frontier posts ; there we shall be 
 secure from all alarms, and from thence to the city there is no 
 fear.' 
 
 As he said, after a short travel further, they approached a 
 strong village, well garrisoned ; and here, after their many perils 
 and escapes, they rested safely for three days ere they pursued 
 their journey ; indeed Kasim's wound needed rest. 
 
 The information the Khan gave was acted upon, and, a party of 
 horse scoured the country in every direction, but without success ; 
 the marauders had made their escape, and were no more seen. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Leaving for the present the Khan and his companions- to pursue 
 their way to Seringapatam, we claim the usual privilege of writers 
 to -transport our readers where, and as suddenly, as we please, 
 and 
 
 ' To take up our wings and be off to the west." 
 
 To the perfect understanding of the events connected with this 
 veritable history, therefore, we feel ourselves obliged to retrograde 
 a few years, and to leave the glowing climate of the East for 
 a while, to breathe in idea the colder yet more congenial air of 
 England. 
 
 It was on the evening, then, of a wet and sleety day of December 
 1785, that a large and merry family group sat around a cheerful 
 fire in the comfortable drawing-room of the rectory of Alston, in 
 
 ^shire. It consisted of the rector, his lady, and two sons, one 
 
 of whom, Edward, had returned from college for the vacation, and 
 who was a youth of perhaps eighteen years of age ; his brother 
 Charles was somewhat younger, of that awkward period of life, 
 between school and college, which is not often productive of 
 
6o TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 much gratification to the possessor, and which all desire to see 
 changed, — fond mothers, perhaps, again to childhood, — ^fathers, to 
 manhood, — ^and sisters, to anything more agreeable and ornamental 
 than the awkwardness and mawvaise honte peculiarly attendant 
 upon that epoch in life. 
 
 There were three girls, one between Edward and Charles, and 
 another some years younger ; a third, as yet a child. Anywhere, 
 any individual of the family would have been very remarkable for 
 good looks ; but here, when all were assembled together, they 
 were a sight round that cheerful blazing fire which caused the eye 
 of the mother to glisten with something like a tear of pleasure as 
 she looked around the circle, and the heart of the father to swell 
 with proud satisfaction. 
 
 Mr. Compton, the rector, the second son of a baronet of the 
 county, had early been destined to the Church. In addition to a 
 very handsome private fortune bequeathed to him by his father, 
 the rich living of Alston had been secured to him while he was at 
 college, and he had succeeded to it as soon as he was of age to 
 be ordained. He had married early in life the sister of an old 
 friend and college chum, also a baronet of a neighbouring county, 
 and the union had proved one of continued happiness. With 
 an ample fortune, gentle and refined tastes and pursuits, — an 
 excellent musician, a tolerable painter, a good classic, and with 
 literary abilities above an ordinary standar4,-^Mr. Compton had 
 resources within himself which ensured him a placid and equable 
 enjoyment of life. A sincere and pious man, his ministry was a 
 blessing to his numerous parishioners ; and his society, where so 
 much intelligence and accomplishment prevailed, was eagerly 
 sought for by all the families of the county neighbourhood. 
 
 With no remarkable strength of -character, Mrs. Compton was 
 yet an admirable woman ; she was possessed of but few accom- 
 plishments, but then those were not the days when youth was 
 crammed with knowledge ; she had, however, a fair share for a 
 lady of that period. Perhaps her talent for music had partly 
 attracted the notice, and helped, with her amiable disposition and 
 great personal charms, to win the admiration, and eventually to 
 secure the affections of her husband. In her career as a mother 
 she had been kind and loving, even beyond a mother's usual 
 fondness ; and if at times her excess of affection had overpowered 
 the sense of her duty in checking the foibles of her children, yet 
 she had so gentle and admirable a monitor at her side, one who'Se 
 advice and example she esteemed the most precious blessings 
 vouchsafed to her, that she had been enabled not only to bring 
 up her children in perfect obedience to her, and in strict moral 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUJSr. 6i 
 
 and religious principles, but in that complete harmony of inter- 
 course among themselves, the result of judicious training and 
 pure example. 
 
 In truth so completely united a family, though perhaps not of 
 rare occurrence, is not so often to be seen as inight be desirable 
 to society ; and the young Comptons were noted through the 
 neighbourhood for their extreme good-breeding, and for the 
 devoted affection they bore one another. 
 
 Happy indeed as we know the family to have been, — as it must 
 needs have been from its constitution; — it had suffered already 
 one stroke of sorrow, which, mingling as it ever will in all the 
 affairs of life, and with those who apparently are farthest removed 
 from its influence, had come in a shape and at a time but little 
 expected by any. 
 
 Their eldest son, Herbert, was a high-spirited yet fine-tempered 
 youth. He was destined by his father for the Church, in the 
 offices of which he himself felt such satisfaction, that no employ 
 ment or pursuit in life, he thought, could equal the gratification 
 afforded by them. Herbert, however, had from the first shown 
 an unconquerable repugnance to the sacred calling. It had been 
 proposed to him on his leaving school, preparatory to his entering 
 on his college course ; and though he had gone through one or 
 two terms at Oxford with credit, yet he continued to implore his 
 father so strongly not to persist in destining him to this profession 
 that at last Mr. Compton yielded, and the plan was abandoned. 
 
 Nor was Mrs. Compton suprised to hear a declaration made 
 with much fear and hesitation, that a military life of all others 
 was that in which he felt assured he should succeed best, as it 
 was most consonant to his high spirit and daring character. 
 
 Much entreaty was used — kind, gentle, loving entreaty — by 
 both his parents, especially his mother, to whom it was an agon- 
 ising thought that her first-born, her boy of whom she was so 
 proud, should embrace a profession which would expose him to 
 other that the ordinary dangers of life. All was however of no 
 avail; and at the age of eighteen, or thereabouts, his father, 
 whose family influence was great, was enabled to purchase for 
 him a commission in a regiment of the line. 
 
 There was at that time no immediate cause to suppose that the 
 regiment would be called out on active service ; and as that to 
 which he had been appointed was after a short time quartered in 
 their own neighbourhood, they had the gratification of seeing 
 Herbert happy, fond of his corps and his duties, beloved by his 
 brother officers, and studying all the details of science connected 
 with his new profession ; and indeed his noble appearance in his 
 
62 TJPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 uniform, and his now gay cheerful disposition — so different from 
 what his deportment had been while in uncertainty about himself 
 and his future career — in a great degree reconciled his parents 
 to the change in their plans for his life. 
 
 Promotion, if the means were at hand, was no difficult matter 
 to obtain in those days ; and Mr. Compton, by the advice of a 
 relative, a general officer who had assisted him in obtaining the 
 commission in the first instance, had purchased Herbert on as 
 far as a company, and was waiting for a favourable opportunity 
 for exchanging him into a cavalry regiment. But while the nego- 
 tiations for purchase were proceeding, sudden orders arrived for 
 the regiment to proceed on foreign service, — to India in fact, 
 where the increased possessions of the iTast India Company re- 
 quired additional protection. 
 
 This news was a thunderbolt to the family, coming as it did so 
 unexpectedly. It might have been foreseen and thought of ; but 
 it had not, for Herbert was with them, and that was enough; and 
 any idea of his leaving them, if distantly contemplated, had never 
 been allowed to dwell in their hearts. It was in vain that 
 Mrs. Compton besought Herbert, in the agony of her maternal 
 affection, to resign, to exchange, to ask for leave of absence, to 
 carry into effect the negotiations which had been pending. 
 
 The young man loved his mother with an intensity of affection, 
 but he saw also to yield to its dictates in this instance would be 
 to forfeit his honour and the obligations of his duty. Mr. 
 Compton forbore to urge him at all ; his fine feelings at once told 
 him that the young man was right ; and though it was a sore trial 
 to part with one so dear, to relinquish him to the chances of 
 hard service in so distant and then unknown a land, yet he did 
 not murmur ; and in many a secret prayer in his closet, and daily 
 in his family worship, commended him, as a father's affection 
 only can prompt prayer for a child, to the protection of that 
 merciful Providence which had as yet bestowed on him and his 
 unnumbered blessings. 
 
 But there was yet another on whom this unlooked-for blow 
 fell even more heavily than on those we had mentioned. Amy 
 Hayward, the only daughter of a gentleman of fortune, whose 
 estate joined the fields and extensive lawns and grounds which 
 formed the glebe of the rectory, had from the earliest times she 
 could remember been the companion and playmate of all the 
 Comptons. Her two brothers had shared the intimacy with her, 
 and whenever the boys were at their respective homes, there was 
 a daily intercourse kept up between them, — daily meetings, 
 rambles in Beechwood Park, fishing in the brawling trout-stream 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 63 
 
 which ran through it, nutting in its noble woods, and a thou- 
 sand other joyous amusements peculiar to a happy country 
 childhood. 
 
 We say country childhood, for we feel that there is the widest 
 difference between that and a childhood spent in a town. With 
 the former there is a store of remembrances of gentle pleasures, 
 of those natural delights which are so inseparable to boyhood or 
 girlhood, — ^when the first gushes of the deep-seated springs of 
 feeling are expanded among the beauties of natural scenes, in 
 themselves peaceful, and speaking quiet to the heart, ever too 
 prone to excitement when full vent is given to joyous spirits ; — 
 where every occupation is fraught with delights, which, if the 
 faintest remembrance remains in after life, are treasured up as the 
 purest perhaps of all the pleasurable impressions the heart has 
 ever known. 
 
 How different is the town boy ! he is a man before his time ; 
 and in that one word how much meaning is there ! How much 
 less innocence — ^how many cares ! his amusements lack the ease 
 of hilarity and freedom ; he sees the dull monotonous streets 
 teeming with spectacles of vice or misery, — ^the endless form of 
 busy man ever before him, instead of bright skies, the green 
 recesses of the woods, the fresh balmy air, the thousand exquisite 
 creations of nature, ever appealing to his best sympathies. A city 
 can teach him little that can remain to benefit his understanding, 
 or invigorate its keenest and most delicious enjoyment, a complete 
 appreciation of nature in all her forms ; but, on the contrary, it 
 may induce a callousness, which too often grows upon him in 
 after life, and causes those simple pleasures to be despised or un- 
 noticed, in which, after all, perhaps, are contained the germs of 
 the purest enjoyment. 
 
 Amy was a few years younger than Herbert; beautiful as a 
 child, that beauty had grown up with her, and appeared to 
 increase. But her features were not regular, nor could she 
 properly be called handsome ; and yet if large, lustrous, loving 
 eyes, a fair and bright complexion, and long and light brown 
 curling hair, with a small figure, in which roundness, activity, and 
 extreme grace were combined, can be called beauty, she possessed 
 it eminently. Her face too, which was ever varying in expression 
 and lighted up with intelligence, was a fair index to her mind, — 
 full of affection and keen perception of beauty. If Herbert had not 
 the latter quality so enthusiastically as she had, he at least had 
 sufficient with cultivation to make him a tolerable draughtsman ; 
 and Beechwood Park contained so many natural charms, that, as 
 they grew up, there was scarcely a point of blue and distant 
 
64 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 landscape, rocky brawling stream, or quiet glade, which they had 
 not sketched in company. 
 
 We have said they had been inseparable from childhood — ay, 
 from the earliest times ; though the young Coihptons and Hay- 
 wards joined in all their pastimes, yet Herbert had ever a quiet 
 stroll with Amy. Her garden, her greenhouse, her rabbits, her 
 fowls, her gold and silver fish — all were of as much interest to 
 him for her sake as to herself. And so it had continued : child- 
 ish cares and pastimes had given place to more matured amuse- 
 ments and pursuits, and the intercourse of the elders of the 
 families continued to be so harmonious, that no interruption had 
 ever occurred to their constant society. 
 
 If Herbert or Amy had been questioned on the subject, they 
 could hardly halve said that as yet they loved; but it would be 
 unnatural to suppose that, knowing and appreciating each other 
 as they did, they should not have I'oved, and that ardently. 
 The fire had been kindled long ago, and slumbered only for 
 a passing breath of excitement to fan it into a bright and en- 
 during flame. 
 
 It was, then, on the day which followed a night of intense 
 anguish to all — that on which no longer any opposition had been 
 made to Herbert's departure, and they were beginning to bear to 
 talk of it with some calmness, that Mr. Compton said to his lady, 
 as they sat after breakfast, ' You had better write this sad news 
 to the Haywards, my love ; they have always felt such an interest 
 in Herbert's welfare, that they ought to hear this from ourselves, 
 before it is carried there by the servants, and perhaps broken 
 abruptly to them.' 
 
 ' I will be the bearer of the news myself,' said Herbert, starting 
 up ; 'no one ought to tell it but me ; and it would distress you, 
 dear mother, to write it ; besides, I promised to go over to Amy, 
 either yesterday or to-day, to sketch with her, as she wants to see 
 the new style I have learned.' 
 
 ' Thank you, my kind darling,' she replied ; ' you have indeed 
 saved me the necessity of inflicting a pang on them, and one on 
 myself too. And you must screw up your courage to the sticking- 
 place when you mention it to Amy,' she added almost gaily, with 
 some emphasis on the name ; ' poor child, she will grieve to hear 
 it indeed ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, she will be sorry, very sorry, I know,' said Herbert ; ' but 
 it can't be helped now, and I must put as good a face as I can 
 upon the matter to them all. I will be as gay as I can,' he said, 
 taking up his hat and opening the door, ' and will not be long 
 away.' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 65 
 
 Poor fellow ! the last words were tremulous enou^ fot & gay 
 captain to utter, and his mother and father thought so too. 
 
 ' It will be unexpected to them,' he said after a painful pause. 
 
 ' Very indeed, dearest,' was the only reply she could make, for 
 her tears were flowing silently and fast 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 For the convenience of the families, a gravel walk had been 
 made through the rectory fields to the little river which divided 
 them from the park. Across this Mr. Hayward had thrown a 
 very elegant rustic bridge, the joint design of Amy and Herbert, 
 to replace a rude yet picturesque one formed of planks with side- 
 rails, which had existed previously. 
 
 Over this, Herbert rapidly passed onwards into the park ; and 
 avoiding the walk, which had been carried by a considerable 
 detour through some beautiful glades, struck at once across the 
 sward, in a direct line for the house. 
 
 At any other time, the extreme beauty of the day, and of the 
 park under its influence, would not have failed to attract the 
 attention of the young man, and to have caused him to stop more 
 than once to admire for the hundredth time some noble avenues 
 of beech and oak — some picturesquely-grouped herd of deer or 
 flock of sheep, or some exquisite effect of light and shade as the 
 soft floating clouds transiently caused it. He would perhaps 
 have sauntered gently ; but now he hurried on, wrapt in his own 
 reflections, and they were not of the most agreeable or intelligible 
 kind. The flocks of sheep as he passed, fled startled at his quick 
 approach, while the deer raised themselves from their recumbent 
 postures and gazed wonderingly at him, whom they almost knew. 
 
 ' By Heaven ! ' he exclaimed, as he reached the hall-door and 
 rang for admittance, ' I hardly know what I am come about, or 
 what to say. But it must be done, — so I will let things take 
 their chance. I can invent no plan of proceeding which will 
 spare them pain or myself either. No, — better leave it to the 
 force of circumstances.' 
 
 ' Is any one at home, Edward ? ' he said to the footman who 
 answered the bell. 
 
 ' Yes, sir. Master and Miss Amy are in the study.' 
 
 * Thank you ; ' and he passed on with a beating heart 
 
 ■& 
 
66 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 • Well, noble captain, what news ? ' ' Ah, I am so glad you are 
 come, Herbert, I want you so much,' were the greetings of the 
 father and daughter, in their hearty, unformal, and affectionate 
 manner. ' Mamma tried to persuade me to go out with her to 
 pay a visit to the Somervilles,' continued Amy, ' but I would not, 
 for I felt somehow or other that you would come, and, as I said, 
 I want you. You have been such a truant of late, that I was 
 really beginning to be half angry with you. So ponder well 
 on the escape you have made of my wrath by this opportune 
 appearance.' 
 
 Herbert said something about his duties, only half intelligible 
 to himself 
 
 ' Yes,' continued the light-hearted girl, ' those duties are horrid 
 things ; ever since you have been a soldier, we have seen nothing 
 of you at all, and I am very much disposed to be very angry with 
 your colonel and all your regiment for not giving you perpetual 
 leave of absence. I declare I have no companion now, for you 
 know the boys are both at college. He is very naughty not to 
 come oftener, — is he not, papa ? ' 
 
 ' Perhaps Herbert is right, my love, in not humouring so giddy 
 a girl as yourself But here he is now, so make the most of him, 
 for there may be another week or fortnight of duty which he has 
 come to tell you of.' 
 
 How near he had guessed the truth, — unconsciously — only so 
 far short of its sad reality ! 
 
 Herbert winced. ' I am sure if I had but known that I was 
 wanted, I would have come,' he said hesitatingly ; ' but the truth 
 is, I have been occupied both at home and at the barracks for the 
 last few days by some business which I could not leave.' 
 
 ' Well, your being here proves that to be all over, and so you 
 are not to think of going away to-day,' said Amy. • I want you 
 to help me with a drawing I am doing for Lady Somerville ; and 
 as she is a great connoisseur, it must be as good as our united 
 heads and fingers can make it ; and before we sit down to that, 
 I wish you to run down to the river with me, and sketch a 
 group of rocks, hazel-bushes, and reeds, which I want for the 
 foreground of my picture. Now, no excuses, Herbert, though 
 you look as if you were going to begirt some, — I will not hear 
 them. Wait here with papa, till I put on my bonnet and get 
 my sketch-book. 
 
 ' Now, don't let him go, I pray you, papa,' she continued, look- 
 ing back from the door she had just opened, ' for I shall not be 
 five mjnutes away.' 
 
 ' You hear your doom, Herbert,' said Mr. Hayward gaily ; ' so 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 67 
 
 come, sit down, tell me all about your regiment, and how this 
 exchange of yours prospers. A dashing young fellow like you 
 ought to be in the cavalry, and I hope to hear of your soon 
 exchanging the scarlet for the blue.' 
 
 ' That is all off, I am sorry to say, sir,' replied Herbert. 
 
 ' Off ! what do you mean ? Surely your father told me that he 
 had lodged the money for the exchange, and that the matter had 
 only to pass through the forms of the War Office.' 
 
 ' So he had ; but an event has happened which has put an end 
 to all our hopes upon the subject.' 
 
 ' What, is the man dead ? ' 
 
 ' No, sir, he is well enough, but — ' and Herbert hesitated. 
 
 ' But what, Herbert? If there is anything that I can do, — you 
 know there can be no ceremony between us.' 
 
 ' No, no, sir, I well know that ; and — ' 
 
 ' Why what is the matter with the boy ? ' cried Mr. Hayward, 
 observing that Herbert seemed to be struggling with some strong 
 emotion ; ' has anything happened ? ' 
 
 ' You may as well know it at once,' replied Herbert, mastering 
 his feelings. ' I am come on purpose to tell it to you, lest you 
 should hear it in some out-of-the-way manner. My regiment is 
 ordered abroad, and I am to go, of course.' 
 
 'Well, I am glad to hear it,' said Mr. Hajrward; 'you will 
 have a pleasant continental frolic, and see something of the 
 world ; — and sorry too, since we shall lose you for a time.' 
 
 'But our destination is not the continent, but India,' said 
 Herbert sadly. 
 
 ' Good God ! you don't mean that,' exclaimed Mr. Hayward, 
 rising. • Pardon me, my dear boy, that I should have spoken 
 lightly on a subject which is so distressing. India ! that indeed 
 is a sad word : can nothing be done to prevent this ? cannot you 
 exchange? cannot — ' 
 
 ' I would not if I were able, dear sir,' said Herbert. ' I feel 
 this to be my duty ; I could not in any honour leave the regiment 
 at such a time, without a suspicion of the basest motives being 
 attached to my character.' 
 
 ' Tut, tut, Herbert ! the thing is done every day, so let not 
 that distress or prevent you.' 
 
 Herbert shook his head. 
 
 ' I say it is, I could tell you a dozen instances.* 
 
 • Perhaps you might, where the only enemy was the climate ; 
 but our possessions in the East are menaced, and the service 
 will be active. I learned this when the news came to the regi- 
 ment ; and as none of the officers have attempted an exchange, 
 
68 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 except one or two whose characters are not high, I feel that I 
 cannot.' 
 
 ' And you are right, Herbert,' said Mr. Hayward, after a pause, 
 ' you are right. God help your parents ! your poor mother — ^tWs 
 will be a sad blow to her ! ' and he paused, as a tear glistened in 
 his eyes. 
 
 ' It was at first, certainly, sir ; but they are already more com- 
 posed, and are beginning to bear to talk of it.' 
 
 ' And how soon are you to go ? The Government will give 
 you some time, surely, for preparation.' 
 
 ' Very little, I am sorry to say. We march for Dover on Mon- 
 day, and sail, we hear, in ten days or a fortnight.' 
 
 'Monday! Bless me, and to-day is Thursday; this is the 
 worse news of all. Poor Amy, what will she say ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, sir,' said Herbert, ' I want your advice, whether to men- 
 tion it to her myself or not. I cannot refuse to accompany her 
 now j indeed, you saw she would take no denial. I will do 
 exactly as you please.' 
 
 ' Why, it is an unpleasant matter to any of us to think or speak of, 
 and I really do not know what to say. But as you are the person 
 concerned, and can give her every information yourself,' continued 
 Mr. Ha)rward, after a pause, ' perhaps you had better talk it over 
 with her. Break it as gently as you can, however, for it would be 
 useless to deny to you that she will be very sorry to hear it.' 
 
 ' Come, Herbert ! ' cried Amy, opening the door ; ' I have 
 been longer away than I thought. Come, here are books and 
 paper, and my stool for you to carry ; so make haste.' 
 
 ' You will be discreet with her, Herbert,' said Mr. Hayward 
 gently, giving his hand. 
 
 Herbert could only press it in acknowledgment. In a 
 moment afterwards they were gone. 
 
 Mr. Hayward turned to the window involuntarily, to watch 
 them as they descended the gentle slope of the lawn. There 
 was a vague thought in his mind that they had better not have 
 gone ; but as he could find no reason for the idea, he dismissed 
 it. He was a benevolent, simple-hearted man; he had had 
 neither the necessity nor the inclination to study character, ahc^ 
 could not at once estimate the effect such a communication as hrs 
 daughter was about to receive would have upon her ; nor did it 
 at once strike him that the long and intimate association she had 
 held with Herbert could have produced any tenderer feeling than 
 she had ever expressed or appeared to entertain. Her mother, 
 had she been there, might have judged differently ; but, as Mr. 
 Hayward soliloquised, as their retreating figures were lost to his 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 69 
 
 view behind a low shrubbery, ^ Matters must take their own course 
 now ; it is too late to recall them.' 
 
 Onwards they went ; leaviiig the broad walk which led by the 
 side of the lawn and shrubberies, they at once struck across the 
 park, down one of the noble glades of beech-trees from whence 
 the place took its name. The day was bright and warm — one of 
 those blessed days of June, when all nature seems to put forward 
 her choicest productions for the gratification and admiration of 
 man-^when cowslip and daisy, buttercup and wild anemone, with 
 a thousand other flowers of lowly pretensions yet of exquisite 
 beauty, have opened their bright blossoms to the sunlight, and 
 are wooing it in silent thankfulness. 
 
 The verdant carpet beneath them was full of these, glowing in 
 their freshest bloom j the sheep and lambs, dotted here and there 
 upon every slope, lazily cropped the short, soft herbage j and the 
 tinkling of their bells and the faint bleating of the lambs, now 
 distant, now near, mingled with the hum of the many bees which 
 busily drew their loads of sweets, roaming from flower to flower. 
 Butterflies of many hues, their gorgeous wings glaring in the 
 bright lig^t, fluttered swiftly along, coquetting as it were with the 
 flowers, and enjoying in their full vigour the sunny brightness of 
 their short lives. 
 
 There was no wind, and yet a freshness in the air which tem- 
 pered the heat of the sun ; the beech-trees, with their shining 
 leaves, appeared sleeping in the sunlight, and as if resting, 
 during the short period there might be allowed them, from their 
 almost ceaseless waving. Far around them the park stretched 
 away into broad glades, some ended by woods, others presenting 
 peeps of blue and dim distance j while through all there Was a 
 vapour floating, sufficient only to take off the harshness from 
 every outline, whether of tree or distance, and to blend the whole 
 harmoniously into that soft dreamy appearance, so exquisite and ' 
 so soothing to behold. 
 
 ' How lovely the paric is to-day, Herbert !' said Amy, ' is it 
 not? Every step we take seems to present a new picture which 
 ought to be drawn. Look now at that group of sheep and deer 
 almost intermixed; the deer have chosen the fern which is 
 partly under that magnificent beech, the sheep are all among 
 them, and their young lambs enjoying their merry gambols ; the 
 light is falling in that beautiful chequered manner which I strive 
 in vain to represent ; and yet how great are the masses, how per- 
 fect the unstudied composition, how exquisite tbe colour ! The 
 brightest and warmest green, spangled with flowers, is before us ; 
 this is broken by the shadows : beyond the tree there is a delicious 
 
70 TIPPOO SVLTAUN. 
 
 grey, melting imperceptibly into the most tender blue. Is it not 
 a picture now, Herbert ? ' 
 
 ' A lovely one indeed, Amy ; a study worthy of Berghem or 
 Cuyp. What exquisite perceptions of nature must they have 
 had ! their pictures, and those of many of the same class, how 
 simple ! and yet painted with the most consummate art and 
 nicest finish. Scarcely a flower escapes them, yet there is not 
 one too many represented, nor one in any way interfering with 
 the harmony of their colouring. I often long for such power ; 
 for we only can appreciate their sldll and genius, by our own 
 awkward attempts to imitate them. Indeed, when I look on the 
 works of any of these great masters, my own appear so con- 
 temptible in my eyes, that I am tempted to forswear the gentle 
 craft altogether.' 
 
 ' Indeed, you are to do no such thing, Herbert, but help me 
 to sketch, and to blunder on through many a drawing yet, I 
 have no idea of being put out of conceit of my own perform- 
 ances, for which I have a high respect, I assure you. But come, 
 if we stay loitering by every old beech-tree and group of sheep 
 or deer, I shall get no sketch done in time for you to copy on 
 my drawing, and shall be obliged perhaps to listen to some 
 terrible excuses of duty or business. So come, we have yet a 
 good way to walk.' 
 
 Beguiling the way, little more than a quarter of a mile, by 
 gentle converse upon familiar, yet to them interesting subjects, 
 they reached the busy, murmuring river, — ^now stealing quietly 
 under a bank, — ^now chafed in its passage over a few stones, — 
 here eddying past a rock and covered with white foam, — there 
 widening out into a little pool, partly natural, partly artificial, the 
 glassy surface of which was broken into circles by the rapid rising 
 of the trout, which eagerly leaped after the flies that sported 
 upon it. 
 
 There was a small pathway beside the stream which had been 
 the work of all the boys some years ago ; in some places it wound 
 through thickets of alder and hazel, which met above it, forming 
 a green alcove impervious to the sun ; again, under some mossy 
 bank or wide-spreading ash, where a rustic seat had been erected. 
 Further as it advanced, it led round a projecting bank to a little 
 open bay surrounded by rocks, one of which jutted out boldly 
 into the stream that brawled noisily past it ; and the open space, 
 once a level spot of greensward, had been laid out irregularly in 
 a little garden, which now bloomed with many sweet and beau- 
 tiful flowers, of kinds despised perhaps nowadays, but not the 
 less lovely for all that. Tall hollyhocks there were, and roses ; 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. ii 
 
 and honeysuckles had been trained up against the rocks, with 
 jessamine, clematis, and other creepers, which poured forth their 
 fragrance on the air. 
 
 Many a time had the little circles of Beechwood and Alston 
 united here, and many a joyous pic-nic and dance had occupied 
 hours which could never be forgotten by any. 
 
 It was a lovely spot indeed ; the rocky bank around the little 
 circle was, as we have said, covered with creepers ; festoons of 
 ivy hung from above, and over all nodded some ash or other 
 forest-trees, mingled with underwood and fern. On the oppo- 
 site side of the river, worn away by the water which had run past 
 it for countless years, the bank was high and steep, covered with 
 ivy and drooping fern ; all sorts of little peering wild flowers 
 lurked among its recesses, with mosses whose colours glistened 
 like emerald and gold j above it grew two or three noble ashes 
 and beeches, whose feathery foliage descended in minute and 
 graceful sprays down to the bank, and waved with every breath 
 of wind. 
 
 A tiny summer-house, or hermitage as they had called it, made 
 of pine-logs and thatched with heath, stood in the corner formed 
 by the projection round which they were passing ; and thither 
 they directed their steps, for it commanded a view of the whole 
 of the little amphitheatre, the rock, the river, and the bank be- 
 yond. Though there w^as a kind of garden, yet there was nothing 
 artificial in its appearance ; the few flowers looked almost like the 
 spontaneous grovrth of the spot, and did not interfere with the 
 perfectly wild yet beautiful character of the scene, which other- 
 wise was as nature in one of her bountiful moods had fashioned 
 and left it, — a nook wherein man might worship her the more 
 devoutly. The whole glowed under the bright beams of the 
 noonday sun, and there was not a breath of wind to disturb the 
 complete serenity and dreamy effect of the place. 
 
 ' Now sit down here, Herbert,' said Amy, ' and begin yonder 
 by that ivy. You are to draw me all the jutting rock, the water 
 eddying round it, the reeds here by the brink, and give me a bit 
 of distance beyond ; and I do not think,' she added with enthu- 
 siasm, ' that the world could show a lovelier spot to-day than our 
 little hermitage. I only wish I could grasp it all, and put it upon 
 my paper as I see it : do not you often feel so ? ' 
 
 ' Indeed I do. Amy, and am vexed at my own clumsy attempts 
 to imitate nature ; but I will do my best for you to-day. I may 
 not soon again have such an opportunity. 
 
 'You mean there will not be such another delicious day, 
 Herbert ; but I do not despair now of the weather.' 
 
72 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 Herbert was silent; he had thought his remark might have 
 led to the subject he did not know how to break. He looked 
 at his companion, and he felt how hard it would be to leave one 
 so beautiful, nay, so loved as she was. He had never spoken to 
 her of love ; but now the hour approached when he was to leave 
 her, and there were feelings within him struggling for expression 
 which he could ill restrain ; his thoughts oppressed him, and 
 though he continued to sketch he was sUent, 
 
 ' You are very dull and absent to-day,. Herbert,' she said at 
 length, as she continued looking over his shoulder; 'but you 
 are drawing that foliage and the old rock very nicely, so I must 
 not scold you ; ' and again she continued to converse. She tried 
 many topics, she spoke eloquently and feelingly of her boundless 
 love of nature, she told him what she had been reading, asked 
 him a thousand questions about his duties, his regiment, his 
 companions, — all of which he answered mechanically ; for his 
 heart was too busy for him to heed the replies his tongue gave. 
 
 ' Upon my word, I do not know what to make of you to-day, 
 Herbert,' she cried, laughing, as he had given some absurd reply 
 to one of her questions or -sallies which was not in any way 
 relative to it ' You draw most meritoriously, and better than 
 ever I saw you before, but my words fall on heedless ears ; for 
 I am sure you have neither heard nor understood a word of 
 what I have been saying this hour past Now make haste, — a 
 few touches will finish that, and you can add figures afterwards 
 if you like. I am sure you are unwell. If you are so, I insist 
 on your giving up the drawing.' 
 
 ' I shall never again have such an opportunity, dear Amy,' he 
 said ; ' not at least for a long time, so I had better do all I can 
 now.' There was much sadness in his tone. 
 
 ' What do you mean by that ? this is the second time I have 
 heard you say it,' she replied anxiously ; ' you surely cannot be 
 going to leave us again ; the regiment has only been here two 
 months, and — tell me, I beseech you, Herbert,' she continued as 
 he looked up from the drawing, and distress was very visible 
 upon his countenance; 'tell me what you have to say. Why 
 do you look so sad ? ' 
 
 ' Because, dear Amy, I have news which will pain you, — that 
 is, I think it will, — ^for we have ever been so linked together : 
 you have guessed the truth, — I am indeed to leave, — and that 
 so soon that my own brain is confused by the sudden orders we 
 have received.' 
 
 She turned as pale as death, and her lips quivered; all the 
 misery and danger she had ever heard of foreign service rushed 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUM, 73 
 
 at once overwhelmingly into^her thoughts. She tried to speak, 
 but could not. 
 
 'It must be told sooner or later,' he thought, laying down 
 the sketch and drawing towards her ; he continued, though with 
 much difficulty in preserving his composure, — 
 
 ' The regiment is ordered upon service, Amy, and after many 
 thoughts I find I have no alternative but to accompany it. We 
 march for Dover in a few daysj the transports, we hear, will 
 meet us there ; and after we have embarked, the convoy fleef 
 for India will join us at Portsmouth or Plymouth.' 
 
 ' For India ! ' were the only words the poor girl could utter, 
 as she sunk helpless and fainti^ upon the seat. 
 
 CHAPTER 3L 
 
 ' Amy, dear Amy ! ' cried the young man, agonised by her bitter 
 sobs, which ceased not, though he had raised her up, and sup^ 
 porting her hardly-sensible form strove to console her, but in 
 vain. ' Amy, speak to me f one word, only one word, and you 
 will be better : call me by my name — an3rthing — only do not 
 look so utterly wretched, lior sob so bitterly. God knows I 
 have enough to bear in leaving you so siiddenly, but this misery 
 is worst of all. Dear Amy, look up ! say that you wiU try to 
 conquer this, and I shall have the less to reproach myself with 
 for having told you of so much.' But she spoke not ; she could 
 not utter one word for the choking sensation in her throat. She 
 passed her hand over it ofl;en, tried in vain to swallow, and gasped 
 m the attempt. 
 
 ' Good God, you are ill ! ' exclaimed Herbert hurriedly ; 
 what can be done ? what can I get ? My own Amy ! — dearest, 
 dearest ! — do not look so.' But his entreaties were of no avail 
 against her overpowering grief; she had struggled with the hys- 
 terical feeling, till she could no longer oppose it, and yielded to 
 its influence. 
 
 Distracted, Herbert knew not what to do. Aid there was 
 none nearer than the house, and he could not leave her — ^he 
 dared not He raised her gently, and bore her like a child to 
 the river's brinOs. He unloosed her bonnet, and sprinkled water 
 on her face ; it revived her ; and after some time and difficulty 
 he succeeded in making her drink a little from his closed hands. 
 
74 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 She recovered gradually, but lay sobbing still bitterly upo» the 
 grass, weakened and exhausted by the violence of her emotions. 
 Herbert continued to hang over her in the greatest anxiety, and 
 to implore her to speak in the tenderest epithets. He had not 
 discovered how dear she was to him till he had heard his fate ; 
 and he had tried to argue himself out of the belief, but without 
 avail. His high sense of honour then came to. his aid, and he 
 thought that it would be wrong to declare such feelings to her 
 when he might never return ; and fervently as he loved her, he 
 could have spared her the bitterness of that lingering hope which 
 is so akin to despair. 
 
 But in those moments he had forgotten all ; thoughts of the 
 past and for the future, all centred in intense affection for the 
 helpless being before him, whose artless mind had not attempted 
 any disguise of her devoted love for her companion of so many 
 years. 
 
 At last she recovered sufficiently to raise herself up; and this, 
 the first sign of consciousness she had given, was rapture to 
 Herbert He bent down to her, and attempted to lift her to her 
 feet. She was passive in his hands, even as a weak child ; and 
 partly supporting, partly carrying her, he led her to the hermitage. 
 There he seated her on the rustic bench, and kneeling down 
 beside her, while one arm was passed round her, — for she could 
 not have sat alone without support, — he poured forth with the 
 impetuosity and tenderness of his disposition his vows of love, 
 and his entreaties for some token that he had not angered her by 
 his abruptness. 
 
 ' But one word, my Amy ! but one word, dearest ! — one word, 
 that in those far distant lands I may feed on it in my heart, while 
 your beautiful face is present to my imagination. Dearest, we 
 have loved each other with more than children's love from infancy ; 
 we have never expressed it, but now the trial has come, and 
 you will not be the one to deny yours at such a time. O Amy, 
 speak to me one word to assure me that I may call you mine for 
 ever ! ' 
 
 Much more he said, and more passionately, but her hand was 
 not withdrawn from his, nor did she remove herself from him. 
 A. tear at last forced its way from her closed eyelids, for she dared 
 not to open them. Soon others followed ; they fell hot and 
 fast upon his hand for a little while ; and at length, as she strove 
 to speak, but could not, she was no longer able to control her 
 emotion, and she fell upon his neck and wept aloud. 
 
 The young man strained her to his heart, and as he wiped the 
 fast-falling tears from her eyes, he poured such consolation as he 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 75 
 
 could find words to utter into her perturbed heart. She did 
 not question his love, — she had no doubt of that ; but there was 
 one ^-engrossing thought — ^his absence — ^beneath which even her 
 light and joyous spirit quailed ; and while it caused her to shiver 
 in very apprehension of perils which her thoughts could not 
 define, she clung the closer to him, and strove to shut out the 
 evils with which her mental visions were overcast. 
 
 The trying test of coming absence, of dangers to be braved, 
 hardships to be endured, had at once broken down all barriers of 
 formality, and opened to them the state of each other's affections 
 in that perfect confidence, that pure reliance, — the gentle growth 
 of years, it is true, — ^but which had at once expanded witiiout a 
 check, and would endure for ever. 
 
 Who can tell the exquisite pleasure of such a first embrace ? 
 Pure love, such as theirs, had httle of the dross of passion in it 
 The knowledge that years must elapse ere they could meet again, 
 the silent dread that it might never be, put a thought of possession 
 far from them ; and in the perfect purity and ecstasy of feeling of 
 those moments, — in the indulgence of thoughts, new, yet so inex- 
 pressibly sweet to them, — ^it is no wonder in that sequestered and 
 lovely spot, that hours should have passed, and time should have 
 been unheeded ; nor was it until the lengthened shadows warned 
 them of the decline of the day, that they could speak of parting, 
 or of the object of their visit. 
 
 The sketch had lain on the ground unheeded. Amy took it 
 up. ' It will be to me the silent witness of what has this day 
 happened,' she said, ' and the dearest treasure I possess, Herbert, 
 when you are gone firom me. Now one little favour I beg, that 
 you will sketch in ourselves, — me, as I lay fainting on the bank 
 yonder, and you as you bent over me j for I think it was there 
 and then I first heard you say you loved me, Herbert. To me it 
 will be a comfort and a solace till you return, and then we will 
 come here together, and you shall see that not a shrub or flower 
 has been altered. Four years you said, dearest ! they will soon 
 pass, and I confess I have hope beyond what I thought I should 
 ever have possessed. Four years ! methinks in anticipation they 
 are already gone, and we sit here, — you a bronzed soldier with a 
 thousand tales for me to hear, and I will sit at your feet and 
 listen, your unchanged and unchangeable Amy.' 
 
 Herbert regarded her with intense admiration, for her sadness 
 had passed away ; and though tears trembled in her bright eyes 
 with every word she spoke, there was a joyous tone in her voice 
 and in her expression ; and his spirit caught that hope, from hers 
 which, under other circumstances, would have been denied him. 
 
76 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' WiHingly, most willingly, dearest,' he said, taking the drawing 
 from her ; and in a few moments he had sketched in the figures ; 
 — -she, raising herself up, had recovered consciousness, and he, 
 bending anxiously over her, had implored her to speak to him. 
 There was such force and tenderness in the attitudes that it told 
 the simple story at a glance. 
 
 ' It is too plain, Herbert,' she ssdd half reproachfully ; • I shall 
 not dare to show any one your boldest and by far most beautiful 
 sketch ; nay, you are even making a likeness of me, which is too 
 bad ; but I need not fear, for no one shall ever see it but myself. 
 My last look shall be of it at night, and with that my last thought 
 shall be with you. Now that is enough ; I will not have another 
 touch, lest you spoil it ; give it me, let me carry it home, and 
 miser-like lode it up from every one btjt myself.' 
 
 ' You may have it if you will, dearest, but I must beg it for 
 to-night at least. I will make a small sketch from it, and will 
 bring it over early to-morrow.' 
 
 ' It is only upon your promise not to keep it longer than to- 
 morrow morning that you may have it, H-erbert. I am nearly 
 inclined to make you stay at Beechwood to copy it, lest anything 
 should befall it; but I am not selfish enough to detain you from 
 those who love you as dearly as I do.' 
 
 Slowly they retraced their steps through every bowery path and 
 open glade ; the blossoms of the lime and horse-chestnut filled 
 the air with luscious sweetness, and their broad shadows were 
 flung wide over the richly-coloured sward. They wandered onj 
 hardly heeding the luxuriant beauty of the landscape, with their 
 arms twined round each other, while they spoke in those gentle, 
 murmuring tones, which, though low, were yet distinct, and of which 
 every word was striven to be remembered for years afterwards. 
 
 ' My father must know all,' said Amy, as they approached the 
 house J ' we have nodiing to fear from him, and therefore nothing 
 to conceal ; but I dare not speak, Herbert, so — ' 
 
 ' I do not flinch from the trial, dearest,' was his reply. 'If you 
 can bear it, I would rather you were present, but — ' 
 
 ' No, no, no I I could not bear it, Herbert,' replied the blush- 
 ing girl ; ' and I had better not be present, I know, for we should 
 both lose courage. No, you must tell all to papa ; and leave me 
 to my own solitude for a while, for indeed I require it And now 
 here we are at home ; I need not say — for you know" papa as well 
 as I do — conceal nothing, for we have notlung to conceal.' 
 
 She ran lightly on through the hall, and up the broad staircase. 
 Herbert followed her beautiful figure till he could see it no 
 longer; then listened till he heard the door of her chamber close 
 
TIPPOO SVLTAUN. 11 
 
 after her, ' She has gone to pray for herself and me,' he thought, 
 and thought truly. The study-door was before him; his heart 
 beat very fast, and his hand almost trembled as he placed it upon 
 the handle ; but his resolution was made in an instant, and he 
 passed in. 
 
 Mr. Hayward laid down the book he had been reading, and 
 took the spectacles from his nose as Herbert entered ' You are 
 a pretty pair of truants,' he said cheerfully; 'an hour or two 
 indeed ! why 'tis just six o'clock ! and where is Amy ? ' 
 
 ' She is gone to her room, sir, for a short time ; she said she 
 would not be long absent' 
 
 •Aadwhat have you been about? Come, let me see. You 
 know I am a great admirer of your spirited sketches, Herbert ; so 
 hand me your day's work, which ought to be an elaborate affair, 
 considering the time you have been about it.' And he replaced 
 his spectacles. 
 
 Herbert blushed crimson; he felt his face glowing painfully; 
 he had forgotten the roU of paper, which he had kept in his hand, 
 and he could not deny that it was the sketch Mr. Ha3rward wished 
 to see. He hesitated a little, grew somewhat indecisive in his 
 speech : and, as the old gentlemen was beginning to suspect the 
 truth, Herbert had told all, and stood before him glowing with 
 manly emotion and proud feelings of rectitude. There was 
 nothing to conceal. Amy had said, so he concealed nothing. 
 He told him how he had intended not to have spoken to her ; 
 but how, overcome by the anguish of seeing her so prostrated by 
 grief, he had revealed to her all his feelings, even at the risk of 
 her displeasure. •Amy loves me, sir,' he continued proudly; 
 'nor does she seek to deny it. We have too long shared each 
 other's thoughts for any reserve to exist between us; and to you 
 we fearlessly commit ourselves, in frank confession of our fault, 
 if we have committed any.' 
 
 Mr. Hayward only mused for a moment; he loved Herbert 
 too well, and had known him too long, to hesitate. ' May God 
 bless you both, my dear boy ! ' he cried, rising from his chair, 
 and extending his arms to embrace the young man. ' May God 
 bless you ! If there had not been this dreadful absence to con- 
 template, I should have counted this one of the happiest moments 
 of my life'; as it is, I am thankful that Amy is loved by such an 
 one as you, Herbert ; but where is she ? I can remain no longer 
 without seeing you together.' He rang the bell. 
 
 'Tell Miss Hayward that I want her here as soon as possible,' 
 said the old gendeman to the servant. 
 
 A few minutes only elapsed, during which neither spoke. At 
 
IS TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 last her light footstep was heard on the stairs; descending 
 slowly it passed over the hall so lightly that even Herbert's ear 
 could hardly detect it ; he fancied it hesitated at the door, and 
 he flew to open it ; and the smile of joy, of triumph, which met 
 her hurried glance, served in some measure to assure her ; her 
 father stood with open arms, and lips quivering with emotion. 
 ' God bless you ! God bless you ! ' was all he could utter, as she 
 rushed into them, and sobbing, hid her burning face in his 
 bosom ; nor did she venture to withdraw it for long, nor he to 
 disturb her; the gush of joy which welled from his heart, as he 
 strained her to it, was too pure to relinquish easily. 
 
 ' If I have been wrong, dear father, forgive me ! ' was all she 
 was able to utter, after a silence of some moments. 
 
 ' Nay, I have nothing to forgive, my sweet pet,' he said : 'I 
 had looked for this happiness only as a consummation of my 
 dearest wishes, and it is now as unexpected as grateful But I 
 will keep you no longer, Herbert,' he said to him, 'nor must 
 Amy either, for there are others who have stronger claims upon 
 you than we have, and I dare not detain you from them. I wish 
 however, and Amy will second the wish I know, that you would 
 come over to-morrow as early as you can, and give us a quiet 
 day and evening together ; it will be as much a source of gratifica- 
 tion to you to dwell on when you are away, as it will be to us ; 
 so say, will you come ? ' 
 
 At any time the invitation would have been welcome, but now 
 the imploring looks of the fair girl were arguments which could 
 not be resisted. 
 
 ' I will be with you as early as I can,' Herbert replied, ' as 
 soon as I can complete a task I have here, and I will not leave 
 you till night ; so for the present farewell, and I beg you to pro- 
 cure me the forgiveness, and I will add the blessing, of her whom 
 I hope to call a second mother.' 
 
 'You need have no doubts,' said Mr. Hayward; 'you have 
 nothing to apprehend, but, on the contrary, I can assure you 
 that this subject will be one of great delight to her; so once 
 more, God bless you ! ' 
 
 Amy followed him to the hall-door, apparently to shut it after 
 him, but she passed out with him, after a moment's coquetting 
 with the handle. ' You will not fail, dear Herbert ? I could not 
 bear disappointment now,' she said to him, her eyes filling and 
 sparkling like violets with dew-drops hanging in them. 
 
 ' Nor for worlds would I give you one moment's pain, dearest ; 
 fear not, I shall be with you soon after noon to-morrow. Good- 
 bye, and God bless you ! ' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 79 
 
 Perhaps it was that they had approached very nigh each other 
 as they spoke, and he could not resist the tempting opportunity, 
 or perhaps, — but it is of no use to speculate, — certain it is |that he 
 drew her to him gently, and imprinted one fervent kiss on her 
 lips. She did not chide him, but felt the more cheerful after- 
 wards that she had received it. 
 
 Herbert hurried home, and instantly sought his parents ; he 
 told them all, nor concealed from them one thought by which he 
 had been actuated, nor one struggle against his love which he 
 had failed to overcome. They were both much affected, for 
 indeed it was a solemn thing to contemplate the plighting of 
 their son's faith with Amy, on the eve of such a separation. Yet 
 they were gratified; and in their prayers that night, and ever 
 afterwards, they commended the beloved pair to the guardianship 
 and protection of Him whom they worshipped in spirit and 
 in truth. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 The morrow came — a bright and joyous day, on which the spirit 
 of beauty and of love revelled in every natural creation, and was 
 abroad over the whole earth, — a day of dreamy, voluptuous 
 repose, when one feels only fitted to hold silent converse with 
 nature in intense admiration of the glorious perfection of her 
 works. 
 
 The sun was almost overpoweringly bright, and the world 
 abroad rejoiced in his beams. Man everywhere should have 
 rejoiced too; yet there were some hearts which his effulgence 
 could not illumine, which his cheering influence could not enliven. 
 The breakfast-table at the rectory was a silent one, where heretofore 
 all had been joyous and cheerful; for it was useless to struggle 
 against the grief which pervaded the whole family. Mr. Compton 
 and Herbert strove the most manfully and with best success to 
 cheer the rest and themselves, but Mrs. Compton dared not 
 look at any one ; and she sat silently, with quivering lips, and 
 eyes filled with tears, of which she was unconscious, except as 
 those drops, starting from the pure fountain of a mother's love, 
 ran down upon her cheek, and were hastily brushed away. Her 
 eyes were now fixed upon vacancy, and again wandered to her 
 son, and were withdrawn only when it became agony to repress 
 the emotion she felt. 
 
So TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 Who can fathom the depth of a mother's love for such a son, 
 one on whom she had doated, even to weakness, from his birth ? 
 We dare not attempt to depict it, nor can it be expressed ; but it 
 has been felt by millions, and will continue to be so while the 
 tenderest and holiest feelings of love are continued as blessings 
 to us. 
 
 Herbert fulfilled his appointment faithfully j ere he had passed 
 the little bridge many paces, the maiden met him, for she had 
 long sat and watched for him ; and they strolled on, away through 
 ■the most sequestered glades of the park, resting at whiles on hil- 
 locks of thyme and mossy banks, which courted occupation as 
 they wandered by. Time flew lightly, and in that perfect bliss 
 which can be only known once, — so pure are the sensations, that 
 the heart does not' hope to feel them again ; and which, if once 
 enj6yed, remain indelibly impressed upon it for ever. 
 
 They wandered on ; they had no thought for anything around 
 them, no eyes to behold beauties, except in the luxury of their 
 own thoughts. Their minds were like stringed instruments in 
 perfect unison, — each touch by the one was responded to by the 
 other with harmony. They spoke of the future with confidence, 
 with that pure hope only known to the young who have never felt 
 the agony of hope deferred. There was no cloud now over their 
 bright future. Four years ! to look back on it was nothing ; they 
 could remember the occurrences of four years ago as though 
 they were yesterday, and those to come they thought would pass 
 as fast. 
 
 He spoke to her of the gorgeous East, of the temples, 
 the palaces, the almost fairy-land he was to see, and they 
 pictured to themselves a land to bright and fair that they longed 
 to roam over it in company. He promised her letters, — not 
 cold formal ones written at a sitting, but daily records of hi 
 thoughts, and minute descriptions of the varied scenes he should 
 pass through. He promised sketches too, by every opportunit}-, 
 of everything about him, — of his tent, his room, even of his table 
 where he should sit and hold conversations with her in writing, 
 as well as of the scenery and magnificent remains of the country. 
 
 And in this exquisite converse all care for the time had passed 
 away from them ; for though the feeling of parting did often float 
 through their minds, yet it would have been hard had it been 
 allowed to damp the buoyancy of two such naturally cheerful 
 hearts as theirs ; and they entered the drawing-room of Beech- 
 wood together, glowing with such pleasure, and with such joyous 
 expressions upon their faces, that Mrs. Hayward, who had been 
 long waiting for them, and had expected a far different scene. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 8i 
 
 was affected with joy instead of sorrow ; and though the result 
 was much the same, yet her equanimity was soon restored, and 
 the hearty blessing and greeting she gave the pair, as they 
 advanced to receive it, gratified her benevolent and loving 
 heart 
 
 Herbert stayed with them till the night was far spent; there 
 was perfect confidence and perfect love among the party; and if 
 these are seldom vouchsafed together in life's pilgrimage, they 
 make the period of that intercourse so marked in its purity of 
 character that it is the better appreciated and the longer 
 remembered. 
 
 But sadness came at length, — the dreaded day of departure 
 drew nigh ; — ^the Sabbath, Herbert's last day with his parents, was 
 held sacred by both families ; and as they now had a common 
 interest in him who was about to leave, they passed it together at 
 the rectory. There is Uttle pleasure in dwelhng upon a scene 
 so sad, — in depicting the sorrow of those who were assembled. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Hayward did the utmost their kind hearts could 
 suggest to comfort their friends, and in some measure succeeded; 
 but the time passed heavily, the conversation, however it was 
 directed, only tended to the same point, — but that was too painful 
 a one to be discussed freely, and was only alluded to with 
 difficulty. Mrs. Compton tried in vain to sit out the evening in 
 the drawing-room, and at length was obliged to retire to her 
 own chamber, where she was followed and tended by her friend 
 and Amy with true affection. 
 
 Poor Amy ! she had a hard part to bear. To conceal her own 
 miserable feelings, in order that she might not be an additional 
 weight upon the aJready oppressed spirits of others, was a task 
 she was barely equal to ; yet she strove well to master her grief, 
 and to all appearance hers was the only light heart of the party. 
 Herbert had promised to accompany her home through the park, 
 so that she would be spared the misery of bidding him farewell 
 before others, even though they might be her own parents, and 
 this also consoled her. 
 
 In their evening worship, Mr. Compton took occasion to 
 allude to Herbert's departure; his prayer was beautiful and 
 simple, and in fervent supplication he earnestly commended him 
 to the Almighty's care and protection. The bitter sobs of Mrs. 
 Compton could throughout be heard above his own tremulous 
 voice, but he persevered manfully, and all of that assembly arose 
 more calm and more reconciled to what was now inevitable. 
 
 Mr. Hayward's carriage was soon afterwards at the door; it 
 was announced in the drawing-room, and he and Mrs. Hayward 
 
83 TJPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 arose to depart. They were both deeply affected ; as may well 
 be imagined Herbert was so too, and spoke with difficulty ; but 
 they blessed him, and gave him their fervent wishes for success, 
 and a safe return within the time he had appointed, as warmly as 
 if he had been one of their own children. 
 
 ' I have only one last favour to beg, dear Mrs. Hayward,' he 
 said, as he handed her into the carriage, 'that you will allow 
 Amy to walk home under my escort ; I shall feel very thankful, 
 if you will consent' 
 
 ' I will not refuse you, Herbert,' she said: 'be gentle to her, 
 for she loves you very deeply ; never disappoint her in writing, 
 for I am well convinced your letters will be her life while you are 
 away. I will endeavour to make every allowance for the delay 
 which needs must occur in the transmission of letters from such 
 a distance ; but still you must be punctual and regular. Re- 
 member, these are my last and only commands upon you ; take 
 Attiy with you now, but do not keep her out late, for the dews 
 are heavy and may hurt you both. Now God bless you!' 
 
 ' My letters shall be my best answers to your commands,' said 
 Herbert ; ' believe me, I shall not miss a single opportunity of 
 sending many to you all, for you will never be absent from my 
 thoughts. The time will soon pass, and I hope and trust we 
 shall all again be reunited in this dear spot — ^till then good-bye \ 
 good-l)ye !' 
 
 ' Mrs. Hayward says I may escort Amy home through the park, 
 sir,' said Herbert to Mr. Hayward, who was following ; ' we shall 
 hardly lose our way in this beautiful moonlight, and I hope you 
 have no objection ? ' 
 
 ' Not if you promise you will not be late, Herbert ; but I leave 
 her to your own discretion ; I have not the heart to part you 
 to-night'; so farewell, my brave boy! I trust we shall see you 
 back soon a colonel at least. You will not forget to write punctu- 
 ally, as well for our sake as for Amy's.' 
 
 ' I have already promised Mrs. Hayward that,' said Herbert, 
 ' and most faithfully will I fulfil it.' 
 
 ' Then I will say no more, but again farewell, and God bless 
 you!' 
 
 He wrung Herbert's hand warmly, and with cordial sincerity, 
 and stepping into the carriage, it drove rapidly away. 
 
 ' Now, dearest,' said Herbert, ' at least we can have a few 
 moments which we can call our own — ^moments to be the food of 
 years ; when every word, however trivial, that one has uttered, 
 will be to the other the most precious in the stock of our hearts 
 remembrances. Come, let us stroll gently on.' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 83 
 
 She took his arm, and they wandered onwards towards the 
 park. The moon was nigh the full, and her bright orb shed a 
 mellow light on all around. A few fleecy clouds floated near her 
 in the deep blue heaven, but not enough to dim her lustre, and 
 her beams illuminated while they softened every object in the 
 well-known pathway. 
 
 The perfect silence which, reigned around them, only broken at 
 intervals by the faint tinkling of the sheep bells here and there, 
 or the feeble bleat of a lamb, was soothing to them ; and the 
 wide glades of the park, seen dimly in the distance, appeared to 
 melt away into air, more like the momentary visions of dreams 
 than the realities they had been accustomed to for years. They 
 had much to say to each other ; for they were young, ardent, 
 confiding — loving with the intenseness of a first and sincere 
 attachment, the gentle growth of years ; yet theirs was not the 
 language of passion, but those sobered, chastened, and now 
 sorrowful feelings, which were the result at once of their long 
 attachment and their dread of parting ; and they lingered on, nor 
 knew how swiftly time was flying, and that their sad farewell' must 
 be spoken at last They walked up to the house several times, 
 and thought to leave each other ; but always some new word was 
 spoken, some train of thought aroused, which carried them away 
 again, forgetful of their promises not to delay. 
 
 Nor could Amy's buoyant heart support her to the last as it had 
 done through the day, — indeed through the last few days ; bitter 
 were her sobs as she clung to the manly form of him she loved,— 
 bitter and more violent, as the clock of the out-offices struck an 
 hour — she did not, could not count it, — which seemed to be a 
 last warning to her to leave him ; she almost longed to do so, and 
 yet had not the power ; nor could Herbert bring himself to utter 
 the wish for her to go. 
 
 They stood before the hall-door, irresolute, as the clock struck ; 
 and gently, in as soothing words as he could frame his thoughts 
 to utterance, he reminded her of his promise to her mother and 
 of her strict injunctions. ' It was only from my promise that we 
 have enjoyed these exquisite moments,' he said, ' and I would 
 not vex her, Amy.' But still they lingered ; she was helpless as a 
 child, her tears fell very fast, and convulsive sobs shook her sadly. 
 Herbert supported her with one arm, while he wiped away her 
 tears, and kissed the beautiful face which, upturned to his, had 
 lost its cheerful expression, and now wore one of such mental 
 anguish as had never before visited it, that he almost reproached 
 himself for having caused it. It required all his self-possession to 
 restrain a violent outbreak of passionate emotion ; for his heart 
 
84 TIFPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 was full even to bursting, and could he have shed tears, he 
 thought it would have relieved him, but they were denied him. 
 They could speak but little ; all he could utter were words of 
 consolation, which, repeated again and again almost unintelligibly, 
 fell on heedless ears, for the misery of her mind repelled them. 
 But it could not last ; sooner or later he must leave her, and he 
 felt that every moment was causing her additional pain, while no 
 immediate alleviation could follow. 
 
 He drew her gently towards the door; she understood his 
 meaning, and acquiesced, by making no resistance ; they ascended 
 the steps together ; the door had been left unfastened on purpose 
 to receive her, and he felt this delicate mark of kindness in her 
 parents deeply ; it seemed even to comfort Amy that she should 
 be able to reach her chamber unobserved. 
 
 ' Go and pray for me, as you pray for yourself, dearest ! it will 
 soothe you more than my words or feeble consolations,' he said, as 
 opening the door he led her within it ; ' soon I will join my 
 prayers to yours, and ascending together to Him who is alone 
 able to grant them, they will bring us that peace which indeed 
 passes understanding. Go ! may He who looks down from yonder 
 bright and glorious heaven upon us, bless you for ever, my angel, 
 and keep you in safety ! ' 
 
 He could not add more, nor did she dare to reply, though 
 some indistinct murmurs escaped her ; he clasped her to his 
 heart in one ardent embrace ; lassed her forehead — her eyes — her 
 lips in passionate fervour ; and then disengaging her from him, — 
 for she did not, could not oppose it, — he led her softly within the 
 haU j and not daring to hazard a second glance upon her, he 
 gently closed the door, and with an almost bursting heart rushed 
 from the house. 
 
 He did not go far thus. Nature, who will not be denied vent 
 for such bitter feelings as his were, and which had been so long 
 and so Ul repressed, demanded relief ; and overcome by emotion, 
 his temples throbbing as though they would burst, with a choking 
 sensation in his throat, which caused him to breathe with difficulty, 
 he threw himself upon a rustic seat by the side of the walk. For 
 awhile the agony he suffered was almost insupportable, but 
 afterwards a passionate burst of tears, which he could not check 
 or repress, came to his relief. He leaned his head upon his 
 hand and sobbed bitterly for many minutes ; but he arose at last, 
 in some degree soothed by the effort nature had made to relieve 
 the sorrow which had well-nigh overpowered him. 
 
 Herbert left his home the next morning amidst the unrestrained 
 and bitter grief of all. All his mother's previous resolutions failed 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 85 
 
 her ; for a while she refused to be comforted ; dread, that he was 
 going from her for ever, oppressed her with a weight which she 
 could not throw off by the most strenuous mental exertions. Mr. 
 Compton strove to console her, and Herbert was as cheerful as 
 he could be under the circumstances. But it was all of no use ; 
 deep affection would find its vent, and no wonder, when all had 
 been so knit together in the ties of love as that family. 
 
 But after breakfast, which they had vainly tried to eat, and the 
 viands which had been provided remained untasted upon the 
 table, the carriage was announced. To each of his brothers and 
 his younger sisters Herbert bade a tender farewell, promising 
 them all sorts of presents and drawings from eastern climates ; 
 but who shall paint his last moments with his dear and honoured 
 mother? It would be profanation of such feelings to attempt 
 their delineation — they can be felt only, never described. Mute 
 with sorrow, Mrs. Compton could not speak to him, as he folded 
 her in a last embrace ; and as he tore himself away from her, and 
 hurried to the carriage, she tottered to the window, and supporting 
 herself by the side panel, with eyes dim with weeping and now 
 almost blinded by her tears, she watched him as long as sight of 
 him was spared her. She saw him throw himself into the carriage 
 — his father attending him to it — the door shut — the orders given 
 to proceed ; but ere the postilion could urge his horses forward, 
 she had sunk senseless upon the ground. 
 
 The regiment marched that day towards Dover, where his 
 father joined Herbert in a few days. Here they were detained 
 only as long as was sufficient to provide the requisite necessaries 
 to the regiment for a hot climate, and the duties of furnishing 
 these to his men kept Herbert continually employed. He had 
 some idea at one time of returning home, even for a day or two, 
 but the remembrance of the pangs which both his mother and 
 Amy had suffered was too fresh in his mind to allow of his in- 
 dulging in so selfish and indeed a useless gratification. He had 
 his father with him, whose presence was not only a solace, but 
 who prevented, as much as was in his power, Herbert's giving 
 way to the grief which at times he could not repress, and which 
 endured in despite of him. 
 
 At length the day arrived for the embarkation, and a gallant 
 but painful sight it was to see so many brave fellows leaving their 
 native land, their homes, their parents, children, and other per- 
 haps dearer ties — ^prepared to shed their blood in their country's 
 cause — to brave the perils of an unknown land and dangerous 
 climate for her sake. Yet, as the regiment moved towards the 
 pier from the barracks in open- column, headed by their band, 
 
86 TIPPOO SULTAUI7. 
 
 playing the most lively marches, to which the firm and measured 
 tread of the men formed a noble accompaniment, there could not 
 be seen a sorrowful face among the whole ; for their colours were 
 unfurled, and floated proudly to the breeze ; and as each man's 
 eye rested upon those emblems of their national honour which he 
 had sworn to guard, it glistened with that undefinable sensation 
 of glowing pride which soldiers only know, and feel most deeply 
 on an occasion like this. 
 
 The regiment was attended by all the other oflScers of the 
 garrison, and the inhabitants of the town, and was loudly cheered 
 as they passed along. The boats waited beside the pier : each 
 division was marched in an orderly manner into its respective 
 boats, and at a signal given the oars were dipped at once, and the 
 whole mimic fleet stretched at their utmost speed towards the 
 ships, which lay at some distance from the shore. 
 
 Three hearty English cheers followed them, led regularly by an 
 officer of distinction, who stood upon a capstan for the purpose j 
 while the band of his corpg, which was stationed upon the pier, 
 played the slow march of the departing regiment with admirable 
 expression. The three cheers were as heartily returned from the 
 boats, and the gallant corps sped quickly on to their vessels. 
 
 Mr. Compton accompanied his son on board, and stayed as long 
 as it was possible. The anchors of the fleet were a-peak, their 
 topsails loosed, when they arrived on board ; and when the men 
 were somewhat settled, and order restored, the signal was made 
 for sailing ; soon the anchors were at the cat-heads, the topsails 
 sheeted home, and the vast fabrics began their march over the 
 deep, to be continued through storm or calm to the end. But 
 as sail after sail was set, the vessels began to move the faster, 
 until it was no longer possible to retain the boat which was 
 towing astern, in which he was to return ; he was aware that every 
 indulgence had been shown him in having been allowed to remain 
 so long, and he could make no opposition to its being ordered 
 alongside. 
 
 ' May He who alone is able to protect you, Herbert,' he said, 
 as he wrung his hand, ' keep you in health ! You go, I am well 
 aware, to many dangers, but I leave you in confident hope that 
 we may meet again; and my most fervent supplications shall 
 ever be for you. Be careful of yourself; you are strong, active, 
 temperate, — blessings which you cannot prize too highly. And 
 now embrace me, my dear boy — I dare speak no more.' 
 
 He left the deck : Herbert watched him down the side safely 
 into the boat ; the rope was cast off, and in another instant it 
 was dancing in the wake pf the vessel astern ; the boatmen set 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 87 
 
 their sail, and soon the tiny bark was dancing merrily along over 
 the waters. Herbert gazed till it became a speck, and then dis- 
 appeared; but Mr. Compton saw the tall vessels, which had 
 spread every sail to court a gentle and favourable wind, longer, 
 and he watched the last faint glitter of their white canvas with 
 straining eyes and an aching heart, till he could see thou no 
 longer upon the blue horizon. 
 
 We must now return to a point in our narrative from which 
 we have very widely digressed, in order to put our readers in 
 possession of what we have detailed of the history _of Herbert 
 Compton ; and we will return to the happy party which was as- 
 sembled round the cheerful fire at Alston, Rectory. 
 
 Besides the family, Amy was there ; and, since the events we 
 have detailed, she was often at Alston for days together : she was 
 bright and joyous as ever, indeed much improved in personal 
 appearance. Little more than a year had elapsed since Herbert 
 had left them, but the letters he had written had been so regularly 
 received, that the miserable apprehensions which all had indulged 
 on his departure were completely dispdled ; they knew that he 
 was happy, and enjoyed excellent health, that he had formed 
 pleasant friendships, and liked the country, which he described 
 with eloquence. Still, as he had gone on service soon after his 
 arrival, they were anxious, and looked eagerly for news. 
 
 ' Come, let us have a glee, girls,' said Mr. Compton, after a 
 game of forfeits had been played with all its pleasant, noisy fun, 
 which seems now to have abandoned us ; ' come, we must have 
 some music. Get you to the harpsichord. Amy, and I will help 
 out my own bass with my violoncello.' 
 
 •What shall we sing, sir?' answered Amy, gaily, going at once 
 to the instrument ; ' here are all kinds, — comic, lively, and grave. 
 Ah ! I have hit at once upon Herbert's fetvourite,»^" When winds 
 breathe soft" ' 
 
 'Very good; you could not have anything better; and we 
 all know that your heart will be in your song; — but, let 
 us see.' 
 
 The parts were soon arranged ; Amy led the glee, the delicious 
 harmony of which appeared to float in the air above their heads, 
 so perfectly was it sung by voices, excellent in themselves, and 
 attuned by constant practice. Others followed ; for as they had 
 begun with glees, so they agreed to continue. 
 
 At last, after a pause, Mr. Compton, patting her cheek, said,— 
 
88 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' Well, you haye sung so well, Amy, that I think I shall have a 
 letter for my pet to-night.' 
 
 ' A letter ! — for me ? Ah, sir, from whom ? not from Herbert ? ' 
 
 ' Indeed I hope so, my darling,' added Mrs. Compton ; ' you 
 know we were disappointed by the last packet, and Mr. Compton 
 heard-yesterday from his Dondon agent, saying that a Bombay 
 vessel had arrived with letters, and that he would forward ours 
 the next day.' 
 
 ' I am so happy ! dear, dear Mrs. Compton,' cried the joyful 
 girl, throwing her arms around her, and kissing her ; • I feel so 
 very happy ! And when will the letters come ? ' 
 
 ' I expect the boy every moment with the bag,' she replied ; 
 ' he should ha.ve been here before this ; but perhaps the post is 
 late at to-day, on account of the weather.' 
 
 ' Then we shall have a delighful evening, indeed,' said Amy ; 
 ' shall we not, boys and girls ? Herbert's letters to all of you 
 shall be read first, and then I will read just such scraps of mine 
 as I please. You know how I love to tyrannise over you, and 
 tempt you with a great deal that you must not see.' 
 
 ' Well, here is the bag ! ' cried Edward, taking it from the 
 servant, who just then eiitered. ' Now we shall see ! ' and he 
 opened it. ' What ! only one ? — that is a disappointment ! It is 
 for you, father.' 
 
 ' Ah, from my agents I see j perhaps the letters have not been 
 delivered ; but we shall hear all about it.' They crowded round 
 him, but poor Amy's heart sunk within her ; she almost sickened 
 lest there should be no news of Herbert. 
 
 ' Dear Sir,' read Mr. Compton, ' we are sorry to inform you 
 that there were no letters for you or for Miss Hayward, per Ocean 
 from Bombay, and we are sorry to add that the general news is 
 not so favourable as we could wish — ' 
 
 ' Look to Amy ! look to Amy ! ' cried Mrs. Compton,^ suddenly 
 and anxiously. 
 
 It was indeed necessary,— for she had fainted. It was long ere 
 she recovered; she had naturally a powerful mind, but it had 
 been suddenly, perhaps unadvisedly, excited; and when such 
 disappointment ensued, she had not been able to bear up against 
 it, the more so as this was the second she had experienced 
 within a short time, and there was no doubt from the previous 
 public information, that severe fighting had been apprehended, in 
 which Herbert's regiment must take a part. 
 
 In vain was it that Mr. and Mrs. Hayward tried to console her, 
 — they had felt the disappointment as keenly as Amy ; for the 
 time, therefore, all were sad, and the evening which had begun so 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 89 
 
 cheerfully, was concluded in painful and almost silent apprehen- 
 sion ; nor did the accounts which appeared in the newspapers 
 some days afterwards convey to them any alleviation of tiieir 
 fears. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 It is now necessary to revisit Abdool Rhyman Khan and his 
 party, whom we left at a small village in the pass leading behind 
 Pencondah, and in their company to travel awhile through those 
 districts which lay between them and the city whither they were 
 bound. 
 
 There were no dangers now in their path, no attacks from the 
 Mahrattas to be apprehended, nor was there the irksome heat 
 which oppressed and wearied them before. A few showers had 
 already fallen, the earth had put on its verdant covering, and 
 travelling was now a pleasure more than a fatigue. The Khan 
 had intended proceeding by easy stages, but the news he had 
 heard of rumours of fresh wars, of the personal activity of Tippoo 
 among the army, which was always the forerunner of some 
 campaign, made him more than usually solicitous to press forward. 
 
 So on the fifth day they were at Balapoor ; and leaving the 
 lady to the care of the servants to rest for awhile, the Khan, 
 accompanied by Kasim, rode forward to the town and fort of 
 Nundidgroog, where he knew some of his own men were 
 stationed. 
 
 ' Do you see that pile of rocks yonder ? ' said the Khan to 
 Kasim, as they rode along. 
 
 ' I do ; why do you ask ? ' 
 
 ' Because,' he replied, ' that is a place well worth seeing, and 
 one which was a rare favourite of Hyder Ali's — may his memory 
 be honoured ! ' 
 
 ' Why ? Had he a summer-house there ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, there is a sort of a house there, to be sure,' returned the 
 Khan laughing ; ' but not one of pleasure, I should think. Many 
 a poor wretch has been in it, who would have given the wealth of 
 the world, had he possessed it, to have got out again.' 
 
 ' It is a prison then ? ' 
 
 • It is, and one from which but few return alive.' 
 
 ' How so ? You do not mean to say that they are murdered ? ' 
 
fo TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 'I mean to tell you plainly, that you had better not get into it; 
 few of our people have ever been sent there, for it is reserved for 
 the kafir English — may their tribe be accursed ! — ^and a few of 
 them are now and then thrown from the top, to terrify the rest 
 into submission to the Sultaun's will, and to become a feast for 
 the kites and crows. Look ! I suppose some of them have 
 been cast over lately, for there are vultures wheeling in the air 
 overhead, and making stoops as if they would alight.' 
 
 Kasim shuddered ; he thought it a base death for any one to 
 die, to be thrown from thence— to reach the bottom haply alive ! 
 — and to be left to struggle there maimed and helpless — to linger 
 :till death came, accelerated perhaps by the jackals or vultures. 
 
 ' Have you ever seen this. Khan ? ' asked Kasim. 
 
 ' Never, but I know those who have : the ofifice of executioner 
 is no enviable one to a soldier ; and he who has this post, though 
 as arrant a coward as can well be in the field, yet can stand by 
 and see brave men hurled over these rocks; for, to do them 
 justice, the English are brave as lions and their courage cannot 
 be quelled : we learned that at Perambaukum, to our cost.' 
 
 ' Ay, I have heard of that. Report states it to have been a 
 good battle.' 
 
 ' Mashalla ! you may say so ; and, blessed be Alia ! the arms 
 of the true believers were victorious over the infidels ; yet they 
 fought well, and, though a handful of men, defied our utmost 
 attacks and continued charges.' 
 
 ' Then you were there, Ali Khan ? ' 
 
 'Yes^ I was then in the Pagha— the Royal Guard; and I 
 was desired by Hyder (peace be on his name !) to protect Tippoo 
 Sahib, who led the charges. He fought like a tiger as he is, and 
 many of the infidels tasted of death at his hand ; but one of 
 them, as we charged and overthrew their last square, made a 
 thrust with his bayonet at the young prince, which — upraise to 
 Mahomed! — I parried; and in return, caused him to taste of 
 death. The young man never forgot that deed, and some others 
 I was fortunate enough to perform before him, and I am what 
 I am.' 
 
 ' Then, like those of his rank, he does not forget benefits ? ' 
 
 ' Never ; he is faithful to those he loves, but a bitter foe to 
 those who provoke him. Above all, the English are his detesta- 
 tion ; he sees their restless love of intrigue and power ; he knows 
 how they have sown dissensions in Bengal, and wrested many 
 fair provinces from the sway of the true believers ; he fears their 
 abilities and knowledge of the arts of war ; and though he has 
 some French in his service, yet he can see plainly enough that 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 91 
 
 they have not the powers of the others either to contrive or to 
 execute. Above all, he fears the prophecy about him by a holy 
 man whom he consulted, which no doubt you have heard' 
 
 ' No, indeed, I have not' 
 
 * Not heard that ? Ajaib ! it is very strange ; but how could 
 you, after all. Know then, that as he sat one day in one of the 
 innermost apartments of the palace in the garden of the Deria 
 Doulut — ^where no one could by any possibility have access to 
 him, and where he was engaged in study— there was heard a 
 voice conversing with him, and his was gradually raised till it 
 became furious, as, Inshalla ! it often does to the tenor of his 
 enemies.' 
 
 ' Taajoob ! ' exclaimed Kasim, ' who was it ? ' 
 
 'Willaalum! (Ctod knows),' replied the Khan. «But listen: 
 it is said the Mushaek* — for so he appeared to be — cried to him 
 with a loud voice, and bade him beware of the English Feringhees, 
 for they were plotting against him ; and that though the day was 
 far distant, yet danger threatened him from them which could 
 not be avoided. Then some say that the being (may Alia forgive 
 me if he hears it !) upbraided the Sultaun with many errors of 
 faith, and with being given to idolatry in private, and with doing 
 magic, to the hurt of his own soul j and it was this which made 
 him so angry.' 
 
 ' And who was it after all ? ' 
 
 'Alia knows!' said the Khan mysteriously; 'Alia knows! 
 Some people say it was a Fakeer named Shah Yoonoos, who had 
 wandered in unknown to anybody, and had reached the Sultaun's 
 chamber ; but others say it was one of the spirits of the air (over 
 whom it is known he has power) who had taken that form to 
 visit him by day. But Alia only knows the truth, after alL 
 Certain it is, however, that he does perform rites which I, as a 
 humble and pious Mahomedan, would object to.' 
 
 ' Did no one try to seize the intruder ? ' 
 
 ' Many, so it is said ; but he passed forth from among them all, 
 and has not been seen since.' 
 
 ' Most extraordinary, certainly ! I marvel not now, Khan, 
 that he should be so suspicious of the English. I for one long 
 to have a blow with them, and to see how they fight' 
 
 ' Inshalla ! the opportunity will not be long wanting ; you will 
 have it ere you have been long with us. But among our people 
 here we shall learn something, for they have always the quickest 
 information from the capital.' 
 
 Shortly afterwards they rode into the outer court of the Temple 
 
 • Holy man. 
 
92 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 of Nundi, at the tovra under the fort of Nundidroog, and the 
 scene which presented itself to the eyes of Kasim was as novel as 
 it was interesting. 
 
 The court was a large square, contained in a sort of piazza 
 formed by a colonnade of huge square blocks of granite placed in 
 three rows, about twelve feet asunder, each piece probably sixteen 
 feet in height; across these at the top, to form a roof, were 
 transverse pieces of equal length. The spaces between the 
 pillars thus placed, formed excellent stalls for horses, and the 
 enormous area was thus converted into one huge stable, — where 
 of old the Brahmin priests had wandered, dispensing charitable 
 aid to the wretched, or instructing those who thirsted for know- 
 ledge. 
 
 In the centre were a few gay tents, and many camels were 
 sitting and standing around them ; several elephants too were 
 busied with huge piles of leafy branches before them, selecting 
 the tenderest morsels, and brushing away flies with others. 
 Around were groups of men, — some lying under a rude screen, 
 formed of three spears tied together, with a cloth thrown over 
 them ; others lounging and swaggering about, gaily dressed, and 
 armed to the teeth ; many were gathered into knots, and, either 
 sitting upon spread carpets or standing together, were occupied 
 in smoking, or listening to some itinerant musicians or story- 
 tellers. In various parts were little booths, where coarse con- 
 fectionery was sold ; and many a portly-bellied group of money- 
 changers, with their keen and shrewd eyes, were sitting on the 
 ground, naked to the waist, with heaps of courees and pice* 
 spread before them. There were women selling fruit out of 
 baskets and sacks, others hawking about sour curds j with a 
 thousand other busy, bustling occupations going on with vigour, 
 for which the presence of the cavalry found full employment. 
 
 Before them, and above the piazzas, appeared the richly 
 ornamented and curious high pyramidical roofs of the temples, 
 and their massive and decorated gateway ; and above all frowned 
 the bare rock of the fort, — a naked mass of about eight hundred 
 feet perpendicular, arising from a rugged and woody slope of an 
 equal height. The walls around the summit, which were built 
 upon the very giddy verge, were bristling with cannon, and the 
 numbers of men about showed that it possessed many defenders. 
 
 All these objects, assisted by the bright colours of the cos- 
 tumes, the caparisons of the horses, camels, and elephants, 
 some of which were already equipped for travel, formed a pic- 
 ture which, glowing under the slanting beams of an afternoon 
 
 * Copper coin. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 93 
 
 sun, caused the young man's heart to bound with delight as 
 they entered the large square and rode onwards among the 
 motley crowd. 
 
 ' What think you of my fine fellows, Kasim ? ' said the Khan, 
 as they passed various groups of stout, soldier-like men. ' In- 
 shalla ! they are worth looking at.' 
 
 ' Ul-humd-ul-illa ! they most truly are,' replied the young man, 
 who was, to say the truth, somewhat bewildered by the excite- 
 ment of the scene. ' And do you really command all these, O 
 Khan?' 
 
 ' Most of them, I daresay, are my youths, Kasim ; but I have 
 no doubt some of 'the garrison of the fort are here also, and it 
 would be difficult to distinguish them. But these are not all ; 
 Mashalla ! and praise to the Sultaun's bounty, we have as many 
 more at least — ^nay, three times as many — at the city. But there 
 is surely more activity than usual going on, and this looks mar- 
 vellously like the preparations for a march ; so let us press on 
 to the tent yonder, for there shall we find Hubeeb OoUa Khan, 
 or Shekh Jafiur Sahib, my Jemadars, who will answer my queries. 
 I marvel none of my rogues have yet found me out.' 
 
 ' Why, they can hardly see your face. Khan,' said Kasim ; ' and 
 I daresay they little expect you to drop, as it were, from the 
 clouds thus suddenly among them.' 
 
 ' Perhaps not ; but here we are at the tent : dismount, and let 
 us enter together.' 
 
 As he spoke, the Khan alighted, and unfolding the muslin 
 scarf which had been tied about his face, he was instantly recog- 
 nised by a number of the men who were lounging about in front 
 of it, and who now crowded round him with congratulations. 
 
 ' The Khan Sahib is come ! ' shouted several to their com- 
 panions. 
 
 ' My lord's footsteps are welcome ! ' cried those who were 
 nearest ' Inshalla ! victory waits upon them.' 
 
 ' It is a fortunate hour that has brought him,' cried another, 
 who pressed forward, and bowed before him. 'What are my 
 lord's wishes? let him order his slave Dilawur Ali to perform 
 them.' 
 
 ' Ha ! art thou there, friend ? ' said the Khan. ' Well, since 
 thou wishest for employment, go on, and tell the Jemadar Sahib 
 that I am here. Which of the officers is with you ? ' 
 
 ' Jaffur Sahib, Khodawund ! he will have rare news for my 
 lord ; ' and he departed. 
 
 ' This looks like a march,' said the Khan to another : ' say, 
 is it so ? ' 
 
94 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' It IS, protector of the poor ! but we know but little of the 
 true cause as yet, though many rumours are afloat ; the most 
 prevalent is — ' 
 
 But here he was interrupted by the Jemadar himself, who had 
 hurried from his tent, and now advanced towards them. The 
 two leaders embraced cordially. 
 
 * Ul-humd-ul-illa ! you are welcome, Khan Sahib,' said Jaffur ; 
 ' but do not remain here : come, I pray you, to your servant's 
 tent, and rest after your journey.' 
 
 He went in, and was soon seated upon the soft cushions of 
 the Jemadar's musnud. Kasim followed, but, uncertain how to 
 act, he continued standing, until he was desired by the Khan to 
 be seated near him. This, together with the Khan's marked 
 attention to the young man, appeared rather to disconcert the 
 Jemadar, who regarded the new comer with some suspicion, and 
 Kasim could not help imagining with some dislike. I shall have 
 an enemy in this man, thought Kasim for an instant ; but again, 
 he reflected that he had nothing to fear, and soon ceased to re- 
 gard the furtive looks of the Jemadar, which were cast upon him 
 from time to time, as the Khan appealed to him in support of 
 his opinions or remarks during the conversation, which naturally 
 turned upon the movements of the corps of cavalry he com- 
 manded. 
 
 It was true that- the coips was about to move : all the outposts, 
 except a few of those immediately upon the Mahratta frontier, 
 had been called in, and had joined within the past day or two; 
 and the morrow had been fixed for the departure of the whole 
 from Nlindidroog towards the capital. For the reason of this 
 many rumours were in circulation ; the Jemadar said that a sud- 
 den rupture with the English was one ; that there was only to be 
 a muster of the cavalry was another ; and after that was finished 
 the Sultaun intended to go a-hunting into the forest bordering 
 upon Coorg. But diere was a third, which had been confirmed 
 by news that day received from the city, that some very angry 
 messages had passed between the Rajah of Travaneore and the 
 Sultaun, and that both had ordered musters of their forces. 
 This the Jemad^ thought the most likely of all, as he knew 
 there had been negotiations pending between the Sultaun and 
 the Rajah relative to some forts which had been taken posses- 
 sion of in a manner that did not appear warrantable by the latter. 
 
 For the present, the Khan and Kasim were the guests of the 
 Jemadar ; and having partaken of refreshment, they set out to 
 procure a resting place for the night, or one where they should 
 be able to have their tents pitched. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 95 
 
 As they went forth, many were the hearty greetings which 
 saluted the Khan ; eVery veteran especially, whose bronzed and 
 furrowed face showed that the scorching heats of summer had for 
 many a year passed over him in constant and active employnlent ; 
 and many a man, whose deeply-scarred face or breast gave a sure 
 proof of often tried courage, met him with that hearty familiarity, 
 and yet scrupulous deference, which, while it yielded nothing to 
 the man, yet showed submission to authority and high respect 
 for rank. All were unanimous in rejoicing that the Khan had 
 returned, in such terms as, while it gratified Kasim to think 
 he had become the friend and' companion of one so honoured 
 and beloved, caused him also to suspect that the Jemadar Jaffur 
 Sahib was not much liked among them. 
 
 Nor indeed was he. Sprung from the lowest rank of the 
 people, he possessed ferocity of character, which had early 
 attracted the notice of the Sultahn, and he had risen rapidly to 
 the station he held. He had also been a ready instrument in his 
 hand to effect any cruelty he willed ; and if war was to be carried 
 into any district where Mahomedanism had not advanced, and 
 forcible conversions of the inhabitants were to be niade, or if any 
 of the unoffending people were to be hung because they would 
 not become converts, Jaffur Sahib was generally selected, as well 
 from his address as a soldier, as from his unscrupulous chariacter, 
 from among the others of the same stamp who abounded about 
 the person of the Sulta«n. He was born at Arcot, and inherited 
 all the narrow prejudice and extreme bigotry peculiar to hi* 
 townsmen, and hated all English with a malignity, in which 
 perhaps he was only excelled through all that hqst by the Sultaun 
 himself. 
 
 The presence of Kasim, in such intimate association with his 
 commander, immediately became a source of vexation to him ; 
 and as suddenly as he had seen him, he had conceived a violent 
 aversion to him. He saw generous courage, honesty, and faith- 
 fulness written upon the brow of' the young man; and as none 
 of these found any place in his own heart, so did he at once 
 dislike the fancied possessor of them ; for he knew the Khan's 
 generous nature, and how easily all the authority he had by 
 incessant intrigues possessed himself of, might be reduced in a 
 moment by one who, after becoming acquainted with the details 
 of the service, could not fail of observing that many abuses existed 
 under his fostering care. The Khan had not mentioned Kasim 
 to him, nor could he divine in what capacity he attended upon 
 his person, and he burned with curiosity to discover. When the 
 Khan was gone, therefore, he addressed himself to his chief 
 
96 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 Sontaburdar, or bearer of a silver club, whose name was Madar 
 Sahib, a man who had followed his fortunes, and often shared 
 whatever spoil was wrung from the unfortunate whom they could 
 get into their power. There was something too in his retainer's 
 face which seemed to expect the question ; and at the slight turn 
 of his master towards him, who had been musing ' with the finger 
 of deliberation placed between the teeth of vexation,' he folded 
 his hands and bent himself to listen. They were alone, for every 
 one else had followed the Khan when he went out 
 
 ' The curses of the Shietan upon the old fool,' he said ; ' could 
 not he have kept away for a day longer ? I tell thee, Madar, 
 this appearance of his is not only a thousand rupees out of my 
 pocket, but the loss to me of all ^e honour, credit, and influence 
 which a short campaign would have given. I say a curse on 
 him.' 
 
 'Ameen!' said his servant; 'my lord's star is unfortunate 
 to-day ; but, Inshalla ! it will brighten.' 
 
 'And then that smooth-faced boy that he has brought with 
 him,' he continued, not heeding the other's remark, ' I'll warrant, 
 his prime favourite. Knowest thou aught of him ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing, Khodawund ; but I can inquire.' 
 
 ' Do so, — see what hath brought them together. Perhaps he 
 is the brother of this new wife he has married — the old dotard ! 
 if so, we may soon expect to get our leave to depart, Madar, for 
 the old Khan will use his utmost influence to secure a good place 
 near himself for his pet.' 
 
 ' Alia forbid 1 my lord has no cause to think so as yet ; but I 
 go, and will soon bring the information.' 
 
 While this colloquy was going on, the Khan and Kasim had 
 gone forward to^seek for a place of temporary refuge ; and after 
 examining many parts of the broken cloisters, all of which afforded 
 but indifferent shelter, Dilawur Ali, who had been looking about, 
 suddenly returned. 
 
 ' I have found a place, O Khan,' he cried ; ' come and see ; it 
 is clean, and if we had any kanats,* we could make it comfortable 
 enough for a night's lodging.' 
 
 They followed him onwards to the end of the large square ; 
 and entering through a small doorway, found themselves in a 
 square court, in the centre of which was a cistern of water, which 
 could be approached by easy steps for the convenience of bathers. 
 There was a deep cloister all round, supported upon carved 
 pillars of wood, which afforded ample accommodation for the 
 Khan's party. It was the upper part of the outside, however, 
 * Tent-walb. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. gij 
 
 which attracted thdr attentiod and a^iration i and indeed the 
 exquisite design and ornaments of the screen would merit a 
 descriptioA at our hands, if anything so intricate could be de- 
 scribed so as to pve any idea of the building , but' it consisted 
 of a regular nundser of hi^y ornamented niches in the most 
 florid Hindoo style, each niche containing some many-armed 
 image of Hindoo veneration, male or female, in grotesque atti- 
 tudes. The whole was of pure white stucco, and contrasted 
 bristly with the daric green of some noble tamarind-trees which 
 nodded over it, tl^k li^t feathery sprays mingling with the 
 innumerable angles and pinnacles of the architecture. Above 
 these rose the tall summits of the temples, and again the naked 
 grey mass ^ the huge granite rock, frowned over all, appearing to 
 overhsmg the scene. 
 
 ' Ay, thk will do right veil,' cried the Khan ; ' we have not been 
 in such comfortabte quarters for many days. The camels will 
 soon be here, and then a place can be screened off and made 
 private. Often as I have been at the fort, I never discovered 
 this quiet spot before : truly the kafir who built it had wisdom ; 
 and for once (may the Prophet pardon me !) I honour one of the 
 accursed race. What sayest thou, Kasimf 
 
 ' I doubt not that forgiveness will be easily granted for an 
 offence so slight. Khan Sahib. . I confess that I for one have 
 many friends amoiag the unbelievers j and, though I hate their 
 idolatry, yet I ciannot help loving tbeir gentle ^spositions, and 
 admiring their genius, which after all is the gift of Alia to them 
 as much as to us.' 
 
 'You must not give vent to such opinions as those, Kasim,' 
 replied the Khan ; ' must he, Dilawur Ali ? for at the city there is 
 nought breathed but destruction of the infidels of all denomina- 
 tions ; and if thou wouldst not make enemies, thou must chime 
 in with the prevailing humour, or keep thy thoughts to thyself.' 
 
 •Good advice, noble Khan,' said Dilawur Ali; 'there are 
 quick ears enough to hear, and ready tongu«s enough to convey 
 to the Sultaun (may his prosperity increase !) whatever malice or 
 ^ite may dictate to bad hearts ; and we need not go Very far from 
 this place to find many. Thou must pardon this freedom of 
 speech,' he continued to the young manj 'but I am an old 
 soldier, and the Khan Sahib can tell you that I have fought 
 beside him, and I have t^en known i, young man ruined by in 
 discretions of which he was not aware,' 
 
 ' I thank you mudr for your speech^' said Kasim, • and desire 
 your friendship. Inshalla I we shall know each other well ere long.' 
 
 ' Inshalla!' replied the other j 'when the Khan Sahib is settled 
 
98 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 here for the night safely, if you will come to my' tent, I will give 
 you such information regarding this our service, — for I presume 
 you have joined it, — as may be of use to you hereafter.' 
 
 ' Ay, go to him, Kasim,' said the Khan ; ' Dilawur Ali is a 
 Syud, a worthy man, and religious too, — in all respects fit for thy 
 company. From him thou wilt learn many things which I could 
 not tell thee, and which will not be lost upon thee.' 
 
 As they spoke, the palankeen of the Khan was seen approach- 
 ing, — the bearers with some difficulty threading their way through 
 the crowd. Kasim ran to meet it, and conduct it to the spot 
 where the Khan was ; and for the first time for many days, nay 
 since the attack upon the village, he caught a glimpse of the fair 
 inmate ; for the doors were slightly open as it approached ; and 
 though, as a good Mussulman ought to do, he would ha,yS turned 
 away his head from any other', yet he could not resist the oppor- 
 tunity of looking through the crevice ; and he thought that, if 
 perchance her eye should rest on his, a moment's glance would 
 satisfy him, and would assure him that he was not forgotten. 
 
 The bearers were about to make a wrong turn as they came up, 
 and Kasim called loudly to them. Ameena heard his voice; 
 and the temptation to steal a passing glance at him (who we must 
 own had been more in her thoughts than her lord might have 
 liked could he have seen them) caused her to withdraw from her 
 face the end of her garment with which she had covered it for an 
 instant, that she might see the better; she would not have done 
 so perhaps, could she have guessed that he was looking for her. 
 But as it happened, some obstruction in the way of the bearers 
 obliged them to stop so close to him, that the palankeen brushed 
 his person, and they could have spoken, so near were they. 
 Their eyes met once more ; his in admiration which he could 
 not conceal, hers in confusion which impelled her instantly to 
 cover her face, but not before she had seen that the scarf she had 
 given him to bind up his wound still occupied a prominent place 
 upon his breast. ' He has not thrown it away,' she said to her- 
 self. She little knew how he valued it. 
 
 Her palankeen was carried on through the door into the place 
 we have described. The others had departed, and she was alone 
 with her lord, who, bidding her his usual hearty and kind wel- 
 come, opened the doors wide, and displayed to her the view which 
 had surprised and delighted the others previously ; and she broke 
 out into a burst of girlish admiration at a sight she so little ex- 
 pected when her palankeen entered the gloomy doorway. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 99 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Madar waited for a while, until he saw that the Khan's servants 
 had arrived ; when, taking his silver stick of office with him, he 
 sought their little separate encampment, which, busy as it had 
 seemed elsewhere, was now swallowed up in the mass that occu- 
 pied the space around them. He lurked about the busy and 
 tired men for some time, not hazarding a remark to any one, 
 lest he should meet with a sharp repulse, which indeed was to be 
 expected ; seeing that after a long march, men who must provide 
 and cook their dinners, have much more to do than to hold con- 
 versations with prying inquirers. 
 
 At last, seeing Daood, the Khan's attendant, busy preparing 
 his master's hooka, he advanced towards him, and seated himself 
 upon his hams close to him. 
 
 • Salaam Aliekoom, brother ! ' said he. 
 
 ' Salaam ! ' was the only reply Daood chose to give. 
 ' Mashalla ! the Khan has returned in good health.' , 
 
 • Shookr Khoda ! he has.' 
 
 • Inshalla ! he wiU long continue so.' 
 'Inshalla!' 
 
 ' And so he has married a young wife ! Well, the Khan is a 
 powerful man, — a youth, yet' 
 
 ' Inshalla, brother ! ' and Daood continued his employment 
 most assiduously, humming a popular tune. 
 
 ' The brother of the Khanum is a fine-looking youth — may his 
 prosperity increase ! ' 
 
 Daood looked at the speaker with no amicable eyes. ' Who, 
 in the name of the Sheitan, art thou, O unlucky man ? How 
 darest thou, even in thy speech, to allude to the Khanum, and 
 what mean these questions ? Go ! stay not here, or it may be 
 that some of our folks may lay a stick over thee ; and haply 
 myself, if thou stayest much longer. Go, I tell thee ; or thou 
 mayst chance to eat dirt.' 
 
 Madar saw plainly enough there was little to be gained by 
 conversation with Daood, so he left him ; and after a while tried a 
 groom who was busy with one of the Khan's horses. 
 
 With him he was more successful, and soon he learned the 
 history of the young man and the events which had occurred 
 during their march from Hyderabad. Stored with these, he was 
 preparing to depart, when he was roughly accosted by Kasim and 
 Dilawur Ali, who had observed him in conversation with the 
 
loo TIFFOO SULTAUm 
 
 groom; for Dilawur Ali well knew the character of the man 
 to be of the worst kind, and that the inquiries he was making 
 were to gratify the curiosity of his master, or perhaps to serve 
 worse purposes. 
 
 Dilawur Ali was an officer who commanded a Duffa or division 
 of the corps, and a man of some authority ; so he cared little, 
 now that his commander had arrived, either for the man or his 
 master. For he was secure in the Khan's favour, and well knew 
 that the Jemadar dared not complain to him, even should his 
 servant receive ill usage, or at anyrate hard words. So he cried 
 out lustily, ' Ho ! Madar Sahib, what seekest thou among the 
 newly- arrived servants of the Khan ? By the soul of the Prophet, 
 thine appearance is like a bird of ill-omen, — ^like the first vulture 
 to a dying sheep. What has he been asking of thee ? ' he said to 
 the groom ; ' speak, and fear not.' 
 
 ' May I be your sacrifice,' replied the man ; ' he did but ask 
 about the Patdl Sahib yonder,' for so Kasim continued to be 
 called among them. 
 
 ' And what wouldst thou know about me, O baserbora V cried 
 Kasim ; ' what am I to thee or to thy master ?■' 
 
 ' Nothing, nothing, noble sir ; only my master (may his pros- 
 perity increase !) bid me ask,, in order that he migkt know some- 
 thing of one whose appearance is so like that of a youth hrave 
 in war; and he saw too .that your worship had been wounded, 
 and naturally wished to know whether the Khan Sahib (may his 
 name be exalted !) had been in any danger on the way down, 
 which may Alia avert ! ' 
 
 ' Thy words are smooth for once,' said Dilawur Ali, ' and well 
 calculated to disarm suspicion; but I know thee well, Madar 
 Sahib, and thy master too, and I warn thee of both, Kasim. In 
 the present case there may be. no harm meant, and perhaps, it is 
 unjust to accuse or to suspect thee ; but thou hadst as well take 
 the hint, for, Inshalla ! we are neither fathers of owls or of jack- 
 asses, and can see and hear as fer as, other people : dost thou 
 understand ? ' 
 
 ' I will tell thee more plainly, Madar Sahib,' said the young 
 Pat^l, — whose bipod was fired by the thought that any one should 
 be so soon prying into his affairs in the camp; — ' that if ever I 
 catch thee about this encampment of ours, or tampering with 
 any of my lord the Khan's servants, I will break every bone in 
 thy skin i dost thou hear? ' 
 
 ' My lord ! ' began the fellow, 
 
 ' Nay, no more,' continiied Kasim, ' or I may be tempted to 
 give way to wrath ; begone, in the name of the devils on whose 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. toi 
 
 errand thou earnest. I like thee not, by Alia ! thy face is like an 
 executioner's, — a fellow who would give a brave man a cup of 
 poison, or stab him from behind with a knife, and boast he had 
 dsne some valiant deed.' 
 
 Some -others who were standing by caught the words of the 
 young man, and laughed loudly at the truth he had so unwittingly 
 told ; and their taunts, added to the previous ones he had been 
 obliged to hear, caused Madar to slink off as fast as possible, 
 followed by the jeers and abuse of those who had joined in the 
 laugh against him. 
 
 ' He is off like a maimed cur 1 ' cried one. ' You have eaten 
 dirt ! ' cried another. ' Alia give th^ a good digestion of it, and 
 appetite for more the next time thou comest 1 ' 
 
 * Let us seize him and cut off his beard and mustachios ! such 
 an impotent coward and prying rascal is not worthy to wear the 
 emblems of manhood — ^let him be shaven like an eunuch ! ' cried 
 a masculine virago, the wife of a cainel-driver, setting her arms 
 a-kimbo, who thought it a fair opportunity to join in. ' Return, 
 O Madar Sahib, that I may spit on thy beard ! ' 
 
 Madar did not apparently choose to accept this polite invita- 
 tion, for he thought it possible that the first threat might be 
 attempted, and the shout of laughter which followed the latter 
 part of the speech caused him to quicken his pace considerably ; 
 and only once looking behind him, to throw a glance of hate 
 towards those by whom he had been menaced, he pursued his 
 way, and was soon lost in the crowd. 
 
 ' There goes a spiteful heart,' said Kasim ; ' didst thou see the 
 look he cast behind him ? ' 
 
 ' Ay, brother,' replied Dilawur Ali ; ' thou hast said truly, he 
 has a spiteful heart, and I could tell thee many a tale of his 
 iniquity ; but I am half sorry that we did not speak him fair.' 
 
 *I am not: I wouM rather have an open enemy than one 
 under the garb of civility or friendship.' 
 
 ' The scoundrel will tell all he has heard, and as much more 
 as he can invent, to the Jemadar y<jnder.' 
 
 ' And what of that ? ' said Kasim ; ' what have I to fear ? ' 
 
 • This is no place to speak of him,' said his friend ; ' come to 
 my tent, I will tell thee much of him.' 
 
 And truly the account the worthy Syud gave of the Jemadar 
 was not calculated in any way to allay fear, if any had existed in 
 Kasim's heart : for it was one of deceit, of villany often success- 
 ful, of constant intrigue, and of cruel revenge; but the young 
 man's fearless spirit only made light of the^e, which might have 
 disquieted a more experienced person; and he asked gaily, 
 
I02 ,TIPP00 SULTAUJsr. 
 
 'But what makest thee think that he bears me any enmity? we 
 have as yet hardly seen each other.' 
 
 'I' know it from his vile face, Kasim. While the Khan often 
 spoke to thee kindly in his presence, his eyes wandered to thee 
 with a bad expression, and they no sooner left thee than he and 
 that Sontaburdar of his exchanged furtive glances. I was watch- 
 ing them, for I saw at once he would be jealous of thee.' 
 
 ' He may do his worst,' said Kasim, ' I care not' But in spite 
 of this expression, his heart was not quite so free of care about 
 what had happened as it had been before he had heard Dilawur 
 Ali's stories. 
 
 Madar retiuned, burning >with spiteful and revengeful feelings, 
 and with much excitement visible in his countenance, he rushed 
 into his master's presence and flung his turban on the ground, 
 while he gnashed his teeth in rage. 
 
 ' What news hast thou, Madar ? What has been done to thee? 
 speak, good man. What has happened ? ' 
 
 ' Judge if I have not cause to be revenged, Khodawund : I am 
 less than a dog ; and may my grave be unblessed if I do not 
 avenge the insults I have suffered both for myself and you, O my 
 lord!' 
 
 ' Why^ what has happened ? ' 
 
 ' I tell you, you have been reviled by that son of perdition 
 Dilawur Ali, and the boy whom that old fool the Khan has 
 brought with him. Hear, Jemadar Sahib, what they said ; they 
 said they would — Inshalla ! ' and Madar twisted up his mus- 
 tachios fiercely as he spoke, ' defile your beard, and throw dirt 
 on it ; they called you a coward and less than man. They said 
 they did not value you a broken couree ; and they threatened to 
 beat me, to break every bone in my skin; and set up a vile 
 woman, one without shame, with an uncovered face, to abuse me 
 in vUe terms, to call me an eunuch, and to threaten to shave my 
 beard and mustachios ; and this before a thousand others, loochas 
 and. shodas * like themselves. But I will be revenged. Ya 
 Alia ! ya Hoosein ! ya Hyder ! ' he cried, as he took up his 
 turban which he had thrown down in his passion, and began to 
 tie it awry upon his head. ' I will be revenged ! ' 
 
 ' They said this ? — ^Ah, Kumbukht ! ' — cried the Jemadar, 
 who had heard out his servant's tale with some difficulty, — 
 ' they said it, — and thou hadst ears to hear it ? Alia ! Alia ! am 
 I a sheep or a cow to bear this ? — I who am, Inshalla ! a tiger, 
 an eater of men's hearts, — ^before whom men's livers turn to 
 water, — ^that I should be obliged to devour such abomination ! 
 * Dissolute vagabonds. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 103 
 
 .Wliatho! Furashes! any one without there! go, bring Dilawur 
 Ali, Duffadar, and — But no,' he said mentally, checking the 
 torrent of passion; 'it cannot be so. I have no authority now 
 to punish, and they would defy me; the Khan would take fire 
 in a moment if he heard I had been inquiring into the station of 
 this proud youth, — ^whom,.Inshalla! I will yet humble.' 
 
 ' Go,' he continued to the servants, who had suddenly entered 
 the terit; 'when I want you I will call again; at present I would 
 be alone with Madar.' 
 
 'And so thou heardest all this abuse of me, and ate dirt thy- 
 self, and had not the heart to. say a word or strike a blow in 
 return ! I could spit on thee, coward ! ' 
 
 ' May I be your sacrifice, Khodawund, I was helpless ; what 
 could I have done in that crowd ? had I only returned a word, 
 the woman whom they set up would have poured filthy abuse 
 on me.' 
 
 ' They shall rue the day that they uttered the words thou hast 
 repeated : Madar, they shall wish their tongues had never said 
 them, and that their hearts had eaten them, ere they had birth : 
 Ul-humd-ul-illa ! I have yet power, and can crush that butterfly, 
 whose gay bearing is only for a season, — but not yet — not yet.' 
 
 ' And who is this proud fool ? ' he continued after a pause to 
 Madar, who had been drinking in every word of his master's 
 soliloquy with greedy ears, and rejoicing in the hope of speedy 
 revenge. ' Who saidst thou he is ? ' 
 
 'A Patdl, noble sir,^a miserable Patd of a village. Alia knows 
 where, — a man whose mother, Inshalla ! is vile.' 
 
 ' I care not for his mother, — ^who is he ? and how comes he 
 with the Khan ? Tell me, or I will beat thee with my shoe ! ' 
 
 ' My lord, — ^Khodawund ! — be not angry, but listen : he is the 
 Patel of a village where the Khan and his young wife were 
 nearly drowned; he saved the lady, and he fought afterwards 
 against some Mahrattas when they attacked the village where the 
 Khan was resting for the night, and was wounded in his defence.' 
 
 ' And this is all, Madar ? ' 
 
 ' It, is, protector of the poor ! it is all ; they say the Pat^l is 
 a Roostum— a hero — ^a man who killed fourteen Mahrattas with 
 his own hand, who — ' 
 
 ' Bah ! * cried Jaffur impatiently, ' and thou art a fool to believe 
 them ; ' and he fell to musing. • He must have seen her face,' 
 he said at length aloud. 
 
 ' He must,' echoed his attendant ; ' they say he carried her in 
 his arms from the river.' 
 
 ' Khoob ! and what said they of her beauty? ' 
 
104 TJPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' That she is as &ir as the full moon in tiie night of Shub-i- 
 Barat' 
 
 ' Khoob t and he has seen her again, I dodbt not, since then.' 
 
 'Wilk alum!' said Madar, raising his thumbs to his ears. 
 ' How should your slave know ? but it is liketyj-^people cannot 
 conceal their ^ces when they are kavel&g.' 
 
 ' No, nor, Inshalla I wish to do so ! but we shkU see,— take 
 care tli^t you moition not abroad what occurred this eveiuBg, — 
 they will forget it' 
 
 * But my lord will nst 1' 
 
 < I never £caget an insult till I have hiad its £scchange, and that 
 thou well knowest, Madar. Begone! make it known without 
 tiba.t I may now be visited. We wfll ccmsider of this matter.' 
 
 Bwt we must return to the Khan, wiiose active forashes had 
 ^circled several of the pillars of the cloists-s with high tent 
 walls, swept out the inclosures thus made, spread. the carpets, 
 and converted what was before open arches and naked walls and 
 floors into a comfortable apartment, perfectly secure from obser- 
 vation. Ameena took possession of it, and was soon joined by her 
 lord, who, in truth, was in nowise sorry after the fatigues of the 
 day to enjoy first a good dinner, and afterwards the luxury of a 
 soft cotton Biattress, and to have his limbs gently kneaded by 
 the tiny hands of his fair wife^ while she amused him with a faiiy 
 tale, or one of those stories of intrigue and love which are so 
 common among the Easterns. 
 
 The cool air of the Mysore countay had ajq)arently invigorated 
 her, and the langUEo: which the heat and the faltigue of constant 
 travelling had caused in the Camatic had entirely disappeared, 
 and given place to her usual lively and joyous expression. 
 She had thrown a deep orange-coloured ^awl, wifli a very richly- 
 worked border, around h^, to protect her from the night breeze 
 that blew chilly over the tent walls, which did not reach to the 
 roof of the building they were in, and it fell in heavy folds around 
 her, appearing to make her light figure almost more slender from 
 the contrast. She was inexpressively lovely, as ^e now bent 
 playfully (yer the Khan, employed in her novel vocation, and 
 again desisting, began afresh some other story wherewith to be- 
 guile the time till the hour of repose arrived. 
 
 ' Alia bless thee, Ameena ! ' said the Khan, after one of her 
 lively sallies, when iuer face had brightened, zxA her eyes sparkled 
 at some point of her tale, — 'Alia bless thee ! thou art truly lovely 
 to-aight ; the Prophet (may his name be honoured 1) could have 
 seen no brighter Houris in Paradise (when the will of Alia called 
 him there) than theii art.' 
 
TIPPOO SVLTAUN. 105 
 
 ' I am my load's slav^,' said the My, ' and to ptease him is my 
 ade endeavour day and night. Happy is my heart when it tells 
 me I hare succeeded — ^how much more when I am honoured 
 with Mich a remark from thine own lq)s, O my lord ! And as to 
 my beaut/ — and here she threw a glance into the little mirror 
 she wore upon her thumb, — 'my lord surely flatters me; he must 
 have seen far fairer faces than mine.' 
 
 ' Never, never, by the PropTiet 1 ' cried the Khan, with energy ; 
 * never, I swear by diioe own eyes, never. I have but one regret, 
 Ameena, and that cannot be mended or altered now.' 
 
 Ameena's heart suddenly failed her, for Kasim came to her 
 remembrance, and she thought for an instarat ^at he might 
 suspect 
 
 'Regret! what dost thou regret?' she aslc^d hesitatingly. 
 ' Anythii^ that thy poor slave bath done? anything—' 
 
 * Notiiifflg, faire^ on thy part ; it was for myself.' 
 
 Her heart was suddenly relieved of a load." 'For thysetf?* she 
 said gaily; ' what dost thou regiet, Khan Sahib?' 
 
 ' 'otat I am not twisty )^ears younger, for thy sake, Ameena,' 
 he said with much feeling. ' Methinks now, to see these grey 
 hairs and this grey beard,' and he touched them as he spoke, ' so 
 near thy soft and waving tresses, I seem more like a father to thee 
 than a hngband : and yet thou art mine, Ameena. I would thou 
 wert older, fair one ! ' 
 
 * And if Z were, I shouM not be so fair,' she said artlessly. 
 
 ' I care not, so that we had grown old togetiier ; a;t leatst I 
 ^ould hxve seen tliy beauty, and the remeratomoe of It would 
 have been with me.' 
 
 Ameena sighed; feer thoH^hts wandered to Kasim's noble 
 figure and youthful yet iKq)resBive countenance ; in spite of her- 
 sdf and almost unconsciously she drew her hand across her eyes, 
 as if to shut something ideal from her sight. 
 
 The Khan faeaard her s^ j he would Bather not have heard it, 
 though his own remark he knew had ^evoked it. * I have said 
 the truth, Ameena, and thou wouHst rather I were a younger 
 man,' he said, looldng at her intently. * But wha:t matter ? these 
 idle words do but ps^ thee. It is our de«iiny, sweet or»e, and 
 we must work it out together.' 
 
 < Ay, it is our destiny,' she said. 
 
 * The will of Alia I ' continued the Khan, loddng up <Sevoutly, 
 'which hath joined two beings together so unsuited in age, but 
 not in temper I thit^ Ameena. 'V&oia. art not as other*,^wilful 
 and perverse — ^heavy burdens — hard to carry — and from which 
 there is no deliverance ; but a sweet and lovely flower, which a 
 
io6 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 monarch might wear in his heart and be proud of. So thou truly 
 art to Rhyman Khan, and ever wilt be, even though enemies 
 should come between us.' 
 
 'Enemies! my lord,' she said with surprise in her tone; 'I 
 never had an enemy, even in my own home : and I am here with 
 thee in a strange land, where I know no one who could be mine 
 enemy ! ' 
 
 ' May AHa put them far from thee, fairest ! '. he replied affec- 
 tionately; 'and yet sometimes I fear that thou mayst have to 
 encounter enmity.' 
 
 ' I have heard it said by my honoured father, Khan, that as the 
 blessed Prophet had many enemies, and as the martyrs Hassan 
 and Hoosein came to their sad deaths by them, it is the lot of all 
 to have some one inimical ; but he meant men, whose occupa- 
 tions and cares call them into the world, — not wojjien, like me, 
 who, knowing no one but my servants, cannot make enemies of 
 them if I am kind.' 
 
 ' But I mean those who would be jealous of thy beauty, and 
 seek thus to injure thee, — from these I alone fear,' replied her 
 husband. 
 
 ' I fear not. Khan,' she said, simply and confidently, ' neither 
 for thee nor myself. I cannot think that thou couldst ever give 
 thy Ameena cause for jealousy, or any one else cause of jealousy 
 of her. Alia help me ! I should die if such could be — ' 
 
 'Nay, there thou shalt be safe,' he said, interrupting her ; 'for 
 never, never shalt thou have cause to say of Rhyman Khan that 
 he was false to thee. I am a soldier, and one whose honour has 
 known neither stain nor spot ; and yet — ' 
 
 He had stopped suddenly and appeared to think ; and, while 
 he thought, suddenly an idea flashed into her mind, — -could she 
 have already a rival ? She could not bear it to rest there for an 
 instant, ere she threw it off in words. 
 
 ' Speak, O Khan ! ' she cried ; ' thou hast none but me who 
 claims thy love ? thou hast not belied thyself to one who has 
 here none to protect her? — no father — no mother — none but 
 thee ! Oh, my lord ! — thou canst not have deceived the child 
 who trusted thee and never asked of thee aught ? ' She was 
 very excited. 
 
 ' I have not deceived thee, Ameena ; but I have not told thee 
 all my history, — I have not told thee as yet what sooner or later 
 thou must know. I have not told thee how that for years I pined 
 for the love of. woman, such pure child-like love as thine, and 
 found nought after a short intercourse but bitter words and a 
 constant seeking after wealth which I had not to bestow, — how I 
 
TIFPOO SULTAUN. 107 
 
 have had to bear constant upbraiding from those out of whose 
 families I chose them, because I would not spend my substance 
 upon wasteful parents, — upon sons whose very existence was a 
 disgrace to them. Hadst thou known this, Ameena, thou wouldst 
 not marvel that I sought one like thee in a distant land, — one 
 who, removed from every tie, and with no one to sow dissension 
 betweem us, should leam to love and trust Rhyman Khan as, 
 Inshalla ! he ought to be loved and trusted.' 
 
 She knew not how to reply ; on the one hand the concealment 
 of other ties which the KLhan had kept secret so long and now 
 revealed so unexpectedly, and the undefined dread of the hate of 
 rivals, smote her to the very heart ; on the other, her attention 
 was powerfully arrested by the bold truthfulness of his disclosure ; 
 she was affected by the picture of desolation he had drawn of his 
 own state, and his disappointments, and she was soothed to think 
 that all he had sought for years was centred in her. She was 
 silent, — she could not speak under such conflicting thoughts. 
 
 ' Thou hast not told me all,' she said at length ; ' thou hast not 
 said how many — ' she could not finish the sentence. 
 
 ' There are two, dearest Ameena, — two, on each of whom I 
 fixed hopes which have been broken in many ways. I have 
 never had a child to bless me ; and where love should have been, 
 and mildness Uke thine to compensate for such a disappointment, 
 rancour has come and ill-temper, and with them despair to me, 
 — hopelessness of that quiet peace which my mind seeks when 
 war and its perils and excitements are past. When disappoint- 
 ment came with the first, I thought a second might perchance be 
 more to me than she had been : alas ! I soon was undeceived, 
 and bitterly too, Ameena. But, after all, who can say there are 
 no flowers to be pulled in the rugged pathways of their lives ? 
 Had this not happened, I should never have known thee, my rose, 
 — never have seen that look of pity which thy beauteous eyes 
 wear now ! It is from these I fear thou wilt have to bear some 
 jealousies, some enmity ; and canst thou brave somewhat for the 
 love of Rhjrman Khan ? Continue to be to me as thou art now, 
 and my wealth, my power, nay my life-blood itself, are thine, as 
 freely as thou carest to use them. Now thou knowest all, and a 
 heavyweight is gone from my heart, which had long abode there. 
 Speak, — art thou content ? ' 
 
 ' I would I had known this earlier,' she said sadly, after a while ; 
 ' but as it is, I am thankful to hear it even now. My lord knows 
 well that I am but a child, and no match for the intrigues of 
 those who are more versed in the world's wisdom. I feel that it 
 has saddened and sobered me ; and where I had hoped in my 
 
108 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 briglvt fancy to roam as I listed in the garden of thy love, 
 Hnchecked and unheeded by any one but thyself, I must cover 
 myself with the veil of discretion and deliba:ation, and take heed 
 to my steps lest I foil into tjie snsu^s which jealousy will not fail 
 to place for me.' 
 
 'Alia forbid !' cried the Khan fervently j 'thou hast no cause 
 to fear tiiem.' 
 
 'I know not,' she replied; 'but I can scarcely hope that there 
 may be firiend^ip between me and those whom you describe; 
 there may be a show for a while, but the end will be bitterness.' 
 
 And the poor girl wept ; for she had suddenly been disturbed 
 upon her height of security, or at all events of unmolested 
 occupation, and even in a few minutes she could not help 
 expecting some rude collision which would perhaps cast her 
 down headlong. And her own peaceful home — its freedom from 
 care, its loving affection, its harmless pleasures — rose so vividly 
 to her mind, that she could not help for the time regretting 
 bitterly that she had left it, to endure such a prospect as appeared 
 to open before her. Nor did the Khan disturb, except by a 
 caress or a well-timed word of cheerful hope, the thoughts which 
 he knew must be passing in her heart, but to which he could not 
 respond in a manner to make her forget them on the instant; 
 they must have their vent, he thought, and thought wisely. She 
 lay down and wept, till sleep gradually asserted its mastery over 
 her wearied form and rudely-excited thoughts. 
 
 ' She shall never come to harm, so help me Alia and his holy 
 prophet ! ' said the Khan mentally, as he bent over her and 
 gently drew some covering upon ber without disturbing her; 
 'she shall never know harm or evil, as long as the arm or power 
 of RhymaM Khan can shield her ! She still sobs,' he said, as 
 every now and then a sob broke softly from her, like to that 
 from a child who has cried itself to sleep, and ber bosom heaved 
 under the oppression. ' I would to Alia I had not caused her 
 this pain ! and yet it was inevitable. Their jealousy and malice 
 will be great I know, and their power is great, but, Inshalla! 
 there will be no fear of their machinations, and I will soon teach 
 her to despise them ; they too will cease to use them when they 
 see them of no avail and unheeded.' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN, 109 
 
 CHAPTER XIV, 
 
 The day after, the Khan's Risala halted at Bangalore, from 
 whence it was ordered to escort some treasrare, military stores, 
 and many English prisoners to the capital. 
 
 The Khan having now taken the command, he was enabled 
 to employ Kasim in many useful offices, both as a scribe and 
 in the execution of his orders; and he was delighted to find 
 in him one whom he could trust, and whose advice was often of 
 use in matters that perplexed his own uninventive mind. And 
 although he held no situation as yet in the Government service, 
 nor was enrolled in the regiment, yet he gradually became looked 
 up to, even during the few days he had been with it, by the 
 subordinate officers, who naturally wished to carry favour with 
 one so much in association with their chief; accordingly Kasim 
 was courted by almost all — feasted and made much of. Some, 
 indeed, legarded him with jealousy, at the head of whom was 
 the person we have already named, Jaffiir Sahib ; and as their 
 opinions became known to one another, they gradually formed 
 a party, which, though its numbers were smaU, made up for that 
 deficiency in bitter dislike. 
 
 The most prominent of these, besides Jafifur Sahib himself, 
 was Nasa:-oo-deen, the chief accountant and secretary of the 
 regiment, — one of those corrupt and wily scoundrels so often to 
 be found in the persons of those who have been educated in the 
 daily observance of schemes and fraud : for his father had filled 
 a high situation as moonshee or secretary near the person of 
 Hyder Ali ; and it is impossible for any one to fill a similar place 
 in any native court, without having daily opportunities of im- 
 provement in the arts of intrigue, felsehood, and corruption. 
 He was also a constant associate of Jaffur Sahib ; and in many 
 a plan for cheating the Government by false musters of men, and 
 extra charges for grain and forage, they had been neariy asso- 
 ciated, — ^indeed, had divided the spoil between them. 
 
 Naser-00-deen had also been the agent for the supply of 
 forage and other necessaries to a large number of the Khan's 
 horses which were in the Risala ; and as he seldom looked after 
 these accounts himself,, there had been a very handsome profit 
 to be gained from them by the subordinates. It was probable 
 that upon the first ground, therefore — that is, so far as the regi- 
 ment was concerned- — Kasim and the Moonshee would never 
 haw come in contact with each other ; but they were not long 
 
no TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 in doing so when the private interests of the Khan were in 
 question. 
 
 For want of occupation Kasim had solicited some employ- 
 ment from the Khan, who had desired him to look after his 
 own horses, and to examine the accounts the Moonshee should 
 furnish of their expenditure ; and for this office Kasim was well 
 fitted, not only from his knowledge of writing, but from his 
 experience as a Patdl of the prices of grain and forage. The 
 accounts had used to be daily submitted to the Khan, and 
 during his absence they had accumulated to a large amount. 
 Occupied in other duties and affairs, the Khan could not afford 
 time to hear them read, and gave them over for examination to 
 his young friend, who, in the careful scrutiny he made of them, 
 Snd his readiness in comprehending their intricate nature, con- 
 vinced the Moonshee that "he had to deal with a person of no 
 ordinary exactitude and ability. 
 
 Kasim, in his inspection of the documents, had much occasion 
 to suspect that the rates and quantities charged were far greater 
 than the truth ; but he did not dare at first to make any accusa- 
 tion against a man of the Moonshee's apparent probity and re- 
 spectability. He had seen enough, however, to put him on his 
 guard for the future, and there was soon ample reason to confirm 
 his suspicions that all was not as fair as the accounts showed. 
 While they were at Bangalore he made a daily memorandum of 
 the prices of grain in the several bazaars, and inquiries also of 
 the men who rode the Khan's horses in the regiment, and of the 
 grooms a:lso, as to the quantities used ; and on comparing them 
 with the memorandums furnished to him by the Moonshee, the 
 deceit was too flagrant to pass unnoticed. Accordingly he sought 
 that worthy, and, without any accusation, ventured to point out 
 some inaccuracies, as he supposed they must be, in the ac- 
 counts, as compared with the market rates. These the Moon- 
 shee tried to support with all the eflirontery he was able to 
 muster for some time; but Kasim was steady, and in the end 
 triumphed. It was, however, an offence which rankled deeply 
 in the Moonshee's mind, and in an evening converse with 
 his friend the Jemadar, he alluded to the matter in no very 
 amiable humour. 
 
 'Things have come to a pretty pass since the Khan has 
 brought that boy with him ! ' said he indignantly to the Jemadar 
 when they were alone. 
 
 ' How ? has he interfered with you, as he appears to wish to 
 do with everyone else ? ' 
 
 ' To be sure he has — it seems he can read j and the old fool. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUNi rii 
 
 without thinking about it, gave him all my accounts of the Pagha 
 to look over, instead of signing and passing them at once.' 
 
 ' And he discovered—' 
 
 ' No, nothing in them, Alia be praised ! so that there is a good 
 round sum to divide between us ; but he evidently suspected the 
 rates of grain, which, believe me, Jemadar, you put too high.' 
 
 ' Not a whit, not a whit, since we have got the money.' 
 
 ' But I say it was, for it led the young prying fellow to ask the 
 prices of grain in the bazaars, and of forage too; and, as it seems 
 he is a Pat^l, he knows more about tlie matter than we do our- 
 selves ; so, when I gave him the accounts to-day, he showed me 
 a memorandum of every da/s nerrikh,* and began comparing it 
 as simply as possible with the account and showing the difference. 
 By the Prophet ! I could have struck him for his pretence of in- 
 genuousness, and his seeming unconsciousness that he was de- 
 tecting me. I tried to bully him. Jemadar Sahib, and said I had 
 eaten the Khan's salt longer than he had, and was not to be sus- 
 pected by a boy ; but it would not do ; he told me not to be 
 angry, that he' might be mistaken, and that he would show the 
 accounts to the Khan if I liked ; but this you know would not 
 have answered my purpose, for the old fellow would have fired 
 up in a moment' 
 
 ' And what did you do ? you surely did not alter them ? ' 
 
 'Why, what else could I do. Jemadar? I at last pretended to 
 see the mistake and make fresh accounts.' 
 
 ' In other words, O cowardly fool ! you ate dirt ; you allowed 
 him to obtain a mastery over you which you will never regain. 
 You call yourself a Moonshee ! — a man of letters ! Shame on 
 you, I say, to allow yourself to be dictated to by a bpy ! Had I 
 a beard like yours, I would cut it off for very shame.' 
 
 ' But, Jemadar — ' he interposed. 
 
 ^ I tell thee I can hear nothing ; I know this will not end here 
 — the fellow's prying should have been stopped at once ; and his 
 suspicions will never rest, believe me, till he has found out the 
 whole ; and at any rate we shall lose money.' 
 
 * We shall, certainly.' 
 
 ' How much ? ' 
 
 ' Two hundred rupees, I dare say.' 
 
 ' Alia ! Alia ! so much ! and the worst is that our trade is 
 stopped.' 
 
 ' I fear so ; how can it be otherwise, as he observes the rates ? ' 
 
 ' Could you get him to take the accounts himself, Moonshee 
 Sahib, we might find him out ourselves overcharging in a few 
 
 * Rate of prices 
 
iia TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 6a.ys, and so they would Ml back to us^ aad he would be 
 rtiined.' 
 
 • Alia knows ! ' sighed the Moonshee ; ' at any rate it is worth 
 trying ; I will see to it I am only afraid your turn will come 
 next' 
 
 'I'll tdl you what, Naser, the thought is not to be borne. 
 What! lose nay monthly gains, without which this service is 
 nothing to me ! — Insballa ! no> If there is a Kasim Ali Pat6l, 
 there is at least a Shdch Jafbr Jemadar. I tell thee, man, I was 
 not bom to eat dirt at his hands, but he at mine; and if I cannot 
 see into the depths of futurity like the Sultaun (may his name be 
 hon<:Hired!), yet I can see ha enough to behold this boy's disgrace 
 at my l^nds. Dost thou hear — at my hands? thou shouldst 
 know by tiiis time that I rarely fail of my purpose.' 
 
 ' May Alk grant it 1' sMd the Moonshee piously. 
 
 ' I tell thee,' he continued, 'I hated him from the first, because 
 I found he would stand between me and the Khan. He abused 
 me in hearing of all the camp ; those wc»ds have gone forth 
 among the men, and as I look in their faces I fancy that the 
 remembrance of them comes into their heart, and that they 
 exult over me. I tell thee this is not to be borne, and I will have 
 an exchange for it, or I will see why; dost thou understand?' 
 
 'Ida' 
 
 ' And thou must aid me.' 
 
 ' Sujrely — ^with my pen, with my advice, my — ' 
 
 ' Bah ! thy advice — ^who asked for it? who wants that of a fool 
 who could not defend his own papers ? when I have occasion 
 for thee in this matter I will tell thee, and see that thou doest it ; 
 and—' 
 
 ' My lord is not angry with his poor servant ? ' said the Moon- 
 shee cringingly. 
 
 ' I have good cause to be so, but must eat my vexation for the 
 present. Go I you have your dismissal.' He mused for a while 
 after the Moonshee had left him, and then called to Madar, who 
 waited without 
 
 ' Have you discovered anything more about the Khan's wtfe, 
 Madar?' he asked. 
 
 ' Nothing, my lord, except that she is very beautiful.' 
 
 'That you saidi before s nothing between her and the Pat^l?' 
 
 • Nothing, except that he had seen her.' 
 
 • "Kjat too yott told me : does he see her now i * 
 •Willa Alum ! ' * was the reply. 
 
 ' It would be as well for us if he did.' 
 
 * God know*. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 113 
 
 ' Shall your slave try to effect it ? ' 
 
 ' I have been thinking of it, Madar ; you might contrive some- 
 thing. I tell thee I hate that boy more and more ; it is only this 
 moment that I have heard from Naser-00-deen Moonshee that 
 his accounts have been suspected by him.' 
 
 ' Does the Khan know of it ? ' 
 
 ' No, not as yet ; but there is no security for us, and there is 
 no saying what may happen, for this boy holds a sword over us.' 
 
 ' I understand,— my lord will trust me ; and depend on it that, 
 sooner or later, I find a way of helping him to. revenge these 
 insults.' 
 
 It was thus to screen their own iniquity, of which they were 
 conscious, that these schemes were being undertaken against 
 the peace of two individuals who had never harmed any of the 
 plotters ; and in the course of our history we shall follow them 
 to their conclusions. 
 
 The consciousness of his own evil practices and corruption, as 
 regarded the public service, made the Jemadar jealous of any one 
 who should usurp the place he had held with the Khan ; not 
 because the Khan liked him, but because, being indolent by 
 nature, and unacquainted with the details of the private economy 
 of his Risalas, the Khan was glad enough to find . that any one 
 would undertake that for him, which he could not bring his mind 
 to take any interest in, or indeed to understand. And if Kasim 
 had succeeded in detecting the Moonshee, what might not he 
 have to fear, whose peculations were even of a more daring 
 nature, andi extended to the men, the horses, and the establish- 
 ment of the corps ! The Jemadar brooded over these thoughts 
 incessantly; and his avaricious and miserly spirit could as ill 
 brook the idea of pecuniary loss, as his proud and revengeful 
 heart the prospect of disgrace, and the insult he had been told 
 by his emissary that he had already received. 
 
 After a few days' halt at Bangalore, for the purpose of prepar- 
 ing carriages for the removal of the English prisoners to the 
 capital, and the collection of some of the revenue of the district, 
 which was also to be escorted thither, the morning arrived on 
 which they, were to set out, and each corps was drawn up in 
 front of the Mysore gate of the fortress ; while the Khan, 
 attended by Kasim and some others, rode into it in order to 
 receive the prisoners, aad the Khan his last orders from the 
 Governor. 
 
 While he was employed in his audience, Kasim rode hither 
 and thither, observing with delight ths impregnable strength of 
 the fortress, — the cannon, the arms and appearance of the disci- 
 
114 flPPOO SULtAUI<K 
 
 plined garrison, and the few French soldiers and officers who 
 were lounging about. He had never b^bie seen a European ; 
 and their appearance, their tj^t^ighting and ungraceful dress, 
 inspired him wit& no very exalted idea of their prowess. 
 
 ' Can these be the men,' be thought, ' to whom the Sultaun 
 trusts, instead of to the brave hearts and sturdy arms of the men 
 of Islam } but so I am told, and I am to see more at the capital. 
 Well, it is strange that they should basse the talents for such con- 
 trivances in war, as never enter into our hearts : our on^ defence 
 is a strong arm and a. good -svord and shield ; and if we had not 
 to fight against the English kafirs, we should not require these 
 Fnendi, who after all are UMily anfiiiels too. Brat here come the 
 prisoners, I suppose,' he added, as a few sddiers, horse and foot, 
 with 'dracwn swords, advanced from behind an adjacent wall ; ' the 
 b(rav« kaiiis, as all call them, and Itate them because they are so 
 brave ; I confess I do not, and only because they aare the Sul- 
 taun's leniemies, and infidels into the bargain.' 
 
 His curiosity was raised to the Mghest patch to see tkese un- 
 happy rffien, who, in defiance of the treaty ctf 1784, vr&x. kept in 
 the fortresses of die country whhout a tope of deliverance, and 
 cut off frcan esBif chance tj^oomiiniumcatiQn with their countrymen 
 on the coast. Amang ttoe few with whom Kasim had associatedi, 
 ' the English ' were the continued subject of conversaition ; their 
 reli^on, their manners, and their persons were ridicnaled and 
 held up to scorn by all, but their bravery none could demy; and 
 that man held Mmsdf far exaMed above his fellows wiio had 
 entered into personal cormbat «dA or slain one of them. Many 
 were the tales then in xir0i!iiktion^<^^-SGime eKaggesatiisns of reality, 
 others Stem scenes of hand ifightii^, — which even figurative lan- 
 guage failed to exalt a.bo*e ifceff «Sue estimation. 
 
 In connpany witi the Khan, with iDalawur Ali and with others, 
 Kasim had heard many of these relations; and ind^d, when- 
 ever he Ustened in <iie campi, either to itinerant story-tellers, or 
 to those gathered around a watchfire, the English were alike the 
 theme 'of execration for then* religion and their falsdiood, or on 
 rare occasions praised for their devoted bravery. No wonder 
 then was it that he watched for their looming •with very eager 
 anxiety ; figuring to himself what they might be, he thought to 
 have seen them a maitial-loofcing people, and iAat m their per- 
 sons he shoiuld realise his own ideas of what a warrior ought to 
 be, — tall and finely formed, haughty in appearance, with an eye 
 of fire and an amn of iron. 
 
 One by one the prisoners came before him, and some of them 
 heavily chained, others free ; but all men on whose faces the 
 
TIPPOO SVLTAVN. 115 
 
 rigour of captivity had set its seal. Melancholy and pale, many 
 of them wasted by sickness, and by mental and bodily sufferings, 
 they were shadows of what they had been ; their clothes hung in 
 rags about them, and, though not dirty, they were of a colour 
 which proved that they themselves had washed them from time 
 to time; a few of them had worn-out uniform coats upon thenn, 
 whose stadmed and discoloured appearance fitted well with the 
 wretched condition of their wearers. Their step was slow and 
 weak, and those who wore fetters with difficulty moved at all ; 
 none of them spoke, hut many of them gazed around upon the 
 walls, and looked up into the bright heavens, and smiled, as 
 though they were glad that motion and air were once more 
 allowed to refresh their cramped and emaciated limbs and 
 weary spirits. 
 
 In spite of his previous determination to hate them with the 
 same spirit as that of his companions, Kasim felt he could not ; 
 there would, in spite of his efforts to repress it, arise a feeling of 
 pity, .that men whom he doubted not were as brave as the race 
 was represented to be, should exhibit so sorrowful an appearance, 
 — one which told a forcible tale of unalleviated misery. Follow- 
 ing those on foot were several in small doolies, whose emaciated 
 aaid ghastly looks t©M of their sickness and unfitness for removal. 
 
 He had expected a feeling of triumph to arise in his heart as 
 he should behold the infidel English captives; but there was 
 sometymg so touching in the appearance of the melancholy 
 procession, that he felt none ; he could much rather have wept 
 as he looked on it, than joined in any expression of ill-will 
 towards the prisoners. 
 
 As they advanced, a few boys who were near hooted the 
 cssgltbres, and abused them in obscene language. This they did 
 not appear to deign to notice ; at last one boy, more bold than 
 the rest, took up a stone, and accompanying it with a savage 
 oath, &ing it against the prisoner nearest to him, and, having 
 struck him, was greeted with a loud shoat of joy by his com- 
 panions. 
 
 Almost ere he was aware of his own intention, and impelled 
 by the wanton insult upon one so helpless, Kasim violently 
 urged his horse across the open space up to the boy — who, 
 having been successful in his first fling, had picked up another 
 stone with a similar intention — .and struck him severely several 
 times with the whip he had in his hand. Screaming with pain, 
 the boy ran off to a distance ; and his associates, terrified at the 
 punishment their compaaniion had received, dispersed at once. 
 
 Kasim could not resist speaking to the prisoner on whose 
 
ii6 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 behalf he had acted; and riding up to him, he hoped, not 
 knowing whether he should be understood, that he was not 
 hurt, adding, that he had punished the young miscreant who 
 had thrown the stone. 
 
 The voice was one of kindness, and it was long since one like 
 it had sounded in the young Englishman's ears. 
 
 ' I am not hurt,' he said, in good Hindostanee ; ' and if I had 
 been, an act of kindness such as yours would have amply repaid 
 me for receiving it. Gallant soldier ! you, it would seem, have 
 not been taught as your countrymen to hate the English. Do 
 not, however, speak to me : an act of courtesy to one of us may 
 chance to bring disgrace upon you, and I would not have you 
 receive that return for your kindness. May God protect you ! ' 
 
 They passed on, and Kasim remained in the same spot, gazing 
 after him ; his tall figure and proud air, his pale but handsome 
 face and deeply-expressive blue eyes, — such as Kasim had never 
 seen before, — his fluent speech and manly tone, — above all, his 
 last words, ' May God protect you ! ' affected him powerfully. 
 
 ' God protect you ! ' he repeated ; ' he believes then in Alia ; 
 how can he be an infidel ? He said, " Alia Hafiz ! " and he spoke 
 like a Mussulman; why should he be hated? I will see him 
 again. By Alia ! such a man is worth knowing, and I may be 
 able to befriend him ; surely he is a man of rank.' 
 
 But here his surmises were put an end to by Dilawur Ali, who, 
 riding up to him, bade him accompany him, for the Khan was 
 ready to proceed. 
 
 ' Then you saw the kafirs, — may their end be perdition ! ' said 
 the rough soldier. 
 
 ' I did, brother,' returned Kasim ; ' miserable enough they 
 look, and as if they could hardly move ; how are they to travel?' 
 
 ' There are covered carts for some, Meer Sahib, for they cannot 
 bear the sun, — doolies for others who are weak ; and one or two, 
 who are officers I hear, are to be allowed an elephant, — ^but 
 we shall see.' And they rode rapidly through the gate of 
 the fort. 
 
 ' I thought he was an officer,' exclaimed Kasim ; ' I thought 
 he was more than one of the lower rank ; ' as the Englishman 
 with whom he had spoken was desired to mount an elephant 
 which bore a handsome umbara.* 
 
 ' Why ? what know you of him ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing ; but I spoke a few words to him, and it struck me 
 Jie was a man of breeding and rank.' 
 
 ' You had better beware, Kasim,' said his companion ; ' acts 
 • A kind of howdah, 
 
TIPPOO SVLTAUN. 117 
 
 may be misinterpreted, and men like you never want enemies to 
 assist others in thinking ill of them.' 
 
 ' Thank you for your advice,' said Kasim ; ' but I have done 
 or said nothing that I am ashamed of.' Kasim afterwards men- 
 tioned what he had done to the Khan, who could not help 
 praising the young soldier's action. 
 
 ' By the Prophet, well done ! ' he cried, as Kasim related 
 the incident ; ' I am glad the young Haram-zada was soundly 
 whipped; he will know how to throw stones another time. I 
 have fought against the Feringhees, and hate them ; and yet, in 
 such a case, I think I should have acted as thou didst, Kasim. 
 Hast thou spoken to the Feringhee since ? ' 
 
 ' No : Dilawur Ali seemed to think I had done wrong even 
 in addressing him at all ; but I should like much to speak with 
 him ; they say he is a Sirdar of rank.' 
 
 'I hear he has accepted the Sultaun's offer of pardon, and 
 
 . that he will serve in the army ; so at least the Governor of the 
 
 fort hoped ; but we shall see. I doubt it, for the Feringhees are 
 
 very obstinate, and Tippoo has gained over none as yet by fair 
 
 means.' 
 
 ' Then there are some in the army ? ' 
 
 ' A few only who have been honoured with the rite of Islam ; 
 but they are of the lowest grade, and he does not trust them. 
 Go you then, when we have pitched the camp, and ask this 
 Feringhee whether he will serve with us under the banner of 
 the lion of the Faith.' 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Kasim hardly need be desired to do this; he longed to have 
 some amicable conversation with one who had already excited 
 such interest in his heart, and, as soon as possible after his few 
 duties were discharged, he went to the tents which had been 
 pitched for the English, and sought out his acquaintance. They 
 met with pleasure ; on Kasim's part, with the result of the interest 
 he had felt, — on the other's with joy that among so many enemies 
 there was one from whom he had received kindness, and who 
 now again sought him. 
 
 ' I little thought to have seen you again,' said the officer (for 
 so in truth he was), ' and this visit is a proof to me that we are 
 not enemies,' 
 
ii8 TJPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' No, certjunly,' said Kasim ; ' I have no enmity towards you.' 
 
 ' Perhaps then you can inform me and my poor comrades why 
 we are being removed to the capital ; to us it is inexplicable.' 
 
 ' You are to enter the service of the Sultaun, we hear,' replied 
 Kasim ; and from the flush of indignation, which rose in the 
 other's pallid face, he could see how that idea was spumed by 
 him. 
 
 ' Never ! ' he cried, ' never ! and the Sultaun knows this full 
 well ; months, nay years ago, he offered the alltemative between 
 this and death, and we spxuned it with contempt He will try us 
 again, and receive the same answer ; ajiid then, perhaps, he may 
 relieve us by death from this imprisonment, which is worse.' 
 
 * Then it has been severe ? ' 
 
 ' What ! are you in the Suitaun's service, and know not of our 
 condition ? ' 
 
 ' I am not in his service,,' said Kasim j ' chance threw me into 
 the society of the officer with whom I travel to the city. I may 
 enter it there, which my friend wishes me to do, if it can be 
 effected advantageously.' 
 
 ' Do not enter it, I beseech you,' cried the Englishmaa with 
 sudden enthusiasm ; ' with so tendo: and gallant a heart,, thou 
 couldst not serve one who is a tiger in nature, one whose glory 
 it is to be savage and merciless as his namesake. Rather fly 
 from hence ; bear these letters from me to Madras, — they will 
 ensure thee reward — service — anything thou choosest to ask j 
 take them, and the blessing of Heaven go with thee ! thou wilt 
 have succoured the unfortunate, and given news of their exist- 
 ence to many who have long ago mourned us as dead.' 
 
 ' Feringhee ! ' said Kasim earnestly, ' thy gallant bearing has 
 won my regard, and my friendly feeling will ever be towards 
 thee ; but I abhor thy race, and long for the time when I shall 
 strike a blow against them in fair and open field. I enter the 
 service of the Sultaun at the city, whither we go ;, and this is 
 answer enough to thy request ; ask me not, therefore, to do what 
 I should be ashamed of a week hence. I will speak to my com- 
 mander about thy letters, and doubt not that they will be for- 
 warded.' 
 
 ' The only gleam of hope which has broken on me for years 
 has again faded from my sight,' said the young officer with deep 
 melancholy. ' I well know that no letters will be forwarded from 
 me. If thy master, or he who will be so, has denied my exist- 
 ence, and broken his solemn treaties in my detention, and that 
 of the other poor, fellows who are with me, thinkest thou he will 
 allow me to write word that I am here ? ' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 119 
 
 'And is it so?' said Ka^m; •! believe thee; thine enemies 
 even say Hhat the Eaglisk never lie. If it be possible to fcww-ard 
 thy letters, I wiE do it, and ask thee for diem ; and now farewell ! 
 If Kasim Ali Patdl can ever help theej ask for him when thou 
 art in trouble or dangei 5, if he i& near thee^he wiU do his utmost 
 in tl^ behalf;' so saymg Kasmi kfi hiixt, aod returned to the 
 Khan. 
 
 ' I thought it wQidd be as tbou kst zelated,' saM he to, Kasim, 
 as the latter detailed the eonversadon ; < such a. man is neither to 
 be bribed nor threa^ned. Even their bitterest enemies must 
 say of these unbelkvers that litejr are faithfiM to deaths May 
 Alia help him ! for I fear the Sultaun's displeasure at this, his 
 last re|ed:i«m of rank and ser^ee^ may be fatal to him and 
 to the rest; men's determinations, however, do not hold out 
 alw^s with the fear of death before thdr eyes— but we ^all see. 
 Whatever is written in his destiny he mua accomplish.' 
 
 * Ameea 1 ' said Kasmi : ' I piay it may be fevouraWe, for I 
 honour him though he is a kafic' 
 
 On the fifth d^y afterwards they approadied the city. Kasim, 
 with delight, that his journey was en«ted, amd that he should enter 
 on his service without delay ; the Khan, with mingled feelings of 
 joy at returning to his master and his old companions in arms, 
 and of vexation at the thoughts of his two wives, and the recep- 
 tion Ameena was sure to meet with from them., Thib, in truth, 
 was a soorce of the most lively uneasiness to hira, for he could 
 not but see that, say what he would to comfort her, the spirit, of 
 Amelia had considerably drooped siace the n^ht at Nundi- 
 droog, when he told her of tfaar existence. StiU he hoped the 
 best ; and he said to himself,, ' If they cannot agrees I shall only 
 have to get a separate house, and live away from tl^m.' 
 
 ' Eehold the city ! ' cried many an one of those who led the 
 force, as, on reaching the brow of a slight eminence, the broad 
 valley of the river Cavery burst upon them; in the centre of 
 which, though still some noiiks ^staM, appeared Senngapatam, 
 amidst groves of trees, and surrounded; by ridily-cultivated lands, 
 watered by the river. Not much of the fbrt, or the buildings 
 within it, could be seen ; but the tall minarets of a laige mosque, 
 two enormous Hindoo pagodas and some other smaller ones, 
 and, the white-terraced roofe of the palaces, aippeared absjve the 
 trees ; and as they approached nearer, the walla and defences of 
 the fort couM be (Mstinguished from the ground upon which it 
 was built 
 
 Passing several redoubts which commanded the road, they 
 reached liie river, and fording its uneven and rocky chiuuid 
 
120 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 with' some difficulty, they continued on towards the fort itself, 
 whose long hnes of rampart, high walls, bastions, and cavaliers, 
 from which cannon peeped in every direction, fHled Kasim with 
 astonishment and delight. 
 
 As they rode onwards through the bazaar of the outer town, 
 they saw at the end of the street a cavalcade approaching, evi- 
 dently that of a person of rank. A number of spearmen pre- 
 ceded it, running very fast, and shouting the titles of a person 
 who was advancing at a canter, followed by a brilUant group, 
 clad in gorgeous apparel, cloth-of-gold, and the finest musUns, 
 and many in chain-armour, which glittered brightly in the sun. 
 
 Ere Kasim could ask who it was, the cortege was near the 
 head of his corps, which drew off to one side to allow it to pass. 
 As the company advanced, the Khan dashed his heels into the 
 flanks of his charger, and flew to meet it : Kasim saw him halt 
 suddenly, and present the hilt of his sword to one who, from his 
 appearance and the humility of the Khan's attitude, he felt 
 assured could be no other than the Sultaun. 
 
 Just then one of those bulls which the belief of the Hindoos 
 teaches them are incarnations of divinity, and which roam at 
 large in every bazaar, happened to cross the road lazily before 
 the royal party. The attendant spearmen strove to drive it on ; - 
 but not accustomed to being interfered with so rudely, it resisted 
 their shouts and blows with the butt-end of their spears, and 
 menaced them with its horns. There ensued some . little noise, 
 and Kasim, who was watching the Sultaun, saw him observe it. 
 
 ' A spear, a spear ! ' he heard him cry ; and as one of the 
 attendants handed him one, he exclaimed to his suite, ' Now, 
 friends, for a hunt'! Yonder fellow menaces us, by the Prophet ! 
 Who will strike a blow for Islam, and help me to destroy this pet 
 of the idolators ? — may their mothers be defiled ! Follow me ! ' 
 And so saying, he urged his noble horse onwards. 
 
 The bull seeing himself pursued, turned for an instant with 
 the intention of flight, but it was too late ; as it turned the spear 
 of the Sultaun was buried in its side, and it staggered on, the 
 blood pouring in torrents from the gaping wound, while it bel- 
 lowed with pain. One or two of the attendants followed his 
 example ; and the Sultaun continued to plunge his weapon into 
 the unresisting animal as fast as he could draw it out, until at 
 last it fell, groaning heavily, having only run a few yards. 
 
 ' Shabash, shabash ! (Well done, well done !) who could have 
 done that but the Sultaun ? Inshalla ! he is the victorious — he 
 is the slayer of man and beast ! — ^he is the brave in war, and the 
 skilful in hunting ! ' cried all the attendants and courtiers. But 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 121 
 
 there were many others near, who vented their hate in silent 
 yet bitter curses — Brahmins, to whom the slaughter of the sacred 
 animal was impiety not to be surpassed. 
 
 ' Ha ! ' cried the Sultaun, looking upon the group, one of 
 whom had disgust plainly marked upon his countenance ; ' ha ! 
 thou dost not like this. By the soul of Mahomed we will make 
 thee like it ! Seize me that fellow, Furashes ! ' he cried fiercely, 
 ' and smear his face with the bull's blood ; that will teach him to 
 look with an evil eye on his monarch's amusements.' 
 
 The order was obeyed literally ; and, ere the man knew what 
 was said, he was seized by a number of the powerful attendants ; 
 his face was smeared with the warm blood, and some of it forced 
 into his mouth. 
 
 ' Enough ! ' cried the Sultaun, leaning back in his saddle as 
 he watched the scene, and laughing immoderately, pointed to 
 the really ludicrous but disgusting appearance of the Brahmin, 
 who, covered with blood and dirt, was vainly striving to sputter 
 forth the abomination which had been forced into his mouth, 
 and to wipe the blood from his face. ' Enough ! bring him 
 before us. Now make a lane in front, and give me a spear. 
 Away with thee ! ' he cried to the Brahmin, ' I will give thee a 
 .fair start ; but if I overtake thee before yonder turning, thou art 
 a dea,d man, by Alia ! ' 
 
 The man turned at once, and fled with the utmost speed that 
 terror could lend him ; the Sultaun waited a while, then shouted 
 his favourite cry of ' Alia yar ! ' and, followed by his attendants, 
 darted at full speed after the fugitive. The Brahmin, however, 
 escaped down the narrow turning, and the brilliant party rode 
 on, laughing heartily at their amusement. 
 
 Kasim watched all he saw with disgust ; for, though a Moha- 
 medan, and a sincere one, he had never heard of a sacred bull 
 being destroyed ; and there was something so wanton and cruel 
 in the act of its destruction, that it involuntarily brought to his 
 memory the words of the young Englishman, and his character 
 of the Sultaun. But he had not time for much reflection, for 
 the corps was once more in motion, and he became absorbed in 
 admiration and wonder at all he saw — the extent and wealth of 
 the bazaars — the crowds of people — the numbers of soldiers of 
 gallant bearing — the elephants moving to and fro — and beyond 
 all the fort, the interior of which he now longed to see ; but the 
 Khan turned off' to the left, having passed the town, and after 
 riding a short distance they entered the camp without the walls, 
 and halted within its precincts. 
 
 Leaving Kasim with his tents, which had arrived, and were 
 
122 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 being pitched for the accomnaodation of Ameena, the Khan, 
 accompanied only by his servant Daood, rode into the fort, to 
 his own house, in order to break the news of his marriage to his 
 wivesr and to prepare them for their new associate. ' There is 
 sure to be a storm,' he said, 'and it may as well burst upon me 
 at once.' 
 
 Alighting therefore at the dooTi where he was welcomed affec- 
 tionately by his servants, the news ^nit^y spread through the 
 house that the Khan was come. He only delayed whale he 
 washed h'is feet and face, to cleaoise them &om the dust of the 
 road,, as well as to refresh himself a little ere. he passed on into 
 th^ zenana. 
 
 The two ladies, who had expected his arrival, and who had 
 emplc^ed a person abroad to inliaiEm t^em of it, were sitting on a 
 musnud smoking at one end of the room, with their backs to the 
 door. As he entered, the gurgling of thfiir hookas became 
 doubly loud ; a few slave girte were standing about the- apart- 
 ment, who made low salaams as he approached them ; but the 
 ladies neither rose nor took the slightest notice of him. 
 
 The Khan was surprised at. seeing them together, as when he 
 had left them they were bitter enemies, and he stopped suddenly 
 in his approach. It was evident ait once to him that th^ had 
 heard of his marriage, and made common cause against him ; he 
 was justly enraged at this, and at the want of respect, nay insult, 
 with which they now received him. 
 
 ' Kummoo-bee ! Hoormut-bee ! ' he cried j ' women 1 do ye 
 not see me? Where is your respect? How dare ye sit as I 
 approach ? Am I a man, or am I less than a dog, tluit ye t^e 
 no more notice of me tjba,n if I were a stone? Speakjye ill 
 conditioned!' 
 
 ' Ill-conditioned 1' cried Kummoo-bee, who, though the 
 youngest wife, was the worst-tempered, and who led the r^ly ; 
 ' ill-conditicHied 1 AUa, AUa ! a man who has no shame — a man 
 who is perjured — a man who is less than a man — a poor, pitiful, 
 unblest coward ! Yes,' she exclaimed, her voice rising with her 
 passion as she proceedec^, ' a namurd 1 a fellow who has not the 
 spirit of a flea, to dare to come into the presence of women who, 
 Inshalla ! are daughters of men of family ! to dare to approach 
 us, and tell us that he has eome, and brought with him a vile 
 woman — an unchaste — ' 
 
 ' Hold ! ' cried the Khan, roused to fury as the words fell on 
 his ear, advancing and seizing a slipper which was on the ground ; 
 ' dare to say that again, and I will beat th«e ! ' 
 
 'Yds, beat us, beat usl' cried both breathlessly at once; 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 123 
 
 'beat us, and our cup of shame will be full Beat us, and you 
 will do a valiant deed, and one that your new mistress will 
 approve of,' cried Hoormut. 
 
 * Alia, Alia ! an old man, one with white hairs, to bring a new 
 mistress to his wives' house! Shame, shame!' vociferated 
 Kummoo. 
 
 ' I tell thee, woman, she is my wife ! ' loared the Khaa • Ye 
 will receive her as such this eveniog; aaid cool your tempers in 
 the meanwhile, or by AHa and the apostle, I swear that I will 
 send ye both to your relations, and they may keep ye or not, as 
 they please, for I will not ;,'so bethink ye what ye do ; this is my 
 house, and, Inshalk! I will be its master;' and so saying, and 
 not waiting to hear amy reply, he left the a|)!Utment. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 It was early in the fifth month after Herbert Compton had seen 
 the shores of his native land grow dim in his aching sight, that 
 the bold western coast of the peninsula of India met the earnest 
 and watchful gaze of all w4io were assembled upon the deck of 
 the noble vessel which bore them over the blue and sparkling sea. 
 
 All that day, before a fresh and lively breezs^ the ship had 
 careered onwards to her haven, dashing from her bows the white 
 and hissing foam, which spread itself around her, and mingled in 
 her wake ; while, startled from their gambols in the deep, many 
 a shoal of sprigMy iying-fish, rising from under the very bows, 
 would take a long flight to leeward, and disappear within the 
 limpid breast of their mother ocean. 
 
 Above, the sky was blue, and without a cloud to dim its 
 brightness; and that pureness gave to the sea an intensity of 
 colour which is unknown save where those cloudless skies exist. 
 The fresh wind had curled the sea into graceful waves, which 
 threw their white crests upwards to the sky as they broke, in 
 seeming playfulness, or rejoicing in their gladiaess. Away through 
 the glassy depths darted the gaudy dolphin and merry porpesse, 
 now chasing each other with many an eager bound, now in a 
 shoal together leaping far above the crystal billows, or appearing 
 to reach the summits of the lucid waves, and, as they broke, 
 sinking down to rest for an instant among their sparkling foam, 
 only to renew the sport in endless variety upon other?. 
 
124 TIPPOO SULTAVN. 
 
 Scattered around them was the fleet, some vessels near, othei-s 
 far distant ; some nearly buried under the load of canvas which 
 was stretched to court the wind — others, under a less quantity, 
 gracefully surmounting every wave, and at times showing their 
 brightly coppered sides amongst the white foam in which they 
 were encircled. They were like living beings, urging their way 
 over the bright ocean ; for at that distance no human form could 
 be distinctly descried upon their decks, and their rapid progress 
 seemed to be an act of their own gigantic power. 
 
 ' Land ! land on the lee bow ! ' was the joyful cry heard 
 towards noon from the main-topgallant cross-trees. ' Land ! ' 
 was re-echoed by all on deck, and each turned to congratulate 
 his fellow-voyagers upon the happy news. Even as they looked, 
 a wreath of white smoke burst from the side of the leading 
 frigate, and mingled with the blue wave ; while, with the report 
 which followed, the joyful and long-looked-for signal of land flew 
 to the mast-head, and was repeated by the fleet far and near. 
 
 Now every gaze was turned from the deck, and men looked 
 with straining eyes to pierce the haze of the horizon, as if the 
 land lay still above it ; and soon there appeared a darker blue 
 outKne of rugged form visible ; for a while, to an unpractised 
 eye, it was only that of a mist or distant cloud ; but it became 
 gradually firmer and more decided, and ere an hour had elapsed, 
 there was no doubt that it was the land of their destination — the 
 land in which many were to die — many to suffer privation and 
 hardship, in war, in captivity, in weary sickness — from which 
 few were destined to return, except with ruined health, bronzed 
 features, and altered tempers from those which in youth and 
 ardent hope they now bore with them. 
 
 Few, however, had thoughts of the future j the day was bright 
 and joyful, and, as they neared the shore, it appeared to smile a 
 welcome upon them. The naked precipices of the Ghats reared 
 themselves out of the dark and endless forests which the brilliant 
 sun and soft warm atmosphere softened with tender tints ; and 
 as many a one longed to roam far away among those recesses, 
 little thought they how there lurked the demon of deadly fever, 
 who would have smitten them with death had they ventured to 
 intrude upon his solitary domain — solitary, except to the wild 
 elephant, the bison, the bear, and the serpent, which roamed 
 unmolested everywhere, and shared it with him. 
 
 As they neared the coast, many a white sail of picturesque 
 form could be seen gliding along it ; others, issuing from little 
 harbours and creeks, whose shores were clothed with groves of 
 tall palm-trees, which all had heard of, but npne as yet had seen. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 125 
 
 As the fleet was descried from the shore, little boats shot out, 
 spreading their wide sails, and as they neared the ships, became 
 objects of intense interest. They would now first see a native of 
 that noble land — a Hindoo, one who worshipped idols, whose 
 faith and manners had been undisturbed for ages ; while in the 
 West had spread new faiths, new systems, where everything was 
 daily advancing in civilisation. Fearlessly did the tiny boat 
 advance upon the ship, giving a signal for a rope ; and as it was 
 thrown, one of its dark-skinned crew leaped into the chains, and 
 was on deck in a instant — an object of wonder and admiration to 
 those who for the first time beheld him. Tall and finely formed, 
 his figure was a model of symmetry, his eyes large and lustrous, 
 his features regular and amiable in expression, his body naked, 
 except a white cloth around his loins, and a small cap upon his 
 head, quilted in curious patterns. 
 
 He had brought fish, he said, to those who, from having made 
 a few voyages, had picked up some few words of his native 
 tongue; and had a few plantains, some eggs and butter, 
 vegetables of the country, and sour curds — ^all delicious luxuries 
 to those who had long been confined to the usual shipboard 
 fare with dry biscuit. Soon his stock was disposed of, and 
 descending the side, the rope was cast off, and once more his 
 little barque danced over the sparkling waves towards the shore. 
 
 They were yet far from Bombay ; and as evening approached, 
 the signal-gun and requisite flags warned the fleet to take in sail 
 and stand out to some distance from the shore. 
 
 The sun went down in glory. As he descended, a few light 
 clouds formed about him, and the wind dropped to a gentle 
 whispering breeze, but jiist enough to fill the sails, and the fleet 
 glided onwards in quietness. 
 
 As the sun sank, the heavens became one mass of gold, almost 
 too brilliant to look upon ! and the clouds, tinged with reddish 
 tints, could only be distinguished by the dazzling colours of their 
 edges. At last it disappeared into a sea of waving, restless, 
 molten gold ; and as the waters gradually and lingeringly gave 
 up their brightness, and the beams of light faded from the sails 
 of the ships, the heavens became a mass of most gorgeous 
 colours — crimson, and gold, and purple, fading into dim greenish 
 yellows and tender violet tints on each side ; which, as the mind 
 strove to remember them for ever, and the eye to fix them there, 
 but appeared for a while, then faded away, and were no more 
 seen. 
 
 Gradually but swiftly night clothed all objects in gloom, and 
 the horizon and sky appeared to blend into one ; except in the 
 
126 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 v.est, where, so long as light remained, its restless and ever- 
 varying form showeS. against the last lingering light of day. 
 For a while ail watdied Sue beauty of the heavens, spangled with 
 l>rightly-gleam)ing st-aars, and fanned by a gentle and cool wind, 
 which, blowing from the shone, brought with it, they fancied, 
 perfumes of flowers such as those with which they eeuld imagine 
 nature in her profusion had decked the land of which they liad 
 had a transient, yet exquisite glimpse. Then, one by one, they 
 diFopped the cheerfol converse into which they had fallen in 
 groups, and, as the night advanced, sank into gentle slumbers, 
 rocked by the easy motion of their vessel,^-to dream of the 
 glories which the coming morrow pictured to their excited 
 imaginationB ; or of a home, humble perhaps, but endeaired by 
 a thousand iiemembiances of love, of parental affection, of 
 wandering in cool and shady places, beside streams whose mur- 
 noiQriiigs sounded geiuMy in their ears. 
 
 Herbert's were thus. A feverish vision of paJiaces amidst 
 gardens, where the -graceful palm-tree and acacia waved over 
 fountains which played unceasingly, and threw up a soft and 
 almost noisetess spray iato the air, and where he wandered 
 amidst forms olad im such "orieiital garbs as his fancy suppliedj, 
 gorgeoiis and dazzRng with gold and gems — gradually faded 
 from him, and was succeeded by one of peaceful delight 
 
 He seemed to wander once more wida Amy, amidst the peen 
 and mossy glades of Beechwood: again the well-known path 
 beside the stream was threaded, — his arm was aa-omid her, and 
 the familiar converse they had held sounded in his ears, — reply 
 and question, even as thJey had uttered them togeither. He had 
 drawn her doser and closer to him as they proceeded, and, as 
 he strained her to his heart in one long and ardent embrace, he 
 thought the murmur of the stream was louder, aad he awoke : — 
 it was only the ceaseless splash of the waters against the vessel's 
 side, which came audibly to him through his open port-hole, and 
 which at once dispelled the illusion. 
 
 But he composed himsdtf again, to endeavour to recall the 
 fleeting vision, to hear again the words of ideal converse, to 
 hold in thriUmg embrace the loved form which only then had 
 Ijeen present with him. Vain and futile effort ! and strange 
 power of dreams, which enables us often to hold communings 
 with those bdoved — diough thousands of miles intervene. How 
 strongly does tlie mind m such moments supply the thoughts and 
 words of two, amid scenes sometimes familiar, more often ideal, 
 and yet palpablfi in sleep, but dissipated by waking fancy, and 
 •ften leaving no traces of their existence upon the memory but 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. tzy 
 
 a confused phantasy, which imagination strives to embody in 
 vain! 
 
 Herbert lay restless for a while, and failing of his purpose, he 
 roused himselj^ looked out over the waters wiiich glistened 
 faintly under the rays of a waning moon; and feeling the air to 
 be fresh, as though it were near the dawn, he arose, dressed 
 himself, and went on deok, in order to watch for the first break 
 of morning over the land they were approaching. 
 
 The scattered ships had approached each other during t^ 
 night, and stood on under easy sail ; dreanjy they looked, — even 
 as giant s]pectres walkiBg over the iijeeip. There were some from 
 whose Mdhite sails the moon's faint light was seflected, and wJiich 
 glistened under her beams. Others, dark and deeply in sha«iow, 
 showing no token of .the busy life which existed within, or the 
 watchful care which guided them onvrards. 
 
 Gradually a faint gJeam shot up into the eMem sky, a paler 
 colour than the deep blue which had previously existed ; it in- 
 creased, and the lustre of the stars was diniunedi Soon, as all 
 gaaed to welcome il^ a blush qif pink succeeded ; and as the day 
 sprang into ejdstence, the i&4^te^s sigaaligian boomed over the 
 quiet sea. The joyaus day grew into being rapidly; hues of 
 golden, Grf'-CTMnson, flashed upwards, and spread themselves over 
 the sky, reyeafeig % dfgjees the long arnd broken line of moun- 
 tains, whida^ in parts obscured by the mists floating, apon them, 
 and afain cleax and sharp against the brilliant sky, continued as 
 far as the eye could reach from north to south. Ught mists 
 covered the coast and the foot of the mountains, and ©oMcealed 
 both from their longing gaze ; but as -the sun arose in dazzHng 
 briUjascy, and the red blush of his morning beams rested upon 
 the ship^ tiie sea,, the mountain peaks and naked psecipiees, 
 thjE clouds seemed .gradually to rise from their slumber, until, 
 broken by his powa:, they floated upwards slowly, as tf nature 
 w^e purposely lifting her veil from the scene and revealing fcer 
 beauties by degrees. 
 
 They were soon at the entrance of the harbour of Bombay. 
 The i^nds wihicii guaxd it rose like fairy creations from the 
 breast of the ocean, wooded and smUijig, under the light of the 
 sua Away to the right were the noble range of Ghats, — their 
 peaked ^d broken summits (presenting forms strange to eyes 
 used only to the green and swelling eminences of verdant 
 England ; the grounds below them were covered with everlasting 
 fcffests, and the shore feed by .groves of palms, from among 
 which peeped many a white temple with conical roof, or mosque 
 with slei^der minarets. Eefo;re them stcetohed out the mag- 
 
128 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 nificent harbour, studded with bold and lofty islands, among 
 which the mysterious Elephanta and gloomy Carinjah reared 
 their giant forms and wooded sides, bounded by the town and 
 fort of Bombay, which arose from the water's edge, and whose 
 white and terraced houses and noble fortifications gleamed 
 brightly in the sunlight. 
 
 Many a tall ship lay there, resting from her travel over the 
 deep, and craft of every description shot here and there over the 
 waters. An Arab dhow, with her high and pointed stern, the 
 pavilion upon it gaily painted — her decks crowded with men 
 clad in the loose robes and heavy turbans of Arabia, and her 
 huge square sail set to catch the breeze — sailed near them. 
 Many gaily-painted Pattamars, with their lateen sails as white as 
 snow, mingled with the fleet ; while others of smaller size could 
 be seen stretching across the harbour from the Mahratta conti- 
 nent, bearing their daily supplies of market produce for the 
 populous town. 
 
 It was a scene of novel yet exquisite beauty ; and, lighted up 
 by the powerful beams of an eastern sun, could not fail of mak- 
 ing a lasting impression upon those who, after their weary voyage, 
 saw their eastern home burst upon them in such splendour ; nor 
 was there one of all the numerous host contained in those vessels 
 who could look upon it without feelings of mingled emotion. 
 
 From the General who commanded, — ^who, remembering the 
 brilliant career which others had run, hoped in the coming wars 
 to win fame and wealth, — to the lowest private, whose imagina- 
 tion revelled in fancied scenes of excitement far removed from 
 his ordinary dull routine of duty, or of dissipation, which the cold 
 climate of England could not afford, — all were excited far beyond 
 their usual wont ; and exclamations of surprise, oi wonder, or of 
 gratification, as things new or beautiful or strange passed under 
 their observation, arose from the various groups upon the deck 
 
 Herbert Compton had left England without contracting a par- 
 ticular friendship for any of his brother officers ; his close con- 
 nection and constant intercourse with his own family, and latterly 
 his attachment, had prevented this; but he had not the less 
 observed a cheerful and friendly intercourse with all. He was 
 pained, however, to see how, during the voyage, and the constant 
 and unrestricted intercourse of which the space of a vessel was 
 naturally productive, many of them showed tempers and disposi- 
 tions which debarred him from joining in such intimate associa- 
 tion as their absence from home and' residence in a foreign land 
 ought to have engendered. 
 
 He was grieved to see, also, how some gave themselves up to 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 129 
 
 intemperance, as if to drown in wine the memory of things they 
 should have held most dear ; — ^how others betook themselves to 
 cards or dice, to pass away the monotonous hours of their long 
 voyage ; how these and other vices had already changed many 
 whom he had at first been inclined to esteem sincerely, and 
 forced him to contract gradually the association which he fain 
 would have had intimate and general. 
 
 But there were nevertheless two with whom, though his inter- 
 course had been slight at first, yet it had steadily progressed, and 
 who returned his advances towards a sincere and unreserved 
 friendship with corresponding warmth. One, Philip Dalton, was 
 his equal in rank, and slightly his senior in age, and in the regi- 
 ment. The other, Charles Balfour, his ensign, a youth even 
 younger than himself, a fair and sprightly fellow, whose joyous 
 spirit nothing could daunt, and over whom care had not as yet 
 flung even a shadow of her sobering mantle. 
 
 Dalton was grave and religious, it might be even tinctured 
 with superstition, at least with a. belief in destiny ; and while his 
 spirit recoiled at once firom those thoughtless or vicious com- 
 panions by whom he was surrounded, whom he shunned the 
 more as he perceived the uncontrolled licence they were pre- 
 pared to give to their passions upon landing, and whose only 
 conversation consisted in the prospects of indulgence which were 
 opening upon them, — he soon grew into intimate association 
 with Herbert, as well from a similarity of tastes and disgust 
 of the others' wild revelry, as from seeing at once that he pos- 
 sessed a deep religious feeling, and gave expression to his 
 sincere thoughts upon the subject, when it was openly ridi- 
 culed or sneered at among the others. 
 
 The three were standing in a group by themselves, and Her- 
 bert's busy and skilful pencil was rapidly sketching outlines of 
 the mountains and views of the harbour as they successively 
 presented themselves, with the new and curious forms of the 
 boats and vessels around them. 
 
 ' I envy you that talent, Herbert,' said Dalton ; ' how valuable 
 it would be to me, who feel that I shall so lack occupation that 
 the time will often hang heavy on my hands ; and how gratifying 
 to those we love to send them even scraps of scenes in which 
 we live and move ! ' 
 
 ' Nay, Philip, you have never tried to use your pencil ; I would 
 have given you fifty lessons while we have been on board, but 
 you have never expressed the wish. Here is Charles, who is 
 already a tolerable proficient, and who sketches with most meri- 
 torious perseverance.' 
 
130 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' It is well for him, Herbert ; It will help to keep Hm from 
 vicious and corrupt society, and on his return to our dear Eng- 
 land, you will both have the pleasure of comparing your graphic 
 notes, and talking over these beautiful scenes together. But 
 with me it is different : I feel even now that yonder glorious 
 land will be my grave, that the name of Philip Dalton will live 
 only for a while, and that some fatal shot or deadly fever will free 
 me from this earthly existence.' 
 
 ' Nonsense, Philip ! ' cried both at once ; 'why should you be 
 so gloomy amidst so bright and joyous a scene ? As for me,' 
 continued Balfour, ' I intend to defy bullet-shots and jungle- 
 fevers, to become 'a major or a colonel at least, to serve my 
 time out here, and then go home and marry some one. I don't 
 intend to get bilious or brown or ugly, but to keep my own 
 tolerable looks for ten years at all events. That bright land is an 
 earnest to me of success ; and as it now smiles upon us _a hearty 
 welcome, so do I feel my spirits rise within me proportionately. 
 Why should I forbid them ? ' 
 
 • Ay, why should you, Charles ? ' said Dalton ; ' I would that 
 mine were as light as yours, but they are not so, nor ever have 
 been ; and I am thankful too for this, for I have been led to 
 think more deeply of serious matters than I otherwise should 
 have done, and thus in some degree to prepare for the change 
 which must soon come to me. Your career will, I hope, be 
 very diflferent, and I trust that your own bright hopes will be 
 fulfilled ; but remember, that though the sky and land are bright 
 and fair, fairer than our England, yet death strikes many more 
 of our race here than there, and that we have to encounter 
 dangers in the field — active and brave enemies — so that we had 
 need to be prepared whenever the blow comes, either by a shot 
 upon the battle-field, or by the slower but equally fatal disease. 
 Is it not so, Herbert ? ' 
 
 ' It is, Philip ; and yet I would not allow, were I you, such dis- 
 mal phantasies and thoughts to possess me. Surely, when God 
 has thrown around us such beauties as these, our hearts should 
 bid us rejoice, and enjoy them as they are sent, and we ought 
 not to think gloomily upon the future, which may lead us insen- 
 sibly into discontent and repining. Let us only continue this 
 our unreserved and sincere friendship, whatever may be our 
 position, and I feel confident that we possess in it the elements 
 of much happiness, perhaps of mutual assistance in many diffi- 
 culties.' 
 
 'With all my heart and soul I promise it, Herbert,' cried 
 Dalton, and he was followed with equal enthusiasm by Balfour. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 131 
 
 ' There will arise many adverse parties in the regiment, I fore- 
 see, but we need know none; singly, we might be obliged to 
 belong to one or other-— united, we may be thought singular, 
 but we are safe, and I for one am ready to brave all obloquy 
 on this score in your society.' 
 
 ' Then we are agreed, Philip,' said Herbert ; ' if it be possible 
 we will live together ; it will take some time perhaps to arrange 
 this, but if it can be done, are you willing ? ' ' 
 
 'Perfectly.' 
 
 ' And you, Charles ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly ; there is nothing I should like better than to 
 be near you both always, for I feel that my wild spirits 
 might lead me to do things in company with many of the 
 rest, who are very pleasant fellows, that I should feel ashamed 
 of afterwards.' 
 
 ' This is, then, a happy termination to our voyage,' said Her- 
 bert ; ' one unlooked for at its commencement, one which already 
 is a comfort to me ;'for I am assured that, whether we are safe in 
 barracks, or in the danger of service, in action or in sickness, we 
 shall be much to one another, and that we shall have always 
 some one near us on whom we can rely in any strait.' 
 
 * I confess that many of my gloomy thoughts have passed 
 away already,' said Philip ; ' but let us for the present keep our 
 own counsel, lest we be denounced as a party even before we go 
 on shore. There, your sketch will do, Herbert ; it is capital ! And 
 now put up your book, for I suspect we are not far from our 
 anchorage, as the frigates are shortening sail ; at anyrate, you 
 should look about you.' 
 
 They had sailed gradually on under the light morning breeze, 
 which was fast falling, and hardly served to carry them to their 
 resting-place ; but still they moved, and thus the enjoyment they 
 felt at the novelly of the scene around them was insensibly pro- 
 longed. The fleet had now all drawn together, and many greet- 
 ings were exchanged between friends on board different vessels, 
 who had been unavoidably separated during the voyage. The 
 ships one by one shortened sail, and as they watched with 
 anxiety the movements of the leading frigate, they heard at last 
 the splash of her anchor as it plunged from her bows ; simul- 
 taneously a wreath of smoke burst from her sides, and the first 
 gun of her cheering salute awoke the echoes of the islands and 
 shores of the harbour ; ere it was finished her sails were furled, 
 and she lay peacefully upon the smooth water, ' a thing of life,' 
 seemingly enjoying rest after her long and ceaseless travel. Her 
 consort followed her example — ^then the ships of the fleet in rota- 
 
138 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 tion ; and the fort and vessels in the harbour saluted in return, 
 a joyful earnest of a hearty welcome. 
 
 Many a telescope was directed to the crowds of people who 
 lined the shores, the piers, and the fortifications, and many were 
 the speculations upon their varied appearance and costumes. 
 All, at that distance, appeared bright and clean and cheerful, 
 and the inmates of the vessels longed fervently to set foot upon 
 the land once more. As they anchored, each ship became sur- 
 rounded by boats ; and the shrill cries of vendors of fruit, vege- 
 tables, fresh bread, with eggs and other refreshments, resounded 
 on all sides, — z. din which almost bewildered them. 
 
 Their turn came to be visited by the staff-officers from shore ; 
 their men were paraded, and each company, headed by its officer, 
 was inspected. They were shocked by the appearance of their 
 inspectors — sallow and pale — as if disease of the worst kind pos- 
 sessed them ; they seemed more like men who had just arisen 
 from their death-beds, than any in active performance of very 
 onerous and fatiguing duties. 
 
 ' To this must we come, you see, Charles,' said Philip Dalton, 
 as the staff-officer, having inspected his company and compli- 
 mented him upon its appearance, passed on to anothei: ; ' pale 
 faces, death-like looks, seem to be the lot of all here who 
 attain to blue coats, cocked hats and plumes. It was but just 
 now that you said you would preserve yours, in spite of all 
 climate ; you see the result of time and hot weather better than 
 I can tell you.' 
 
 ' I cannot bear to think of it,' said Charles ; ' but surely all 
 cannot be so, Philip? However, we shall see when we. get 
 ashore. When are we to land ? ' 
 
 ' This evening, I believe ; they are preparing our barracks for 
 us ; till then we must admire at a distance.' 
 
 ' More than we shall on shore, I daresay,' said his companion, 
 and so indeed it proved. 
 
 The landing in the close warm evening, — the march through 
 the Fort over the dusty roads, — the aspect of the narrow streets 
 and oddly fashioned houses, — the heat, the ffies, the smells of 
 various kinds, some not the most fragrant, — particularly that of 
 fish under the process of drying, — the discomfort of their first 
 night on shore, passed in beds but ill adapted to defy the attacks 
 of their bitter foes the musquitoes, completely dispelled all the 
 romance which they had hoped would be attendant on a landing 
 in the gorgeous East, but which they discovered, with no small 
 chagrin, existed only in their imaginations. All their beautiful 
 gardens and gilded palaces, their luxurious couches and airy 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. i33 
 
 fountains, had passed away, and given place to the bare and dull 
 reality of a barrack-room j not half so comfortable, they thought, 
 as their old quarters in England, to which many of their thoughts 
 wandered painfully. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Gradually, however, all became more and more indifferent to 
 these discomforts, and the few days which passed in the barracks, 
 previous to their second embarkation, were as fully occupied as 
 soldiers' time usually is when preparations for service, and that 
 too of an active and spirit-stirring kind, are undertaken. 
 
 The close of the year 1782 had brought with it an event of 
 the most important magnitude to the British interests in India. 
 When Madras was in a state of famine, its treasury exhausted, 
 and its means even of defence at the lowest ebb, Hyder Ali, the 
 most formidable and untiring foe the English had ever known, 
 constantly victorious over the ill - commanded armies of the 
 southern Presidency, and holding a position which, in case of- a 
 successful blow early in the next campaign, would render him 
 master of the field, died at Chittoor. 
 
 The relief which this event gave to the minds of the public 
 functionaries in the south was great; and a blow upon the 
 army which had obeyed Hyder, might have been struck with 
 advantage in the absence of any leader on whom it could have 
 relied : that opportunity, however, was allowed to pass. Tippoo, 
 the enterprising son of the deceased chief, was enabled to join 
 it; and he assumed the' command, and inheritance of his father's 
 dominions, without opposition — nay, amidst the rejoicings of his 
 future subjects. He had been employed in directing a successful 
 opposition to the British invasion of his dominions from the_ 
 westward, which had made much progress ; and he had nearly' 
 succeeded in his object, when the news of his father's death was 
 secretly conveyed to him. In order now to establish his authority, 
 it was absolutely necessary that he should cross the peninsula, 
 and proceed at once to Chittoor, where his father had died, and 
 where the army lay. This absence from his command, which 
 was longer protracted than the invaders had calculated upon, 
 gave them renewed courage, and the war against the Mysore 
 dominions was prosecuted by the Bombay force with a vigour 
 
134 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 and success which had long been strangers to the operations of 
 the English. 
 
 During the time which Tippoo necessarily consumed in con- 
 solidating his authority in the eastern part of his dominions, and 
 providing for the invasion there menaced by the force of the 
 Madras Presidency, the Bombay army, which had been driven 
 by him into the fort of Paniand, had received reinforcements, 
 and in return was enabled to beat back its assailants, and to 
 advance with some success once more into the enemy's country, 
 though from a more northern position, whither it had proceeded 
 by sea. Before, however, any expedition of magnitude, or that 
 promised a permanent occupation of thd country, could be under- 
 taken from Merjee (now the position of the Bombay force) it was 
 necessary that it should be reinforced largely — in fact recon- 
 stituted; and the opportune arrival of the large body of European 
 troops, to which Herbert Compton and his companions be- 
 longed, enabled the Government to effect this in an efficient 
 manner. 
 
 There were two ways also in which the dominions of Mysore 
 could be assaulted ; the one through the natural road, or gap, 
 eastward from the town of Calicut, in the midst of which was 
 situated the strong fort of Palghatcherry, and which led imme- 
 diately into the rich provinces of Coimbatoor and Barah Mahal, 
 bordering on the English possessions to the eastward ; and 
 another, by any one of the passes which led upwards from the 
 level country between the Ghats and the sea, into the kingdom 
 of Mysore. The southern route had been often attempted ; 
 but from the difficulty of the road, the dense jungles, and the 
 facility with which the invading forces could be met by the 
 Mysore armies, attacks had never more than partially succeeded. 
 It was hoped that, when once the army reached the table-land 
 above the mountains, it would not only hold a superior and 
 ■ commanding position for further operations towards the capital, 
 in case of previous success, but it would possess the incalculable 
 advantage of a cool and salubrious climate, of so much import- 
 ance to the health^^nay, existence — of the European troops. 
 
 Accordingly, when it was known at Bombay that the force had 
 been enabled to escape from the fort of Panian6, where, as we 
 have mentioned, it had been beleagured by Tippoo in person—^ 
 that it had sailed— re-landed at Merjee, and was in condition to 
 resume operations — it was determined that the whole of the dis- 
 posable force, including the newly-arrived troops, should be sent to 
 join it, and that operations should be commenced without delay. 
 
 Already prepared for active service, Herbert's regiment was 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 135 
 
 one of the first which sailed again from the island ; itS" complete 
 equipment, and the health and spirit of the ftfficers and men, led 
 the Government to place every dependence on its exertions in 
 the coming arduous contest. It was followed on the same day 
 by others ; and three or four days of delightful saiUng down the 
 beautiful coast brought the armament to its desired haven, and 
 the troops landed amidst the cheers and hearty welcome of their 
 future brethren in arms. 
 
 A very few days served to make preparations fof the cani- 
 paign : bullocks and stores had already been collected, with a 
 few elephants to a^st the guns in their ascent of the passes \ 
 and, after the plaris for the campaign had been determined by 
 the leaders— Mathews, Macleodj Humberstonej and Shaw^the 
 army moved from its camp toward its destination. 
 
 There was necessarily much of romance in the ^rly cam- 
 paigns in India : the country was unknown, and imagination 
 peopled it with warlike races far different from the peaceable 
 inhabitants of the coasts — men in whom the pride of possession, 
 of high rank, of wealth, of fierce bigotry and hatred of the 
 Christians, uniting, made them no less the objects of curiosity, 
 than worthy enemies of the gallant bands which sought them in 
 war. Those who were new to the country, and who, in the close 
 atmosphere and thick jungles of the coast, saw little to realise 
 their dreams of eastern beauty, looked to the wall of mountains 
 spread out before them, with the utmost ardour of impatience to 
 surmount them. Beyond them^ they should see the splendour 
 of Asiatic pomp, the palaces, the gardens, the luxuries of which 
 they had heard ; beyond them, they should meet the foes they 
 sought in the fair field ; there, there was not only honour to be 
 won, but riches — wealth unbounded, the sack of towns, the spoil 
 of treasuries, which, if they might believe the reports diligently 
 circulated throughout the army, only waited their coming to fall 
 into their possession; above all, they burned to revenge the 
 defeat and destruction of Bailie's detachment in the west, which 
 was vaunted of by their enemies, and to retrieve the dishonour 
 with which that defeat had tarnished the hitherto unsullied repu- 
 tation of the British. 
 
 The spies brought them word that the passes were ill-defended, 
 that the rich city of Bednore, with its surrounding territory, was 
 unprotected, that its governor, an officer of Tippoo's, and a forcibly- 
 converted Hindoo, sought earnestly an opportunity to revenge 
 his own dishonour, in surrendering this the key of his master's 
 dominions into the hands of his enemies. It is no wonder then, 
 that, urged on by cupidity, and inflamed by an ardent zeal to 
 
136 TIPPOO SULTAVN. 
 
 carry the instructions he had received into effect, the commander, 
 Mathews, looked to 'the realisation of his hopes with a certainty 
 which shut out the necessity of securing himself against reverses, 
 and hurried blindly on to what at first looked so brightly, but 
 which soon clouded over, and led to the miserable fate of many. 
 
 It was a subject of painful anxiety to Herbert and his com- 
 panions, so long as the destination of their regiment was un- 
 known ; for the army had to separate — part of it to reduce the 
 forts and hold the country below the passes (a service which 
 none of them liked in anticipation), and the other to press on 
 through the open country to Bednore, the present object of their 
 most ardent hopes. The strong fort of Honoor, however, which 
 lay not far from their place of rendezvous, could not be passed; 
 and to try the temper of the troops, and to strike terror into the 
 country, it was assaulted and carried by storm, with the spirit of 
 men whom no common danger could appal, and who, in this their 
 ffifst enterprise, showed that they had only to be led with deter- 
 mination in order to perform prodigies of valour. Nor was there 
 any check given to their rapacity ; the place was plundered, and 
 thus their appetites were whetted both with blood and spoil for 
 their ensuing service 
 
 Now, indeed, shone out the true spirit of many an one whom 
 Herbert and his companions had even respected hitherto.; and 
 they saw rapacity and lust possessing them, to the extinction of 
 every moral feeling ; while unbridled revelry, habitual disregard 
 of temperance, and indulgence in excesses, hurried many to the 
 grave whom even the bullet and the sword spared. They were 
 thankful to be thus knit in those bonds of friendship which the 
 conduct of their associates only drew the closer. They lived in 
 the same tents, marched together, fought together, and found 
 that many of their duties were lighter, and their marches and 
 watches the shorter, for the companionship they had made for 
 themselves. 
 
 The commander, Mathews, a man of deep religious feeling, 
 quite amounting to superstition, had early remarked the appear- 
 ance of Philip Dalton ; his high bearing, his steady conduct, the 
 grave expression of his face, impressed him with a sense of his 
 assimilation to himself in thought; and the excellent appearance 
 of his men, and his attention to their comforts, with a high 
 estimate of him as a soldier. Nor did Herbert escape his 
 observation, nor the evident friendship which existed between 
 them. On inquiry he found that both bore the highest char- 
 acter, though their habits of exclusiveness and hauteur were 
 sneered at; yet, perceiving the cause, they rose the higher ia his 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 137 
 
 opinion on that account. For some time he weighed between 
 the two ; but gradually leaning to the side of Dalton, he at last 
 determined to offer to him the post of aide-de-camp and secretary, 
 which he accepted; and this, though productive of temporary 
 separations between the friends, stfil gave them ample oppor- 
 tunities of association. 
 
 A few days after the storm and capture of Honoor, in which 
 Herbert's regiment had borne a conspicuous part, and he, as 
 commander of the light company, had been noticed by the 
 general in orders, the army reached the foot of the pass, above 
 which the fort of Hussainghurry reared its head, and from 
 which it took its name. Of the defences of the pass all were 
 in fact ignorant , but the native spies had represented them as 
 weak and easily to be surmounted, and they were implicitly 
 believed. A few straggling parties of the enemy had been met 
 with during the day, and driven up the pass, without any prisoners 
 having been made from whom an idea of the opposition to be 
 encountered could be gained or extorted. The way, however, 
 lay before them ; the army was in the highest spirits ; and, though 
 the only road discernible was a rugged path, almost perpendicular, 
 up the side of the immense mountain, yet to them there was 
 nought to be dreaded — the morrow would see them on the 
 head of the ascent, breathing a purer air, with the broad plains 
 of India before them, to march whither they listed. 
 
 It was night ere the army was safely encamped at the foot of 
 the pass ; the regiments had taken up their ground in the order 
 they were to ascend, and Herbert's company was in the van; 
 upon it would rest, if not the fate of the day, at least the brunt 
 of the ascent. Philip Dalton sought him after his duties were 
 over, the final orders had been given, and the various officers 
 had been warned for the performance of their several parts in the 
 coming struggle. 
 
 • I am afraid you will have hot work to-morrow, Herbert,' he 
 said, as he entered his little tent, where sat his friend writing very 
 earnestly. 'I tried all I could to get the regiment another 
 place, or at least to have the force march right in front, but it 
 could not be done. Somehow or other the general had more 
 than ordinary confidence in the light company of the — th, and 
 was pleased to express a very flattering opinion of my friend ; 
 so—' 
 
 • Make no apologies, dear Philip ; all is as it should be — as I 
 wish it ; I would not have it otherwise for the world. My gallant 
 fellows are ready for the fray, and you know they are not easily 
 daunted; besides^ what is there to be afraid of? The people we 
 
13? TIPPOO SULTAVt<r. 
 
 have seen as yet have fled before us, panic-stricken, ever since the 
 affair of Honoor, and I for one anticipate nothing but a pleasant 
 walk up the mountain, or a scramble rather, for the road does not 
 look over smooth.' 
 
 ' There will be hot work, nevertheless, Herbert; we have the 
 best information as to the defences of the pass \ they are insig- 
 nificant, it is true, but every rock is a defence, and a shelter 
 from whence the steady fire of these fellows may be fatal j and 
 we hear of a scarped wall or something of the kind at the top, 
 which we cannot very clearly make out Would that I under- 
 stood the language of the country, and could make inquiries 
 myself; it appears to me that those who pretend to know it 
 make but a lamentable hand of it, and guess at half they ought 
 to know.' 
 
 ' It matters not, Philip — there is the road ; we are to get to 
 the top if we can. I presume no other orders will be necessary.' 
 
 'None.' 
 
 'Then trust me for the rest I have a little memorandum 
 here, which I was writing, and which, if you will wait with me 
 for a while, I will finish. It is only in case anything happens, you 
 know,' he added gaily, ' there are a few things I would wish to 
 be done.' 
 
 I will not disturb you, so write on ; I too had a similar errand, 
 — ours is but an interchange of commissions.' 
 
 ' There, my few words are soon finished,' said Herbert ; ' these 
 are addressed to you, Philip, but they are to be opened in case 
 only of accident. Here are a few letters that I have written in my 
 desk, which, with all my sketches, you must send home for me, 
 or take with you if you go ; for the rest, this will tell you fully all 
 I wish to have done.' 
 
 'It is safe with me, Herbert, if I am srfe myself, of which I 
 have small hope.' 
 
 ' Ah, so you said at Honoor ; yet who exposed himself more, 
 or fought better, nay hand to hand with some of the natives, 
 than yourself? I shall use your own word destiny, and argue 
 against you.' 
 
 ' Nevertheless, I am more impressed than ever with the 
 certainty that I stand before you for the last time, Herbert. I 
 shall not seek danger, however; indeed, my post near the 
 general precludes my doing so of my own accord ; but in case 
 of accident, here are my few memorandums ; put them in your 
 desk, where they can remain safely.' 
 
 'And so now, having deposited our mutual last commands 
 with each other, let us not think on the morrow, Fhihp, but as 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUJSr. 139 
 
 one in which we may win honour. If God wills it, we may meet 
 when all is over, and we are quietly encamped upon the top, and 
 fight all our battles over again. I am glad, at all events, that I 
 shall have Charles Balfour with me.' 
 
 'Ah! how is that?" 
 
 ' Why, the picquets are ordered to join the advance guard, 
 which is my company; he commands them to-day, and is 
 yonder bivouacking under a tree, I believe; I was going to 
 him when you came. Poor boy, I believe he is alone ; will 
 you come?' 
 
 •With all my heart.' 
 
 They took their way thro.ugh the busy camp, where numerous 
 watch-fires ^ere gleaming, and groups of native soldiery gathered 
 round them, warming themselves from the cold night air and 
 dew which was fast falling. The spot on which the army rested 
 was an open space at the very foot of the pass, surrounded by 
 dense jungle, and mountains whose bulk appeared magnified by 
 the dusk. Although the stars shone brightly, the fires which 
 blazed around caused everything to appear dark, except in their 
 immediate vicinity, where the light fell on many a swarthy group, 
 among whom the rude hooka went its busy round, as they sat 
 and discussed the chances of plunder on the morrow, or the 
 events of the past day. Everywhere arose the busy hum of men, 
 the careless laugh, the shout for a friend or comrade, many a 
 profane oath and jest, and often the burden of a song to which 
 a rude chorus was sung by others. The large mess-tent of the 
 regiment, with its doors wide open, displd,yed by the glare within 
 a group of choice ^Spirits, who, over the bottle they could not 
 forsake, fought their battles over again, coolly discussed the 
 chances of promotion, and openly boasted of the plunder they 
 bad acquired, and their thirst for more. Herbert and his friend 
 could almost guess from the gesticulations the nature of the 
 conversation, and could see that the men who held those orgies 
 were drowning in wine the cares and thoughts which the events 
 of the coming day might otherwise press on them. They turned 
 away to where the watchful sentinels, placed double, native and 
 European, paced upon their narrow walk, and where, around the 
 embers of fires which had been lighted, the picquets lay wrapped 
 in their coats, taking the rest which should fit them for the 
 morrow's arduous strife. 
 
 ' Who comes there ? ' challenged the nearest sentry, one of his 
 own company. 
 
 'A friend — Captain Compton; do you know where Mr. 
 Balfour is ? ' 
 
140 TIPPOO SVLTAVN. 
 
 'Yonder, sir; the officer of the native regiment is with him; 
 they are sitting under the tree near yon fire.' 
 
 Thither they proceeded — ^it was but a few steps off. 
 
 ' Ah ! this is kind of you, Herbert and Philip, to come to 
 cheer my watch ; not that it is lonely, for Mr. Wheeler here, who 
 shares it with me, has a store of coffee and other matters very 
 agreeable to discuss ; but it was kind of you to come to me. 
 Now be seated, camp fashion, upon the ground, and let us talk 
 over the affairs of to-morrow ; we are likely, it appears, to have 
 some work.' 
 
 ' How do you know? have you any late news ? ' asked Philip. 
 
 ' Mr. Wheeler can tell you better than I ; but a short time ago 
 the sentry yonder challenged in the direction of th*e pass, and, 
 no answer being returned, I took a corporal's guard and made 
 a little expedition, which was in some degree successful; for we 
 caught two fellows who looked marvellously like spies, but who, 
 on being interrogated by my friend here, swore lustily they were 
 deserters, who had come to give information. From them we 
 learned that at least twenty thousand of Tippoo's valiant troops 
 were prepared to make this a second Thermopyte, that we 
 should have to storm entrenchments, and perform prodigies of 
 valour, and that we might possibly get near the top; but as to 
 surmounting it, that was out of the question: was it not so, Mr. 
 Wheeler? ' 
 
 ' It was as you have said: these fellows were very likely put 
 forward to give this news, in order that we might be deterred 
 from our attack, and thereby give them time to throw up some 
 breastworks or stockades, at which they are expert enough. I 
 fancy, however, the intelligence will have but little effect upon 
 the general.' 
 
 'What have you done with the prisoners? Sent them to 
 headquarters, of course, Philip ? I thought you must have seen 
 them ere this.' 
 
 ' No, indeed, I have not ; but it is time I should. I may be 
 wanted, too, and I must bid you farewell. If I can, I will be 
 with you early; if not, and we are spared, we shall meet to- 
 morrow on the summit. So once more, God bless you both ! ' 
 
 ' God bless- you ! God bless you ! ' both repeated sincerely 
 and affectionately, as they wrung his hand. It might be they 
 should never meet again; but they were young, and soldiers, 
 among whom such thoughts are seldom expressed, though they 
 are often felt. 
 
 Herbert as yet had formed no acquaintance with the officers 
 of the native army. Taught by the tone prevalent among those 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 141 
 
 of his own at that period, to consider them of a lower grade, he 
 was both surprised and gratified to find Mr. Wheeler a man of 
 very general information. In particular he found him to be excel- 
 lent authority on many matters connected with the usages and 
 customs of the native troops, which to Herbert's military eye had 
 appeared quite out of rule ; and the sensible explanations he 
 gave of these and many other circumstances, not only amused 
 Herbert and his companion during their watch, but threw 
 much light on the objects and chances of success in their 
 undertaking. 
 
 ' Then you think the general has considered the end without 
 the means to accomplish what he has in view ? ' said Herbert, 
 questioning him upon a remark he hazarded. 
 
 ' I do ; I think too (and the thought is not original, but one 
 of high authority that I could mention, only it is discreet not to 
 do so) that the Government is wrong in the precipitancy with 
 which they have urged this on, and are injuring it daily. Our 
 force is not sufficient to keep any country against Tippoo's 
 whole army, which, whatever others may say of it, is in a very 
 respectable state of discipline; and if we succeed in reaching 
 Bednore, we shall hardly get out of it with whole bones. Have 
 we men to occupy the passes, to take forts, to secure the country, 
 and to fight Tippoo besides ? ' 
 
 ' We have little force enough certainly,' said Herbert ; ' but 
 then most are Europeans.' 
 
 ' Ay, but they are difficult to support, and helpless if not sup- 
 ported. It is the fashion for you gentlemen of the royal army to 
 cry down our poor fellows, who after all fight well and do all the 
 drudgery. We may never meet again, Captain Herbert, but you 
 will remember the words of a poor Sub of native infantry, who, 
 because he knows more of the iiative character than your 
 general, and more of the country, is very much disposed to pro- 
 phesy a disastrous end to what is just now very brilliant.' 
 
 ' I hope you are wrong ; nevertheless, what is chalked out for 
 us we must do ; we ought to have no opinions but those of our 
 superiors.' 
 
 ' Ah, well ! that is the acmd of discipline to which I fear we 
 shall never attain,' said the lieutenant, laughing. ' I, for one, am 
 willing to play my part in what is before us ; for I am too inured 
 by this time to hard blows and desultory fighting to care much 
 for the passage of a ghat, where, after all, the resistance to 
 be apprehended may only be from a few fellows behind a wall 
 with rusty matchlocks.' 
 
 ' You are right, Mr. Wheeler,' said young Balfour ; ' I want to 
 
142 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 see my good fellows show the army the way to get up a hill > 
 you, Herbert, will answer for their doing the thing in style.' 
 
 ' I can, Charles ; but remember you are not to be rash. As 
 your superior officer, I shall beg of you to use discretion with 
 your valour. Do I not advise well, Mr. Wheeler ? ' 
 
 ' You do indeed, sir ; I wish many higher than you in rank 
 could think as calmly while they act as bravely. But here comes 
 the field-officer of the night ; we must be on the alert, Mr. Bal- 
 four. Good night, Captain Compton ! we may renew this ac- 
 quaintance.' 
 
 ' I shall be delighted to do so whenever you please ; you know 
 where to find me, in the lines of the — th ; I am seldom absent. 
 And now, dear Charles, tell nie before you go if I can do any- 
 thing for you, in case of accident to-morrow? Dalton and I 
 have exchanged little memorandums, which I felt to be neces- 
 sary, as we are to bear the brunt of the business.' 
 
 ' Ah, there is really no danger, Herbert : you see Mr. Wheeler 
 says there is none ; besides — ' 
 
 ' Do not say so, Charles ; wherever bullets are fishing, there is 
 danger. I do not mean — God forbid I should think of any danger 
 to you — ^but it is our duty to consider such matters, that we may 
 be able to meet them calmly.' 
 
 ' You are right, you are right, dear Herbert ; I am glad you 
 have spoken to me, for I dared not have mentioned it to you or 
 Dalton. But in case I am — in case, you know, of any accident 
 — you will write home about me, Herbert. You will find the 
 direction pasted inside my desk— to my — ^my^-mother — ' 
 
 Poor boy ! the sudden thought of her, linked with that of his 
 own possible death, was too much for a heart overflowing with 
 affection for his only parent. He struggled for a while with his 
 feelings, and then, able to control them no longer, burst into 
 tears. 
 
 Herbert did not check them. It was but for a moment, how- 
 ever ; he quickly rallied. ' This is a weakness which I little 
 thought to have displayed, Herbert ; but just then my thoughts 
 were too much for me. Will you do what I asked ? ' 
 
 ' That will I, most cheerfully, if I live, Charles.' 
 
 ' And just tell them,' he continued gaily, 'what sort of a fellow 
 I have been. It will be a comfort for them to know perhaps that 
 — but enough ! — you know all. Wheeler has got his men ready, 
 and yonder are the rounds : so good night ! to-morrow we spend 
 for a time, at all events, in company. I am glad you spoke to me 
 — I feel all the lighter for it already.' 
 
 ' Good night, Charles ! get some rest if you can after the 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 143 
 
 rounds are past, you will need it; and all appeals! safe and quiet 
 now around us.' 
 
 Herbert slowly returned towards his tent, picking his way 
 amidst the prostrate forms of the native followers, which every- 
 where covered the ground, wrapped in deep sleep. All was now 
 still, except the spot he had left) where the usual words of the 
 guards challenging the rounds arose shrill and clear upon the 
 night air; and the ' Pass Grand Round — all is well!' gave a sense 
 of security, which, in the midst of a watchful enemy' scountry, 
 was doubly acceptable. Once he thought, as he listened, that 
 the challenge was answered from the" pass by the shrill and 
 quivering blast of the brass horn of the country; and he looked, 
 lest there should be any stir discernible. But all was still; the 
 giant form of the mountain apparently slept in the calm night 
 air; a few mists were wreathing themselves about its summit, 
 which was sharply defined against the deep blue sky glistening 
 with stars; and here and there the bright twinkle of a distant 
 watch-fire far above him showed that the enemy kept their watch 
 too as carefully as their assailants. 
 
 The camp was quite hushed; here and there the sharp bark 
 of a dog arose, but was as instantly silenced; or the screams and 
 bowlings of a pack of jackals, as they prowled about the out- 
 skirts of the camp in search of oifal, awoke the echoes of the 
 mountains. The drowsy tinklings of the cattle-bells, with their 
 varied tones, and the shrill ehirrupings of innumerable grass- 
 hoppers, were sounds which never ceased: but they were 
 peaceful, and invited that repose which all needed and were 
 enjoying. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Long ere the morning's dawn had broken, the bugle's cheerful 
 note had sounded the reveille ; from the headquarter tents the 
 first blast arose, and its prolonged echoes rang through the 
 mountains — now retiring far away among the dense woods — now 
 returning and swelling upon the ear more near and more distinct 
 than it had been at first. One by one the regiments took it up, 
 and were followed by their drums and fifes, making the solitudes, 
 which hitherto had known only the growl of the bear, the shriek- 
 ing howl of the hyaena, or the bellow of the wild bison, resound 
 with the inspiring and martial sounds. 
 
144 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 Soon all were prepared j the regiments fell into the various 
 places allotted to them; the light artillery, to which were har- 
 nessed the strongest and most active bullocks — each piece 
 having an elephant behind to urge it over the roughest or most 
 inaccessible places — brought up the rear. Each man was as 
 lightly equipped as possible, that he might not be distressed by 
 climbing; and, as a last order, might, be heard the words ' Fix 
 bayonets, with cartridge prime and load!' pass from regiment to 
 regiment, succeeded by the rattling of the muskets and jingling 
 sound of ramrods, as each sent home the ball which he firmly 
 hoped might in its discharge bear with it the life of one of his 
 enemies. 
 
 Herbert and his young friend Balfour had long been ready, 
 and waiting -for the signal to advance at the head of the column; 
 their men were impatient, and their blood was chilled with the 
 long detention which the preparation of so large a body neces- 
 sarily occasioned. They were standing around a fire which one 
 of the men had kindled with some dry leaves and sticks gathered 
 from the adjacent thickets. All about them was obscure ; for the 
 thick vapour which had wreathed itself about the mountain-tops 
 early in the night, had now descended, and occupied the whole of 
 the narrow valleys in dense volumes, so that nothing could be seen 
 beyond their immediate vicinity ; they could only hear the bugle- 
 sounds, as they arose one by one, and the measured tramp of 
 many feet as the corps moved to take up their various positions. 
 
 ' This is very tiresome, Herbert,' said Balfour ; ' I wish we were 
 off. I think we could do much under cover of this darkness ; 
 we might surprise the fellows above, and be at the top before 
 they knew what we were about.' 
 
 ' I rather think we shall wait for daylight ; but what is your 
 opinion, Mr. Wheeler?' he said to the young man who had just 
 joined them. 
 
 ' I think with you. The general most likely has heard that 
 this fog will rise with the daylight, and screen us half way up, 
 perhaps better than the night ; but here is Captain Dalton, who 
 looks as if he had orders for the advanced guard.' 
 
 ' Where is your captain ? ' they heard him ask of one of the 
 sergeants; 'I have orders for him.' 
 
 ' Yonder, sir,' replied the man, whose concluding words were 
 unheeded in the cry of ' Here, here, by the fire 1 ' which arose from 
 the trio around it. 
 
 ' Well, Philip, are we to move on ? I suppose there will be no 
 signal ? ' asked Herbert, as Dalton rode up. 
 
 ' Not yet, not yet ; we are to wait till daylight,' retwrned the 
 
TfPPOO SULTAUN. 145 
 
 other; 'the fellows who came in last night have offered to lead 
 up two detachments, so that the whole force can advance and the 
 columns support each other.' 
 
 ' That is well, so far ; but we are still to have the main p^h, I 
 hope.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, and the native company will lead the other-a*yours 
 perhaps, Mr. Wheeler.' 
 
 'Yes, mine; and I am ^kid to hear it Now^ Captain 
 Compton, we have a fair chance; natives against Englishmen in 
 fair emulation.' 
 
 'Ah,, here are the fellows! Will you take charge of one, 
 Herbert? and yoUf Mr. Wheeter, of the other? If either of you 
 find they have led you wrong, you are at liberty to shoot them 
 upon the spot. Will you explain that fully t» them, if you 
 please? — ^though indeed they ought to know it pretty well 
 already. And now good-bye, bOys, and good success to ye all ! 
 the — th never yet yielded, and you have the post of honour to- 
 day-;^so remember!' 
 
 These few words were received with a hearty shout by the 
 sections axound> and Dalton departed to deliver the other com- 
 mands with wbich he was charged 
 
 The short time which elapsed before the signal for advafice, 
 was passed by Herbert and his companions in exaffliaation of 
 the men who were to lead them. 
 
 With very dififerent feelirtgsi hdid these meni s«wi^ the English 
 camp. The one a Nair, a Hindioo of high birtby forcibly eon- 
 verted to the religion of Mahomedanism, burned for aii oppor- 
 tunity of revenge^ The other, a Mahomedan — a fellow in whose 
 heart grew and flourished every base passion,, more paflicUl^ly 
 that of gain, which had led him to proffer his services to the 
 English commander for gold. 
 
 They had both been promised reward, which, while the one 
 indignantly scorned, the other bargaiined for with the rapacity 
 of his nature; the one was willing to hazard his life for his 
 revenge, the other for the gold which had been promised. How 
 different was to be the fate of the two! 
 
 Now in the presence of the two young English leaders, both 
 were confronted and examined. The yoimg Nair, a- fellow of 
 high and haughty bearing, ill brooked the searching and sus- 
 picious questions of the English officer; but he gave, nevertheless, 
 clear and distinct infonnation about the road, free from every 
 taint of suspicion. 
 
 ' What is to be thy reward ? ' asked Wheeler at last. 
 
 ' My revenge for the insult upon my faith. I was a Nair once. 
 
146 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 yet am now a vile Mussulman. I need say no more, and it con- 
 cerns thee not.' 
 
 ' Thou art haughty enough, methinks,' returned his questioner. 
 
 ' As thyself,' was his only reply. 
 
 ' By Jove, he is a fine fellow 1' said Herbert, who guessed at the 
 conversation; ' let me have him with me.' 
 
 ' As you will. Now let us see what account the other can give 
 of himself. What is to be thy reward, good fellow ?' 
 
 ' I was promised two hundred rupees for this service. My lord 
 will surely see his slave gets the money ? ' 
 
 ' That depends upon thy conduct : if thou art false, I swear 
 to thee I will shoot thee like a dog. I like not thy face.' 
 
 ' Your slave's life is in your hands — may I be your sacrifice 
 this moment — I will lead you safely ; ask him yonder whether I 
 will or no.' 
 
 'I cannot answer for him,' said the Nair haughtily; 'he guides 
 you for gain: give me the post of danger. I know he is a coward 
 at heart; let him take the back way, he will show it for fear of 
 his life: I will fight for my revenge.' 
 
 ' So be it then. Captain Compton; as yours is the main column, 
 take you the best man. I leave you my orderly, who speaks 
 enough English to interpret a little between you and your guide. 
 And now to our posts, for the day dawns, I suspect' 
 
 'How?' 
 
 'Did you not feel a breath of wind? That tells us that the 
 new day has awakened ; you will soon hear the bugle.' 
 
 Nor did they wait long. The long-expected sound arose from 
 the centre of the force ; it was answered by the others in front 
 and rear ; and the column, like a huge snake, began its steep 
 and tortuous ascent in perfect silence. 
 
 Herbert had received orders not to hurry, and with some diffi- 
 culty restrained the ardour of his men, and the impatience of his 
 young friend, who, with himself, was with the leading section of 
 the advance. Long they climbed up the narrow and rugged pass, 
 which, though a rough one, possessed the form of a road, and 
 as yet no obstacle had been met with. The mist still hung upon 
 the mountain ; but the gentle wind which had arisen was sway- 
 ing it to and fro, causing it to wheel in eddies about them ; and 
 the now increasing light showed them the track, and gave them 
 ghmpses of the deep and precipitous ravines, upon the very 
 edges of which they were proceeding, — ^giddy depths, into which 
 the eye strove to penetrate, but filled with the whirling mists 
 which, though in motion, had not yet arisen. 
 
 For nearly an hour did they proceed thus slowly, in order that 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. i47 
 
 the rear corps might fully support them; and they could hear 
 the steps of the column on their right marching parallel with 
 themselves at no great distance among the forest trees. At 
 length the head of the column approached a rock, which formed 
 an acute angle with the road. Motioning with his hand for them 
 to advance slowly, the young Nair drew his sword and ran lightly 
 on. They saw him crouch down and disappear. 
 
 ' He will betray us ! ' cried Balfour ; ' on — ^after him ! ' And he 
 would have obeyed the impulse of his ardour but for his captain. 
 
 ' Be still an instant, I will answer for his .fidelity,' exclaimed 
 Herbert. He had hardly spoken, ere the young man was seen 
 again, waving his sword. 
 
 ' Now, my lads, follow me ! ' cried Herbert, dashing forward. 
 ' Promotion to the first who enters the defences ! ' 
 
 Ere the enemy could hear the cheer which followed these 
 words, their assailants were upon them. Turning the angle, 
 they beheld a wall of strong masonry, with loop-holes for 
 musketry, one side of which was built against a precipitous 
 rock — the other open. One or two matchlocks were discharged 
 ineffectually from the rampart, but this was no check to them : 
 hurrying on, they crowded through the side opening, where 
 they were met by a few determined fellows, who opposed them 
 for an instant. Vain endeavour ! The deadly bayonet was 
 doing its work ; and a few slight sword-cuts only served to in- 
 flame those who received them to more deadly revenge. The 
 Nair fought nobly. Cheered on by the soldiers, who took de- 
 light in his prowess, he threw himself headlong upon several of 
 the defenders of the place in succession; and, though he too 
 was slightly wounded, yet his deeply-planted sword-cuts told the 
 strength of arm which inflicted them, and the deep hate and 
 revenge which urged him on. 
 
 Now, indeed, ensued a scene of excitement and spirited exer- 
 tion difficult to describe. The few musket-shots which had been 
 fired, proved to those in the rear that the work had begun in 
 earnest, and every one now strove to be the first to mingle in it. 
 The column pressed on, disregarding order and formation, which 
 indeed was little necessary, but which was preserved by the 
 officers as far as possible. The gallant Macleod was soon with 
 the leading sections, animating the men by his gestures and his 
 cheers. They needed not this, however, for Herbert was there, 
 and young Balfour, who emulated his example ; and all hurried 
 after the fugitives, from ascent to ascent, with various effect. 
 Now one of their number would fall by a shot — now one of the 
 Europeans, as the retreating enemy turned and fired. Now a 
 
148 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 wreath of smoke would burst from among the bushes and crags 
 above them, and the bullets would sing harmlessly over their 
 heads, or rattle among the stones around them : — again this 
 would be answered by the steady fire of a section, which was 
 given ere the men rushed forward with the more sure and deadly 
 bayonet 
 
 Herbert and his men, guided by the Nair, still fought on in 
 the front, toiling up many a steep ascent : one by one the works 
 which guarded them were carried; and though in many cases 
 obstinately disputed for a few pioments, yet eventually aban- 
 doned — their defenders, panic-stricken, hurried after the horde 
 of fugitives which now pressed up the pass before them. 
 
 At length a steeper acclivity appeared in view, the sides' of 
 which were lined with a more numerous body of men than had 
 hitherto been seen ; and the sun, which now broke over the 
 mountain's brow for the first time, glanced from their steel 
 spears and bright musket-barrels. 
 
 ' Let us take breath for a moment,' cried Macleod, ' and do all 
 of ye load ; there will be tough work yonder — the last, if I mis- 
 take not, of this affair. The enemy has mustered his strength, 
 and awaits our coming : we are within shot, yet they do not fire. 
 You have behaved nobly. Captain Herbert, and your guide is a 
 gallant fellow, Mr. Balfour too seems to have had his share, as 
 appears by his sword. But come, we are enough together now, 
 and the rest are pressing on us. Follow me, gentlemen, for the 
 honour of Scotland ! ' 
 
 Waving his sword above his head, which flashed brightly in the 
 sunlight, he dashed on, followed lay the Nair and the others, 
 upon whom the momentary rest had had a good effect. Their 
 aim was more deadly, their footsteps firmer and more rapid. 
 
 Urged on by his impetuosity, the gallant Colonel did not heed 
 the motions of the Nair, who, fatigued by his exertions, vainly 
 strove to keep pace with the commander. ' He hurried on, 
 followed by nearly the whole of Herbert's company and the 
 young Balfour, up the broad ascent which invited their pro- 
 gress, but which it was apparent, from the position of the de- 
 fenders, would be hotly contested. It was in vain that the Nair 
 stormed, nay raved, in his own tongue : who heeded him ? or if 
 they did, who understood him ? 
 
 'There is no road, there is no road there!' he cried. 'Ah 
 fools, ye will be lost if ye persevere ! Follow me ! I will lead 
 ye' — I know the way ! ' 
 
 Fortunately at that moment Herbert happened to cast his 
 eyes behind him. He had missed the young Nair with the 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 149 
 
 advance, and had thought he was killed : he now saw his ges- 
 ticulations, and that the orderly was beside him. A sudden 
 thought flashed upon him that there was no road, from the con- 
 fidence with which the attacking party was about to be received ; 
 and hurrying back to them, he eagerly demanded the cause of 
 his cries. 
 
 ' No road there ! ' ' no road ! ' * he know the road ! ' * he show 
 the road ! ' was the answer he got through the orderly. But to 
 turn any portion of his men, who heard nothing and saw nothing 
 but the ftereg contest which bad begun only a few paces above 
 them, was a matter of no small difficulty : a steady sergeant or 
 two of a different regiment and some of his own men at last saw 
 his intentions; and, with their aid, he found himself at the head 
 of a small body, which was being increased every instant. 
 
 The Nair surveyed them half doubtfully. 'They will be 
 enough ! ' he said in his own tongue, and dashed down a 
 narrow path which led from the main road. 
 
 Following this in breathles haste for a few moments, and in 
 fearful anxiety lest he should be betrayed, Herbert called to the 
 men to keep together; and as they began again to ascend, he 
 saw the nature of the Nair's movement. The wall which was 
 being attacked by the main body, was built on one side up to a 
 steep precipice, the edge of a fearful chasm ; on the other to a 
 large and high rock of great extent, which flanked the wall and 
 defied assault from the front, but could evidently be turned by 
 the path by which they were now proceeding. How his heart 
 bounded with joy therefore, when, after a few moments of hard 
 climbing, he found himsel-f^ inth a greater number of men than 
 he had expected, on the top of the rock within the enemy's 
 position ! 
 
 Pausing for an instant to take breath, he saw the desperate but 
 unavailing struggle which was going on below him, in the vain 
 attempts being made by the troops to scale the wall. What 
 could they do against a high wall, with a precipitous rock on 
 either hand, and a murderous fire in front? many had fallen, 
 and others fell as he looked on. He could bear it no longer ; 
 he had scarcely fifty men with him, — in the redoubt were hun- 
 dreds. ' Give them one steady volley, boys ! ' he cried to his 
 men. "Wait for the word — Fire! — Now on them with the 
 steel ! ' 
 
 Secure in their position, tlie enemy little expected this dis- 
 charge, by which some dozen of their number fell ; and as they 
 cast a hurried glance up to the rock, it was plain by their great 
 consternation how admirably had the surprise been effected. 
 
ISO TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 Numbers in an instant threw away their arms and betook them- 
 selves to flight, while others, irresolute, hesitated. The British 
 below soon saw their comrades above, and saluted them Tn^th a 
 hearty cheer, while they redoubled their efforts to get over the 
 wall ; in this there was a sally-port ; and, as the small party 
 dashed down into the enclosure amidst the confusion and hand- 
 to-hand conflict which ensued, one of them contrived to open it. 
 Eagerly the assailants rushed in, and few of those who remained 
 asked or received quarter. 
 
 Herbert's eye was fascinated, however, by the Nair, his guide, 
 who from the first descent from the rock had singled out one of 
 the defenders of the redoubt, evidently a man of some rank. He 
 saw him rush upon him waving his reddened sword ; — ^he saw the 
 other defend himself gallantly against the attack; — even the 
 soldiers paused to see the issue of the contest. The Nair was 
 not fresh, but he was reckless, and pressed his opponent so hard 
 that he retired, though slowly, along the rampart. Their shields 
 showed where many a desperate cut was caught, and both were 
 bleeding from slight wounds. By degrees they approached the 
 platform of the precipice, beyond which was only a blue depth, 
 an abyss which made the brain giddy to look on. Ere they were 
 aware of it, the combatants, urging their utmost fury, and ap- 
 parently not heeding their situation, approached the edge, 
 exchanging cuts with redoubled violence ; and now one, now the 
 other, reeled under the blows. 
 
 On a sudden Herbert saw — and as he saw it he sprang forward, 
 with many others, to prevent the consequences they feared — the 
 chief, who had his back to the edge, turn round and look at his 
 position. The next instant his sword, and shield were thrown 
 away, he had drawn a dagger from his girdle and rushed upon 
 the Nair his adversary. A desperate struggle ensued ; they saw 
 the fatal use made of the knife ; but still the Nair, dropping his 
 sword, struggled fiercely on. As they approached the edge the 
 suspense became fearful, for no one dared venture near the com- 
 batants ; in another instant they tottered on the brink, still strug- 
 gling ; — another — and a portion of the earth gave way under their 
 feet, and they fell ! They saw for an instant a hand grasp a twig 
 which projected, — that disappeared, and they were gone for 
 ever! Herbert and many others rushed to the spot, and, 
 shading their eyes, looked over the precipice; they saw them 
 descending, bounding from every jutting pinnacle of rock, till 
 their aching sight could follow them no longer. 
 
 'It was a deadly hate which must have prompted that 
 man's exertions this day,' said a voice beside him, as 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 151 
 
 Herbert turned away sickened from the spot — it was Philip 
 Dalton. 
 
 ' May that Being into whose presence he has gone be merciful 
 to htm ! ' said Herbert, ' for he has fought well and bravely to- 
 day,! and guided , us faithfully ; without his aid, who could have 
 discovered the narrow path by which I was enabled to turn this 
 posiuon?' 
 
 'You, Herbert ? I thought it must be you, when I heard how 
 it had been done. I envy you, while I admire your courage ; 
 you have saved the army ; we should have lost many men at that 
 wall but for your well-timed diversion.' 
 
 ' Then you saw it ? ' 
 
 ' I did J I was with the General, down there, when the welcome 
 red coats appeared on the rock yonder ; he hailed your appear- 
 ance like that of an angel deliverer, and exclaimed that Heaven 
 had sent you.' 
 
 ' Not Heaven, Philip, but the poor fellow who lies in yonder 
 chasm. I would to Heaven he had lived ! ' 
 
 ' Do not think of him, Herbert, but as one who has fought 
 nobly and died bravely — an honourable end at any time; but 
 have you seen Charles Balfour ? ' 
 
 ' He was with me, surely,' said Herbert ; ' but no, now that I 
 remember, I think he went on with the Colonel and the rest. 
 Good God ! he must have been in all that hot work : you saw 
 nothing of him as you passed the sally-port ? ' 
 
 ' No, but let us go and look ; the bugles are sounding a halt, 
 and you have done enough to-day ; so trouble yourself no further ; 
 we have gained the ascent, and the enemy is flying in all 
 directions.' 
 
 As they spoke, they passed through the sally-port into the 
 open space beyond, where many a poor fellow lay writhing in his 
 death-agony, vainly crying for water, which was not immediately 
 to be found. Many men of Herbert's own company, faces 
 familiar to him from long companionship, lay now blue and cold 
 in death, their glazed and open eyes turned upwards to the 
 bright sun, which to them shone no longer. His favourite 
 sergeant in particular attracted his notice, who was vainly endea- 
 vouring to raise himself up to breathe, on account of the blood 
 which nearly choked him. 
 
 ' I am sorry to see this, Sadler,' said Herbert kindly, as he 
 seated him upright. 
 
 ' Do not think of me, sir,' said the poor fellow ; ' Mr. Balfour 
 is badly hurt. I was with him till I received the shot, but they 
 have taken him yonder behind the rock.' 
 
152 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' Then I must leave you, and will send some one to you ; ' 
 and Herbert and Dalton hurried on. 
 
 Behind the rode, almost on the brink of the precipice, _ and 
 below the wall, there was a shady place, formed by the rock itself 
 and l^ the Reading branches of a Peepul-tree which rustled 
 gently over it. This served for a kind of hospital; and the 
 surgeons of the force, as one by one they came up, lent their aid 
 to dress the wounds of such as offered themselves. 
 
 There, supported by two men of his company, and reclining 
 upon the ground with sucfh props as could be hastily arranged 
 around him, lay Charles Balfour — ^his fair and handsome features 
 disfigured by a gaping wound in his cheek, and wearing the 
 ghastly colour and pinched expression which is ever attendant 
 upori mortal gun-shot wounds. Both saw at once that there was 
 no hc^ ■; but he was still alive, and, as he heard footsteps- 
 approaching, his dim and already glazed eye turned to meet the 
 soimd, and a faint smile passed over his countenance, evidently 
 of recognition of his companions. They knelt down by him 
 gently, and each took the hand he offered. 
 
 ' I tiiought,' — he said with rnuch difiSeulty and very faintly, — 
 ' I thought I should have died without seeing you ; and I am 
 thankful, so thankful that you have come ! Now, I go in peace. 
 A few moments more, and I shall see you and this bright earth 
 and sky no more. You will write, Herbert, to — to — ' He could 
 not say — mother. 
 
 * I will, I will do all you say, dear Charles ; now do not speak 
 — it hurts you.' 
 
 ' No, it does not pain me ; but I am dying, Herbert, and all is 
 fast becoming dim and cold. It is pleasant to talk to you 
 while life lasts. You will tell her that I died fighting like a man 
 — that no one passed me in the struggle, not even yourself.' 
 
 Herbert could not answer, but he pressed his hand warmly. 
 
 ' Thank you, thank you. Now pray for me ! — both of you ; I 
 will pray too myself 
 
 Reverently they removed their caps from their brows, and, as 
 they knelt by him, offered up in fervency prayers, unstudied 
 perhaps and even incoherent, but gushing fresh from the purest 
 springs of their hearts, and with tbe wide and glorious scene 
 which was spread out before them for their temple. . As they still 
 prayed in silence, each felt a tremulous shiver of the hand they 
 held in theirs ; they looked upon the sufferer : a slight convulsion 
 passed across his face — it was not repeated — he was dead.! 
 
 Both were brave soldiers ; both had borne honourable parts in 
 that day's fight ; yet now, as their eyes met, overcome by their 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 153 
 
 emotions, both wept Herbert passionately ; for his mind had 
 been worked up to a pitch of excitement which, when it found 
 vent at all, was not to be repressed. But after awhile he arose, 
 and found Dalton looking out over the magnificent pro- 
 spect J the tears were glistening in his eyes it was true, 
 but there was an expression of hope upon his manly features, 
 which showed that he thought Chwles's change had been for 
 the better. 
 
 They stood almost upon the verge of the precipice; far, far 
 below them was a giddy depth, the sides of which were clothed 
 with wood, and were blue from extreme distance. Mountains of 
 every strange and varied form, whose naked tops displayed bright 
 hues of colotu:, rose in their precipices out of eternal forests, and 
 formed combinations of beautiful forms not to be expressed by 
 words-'^HOw gracefully sweepimg down into endless successions 
 of valleys, now presenting a bold and rugged outline, or a flat top 
 with perpendicular sides of two or three thousand feet, which de- 
 scended into some gloomy depth, where a streamlet might be 
 seen chafing in its headlong course, though its roar was not even 
 heard. There were many scathed and shattered peaks, the re- 
 mains of former convulsions, which, rearing themselves above, 
 and surrounded by mist, looked like a craggy island in a sea ; 
 and again beyond, the vapours had arisen in parts and floated 
 gracefully along upon the mountain side, disclosing glimpses of 
 blue and indistinct distance to which the mind could hardly pene- 
 trate — a sea of mountains of all forms, of all hues, blended to- 
 gether in one majestic whole, and glowing under the fervent light 
 of the brilliant sun ; and they looked forth over this with heart 
 softened from the pride of conquest, more fitted to behold it, to 
 drink in its exquisite beauty, from the scene they had just 
 witnessed, than if in the exultation of victory they had gazed 
 upon it from the rock above. 
 
 ' Methinks it would take from the bitterness of death,' said 
 Herbert, ' to part from life amidst such scenery, which of itself 
 creates an involuntary wish to rise above the earth, to behold and 
 commune with the Author and Creator of it ; and if the taste of 
 this, which we are permitted here, be so exquisite, what will be 
 the fulness of reality ? Poor Charles 1 his fate was early and un- 
 locked for ; yet with his pure spirit, in the hour of conquest, and 
 here, without pain too, we may well think there was bitterness in 
 his death.' 
 
 ' There is never bitterness in death, if we look at it steadily, 
 Herbert, and consider it as a change to an existence far more 
 glorious. Charles has passed away from us, — the first of our 
 
154 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 little company, in this strange and gorgeous land, — perhaps not 
 the last ; but come, we may be wanted.' 
 
 And saying this, they turned from the spot, giving a few neces- 
 sary orders for the care of the body of their friend; and with 
 some cheering words to the poor wounded fellows, who were 
 brought in every moment, they passed on to the other duties 
 which required their presence. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 On the summit of the Hussainghurry pass, if the traveller turns 
 aside from the beaten track into the thin brushwood to the left 
 and near the edge of the mountain, from whence he will behold 
 an indescribably sublime prospect, there are a few ruined tombs. 
 They are those of the officers and men who fell in the assault, 
 and who lie near the scene of their triumph, — sad yet honourable 
 memorials of the event which even now is sung and described by 
 the bards of the country in rude but expressive language. 
 
 Beyond these again is another, beneath a shady Neem-tree, 
 which is in better preservation, and, by the hut near it, has evi- 
 dently been taken under the care of an old Fakeer. He will 
 always supply the thirsty traveller with a cup of cool water after 
 his weary ascent, and though he could originally have had no 
 interest in the tomb, has yet inherited the occupation of the spot 
 from others before him, whom either death swept from the face 
 of the earth, or, having rested there for awhile, have wandered 
 into other and far-distant lands. 
 
 That tomb is Charles Balfour's ; and whether it is that more 
 than ordinary interest existed at the period in the fate of him who 
 lies there, — ^whether any tradition of his youth and virtues 
 descended with time — from its being apart from the others, or 
 from the shade the tree afforded — that it has been selected from 
 the rest, and held in sanctity, — ^we know not ; yet so it is. 
 Annually, a few flowers and a lighted lamp are offered up upon it, 
 and often a love-sick maiden, or a mother beseeching health for 
 her child or a propitious return to her absent husband, brings a 
 lamp and a garland with her, and in a few simple prayers be- 
 seeches the spirit of him who rests there to aid her requests. 
 
 Certain it is they could not pray to the spirit of a purer being ; 
 and if the act itself be questionable, at least we cannot refuse, to 
 
TIPPOO SVLTAUN, 155 
 
 the emotion which prompts it, our mental tribute of sincere 
 sympathy. 
 
 Herbert and Dalton selected the spot themselves ; and in the 
 evening, after they had completed the few necessary preparations 
 for the funeral, as the red glow of the declining sun was lingering 
 upon the mountain-peaks, gilding the naked precipices till they 
 shone like fire, and the huge mountains were flinging their purple 
 shadows over the deep valleys and chasms, making their depths 
 even more profound and gloomy, — the slow and sad funereal train 
 which bore Charles Balfour to his grave issued from the camp, 
 followed by most of the officers in the force and the men of his 
 regiment ; for the youngest officer in it had been a favourite with 
 all, and his daring bravery on that day had caused a double 
 regret for his early fate. 
 
 What more affecting sight exists than a soldier's funeral ? the 
 cap and sword, and belt and gloves upon the coffin, speak to the 
 heart more . than studied eulogy or the pomp of nodding plumes 
 and silent mutes ; the head which proudly bore the one, the arm 
 which wielded the other, are stiff" and cold. Earth has claimed 
 her own ; and it goes to its last narrow resting-place, not in the 
 triumphal procession of hearses and lines of carriages, but with 
 the solemn wail of the music for the dead, and with slow and 
 measured tramp, so full of contrast to the vigorous and decisive 
 step of military movement. 
 
 The mournful procession passed onward till it reached the 
 grave ; the funeral party which preceded the coffin performed 
 its simple movement in silence ; and as the lane was formed, and 
 the men bowed their heads upon the butts of their muskets, 
 many a big tear could be seen coursing down the cheeks of those 
 who had fought beside him who had passed from among them 
 for ever ! 
 
 Soon all was finished : the rattle of musketry resounded in the 
 still evening through the mountains ; it died gradually away ; 
 again and again it was repeated ; and the last honours being paid 
 to their departed brother, all separated, and returned in groups 
 to the camp, soon to forget, even amidst other excitements than 
 those of action or constant service, the solemnity of the scene 
 they had been engaged in. 
 
 Philip and Herbert remained however till the grave was filled 
 in and stones and thorns were piled upon it ; and by this time 
 evening had far advanced, and spread her dusky mantle over the 
 sublime scenery. All beyond the pass gradually became a dark 
 void, wherein nothing was discernible save here and there a dim 
 twinkling light, which showed where a shepherd kept his watch, 
 
iS6 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 or a few wood-cutters cooked their evening meal after the labours 
 of the day. They could not remain long ; the chill breeze which 
 arose as night advanced, though it was pleasant to their relaxed 
 frames, warned them to retire to the shelter of their tent ; and if 
 their evening there was spent sadly, at least they had the satisfac- 
 tion of thinking that all the honours of a soldier's death had been 
 shown to their young friend, and that he lay in a grave which 
 would be unmolested for ever. 
 
 It is far from our intention to follow seriatim the operations of 
 this campaign, which are already matters of history, except as 
 they are necessary to the explanation of the positions into which 
 the fate of Herbert Compton led hjm. It has been already stated 
 that the rich town of Bednore, the capital of the province in which 
 the army now was, had been from the first the object of the prcr 
 sent campaign ; accordingly Mathews, the day after the assault of 
 the pass, pressed onwards with his whole force to Hyderghur, a 
 strong fort on the way to Bednore. This place quickly yielded ; 
 and the governor, having been offered terms by the English 
 commander, agreed to them, and delivered over the whole of the 
 districts dependent upon the fortress. The fortress of Anantpoor 
 soon followed, and the countiy was quickly occupied by small 
 detachments, and the inhabitants yielded apparently quiet pos- 
 session to their conquerors, Bednore was next approached ; and 
 as the minarets and white-terraced houses appeared to the view 
 of the army, and it was known that its governor had deserted his 
 post, all were clamorous to be led at once against it, both because 
 it was to be their resting-place, after their fatiguing service, and 
 was described to be full of treasure, which would become their 
 lawful spoil. 
 
 The possession of it was the more urgent, because only six 
 rounds of ammunition remained to each man in the whole army ; 
 with this miserable provision, no operation of any magnitude 
 could be undertaken ; there was no prospect of immediate sup- 
 plies from Bombay ; the communication from the coast was very 
 irregular, but Bednore was before them ; and, reckless almost of 
 consequences, it was attacked and carried by escalade, with all 
 the ardour of desperate men. The reduction of the forts of the 
 country followed, and, in a mistaken idea, perhaps, all were 
 occupied with small detachments ; thus the army was rendered 
 inefficient, and, in a great measure, the execution of these services 
 gave notoriously such profit to the officers engaged in them, on 
 account of the plunder they obtained, that they were with difficulty 
 recalled. The dreams all had entertained of riches appeared to 
 be realised, the spirit of rapacity pervaded all ranks, and each 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 157 
 
 man was anxious to secure what he could- of the golden 
 harvest. 
 
 During the month of February, these and other operations 
 below the passes took place ; and when the army, or such part of 
 it as could be assembled at Bednore, was collected, it was the 
 general expectation that the immense booty would be divided, 
 and, at all events, that the army would receive its pay, which to 
 most of the troops was considerably in arrear. Herbert, however, 
 had been prevented, by a wound received at the storm of Anant- 
 poor, from taking any part with his regiment in the operations 
 we have alluded to ; he had received a severe sword-cut upon 
 his right arm, which, though it did not confine him to his bed, 
 yet rendered it inlpossible for him to accompany the regiment ; 
 and after the possession of Bednore, he remained there with the 
 other sick and wounded. Dalton, on the contrary, continued to 
 be most actively employed, and in all the affairs of the campaign 
 bore a conspicuous part. 
 
 His constant association Tirith the General gave him opportuni- 
 ties of observing his character narrowly. While he admired the 
 courage and the perseverance with which he laboured to carry- 
 out to the letter the instructions of the Government, he could not 
 but see that his blind reliance upon fate, his rieglecf of the most 
 ordinary means of gaining intelligence, and of providing stores 
 and supplies for his army, — while he denied them the power of 
 purchasing for themselves by withholding their pay, which he had 
 ample means to discharge, — would sooner or later be the causes 
 of ruin to the expedition, which, so loHg as it was not menaced 
 by the armies 0f Mysore, held efficient possession of the territory 
 it had gained. 
 
 Nor was it to be doubted that Tippoo, with the whole re- 
 sources of his kingdom at his perfect command, would make a 
 decisive attempt for the recovery of this, his favourite and most 
 fertile province. Daltort had repeatedly urged these considera- 
 tions upon his Commander with the Utmost earnestness, but 
 without effect, and the events which followed their return to 
 Bednore were of a character to excite his most lively appre- 
 hensions. 
 
 No sooner had the chief commanders of the army re-assembled 
 at Bednore, from their various expeditions, than a division of the 
 plunder, or at any rate an issue of pay, was insisted upon by 
 them, and by some of the officers ; for the sum which had been 
 collected was notoriously very large. The whole amount of the 
 lately-collected revenue of the district had been seized in the 
 Bednore treasury ; and this, with the property and jewels, the 
 
iS8 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 plunder of the various forts, might have been considered avail- 
 able in part to the public service. With an obstinacy, however, 
 peculiar to his character, Mathews refused any distribution ; the 
 small advances doled out to the officers and the men were dis- 
 sipated as fast as given, and were totally inadequate to their 
 wants ; and a general spirit of discontent, little short of absolute 
 mutiny, arose throughout the army. 
 
 After many scenes of violent recrimination, of mutual threats, 
 of forcible suspension from the functions of their office between 
 the General and his subordinates, the latter declared to him in 
 the presence of Dalton and others of his staff, that they felt them- 
 selves perfectly justified, for the safety of the army and the 
 furtherance of the public interests, to proceed at once to Bombay, 
 and in person to expose his conduct 
 
 Having come to this determination, Mathews made no attempt 
 to shake it. Convinced, though mistakenly, that he was acting 
 for the public good, he formally granted them the permission 
 they would otherwise have taken, and requested Captain Dalton 
 would hold himself in readiness to proceed with the three com- 
 manders, as the bearer of his despatches, which contained his 
 reasons for acting as he had done, his requests for further aid, 
 and instructions as to his ultimate proceedings. 
 
 This was a somewhat sudden blow to Dalton, who would have 
 far preferred remaining with the General, to whom he felt a strong 
 attachment, which was increased by the difficulties and dangers 
 by which he saw him encompassed; and for a while he en- 
 deavoured to make a change in his determination. 
 
 There were others, he said, of the staff much more fit to execute 
 the orders than himself; men who were acquainted with the 
 authorities at the Presidency, and with the language of the 
 country, so necessary in a rapid journey to and from the coast. 
 But the General continued inflexible ; his confidence in the manly 
 and independent character of Dalton was not to be shaken, and 
 Philip himself soon saw that it was useless to press him upon the 
 point 
 
 Once he suggested that his friend Herbert should fulfil the 
 mission, and the mention of his name thus casually led to a 
 request on the part of the General that he would undertake 
 Captain Dalton's duties during his absence. This was satis- 
 factory to both of them, to PhiUp particularly, for he felt assured 
 in the talent and excellent military knowledge of Herbert, which 
 he was daily increasing by study, that the General would have 
 advice upon which he could depend. 
 
 'Then, Philip, you will be back within a month?' said 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 159 
 
 Herbert, as they sat together the evening before his de- 
 parture. 
 
 ' I think so. Macleod and Humberstone are very friendly to 
 me, though we go upon opposite errands, for which I would to 
 God no necessity existed ; and they are determined to get back 
 as soon as possible ; indeed, you know it is absolutely necessary, 
 for things cannot go on much longer in this state.' 
 
 'No, indeed. I regret sincerely that matters are thus; what 
 in the world can make the old man so obstinate ? ' . 
 
 ' I know not ; it is in vain that I have represented the absolute 
 necessity for a distribution of money, or for a prize-committee, in 
 order that the army may know something of what was secured 
 here and elsewhere. It is in vain ; the old man is absorbed in 
 the contemplation of this wealth; it occupies his thoughts in- 
 cessantly ; and, though it is not his, yet I verily believe he cannot 
 make up his mind to part with it, merely because it is wealth.' 
 
 ' It is most strange ; one of those curious anomalies in human 
 conduct which we often see without being able to give any satis- 
 factory reason for it I hope, however, the Government will 
 decide the matter, and soon send you back to us, Philip.' 
 
 ' Indeed, I hope so too. I very much suspect the General will 
 be superseded, for in truth he is Uttle fitted to command ; but 
 you will be able to judge of this yourself in a day or two.' 
 
 ' Well, I shall see ; at any rate he shall have my opinion upon 
 the state of the fortifications, which I have often mentioned to 
 you.' 
 
 ' And I to him ; but he relies so implicitly upon his fate, and 
 is so sure of aid, which seems to me like a hope in a miraculous 
 intervention in his favour, that I ceased to urge it' 
 
 ' There is no use in our speaking more now upon this vexatious 
 subject, Philip, and I pray you to execute my commissions in 
 Bombay. Here are a few letters for England, and some drawings 
 among them ; one for Charles's poor mother, and a sketch of the 
 place where he fell, and his last resting-place, which please 
 despatch for me. Perhaps you can get them into the Govern- 
 ment packets ; if so, they will be safer than in the ship's letter- 
 bags. Here too is a packet of drawings of all our late scenes and 
 skirmishes, till my wound prevented my sketching any more, 
 which you may have an opportunity of sending by a private hand; 
 and if not, any of the captains will take it for me, I have no 
 doubt' 
 
 'I will arrange all for you safely, Herbert, I have written 
 some letters myself, and they can all go together. I doubt not I 
 shall be able to get one of the secretaries to forward them, and 
 
i6o TIPPOO SULTAUN 
 
 your drawings besides, which are not very latga Anything 
 more ? ' 
 
 ' Nothings except these trifliiig purchiases.' 
 
 'Certainly, I will bring the contefflts of the list without fail. 
 So now good-bye, and God bless you till we meet agaim ! which I 
 hope will riot b& further dist-ant than three weteks or a month. 
 Take care of the old commander ; and if yoe can persuade him 
 int© parting with some money, and into vigilance and exertion, 
 you will not only be cleverer than I 31% but will deservei the 
 thanks of all parties.' 
 
 ' 1 will try at all events. So goad-'bye ! Don't forget my 
 letters, whatever you do, for there are those in our merry England 
 who look for them with almost feverish impatience. God bless 
 you!' 
 
 They wrung each other's hands with warm affection, and even 
 the tears started to Herbert's eyes. He thought then that he 
 should be alone, to meet any vicissitudes which might aris6, and 
 he could not repress a kind of presentiiracart of evil,, vague and 
 indefinite. If he had been Dal ton, he would have expressed it; 
 but his was a differently constituted temperamieaty and he was 
 silent. Another warm and hearty shake of the hand, and Philip 
 was goae. 
 
 The rest of that evening and night was sad enough td Herbert, 
 and many anxious thoughts for' the future rose up in his mind. 
 Dalton was only to be absent a month;, but in that time what 
 might not happen? The army was inefficient, from being broken 
 up into detachments, and the best commanders were sibout to 
 leave; the authority would devolve upon others who were untried 
 in such situations; disaffection and party spirit were at a high 
 pitch. Should the enemy hear of this, and attack them, he feared 
 they could but ill resist 
 
 However, he thought he could do much by forcible entreaty 
 with the general, whom he was now in a condition to advise; 
 and, as he said, these thoughts are but the effect of circum- 
 stances after all. For how often is it that they who are depart- 
 ing on a journey in the prospect of novelty and occupation of 
 thought, have spirits lighter and more buoyant than those who, 
 remaining, can not only imagine dangers for the absent, but are 
 oppressed with anxieties for their safe progress, and lest evils 
 should come in which their aid and sympathy will be wanting ! 
 
 But sad thoughts will soon pass away under the action of a 
 well-regulated mind :- and Herbert, m his ensuing deities, found 
 much to occupy his, and prevent it from dwelling upon ideal 
 evils. They were not, however, without foundation. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. i6i 
 
 But a few days had elapsed after the departure of his friend, 
 ere Herbert began to suggest plans to the commander for the 
 general safety. Young as he was, he put them forward with 
 much diffidence, and only when they were supported by another 
 officer of the staff who could not blind his eyes to the critical 
 state of the" army. Leaving for a while the vexatious subject of 
 money, upon which the general could not be approached without 
 giving way to passionate expressions, they gradually endeavoured 
 to lead his attention to the state of the fortifications, which, 
 ruinous and neglected as they were, could not afford defence 
 against any ordiriarily resolute enemy. They next endeavoured to 
 organise some system of intelligence; for of what was passing 
 within twenty miles of Bednore — nay, even the state of their own 
 detachments — ^they had no knowledge whatever. They urged 
 upon their infatuated commander the necessity of establishing 
 some order and discipline in the army, which from neglect, in- 
 activity, and poverty, was becoming riotous and unmanageable. 
 
 But all was in vain. The more apparent the difficulties of his 
 situation were made to him, the more he tried to shut his eyes 
 against them ; and when driven by absolute conviction to con- 
 fess the peril, which daily increased, though as yet no enemy 
 threatened, he declared that he had reliance in Almighty power 
 to send succour, to perplex the councils of his enemies, to distract 
 their attention from one who, having carried conquest so far, 
 was destined (though certainly in some strait at present) to rise 
 out of all his troubles triumphant, to confound his enemies and 
 those who sought to dispossess him of his situation. 
 
 It was in very despair therefore that Herbert and the others, 
 who had aided him in his plans, were at length obliged to desist 
 from further importunity, and to settle down into a kind of dogged 
 resolution to bear with resignation whatever might be hidden 
 behind the dark veil of the future; and all hoped that news 
 would speedily arrive of the supercession of the general, and the 
 appointment of some other more competent person. 
 
 It will be remembered that two persons came into the English 
 camp on the night before the storming of the pass. The fate of 
 one will be fresh in the reader's memory. The other performed 
 his part well: he led the column he guided steadily on one side 
 of all the entrenchments, by narrow bypaths and difficult places : 
 it reached the top in time to intercept the fugitives, who, driven 
 from redoubt to redoubt, and finally from the last, as we have 
 already mentioned, fled panic-stricken, and were destroyed in 
 great numbers by the second column, which intercepted many of 
 them at the summit of the pass. 
 
i62 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 This guide, wh,<i)se name *as JafFar Sahib, therefore, received 
 his full reward, and more; and as he was assumed to be faithful, 
 so the general kept him about his person, and lent a ready ear to 
 his suggestions. By him he had been informed of some secret 
 stores of treasure, which he had added to the general stock. 
 By him he was told of the terror with which his presence and 
 conquest had inspired Tippoo and his armies, who would not 
 dare to attack him j and if the unfortunate general ever ventured 
 to express a doubt of the security of his position, he was flattered 
 into the belief that there was no fear, and was told, in the 
 language of Oriental hyperbole, that it was impregnable. 
 
 The interpreter between them was the general's personal ser- 
 vant, who — not proof against a heavy bribe, and greater promises 
 — ^had lent himself to the deep designs of the other. 
 
 It was long before suspicion of this person entered the mind 
 of Herbert; but a remark that fell from the general one day, 
 that he had the best information of the proceedings of the enemy, 
 when it was very evident he had none at all, led him to suspect 
 that Jaffar Sahib was exercising with the general a fatal and as 
 yet unknown influence. The man's conduct, however, was so 
 guarded, his civility and his apparent readiness to oblige so great, 
 that it was long before Herbert's suspicion led him to adopt any 
 course to detect him. 
 
 But expressions, however light, will sometimes remain upon 
 the memory, and oftentimes obtrude themselves upon our notice 
 when least expected. During a nightly reverie, when the scenes 
 of the short campaign were vividly present to his imagination, 
 he remembered the tone of contempt in which the gallant Nair 
 had spoken of Jaffar Sahib ; and though he had not understood 
 the words, yet he could not help thinking there was more implied 
 in them than Wheeler had noticed. Early the next day he 
 sought that officer, with whom he had been in constant associa- 
 tion, and mentioned his doubts to him. 
 
 Mr. Wheeler readily repeated the words which the Nair had 
 used ; and remembering his tone of contempt, he was gradually 
 led to think with Herbert that there was ground for extreme 
 suspicion and watchfulness. Nothing,, however, could be dis- 
 covered against the man i and though they set others to watch 
 his movements, they could not ascertain that he held com- 
 munication with any one but the general's own servants, among 
 whom he livedo 
 
 The first three days of April had passed, and as yet there was 
 no news of the issue of the appeal to Bombay. All were anxious 
 upon the subject, and party-spirit ran higher and higher in con- 
 
TJFPOO SULTAUN. 163 
 
 sequence. They had soon, however, matter for sterner contem- 
 plation. On the fourth morning, early, there arose a slight 
 rumour that Tippoo's *my was approaching. Three similar 
 ones had been heard befoie, but nothing had followed; and 
 Herbert flew with the intelligence to the general, accompanied by 
 Wheeler ; for their suspicions were roused to the utmost against 
 JafiFar Sahib. 
 
 'Impossible!' said the general when he had heard the news. 
 ' I have the most positive information that Tippoo is at Seringa- 
 patam, and purposes advancing in the opposite direction to meet 
 the Madras army. Who is the author of this groundless rumour, 
 gentlemen ?' 
 
 ' It was prevalent,' they said, • in the bazaar.' 
 
 ' Some scheme of the grain-merchants to raise the price of 
 grain, I have no doubt. But here is Jaffar Sahib, the faithful 
 fellow to whom we owe much of our success, andVho would be 
 the first to give this information if it were true: ask him, if you 
 please, Mr. Wheeler, what he thinks.' 
 
 Wheeler put the question, and the man laughed confidently. 
 
 ' It is a lie, — it is a lie ! Look you, sir, as you speak my 
 language so well, perhaps you can read it also. Here are letters 
 which I have daily received from Seringapatam, through a friend, 
 who thus risks his life in the service of the brave English. They 
 contain the daily records of the bazaar there, and the movements 
 of the troops.' 
 
 ' We will have them read by a scribe, if you please, general,' 
 said Wheeler. ' If thou art faithless, as I suspect,' he continued 
 to the man, ' thou shalt hang on the highest tree in the fort ! ' 
 
 ' My life is in your hands,' he repUed in his usual subdued 
 tone J ' I am not afraid that you should read.' 
 
 The letters were read, and were, as he described them to be, 
 daily accounts from the capital, where the army was said to be 
 quiet. The last letter was only four days old, the time which 
 the post usually occupied. 
 
 ' Now, gentlemen, are you satisfied ? ' cried the general in 
 triumph. 'Have I not always told you that I possessed the 
 most exact information through this my faithful servant ? Con- 
 tradict, I pray you, this absurd rumour, and believe me that there 
 is no danger.' 
 
 But the next morning, as the day broke, a cloud of irregular 
 cavalry was seen by those on the look-out, advancing from the 
 southward ; and amidst the confusion and alarm which followed, 
 no efforts were made to check them — none to defend the outer 
 lines of fortification, which would have enabled the EngUsh to 
 
i64 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 have strengthened their position within. A few skirmishes oc- 
 curred, in ineifectual attempts to retain their ground, and before 
 noon the place was formally invested by the regular infantry and 
 very efficient artillery of Tippoo's army. 
 
 Herbert and Wheeler- made every search for JafFar Sahib, but 
 he was nowhere to be found. In the confusion, he and the general's 
 servant, who had been his confidant and associate, had escaped. 
 
 Then only broke upon the unfortunate general a bitter pro- 
 spect, and a sense of the misery he had brought upon himself and 
 others. But instead of yielding to any despair, the courage and 
 discipline of the army rose with the danger which threatened its 
 very existence : animosities were forgotten : and while the siege 
 of the fort was vigorously pressed by Tippoo, and with the most 
 efficient means, its defenders exerted themselves with the in- 
 trepidity and spirit of English soldiers to repel their assailants. 
 
 With their insufficient means of defence, however — with brokeij 
 and ruined walls — the gradual failure of ammunition and of food 
 — their exertions at length relaxed ; and after a vigorous assault, 
 directed by Tippoo in person, they were forced to relinquish the 
 outer walls, and retire within the citadel, where they were now 
 closer and closer pressed, and without any chance of escape or 
 relief. In this condition, and having done all that brave men 
 could for the defence of their honour and of their post, the 
 general was induced to offer a capitulation. The deputation was 
 received with courtesy by Tippoo, the officers complimented on 
 their valorous defence of an almost untenable post ; and the 
 articles of capitulation having been drawn up, they returned to 
 their companions. The conditions were accepted with some 
 modifications, after a day or two's negotiation, and the 30th of 
 April was fixed as that on which they should march out with the 
 honours of war ; and after that, they should move with their 
 private property to the coast. It was destined, however, to be 
 otherwise. 
 
 By the articles of capitulation it was specified that all treasure 
 in possession of the garrison was to be given up — that, though 
 the private property of the officers and men was to be respected, ' 
 yet all public stores and treasure were to be surrendered in good- 
 faith. 
 
 But the officers and men, whose means of subsistence — now 
 that the army was to be broken up and disorganised, upon 
 becoming prisoners of war — would entirely depend upon the 
 charity of their conquerors, were little inclined to trust to so 
 questionable a source ; and the evening before the capitulation 
 was to be carried into effect, a large body of the garrison, in a 
 
TIPPOO StJLTAtllsr. i6s 
 
 state of mutiny, surrounded the abode of the general, and with 
 tumultuous cries demanded pay. 
 
 Herbert was with the old man, assisting him to pack up such 
 articles as could most easily be carried away, when the demand 
 was made. It was in vain that, by the general's order, he 
 attempted to reason with the men to show them the dishonour 
 of touching anything of what had been promised in exchange for 
 their lives. They would listen to no reason. 
 
 • We are starving,' they cried, ' and there is treasure yonder : 
 we will have it ! ' 
 
 But at last they were satisfied, on receiving the assurance of a 
 month's pay to each man, and reluctantly the general surrendered 
 the keys of the treasury. 
 
 The regiments were engaged in receiving the money, when 
 some one bolder than the rest exclaimed, ' Why not have it all, 
 boys ? We may as well have it, as let it go to the enemy." 
 
 The cry acted at once upon their excited spirits. ' Let us 
 have it all ! ' was repeated by hundreds ; and ere they could be 
 prevented, the contents of the treasury were plundered and dis- 
 tributed amongst them. Officers and men alike were laden with 
 the spoil in jewels and money. 
 
 It was. with bitter regret that this was seen by Herbert and 
 many others, whose high sense of honour forbade their sharing 
 in the work of plunder. It would be impossible, they thought, 
 to conceal such an event from the Mysore chief; and as it was 
 a direct breach of the articles they had solemnly agreed to, they 
 but too justly anticipated a severe retribution for the act. 
 
 It was even so. On the morrow, as they marched out with 
 the melancholy honours of war, a wasted band, worn out with 
 fatigue and privation, they were surrounded by Tippoo's troops, 
 while others took possession of the fort. The keys of the maga- 
 zines and treasures had been given up with the rest, and there 
 was an immediate search made for the valuables, of which the 
 place was well known to be fuU^ — to Tippoo personally ; for, as 
 may have been anticipated, the guide Jaffar was the means of 
 the intelligence which he possessed, and through whom he had 
 been informed of every event which happened ; though his share 
 in the previous British success he had kept concealed from the 
 Sultaun : indeed it was known to none except the British. 
 
 Disappointed at the issue of the examination, the English were 
 at once suspected, and denounced by Jaffar. They were sur- 
 rounded and rudely searched : on most was found a portion of 
 the missing money and jewels ; and, as it but too well fell in 
 with Tippoo's humour, and gratified his hate against them, they 
 
i66 TIPPOO SULTAUN: 
 
 were one and all decreed to captivity — which, from the horrors 
 all had Tieard related of it, was in prospect worse than death. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Abdool Rhyman Khan, as may be imagined, quitted his wives 
 in no very pleasant mood. Tired by his long march, and without 
 having tasted food since the morning, the bitter insult he had 
 received, their disrespect and their abuse, were the more aggra- 
 vating, and sank deeply into iis heart. Although not a man of 
 wrath habitually, or one indeed who could be easily excited, he 
 was now in very truth enraged, ,and felt that he would have given 
 worlds for any object on which he could have vented the fury 
 that possessed him. 
 
 ' Alia ! Alia ! ' he exclaimed, as he ground his teeth in vexa- 
 tion ; ' that I should have been born to eat this abomination ; 
 that I, who have a grey beard, should Tse thus taunted by my 
 wonien, and called a coward, one less than a man ! I who, 
 Mashalla ! have slain men, even Feringhees ! — that I should 
 have to bear this — Ya Hyder ! Ya Hoosein ! — ^but I am a fool 
 to be thus excited. Let them only fail to receive Ameena as she 
 ought to be received — let me but have a pretext for what I have 
 long desired, and now threatened, and they will see whether my 
 words are truth or lies. Too long have I borne this, — ^first one, 
 then the other — now Kummoo, now Hoormut — now one's 
 mother, now the other's brothers and cousins j but, Inshalla! 
 this is the last dirt I eat at their hands — faithless and ungrateful ! 
 I will send them back to their homes j I have often threatened it, 
 and now will do it.' 
 
 His horse awaited him at the door, and springing into the 
 saddle, he urged him furiously on through the Fort gate, into the 
 plain beyond ; and here — for the rapid motion was a relief to 
 him — ^he lunged him round and round j now exciting him to 
 speed, now turning him rapidly from one side to another, as 
 though in pursuit of an imaginary enemy. This he did for some 
 time, while his groom and Daood looked quietly on ; the latter 
 attributing to its true cause the Khan's excitement, the former 
 wondering what could possess his master to ride so furiously after 
 the long journey the horse had already performed that morning. 
 
 The Khan at last desisted — either from feeling his temper 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 167 
 
 cooling, or from observing that his horse was tired-^-^ud turning 
 first towards the encampment, he proceeded a short distance \ 
 but apparently remembering something, he retraced his steps 
 towards the Fort j indeed he had forgotten to report the arrival 
 of his corps to the officer whose duty it was to receive the in- 
 telligence. 
 
 As he passed his house, he saw one of the women^servants, who 
 used to go on errands or make purchases in the bazaar, issue 
 from the door-way, and covering her face, dart on before him, 
 apparently to elude his observation. 
 
 * Ha ! by the Prophet, I will know what that jade is after,' 
 muttered the Khan to himself, as he dashed his heels into his 
 charger's flanks, and was up with her in a moment. • Where 
 goest thou?' he cried; 'Kulloo, think not to conceal thyself; 
 I saw thy face as thou camest out of the door ; what errand hast 
 thou now ? ' 
 
 'May I be your sacrifice, ELhan !' said the woman; 'I am 
 only sent for the Khanum Kummoo's mother, — may her pros- 
 perity increase ! ' 
 
 ' May her lot be perdition rather ! ' cried the Khan ; ' an old 
 devil, — ^but never mind me ; go thy way ; I know why she is 
 called. May the Prophet give them grace of their consultation ! ' 
 he added ironically ; ' tell thy mistress that ; and tell her too,' he 
 continued, speaking between his teeth, and looking back after he 
 had gone a little way, ' tell her to remember my words, which I 
 win perform if there be occasion, so help me Alia and his Prophet 
 — now begone !' 
 
 The woman was right glad to escape, and the Khan pursued 
 his way to the office where he had to make his report, and to 
 ascertain what was to be done with the prisoners whom he had 
 escorted from Bangalore. This necessarily occupied some time : 
 the officer was an intimate friend, and the Khan had not only 
 much to learn, but much also to communicate. His own 
 marriage, his journey, his double escape, and the gallantry of his 
 young friend Kasim Ali were mentioned, and excited the utmost 
 praise, with many expressions of wonder from the hearers ; and 
 all were anxious to see, and become acquainted with, the hero of 
 so much adventure. 
 
 'And what news have you from Hyderabad for us, Khan 
 Sahib ? ' said his friend, whose name was Meer Saduk, a favourite 
 and confidential officer of the Sultaun; 'what news for the 
 Sultaun ? may his greatness increase ! I hope you were able to 
 gather the intentions of the court there, or at any rate can give 
 us some idea of them.' 
 
i68 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 The Khan's journey to Hyderabad had not entirely been of a 
 private description, A native of the place, when he asked leave 
 to proceed there to see his family, he had been requested by the 
 Sultaun to ascertain as far as he could the politics of the State, 
 and the part the Nizam personally was likely to play in the drama 
 of Indian intrigue and diplomacy; and he had performed his 
 mission with more tact than could have been anticipated from his 
 open and bluat nature. 
 
 'I have news,' he replied, 'Meer Sahib, which will gratify 
 the Sultaun, I think ; and from such good sources too, that I am 
 inclined to place the utmost dependence upon them. No sooner 
 was it known that I, as an officer of the Sircar Khodadad,* had 
 arrived in the city, than I was sought by several of the nobles 
 and Munsubdars of the court, who in truth were friendly to the 
 last degree, when I did not well know how I should have fared 
 with them ; and it appeared from their speech that the Huzoor 
 himself was well inclined to be friendly. This is all I can tell 
 you, Meer Sahib, and you must not press me, for I have sworn 
 to tell the rest to the Sultaun only ; after he has heard it, I will 
 let you know.' 
 
 ' Enough, Khan, I am content ; the Sultaun will be at the 
 Doulut Bagh to-night, and to-morrow also ; wilt thou come this 
 evening?' 
 
 * Pardon me, not to-night ; I am tired, and have to arrange my 
 house after my journey; but, Inshalla ! to-morrow evening, when 
 I shall present my young Roostum, and solicit employment for 
 him. Being the bearer of good news, I may be successful ; but 
 in any case I think Kasim Ali would be welcome.' 
 
 ' There is not a doubt of it,' replied his friend. ' I go to the 
 Durbar to-night, and wiU tell of thy adventurous journey ; this 
 will whet the Sultaun's curiosity to see the young Syud.' 
 
 The friends then separated. In spite of this amicable inter- 
 view, the Khan's temper, which had been so violently chafed, 
 was not completely soothed : the memory of the abuse which 
 had been poured upon him still rankled at his heart, and he was 
 at a loss what to tell Ameena of his interview with his wives, and 
 of her having to meet them that evening. 
 
 The nearer he approached his tents in the camp, the more 
 oppressive these thoughts became; and alternately blaming 
 himself for having visited his wives so early after his arrival, and 
 mentally threatening them with punishment should they continue 
 insubordinate, he had gradually worked himself up to a pitch of ill 
 
 • 'The Government, the gift of God.' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 169 
 
 temper, but little less than that in which he had left his house, 
 and which he was ready to discharge upon any one. 
 
 The opportunity was not long wanting ; for, as he entered his 
 outer tent, which was used by Kasim and the Moonshees, as 
 well as by any visitor or friends, he heard a violent altercation, 
 in which Kasim's voice and that of the Moonshee, Naser-oo-deen, 
 were very prominent. 
 
 ' I tell thee thou art a cheat and a rogue ! ' Kasim was 
 exclaiming with vehemence; 'this is the second time I have 
 detected thee, and therefore instantly alter these accounts and 
 repay the money, or I will tell the Khan.' 
 
 ' I am no cheat nor rogue, any more than thyself, thou 
 nameless base-born ! ' retorted the Moonshee, whose remaining 
 words were lost in the violent passion of the other. 
 
 ' Base-born ! dog ! thou shalt rue this,' cried Kasim ; ' thou 
 shalt not escape me, by Alia! I will beat thee with a shoe.' 
 And a scuffle ensued. 
 
 ' Hold ! ' exclaimed the Khan, who now rushed into the tent 
 and parted them ; ' what is the meaning of all this ? ' 
 
 ' Khodawund ! ' cried both at once. 
 
 'Do thou speak, Naser-oo-deen,' said the Khan; 'thou art 
 the oldest. What is the meaning of this disturbance? is this 
 the bazaar ? hast thou, an old man, no shame ? Hast thou too 
 lost all respect, Kasim Ali ? ' 
 
 ' Judge if I have not cause to be angry, O Khan, at being 
 called a rogue and a cheat by that boy," said the Moonshee ; 
 'have I not cause to be enraged when my character is thus 
 taken away ? ' 
 
 ' Wherefore didst thou say this, Kasim, to a respectable man 
 like him? these words are improper from such a youth as thou art.' 
 
 'Khan Sahib,' said Kasim, 'you have hitherto trusted me 
 implicitly ; is it not so ? you have never doubted me ? ' 
 
 'Never; go on.' 
 
 ' Alia is my witness ! ' he continued ; ' I know no other, 
 motive in this but your welfare and prosperity, which first led 
 me to inquire, in consequence of my suspicion. Since the 
 Moonshee has provoked it, and my lord is present, know then 
 why I called him rogue and cheat. At Bangalore, by making 
 notes of the prices in the bazaars, I detected him in overcharging 
 for grain and forage to an immense amount in the week's 
 account; I found the papers here, while my lord was absent, 
 and for lack of other occupation I began looking over the items. 
 I see the same thing again attempted — he swears he will not 
 alter the papers, and I was angry ; he called me base-born—' 
 
170 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 •Yes, i heani that, Kasim; but say, hast thou proof of 
 all this?' 
 
 ' Behold the daily memorandum I made of the rates, Khan, 
 village after village, and day after day, written as I made the 
 inquiry ; the grain and forage was I know bought from the very 
 people from whose lips I had the rates. Call them if you like — 
 they are the bazaar merchants.' 
 
 ' And so thou wouldst have cheated me, Naser-oo-deen,' said 
 the K2ian, his choler rising rapidly and obstructing his speech, 
 and looking wrathfuUy at the treinbling Moonshee ; ' thou who 
 owest me so much, to cheat me ! Alia ! Alia ! have I deserved 
 this? To what amount was the fraud, Kasim ? ' 
 
 'A hundred rupees or more, Khan, at least, even upon this 
 week's account ; I could not tell exactly without making up the 
 whole difference.' 
 
 ' I doubt it not, I doubt it not ; and if this for one week or a 
 little more, what for the whole time since thou hast had this 
 place-^the sole control of my horses' expenditure ! what — " 
 
 'My lord"! my lord!' ejaculated the Moonshee, 'be not so 
 angry; your slave is terrified — ^he dares not speak; he has not 
 cheated, he has never given a false account.' 
 
 But his looks belied his words ; he stood a convicted rogue, 
 even while he tried thus weakly to assert his innocence ; for he 
 trembled much, and his lips were blue from terror. 
 
 ' We wiU soon see that,' said the Khan deliberately. ' Go ! ' 
 he said to Daood, who stood by, ' bring two grooms with whips; 
 let us see whether they cannot bring this worthy man to a very 
 different opinion.' 
 
 It was not needed, however; the Moonshee, terrified almost 
 to speechlessness, and not heeding the interference Kasim was 
 earnestly making in his behalf, prostrated himself on the ground 
 at the Khan's feet. 
 
 ' I will pay ! I will pay all ! ' he cried ; ' I confess my false 
 accounts. Do with me what thou wilt, but oh ! save my 
 character; I am a respectable man.' 
 
 ' Good ! ' said the Khan ; ' all of- ye who are present hear that 
 he has confessed himself a thief before he was touched, and that 
 he says he is a respectable man. Ye will bear me witness in this 
 — a respectable man — ^Ya Moula Ali ! ' 
 
 All answered that they would. ' Take him then,' he said to 
 Daood and some of the Furashes who stood near, 'take him 
 from my sight; put him on an ass, with his face to the tail; 
 blacken his face, and show him in the bazaar. If any one re- 
 cognises the respectable Naser-oo-deen. and asks after his health, 
 
TIPPOO SUITAUN. 171 
 
 say that he is taking the air by my order, for having cheated me. 
 Enough — begone 1 ' 
 
 The order did not need repetition; amidst his cries and pro- 
 testations against the sudden sentence, the Moonshee was carried 
 oif ; and in a few minutes, his face blackened, and set on an ass 
 with his face to the tail, he was the sport of the idlers and vaga- 
 bonds in the camp. He had richly deserved his punishment, 
 however; for with a short-sighted cunning he had imagined that 
 he could brazen out his false accounts, and that, as he had 
 declared that any division of the spoil was at an end from the 
 previous detection, he had made himself now sure of the whole. 
 He had thought too that Kasim, contented with his first detec- 
 tion of overcharge, would not have continued his system of 
 inquiry. Thus he was doubly disappointed. 
 
 Having vented his long pent-up rage, the Khan soon cooled 
 down into his usual pleasant deportment, begging Kasim to 
 explain to him minutely the whole of the Moonshee's system 
 of false accounts. This Kasim did clearly, and showed him how 
 much cause there was to suspect far greater delinquencies, for 
 months, nay years past ; indeed, it was but too apparent that the 
 Khan had been defrauded of large sums, and that the Moon- 
 shee's gains must, have been enormous. 
 
 'And this might have gone on for ever, Kasim, but for thy 
 penetration,' said the Khan. ' Well, thou hast added another to 
 the very good reasons I already have for aiding thee. Our 
 reception is to take place to-morrow evening, against which time 
 get thy best apparel ready; or stay — I have a better thought; 
 wait here, and I will return instantly.' He did so, and brought 
 with him a superb suit of cloth-of-gold, quite new. 
 
 ' There,' he said, ' take that, Kasim, and wear it to-morrow ; it 
 is the best kijmkhab* of Aurungabad, and was made for one of 
 my marriage-dresses. Nay, no words, for thou hast saved me far 
 more than the cost of it in the detection of yon scoundrel ; and 
 now prepare thyself. This may not fit thee, thou canst have it 
 altered. I shall remove the Khanum to my house to-night, and 
 sleep there ; but come by the third watch of the day to-morrow ; 
 they will show thee where it is, and I will be ready to accompany 
 thee. Inshalla ! I have that news for the Sultaun which shall 
 make him propitious towards us both.' And so saying, he left 
 him, and went through the enclosure which separated the tents, 
 into that which was appropriated to Ameena. 
 
 From a window in the tent, which was screened by transparent 
 blinds, so that the immates could look out without being seen, 
 • Cloth-of-goId. 
 
172 TIPPOO SVLTAl/N. 
 
 Ameena was sitting and gazing on the plain, which swarmed with 
 men, elephants, horses, and camels, hurrying to an fro. Beyond 
 was the Fort, from the gate of which every now and then issued 
 a gay cavalcade, — an elephant, bearing some officer of rank, sur- 
 rounded by spearmen and running footmen, — or a troop of gaily- 
 dressed horsemen, who, as they advanced, spread over the plain, 
 and amused themselves with feats of horsemanship, pursuing each 
 other in mock combat, or causing their horses to perform bounds 
 and caracoles, to the admiration of the beholders. 
 
 ' A gallant sight ! is it not, fairest ? and a gallant and noble 
 patron of soldiers do we serve — one who hath not his equal in 
 Hind. Say, didst thou ever see such at thy city ? ' 
 
 ' No, in truth,' said Ameena, who had risen to receive her lord ; 
 ' but thou knowest we lived in a quiet street of the city, so that 
 few cavaliers passed that way; nevertheless, we have brave 
 soldiers there also. I would I could live among such scenes 
 always,' she added ; ' it is pleasant to sit and look out on men of 
 such gallant bearing.' 
 
 ' I am afraid thou wilt not see so much within the Fort,' said 
 the Khan ; ' nevertheless, my house is in the main thoroughfare, 
 and there are always men passing.' 
 
 ' And when are we to remove there, my lord ? ' asked Ameena 
 timidly, for she feared the introduction to the wives more than 
 she dared express. ' Methinks I should live as well here as there ; 
 and I have been now so much accustomed to the tents, that a 
 house would appear a confinement to me.' 
 
 ' Why, fairest, thou shouldest remain in them, only that they 
 want repair very much, and we have prospect of immediate 
 service ; besides, the house is all prepared for thee, and I long to 
 make my rose mistress of what is hers in right ; so we will go 
 thither this afternoon. Zoolfoo has orders to prepare our evening' 
 meaL' 
 
 ' And they — ' she could not say wives — 
 
 * Fear not ; they will be prepared to receive thee with honour. 
 I have spoken with them, and bidden them be ready to welcome 
 thee.' 
 
 ' Alia bless them ! ' said Ameena, the tears starting to her eyes ; 
 ' and will they be kind to one whom they ought to hate ? Alia 
 bless them ! I did not look for this, but expected much misery.' 
 
 ' Fear not,' said the Khan, who winced under her artless re- 
 mark, yet dared not undeceive her. ' Fear not, they will be kind 
 to thee ; Inshalla ! ye will be sisters together.' Alas, he had but 
 little hope of this, though he said it. But it is necessary to re- 
 vert to die ladies themselves. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 173 
 
 The Khan's two wives sat in anxious expectation of the arrival 
 of the lady for whom they had dispatched the servant ; they had 
 held a hurried colloquy together after -the Khan's departure in 
 the morning, and had come to the resolution of abiding by the 
 advice of the mother of Kummoobee, who was the wife of the 
 head Kazee of Seringapatam, a wealthy but corrupt man, who, of 
 good family himself, had married the daughter of a poor gentle- 
 man of long descent but of extreme poverty. She inherited all 
 her father's pride of birth, and had married her daughter to the 
 Khan, only because of his rank and known wealth; for she 
 despised his low origin, which had become known to her — indeed 
 it was not sought to be concealed. 
 
 As the ladies waited, they heard the sound of bearers, and in 
 a few moments the jingle of the anklets and heavy tread of the 
 old lady, as she advanced along the open verandah of the court 
 which led to their apartment. They rose to welcome her, and 
 the next moment she entered, and advanced towards her daughter 
 — almost starting as she saw the Khan's other wife, knowing that 
 they had been enemies ; but returning her salaam very court- 
 eously, she proceeded to take the evil from her daughter by 
 cracking her knuckles over her. Having done this, and embraced, 
 she was led to the musnud ; and being seated thereon, and her 
 daughter's hooka given to her, she drew a long breath as if she 
 had exerted herself very much, and looking from one to the other 
 (for the slaves had been ordered out of the room), demanded to 
 know what they had to say to her. 
 
 ' We have news for thee, mother,' said Kummoo-bee pettishly. 
 
 ' Ay, news, rare news ! ' added the other, who seemed as spite- 
 ful as suppressed anger could make her. 
 
 'Ajaib!' said the old lady, looking from one to the other, 
 ' wonderful news ? By your souls, tell me what news : what has 
 happened that I know not of? ' 
 
 ' Of the Khan,' said Kummoo, edging nearer to her mother. 
 
 ' Ay, listen,' said the other ; ' Mashalla ! it is worth hearing.' 
 
 ' Of the Khan ? most wonderful ! Is he dead ? — have ye all his 
 money?' 
 
 'No!' ejaculated Kummoo passionately; 'it would be well 
 for us and him if he were dead. Dead ! no, he is returned, and 
 well' 
 
 ' Well ! ' said the old lady, apparently relieved, ' there is nothing 
 very wonderful in this — nothing particular to marvel at, that I 
 see ; if I had known I was to have been called from home only 
 to hear this, I can tell you, you would have waited long. I had 
 a thousand things to do when KuUoo came for me ; I was going 
 
174 TIPFOO SULTAUN. 
 
 to cook a dish, and then I had the woman with bangles for my 
 arms, and then the silversmith was coming, and — ^ 
 
 'Alia ! Alia ! how shall I tell this shame?' cried her daughter, 
 interrupting her ; ' how shall I utter the words, to make it fit. for 
 thee to hear or my tongue to utter ? Alas ! mother, he has 
 returned, and brought a woman with him, — a woman who, 
 Inshalla! is vile and ugly, and unchaste, and low-born, and 
 who — ' 
 
 ' Punah-i-Khoda, a woman! thou didst not say a woman! 
 Another wife?' cried the old lady, interrupting the torrent of 
 foul names, which, once the subject of them had been named, 
 followed rapidly enough. 
 
 ' So he says, mother,' cried Hoormut, ' another wife. He dared 
 not write this to either of us ; he dared not tell us how he had 
 misused us, how he had cheated us ; he dared not tell us this ; 
 and we heard it only from my cousin, who discovered it at Nun- 
 didroog, and wrote to the family.' 
 
 ' I will throw ashes on his beard — I will fill his mouth with 
 earth ! I will spit on him \ ' cried the old lady, who, having 
 looked firom the one to the other,, was now excited to fury at 
 this sudden intelligence ; ' Ya Alia Kereem ! What dirt has he 
 not eaten? What abomination have ye also to bear, O my 
 daughters? Married again? another wife? a young one, I'll 
 warrant, the old lecher ! Oh shame, shame on his grey hairs ! 
 may dogs defile them ! And beautiful, too, I have no doubt ! Is 
 there no law ? is there no justice ? Inshalla ! we will see to that. 
 Is he to throw dirt on the family of the chief Kazee, and cause 
 his daughter to eat grief? is he to mock us, to cheat us, to bring 
 his vile women before our very faces, without we turn and strike 
 again ? Are we cows and sheep ? Inshalla, no ! but persons of 
 good family, of a hundred descents; while he — pah! he is a 
 poor, pitiful, low-born, ill-bred wretch ! ' And she paused, fairly 
 exhausted from want of breath. 
 
 ' Ay, mother,' said Kummoo-bee, • and what is more, he has 
 threatened to bring her here to-night — here, into this very house 
 ■ — to make us see her and welcome her — pah ! I could cry with 
 passion.' 
 
 'Here? it is a lie!' roared the old lady; 'it is a lie! this is 
 some trick of yours, or joke ; I will not believe that. Is he mad 
 to do it ? ' 
 
 ' It is the truth, however,' said Hoormut ; ' and what is more, 
 he swore by AUa and the Prophet's beard, if we did not receive 
 her kindly, he would send us both home to our parents, and let 
 them support us, for he would not' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 175 
 
 •At least /need not care about thaty said Kummoo, pointedly 
 and spitefully ; ' Inshalla ! I shall always find food and clothes 
 there J my people, Mashalla ! are not poor.' 
 
 With the other it was diiferent; for her family were poor, 
 and had been ruinously extravagant; and even their mutual 
 dilemma could not prevent this expression of spite from her 
 richer sister-wife. 
 
 ' I should like to know,' retorted Hoormut, tartly, « who could 
 not?' 
 
 At any other time a quarrel would have resulted to a certainty. 
 But now Kummoo's mother spoke again, fortunately for the 
 general peace. 
 
 ' So he threatened that, did he ? And what said ye ? ' added 
 the old lady, more calmly; for, in truth, the sudden vision of her 
 daughter's return to her house, which the words she had just 
 heard caused, were not by any means agreeable. 
 
 'Mother, we could say nothing, for he left us,' replied her 
 daughter ; ' and we have sent for you to ask your advice as to 
 what we should do,' said Kummoo, wiping her eyes with the end 
 of her doputta. 
 _ ' Humph ! ' said the old lady, after a pause, and some most 
 vigorous pulls at the hooka, ending in a discharge of smoke 
 through her nostrils ; ' do you know whether the girl is beautiful?' 
 
 * We hear she is,^" said Hoormut very reluctantly, and with an 
 indignant toss of her head, which was repeated by the other lady. 
 
 •Then there is no use to resist, my daughters. The old fool 
 is bewitched with her, and all you can do is to bear the insult — 
 for such it is — until you can revenge it. Ay, revenge it : Thou 
 art no daughter of mine, Kummoo, if thou canst bear this like a 
 mean-spirited thing. I never suffered any one to come between 
 me and thy father ; he. tried it more than once, but, Mashalla ! 
 he got tired of that.' 
 
 ' And so thou wouldst have me bear it, mother,' said Kummoo, 
 bursting into a torrent of tears, the effects of her vexation. ' I 
 had expected different advice from thee. How can I bear to 
 meet the vile creature, whom I could spit upon and beat with a 
 shoe ? how to lose my power, influence, money, clothes, jewels, 
 attendants — all of which will be lavished on this child ? How 
 can I eat the dirt which the very seeing her will occasion? 
 Mother, I tell thee true, I cannot and I wiS not bear it. I will 
 appeal to my father, and to the Sultaun, if he will not hear me.' 
 
 'Patience, my child, patience!^ said the old lady, soothingly. 
 ' Not so fast-^all in good time ; it is better to eat dirt for one 
 night than all thy life. Why shouldst thou be afraid? Mashalla ! 
 
176 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 thou art beautiful — thou art of perfect form — thou art not old. 
 Inshalla! wait therefore j let this novelty wear off, and he will 
 return to thee — ^to both of you, Inshalla ! Inshalla ! Meanwhile 
 I will consult thy father. I will see if the law can avail thee 
 aught. But for the present — for the sake of the Prophet — ^keep 
 thy temper. Wouldst thou not eat dirt for ever — both of ye, I 
 say — if he turned ye out to your homes ? What would not be 
 said ? yerily, that ye were vile and worthless, and that he had 
 detected you in his absence. Therefore wait : Inshalla and the 
 Prophet ! we will be revenged. I who am your mother say this, 
 on him and her we wiU have our exchange for this, if charms or 
 spells, or, what is better, women's wit, can effect this.' 
 
 ' Quickly then, mother, by your soul ! devise something. I 
 shall live in misery till thou dost, and we will aid thee. Is it not 
 so, sister?' 
 
 ' I promise to do all ye wish of me,' returned Hoormut ; ' I 
 am in your hands. Alas ! I have now no mother whom I can 
 consult ; you are my only mother, lady ! ' And she began to sob. 
 
 'Do not cry, daughter,' said the dame, rising majestically; 
 'Inshalla! we shall prosper yet. Alia Hafiz! I go to think over 
 the matter, and consult my faithful Ummun ; she is wise, and to 
 her I am indebted for many a charm, without which it would 
 have fared ill with me. I will send her to-morrow, and thou 
 canst tell her what happened when he brought her, and what she 
 is like ; ' and so saying, she left them. 
 
 ' Since we are to see her,' said Kummoo, who had been hiding 
 ner vexation by looking out of the window to watch her mother's 
 departure, 'and to behold her triumph over us, we must only 
 eat our own vexation, and make the best of the matter ; let us 
 prepare the room — the Khan has ordered the repast — ^we will get 
 some garlands and salute them. If we are not to be revenged at 
 once by insulting them both, at least let us pretend civility, which 
 may blind them to our ultimate purposes.' 
 
 ' Excellent advice, sister ! ' said Hoormut, who, though the 
 elder, yet had lost much of her authority to the younger and far 
 handsomer Kummoo ; ' let us make a rejoicing of it — sing and 
 play to them, and put on our best clothes ; we shall not fail to 
 please the Khan.' 
 
 ' Best clothes ! ' echoed Kummoo, ' alas ! the time for those 
 is gone. We may even have to wear her cast-off suits for want 
 of better. No more clothes, no more jewels ! ' she added 
 pettishly J 'but what matters it? revenge will follow. Hoor- 
 mut, thy advice is good ; we will prepare for the marriage-feast. 
 Pah ! I have no patience to mention it' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 177 
 
 And so they did. A clean covering was put upon the musnud; 
 the crimson velvet pillows of state occasions laid upon it ; the 
 Khan's gold Pandan and Uttrdan set out, and their costly 
 hookas arranged near them. All the slaves were desired to 
 put on clean clothes; and they themselves, dressed in their 
 most sumptuous apparel and adorned with all their jewels, were 
 seated about the time of evening in the room which on that 
 morning had been the scene of so violent an altercation. 
 
 Trembling for the issue of the event, but cheered by the 
 Khan to the utmost of his power, the gentle Ameena accom- 
 panied him about dusk to his abode in the Fort. The palankeen 
 was set down in the comt-yard ; and the bearers having retired, 
 she essayed to get out of it, but could hardly support her 
 trembling limbs. One or two of the women servants, however, 
 kindly assisted her, and a cup of cool water refreshed her. The 
 Khan too had now arrived ; and veiling herself closely, she 
 followed him into the apartment which had been prepiared. 
 . The Khan had been uncertain what would be the issue, until 
 he reached the room ; but he had determined, if necessary, to 
 carry his threat into execution. A glance, however, assured him 
 that all was right. The ladies rose courteously, maide them low 
 salaams, and advanced to meet them; and as he led forward 
 the shrinking girl, they took her kindly by the hand with many 
 warm welcomes and blessings, and, despite of her protestations 
 to the contrary, seated her upon the place of honour and them- 
 selves at her feet. This done, a slave advanced with a tray of 
 garlands of the sweet Moteea, one of which they hung around 
 her neck, while they again salaamed to her, and the slaves one by 
 one did the same. The Khan too underwent these ceremonies 
 with delight, for he had little expected such a greeting. 
 
 The ladies at last were seated, and Kummoo said, ' Let us, I 
 pray thee, sister, see the face of which report hath spoken so 
 waraily ; unveil, I beseech thee, that we may look on our new 
 sister.' 
 
 ' It is not worth seeing,' said the timid girl, throwing back the 
 end of her doputta ; ' nevertheless your kindness and welcome is 
 so great that I cannot refuse you.' 
 
 'Ya Alia !' cried one and all, 'how beautiful !' for they were 
 really struck with her appearance, and could not restrain their 
 sincere expression of admiration at her loveliness. ' Mashalla ! 
 the Khan has good taste.' 
 
 Kummoo, the principal speaker, and the youngest of the two 
 wives, was beautiful too ; but her flashing eyes, full person, and 
 rather dark skin, though her features were regidar, could but ill 
 
178 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 stand a comparison with the gentle beauty, exquisite though 
 small proportions, and fair skin of Ameena; and the Khan's 
 eye, which wandered from one to the other for a few moments, 
 rested at last on Ameena with a look so full of admiration, that 
 it did not — could not — escape Kummoo's notice. She of course 
 said nothing, but the venom of her heart arose with more bitter- 
 ness than ever. 
 
 ' Ay, she is fair, Kummoo-bee,' said the Khan, ' and gentle as 
 she is fair ; I am thankful that ye seem already to love her as a 
 sister. Inshalla ! ye will be friends and sisters in truth, when ye 
 know each other better.' 
 
 ' Inshalla-ta-AUa !' said Kummoo-bee reverently j ' the Khanum 
 (may her house be honoured !) is welcome ; how sayest thou, 
 Hoormut ? hast thou no welcome for the lady ? ' 
 
 ' By your head and eyes, you speak well, sister. If the love 
 of such an unknown and unworthy person as I am be worth 
 anything, the Khanum is welcome to it.' 
 
 ' I am grateful,' said Ameena ; ' ye are more than kind to one 
 who hath no claim on ye ; but I am alone here, and my people 
 are far distant — very far. Your love will be precious to me 
 during the years Alia may cast our lots together.' 
 
 There was something very touching in her sad and gentle tone; 
 and as the old Khan's heart had been moved by his wives' un- 
 expected kindness, he well nigh blubbered aloud. 
 
 ' Ameena ! ' he said, ' Ameena ! Alia, who hears ye say these 
 words of affection, will give ye grace to abide by them.' 
 
 ' But come,' said Kummoo, who thought these protestations 
 of love going rather too far, ' we have some of our singers for 
 thee to hear, lady : we of the south call them good, but we 
 hear rare things of the D5mnees of Hyderabad. Call them in,' 
 she added to an attendant 
 
 They came in, and, having tuned their instruments, began one 
 of the usual songs of congratulation ; it was followed by others, 
 while the party sat and conversed cheerily on the adventures of 
 the journey. An ample repast was shortly after spread ; and at 
 the end of the evening Ameena retired to her new apartments, 
 believing, in her simplicity and goodness, that her sister-wives 
 loved her in real truth, and enjoying those sweet sensations 
 which ensue whenever doubt and mistrust have been removed 
 from the heart. If the Khan felt any of his own doubts remain- 
 ing, he did not seek to disturb Ameena's security by imparting 
 them to her ; and for the first time since she had heard of the 
 existence of her sister-wives, Ameena felt happy. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 179 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Kasim attended closely to the advice of the Khan, and spared 
 no pains, on the day which was to fix his fate and rank in the 
 service, to adorn his person to the best advantage. The splen- 
 did brocade suit which the Khan had given him — of crimson 
 silk, with large gold flowers upon it, the most expensive the 
 looms of Aurungabad could produce — he had found to fit him so 
 nearly, that it required but few alterations, which were easily 
 made. 
 
 This, therefore, he was able to wear. Around his head was a 
 mundeel, or turban of gauze and gold in alternate stripes. The 
 colour of the gauze was green, which marked his descent as a 
 Syud ; and it was an additional reason, beyond his own pride in 
 the matter, for thus openly showing it, that the Sultaun, in his 
 zeal for the Faith, was particularly partial to the nobly-descended 
 race. The mundeel was of the richest and most expensive kind, 
 and its costly fabric suited well with the appearance of the bro- 
 cade suit He had bound it, too, in the most approved and 
 genteel form — that worn by the nobility of the Dekhan, and 
 which is called nashtalik. 
 
 Under his chin, and tied on the top of his head, so as to 
 protect the ears, he wore a Benares handkerchief — the gift of his 
 mother — of purple and silver, the glittering ends of which fluttered 
 in the breeze as he walked, while the colour contrasted well with 
 his fair skiiL His waist was girded by a crimson muslin doputta, 
 or scarf, with gold ends nearly a foot long, richly embroidered, 
 which hung down on one side, and were displayed to the best 
 advantage. A pair of tight-fitting trousers of yellow mushroo, or 
 thick satin, striped with crimson, completed a costume which for 
 its splendour could not well be surpassed, and which displayed 
 his striking figure and handsome face to the best advantage. 
 
 The baldric, which held his father's trusty sword, was tarnished 
 to be sure, but that was a mark of its having seen service ; and 
 it was the more honourable in appearance on that account. Its 
 gold inlaid half-basket hilt Jiad been newly polished, and the 
 crimson velvet scabbard renewed ; and it looked, as indeed it 
 was, a handsome as well as most formidable weapon, from its 
 great length and breadth. Two or three daggers, with richly 
 chased and ornamented handles, occupied a conspicuous place 
 in his girdle; his shield hung loosely at his back; and thus 
 accoutred, he mounted the gallant horse which the Khan had 
 
i8o TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 provided for him, and which had not only been more richly 
 caparisoned than usual, but decked with a profusion of silver 
 ornaments, and took his way into the Fort 
 
 Many an eye was turned towards him as he passed along ; for 
 the proud animal he rode, apparently aware that the appearance 
 of his rider warranted more than usual exertion, and excited by 
 the clashing and jingling of the silver ornaments and tiny bells 
 around his neck and upon his crupper, bounded to and fro, 
 curvetted and pranced, as much to show off his own unexcep- 
 tionable shape, as to display his rider's admirable and easy horse- 
 manship to the best .advantage. 
 
 ' A gallant cavalier ! ' cried one, as he passed near the gate of 
 tlie Fort, loud enough for Kasim to hear it ; * five hundred rupees 
 would not buy his suit ©f clothes. Mashalla ! this is the place 
 after all where soldiers are patronised, and come to spend their 
 money in adorning their persons.' 
 
 ' Ay, brother,' said the man he was with ; ' knowest thou who 
 that is ? it is Kasim Ali Pat^l— he who saved Rhyman Khan's 
 life on — ' 
 
 Kasim lost the rest of the sentence as he passed on ; but it 
 proved to him, and not unpleasantly, that the only action he had 
 as yet performed worthy of note was known. 
 
 ' If my fate favour me, it shall not be the last. Ya Nusseeb ! ' 
 he cried, apostrophising his fate, ' thou art darkly hidden ; but if 
 it be the will of Alia, thou shalt yet shine brightly out' 
 
 ' Alia kereem ! what a beautiful youth ! ' exclaimed a bevy of 
 dancing girls, whose gaily-ornamented bullock-carriage obstructed 
 the gateway of the Fort, and who in all the pride of gay and 
 glittering apparel, and impudence of fair and pretty faces (their 
 lustrous eyes even made more so by the use of soorm^h), were 
 proceeding to the Sultaun's Durbar. 
 
 ' Alia, what a beautiful youth ! ' cried one ; * wilt thou not come 
 and visit us ? ' 
 
 ' Shall we see thee at the Durbar ? ' cried two others. 
 
 ' I am stricken with love at once,' said a fourth. 
 
 'What a coat ! what a horse ! what eyes ! ' cried first one, and 
 then another ; until Kasim, whose horse had become uneasy at 
 this volley of words, and at the jingling and clashing of the bells 
 around the bullock's necks or attached to the posts and crimson 
 curtains of the car — and had curvetted once or twice, so as to 
 cause a few faint shrieks, and afterwards a burst of merry laughter 
 . from the fair ones— ^bounded on, and freed him from them. 
 
 Passing hastily through the gateway, he rode on into the Fort 
 —first through an open space, where cannon-balls in heaps, 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. i8i 
 
 cannon mounted on carriages, and soldiers moving in all direc- 
 tions, showed the efficient state of the Fort for defence. Beyond 
 this was the bazaar — ^long streets of goodly houses, the lower 
 parts of which were shops, and where all sorts of grain, rich 
 clothes, tobacco, brazen pans, and arms of all kinds, were exposed 
 for sale. 
 
 As he rode along slowly through the crowd — among which his 
 appearance attracted, much notice and many flattering comments 
 — he could not but observe that every house was gaudily orna- 
 mented with paintings, which were a proof, if any wa« needed, in 
 what hatred the English were held by all. 
 
 Here were represented a row of white-faced Feringhees, their 
 hands tied behind them, and with their faces half blackened ; 
 while others were seated on asses, with their faces to the tail. 
 Again there were some being torn to pieces by tigers, while men 
 of the true faith looked on and applauded ; others were under 
 the feet or chained to the legs of elephants, one to each leg, 
 while the beast was depicted at his utmost speed, his trunk raised 
 into the air, and the Mahout evading him with a huge ankoos. 
 Again another row were undergoing the rite of Mahomedanism 
 at the hands of the Kazee ; others were suffering torture ; several 
 appeared drawn up in a line, whose heads were all falling to the 
 ground under one vigorous blow of the executioner-^a man of 
 the true faith, with a huge beard and mustachios curling up to 
 his eyes, while streams of gore, very red and much higher and 
 thicker than the sufferers themselves, gushed from the bodies. 
 
 Here again were a group of ten or twelve seated round a table, 
 each with a fierce regimental cocked-hat upon his head, a very 
 red Mid drunkea face, and his right hand upraised grasping a 
 huge glass filled with red wine j while others, overcome by inebri- 
 ation, were sprawling imder the table, and wallowing among the 
 swine and dogs whidi lay at the feet of those who were yet able 
 to preserve their equilibrium. 
 
 Kasim was amused at all this ; and if he could not enter into 
 the general hatred with all the zest of one of Tippoo's soldiers, 
 perhaps it was that the remembrance of the young Englishman 
 whom we have mentioned rose in his mind, as he looked on 
 these disgusting and indecent pictures of his race, with far differ- 
 ent feelings than they were calculated to engender in a Syud and 
 a true believer. 
 
 As he passed on, the tall minarets of the mosque built by 
 Hyder Ali Khan towered above him, which, pierced from top to 
 bottom with pigeon-holes, after the manner of those in Arabia, 
 were surrouncted by thousands of pigeons of all colours and 
 
i82 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 kinds, wheeling hither and thither in the air in immense flocks, 
 whilst others sat quietly cooing in the niches and enjoying their 
 abode unmolested. Soon afterwards he emerged from the narrow 
 street into the square, the Futteh Mydan, or plain of victory, on 
 one side of which was the long line of the Sultaun's palace, pre- 
 senting nothing to the observer but a line of dead wall with many 
 windows, whose closed shutters showed they were the Zenana. 
 Around the gate, however, were many guards dressed in the 
 striped tiger-skin-pattem calico in use among his bodyguard of 
 regular infantry, interspersed with men in richer dresses and 
 armour, — those of the irregular troops who were permitted to 
 share the watch over the monarch's abode. In the centre of the 
 square were a number of men under instruction, whose evolu- 
 tions, with the words of command, were quite new to Kasim, and 
 inspired him with great admiration. At the other side of the 
 square the venerable forms of the ancient Hindoo temples reared 
 their huge conical and richly ornamented roofs ; and around 
 their massy gates and in the courts lounged many a sleek and 
 well-fed Brahmin, whose closely shaven and shining head, and body 
 naked to the waist— having only a long white muslin cloth tied 
 around his loins, with its end thrown over his shoulder — proved 
 him to be in the service of the enshrined divinity, whose worship 
 was not forbidden by the fanatical ruler of the Fort — nay, it was 
 even whispered, shared in by him. 
 
 The Khan's house was not far from the temple, in one of the 
 chief streets; and having announced his arrival to the gate- 
 keeper, Kasim continued riding up and down before it tUl the 
 Khan should issue forth to accompany him. 
 
 This was then the place where Ameena was secured, he 
 thought ; the gentle, lovely being on whose fair face his eye had 
 rested only a few times; yet each glance, however short its 
 duration had been, was treasured up in the inmost shrine of 
 his heart. As long as she remained in the camp, he might have 
 an opportunity of seeing her, even though for a moment, and 
 of displaying the scarf she had given to him — a mute evidence 
 which would, prove to her she was not forgotten ; for he had 
 continued to wear it tied around his chest as at first, even though 
 his slight wound was so far healed as to require nothing but a 
 bandage underneath his vest. 
 
 It had been even a comfort to him to watch the arrival of her 
 palankeen daily in the camp, and before that to busy himself in 
 writing the despatch for the Furashes, who prepared the tents 
 for her reception. Sometimes, as she got out of her palankeen, 
 he would catch a glimpse of her muffled figure, or hear the chink 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 183 
 
 of her gold anklets, and even this would be pleasant to him. 
 But now there was no hope ; she had passed within those walls 
 which had, he thought, for ever shut her from his sight; and 
 while his memory was busy with the past, he strove, under the 
 weight of obligation with which the Khan had loaded him, and 
 which that day would be augmented, to drive away the thoughts 
 of his fair wife, not, however, with the success which ought to 
 have attended his efforts. 
 
 Indeed, the beautiful image of her face was too deeply fixed 
 upon his memory; and the fears that her lot, so young and 
 gentle-tempered as she was, in the companionship of her lord's 
 older and ill-tempered wives, would not be a happy one, made 
 him again determine that in need or danger she might rely on 
 one who would be true to her. Every now and then he cast up 
 his eyes to the lattices to see if perchance any one looked out 
 from thence ; but there was no one, and he continued his slow 
 pace to and fro. 
 
 In a short time, however, his reverie was interrupted by the 
 cheerful voice of the Khan, who, fully armed, was splendidly 
 dressed in a suit of bright chain-armour over a tunic of cloth-of- 
 gold ; a highly-polished steel cap glittered on his head, from the 
 sides of which to his neck descended lappets of chain-links 
 strengthened with scales ; his long straight sword was suspended 
 in an embroidered baldric, and his waist was girded by a green 
 and gold scarf similar to that Kasim wore. He greeted Kasim 
 heartily. 
 
 ' By the Prophet ! thou art no disgrace to me, and the 
 Ulkhaluk becomes thee ; a green mundeel too — that is well, as 
 thou art a Syud, and hast a right to wear it. I would thou 
 hadst a pair of Persian boots like mine — but no — ^better as thou 
 art ; they would not fit thee, nor suit thy dress. So now let us 
 see thee make my Yacoot bound a little.' 
 
 As Kasim complied with his request, the delight of the Khan 
 and his retainers, who had now assembled, was extreme; and 
 cries of ' Shabash ! shabash ! Wah wah ! Wah wah ! ' rewarded 
 his exertions; indeed Kasim's horsemanship, like that of most 
 Dekhanie's, was perfect ; and he sat his excited horse with the 
 ease and grace of one who was completely at home upon his 
 back, in spite of his extreme spirit and violence. 
 
 As the Khan prepared to mount, Kasim happened once more 
 to cast his eyes up toward the lattices which looked into the 
 street: they were guarded with transparent blinds, but never- 
 theless he thought he could distinguish one or more female 
 figures behind each, and his heart beat very rapidly as he thought 
 
i84 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 — nay was sure — that Ameena beheld him ; it was not an un- 
 pleasant thought that she looked upon him, richly dressed and 
 accoutred as he was, and had seen him exhibit his spirited horse- 
 manship to the Khan. 
 
 Again he looked — and for a moment, with an apparent pre- 
 tence of arranging the blind, the corner was drawn inwards : a 
 face which was new to him — dark, yet very beautiful — appeared ; 
 and a pair of large flashing eyes threw a glance towards him, 
 which met his. It was not Ameena's, and he was disappointed ; 
 but he could not the less remember afterwards the glance he had 
 received from eyes so bold and so commanding, and the older 
 yet beautiful face and remarkable expression, and involuntarily 
 sought it again. The Khan, however, at the moment he saw it, 
 calJed to him to proceed ; and the spearmen and running foot- 
 men and grooms having arranged themselves in front, they set 
 forward at a quick pace, followed by the Khan's retainers, who 
 were almost as well mounted, though not so richly clothed, as 
 themselves ; those in front shouting the Khan's titles, and clear- 
 ing the way, often with rude blows of the heavy spear-shafts. 
 
 They retraced Kasim's steps through the bazaars, where the 
 profusion of salaams and compliments which greeted them, 
 showed how greatly the Khan was respected and esteemed ; and 
 the various cries of the Fakeers, who appealed to him by name 
 as they solicited charity, and mentioned many of his valiant acts 
 in high-flown and laudatory terms, proved how well his brave 
 deeds were known to all. Kasim also came in for his share ; 
 and as his connection with the Khan was mentioned truly, and 
 the subsequent engagement with the Mahrattas, it was plain that 
 it had become known to those rapid acquirers of topics for 
 gossip, the Fakeers, and had already become the common talk 
 of the bazaars. 
 
 Issuing from the Fort, they escaped from this in a great 
 measure; yet here and there along the road sat a half-naked 
 Fakeer, or Kalundur, with his high-pointed felt cap, and quilted 
 chequered gown of many colours, who, with a sheet spread before 
 him, upon which was a cup, solicited the alms of the true 
 believers, alternately with prayers, threats, or abuse, as the quality 
 of the passers-by warranted. Instead of taking the road to the 
 right, which led to the camp, they struck off to the left, and after 
 a few minutes' ride arrived at the gate of the garden of the 
 Duria-i-Doulut, or Sea of Wealth, by the river side, where, for the 
 day, the Sultaun held his court. 
 
 This palace, which had been erected by his father many years 
 before, stood in the centre of a garden of great beauty, which, 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 185 
 
 from the richness of the soil and plentiful supply of water, brought 
 from the river by a deep water-course, flourished in the utmost 
 luxuriance. Large trees, mango and tamarind, walnut, and the 
 sweet-scented chumpa, with many other forest kinds distinguished 
 for their beauty of growth, or the fragrance or luxuriance of their 
 foliage and blossom, with large clumps of feathering bamboos, 
 overshadowed the broad walks and long green alleys, and in the 
 hottest weather formed an almost impervious shade, while the 
 coolness was increased by the constant irrigation and consequent 
 evaporation from the ground. 
 
 Passing through the gate, the Khan and Kasim rode down the 
 avenue, at the end of which was the palace ; they could not see 
 the extent of it, nor was there anything remarkable in the out- 
 ward appearance which corresponded at all with the splendour 
 within. The building was two storeys high, the lower of which 
 was occupied by kitchens, halls for servants, and long corridors — 
 the upper contained the rooms of state ; a projecting roof, which 
 was supported by carved wooden pillars, formed a deep verandah, 
 which was occupied by a crowd of persons — servants, and those 
 who attended either with petitions or upon business, and whose 
 rich and gay dresses contrasted well with the dark foliage which 
 almost swept the ground near them. 
 
 ' Behold the triumph of art ! ' cried the Khan, as they dis- 
 mounted and approached the building, and Kasim could see that 
 the walls were covered with paintings ; ' there are not such 
 paintings in Hind, thanks to Hyder Ali Khan — may his place in 
 Heaven be blessed, and his grave honoured ! Behold the whole 
 of the rout of the kafir &iglish at Perambaukum, where, praise 
 be to Alia ! the arms of the true believers were completely 
 victorious, and thousands of the kafirs tasted of death at their 
 hands. Yonder is Baillie and his troops ; you can see Baillie in 
 the centre. Mashalla ! he was a great man : so indeed he and 
 the other leaders appeared, for they were much larger than the 
 troops. Yonder are the valiant Assud lUahee of the great Hyder, 
 the disciplined troops before which the English battalions are 
 only as chaff j behold, th^ are advancing to the attack, and bear 
 down all before them. There are the guns too pouring fire on 
 the devoted Ferfnghees, and the rockets flying in the air, which 
 overwhelm them with confusion. In the midst of the fire the 
 cavalry of the. Sircar, led on by the young Tippoo, are charging, 
 and Hyder himself is animating the attack by his presence on his 
 elephant. And look there,' he continued, pointing to another 
 part of the wall, after Kasim had expressed his admiration at the 
 are skill of the artist, who had delineated so many figures ; ' that 
 
i86 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 is the end of the affair, as the end of all like affairs ever will be : 
 the kafirs'are being cut to pieces, while their blood is poured out 
 upon the earth like water.' This indeed was pretty evident from 
 the prostrate forms of the Europeans, and the figures of the 
 Mahomedans hacking at them with swords rather larger than 
 themselves ; while large daubs of red paint showed how indeed 
 the blood had been poured forth Uke water. The figures, being 
 all in profile, had considerably exercised the ingenuity of the 
 artist to express what he meant. 
 
 ' Alia kureem ! ' ejaculated Kasim at last, who was mightily 
 struck with the magnitude of the drawings, the lines of charging 
 cavalry, all with their fore feet in the air — the bodies of infantry, 
 which marched in all kinds of lines to the attack with their right 
 legs uplifted — the smoke of the guns that obscured everything — 
 the rockets flying in the air with fiery tails — the elephants, and 
 the General's officers, some of whom were bigger than the 
 elephants they rode — the horses and their riders — the whole 
 battle, of which, from the peculiarity of the perspective, it was 
 difficult to say whether it was on the earth or in the sky, — ' AUa. 
 kureem ! it was a great battle, and this is a wonderful picture — 
 may the designer's prosperity increase ! ' 
 
 ' Ay, you may well say that,' continued the Khan ; ' and 
 behold, here are the Feringhees in captivity, all wounded, but 
 enduring life ; there they are, brought before Hyder the victori- 
 ous, who, seated on his throne, allows the officers to live, while 
 the soldiers he orders to be dispatched to the regions of per- 
 dition by the executioner. Yonder are a row kneeling in terror, 
 while the sword is brandished behind them which shall cause 
 them to taste the bitterness of death. There again are others , 
 under torture, and those who are spared by the clemency of the 
 exalted in rank, going into a deserved captivity ! ' 
 
 ' Those we brought were then some of them,' said Kasim. 
 
 ' No, I think not. I rather believe they were all discharged, 
 or most of them, at the peace, four years ago. These are some 
 who, if I mistake not, were taken at Bednore, when Mathews 
 was surrounded, and obliged to yield himself to the Sultaun; 
 however we shall soon know, for I have heard that judgment is 
 to be done on them. to-day. But come, the Durbar is open, we 
 have much to do and to see ; others are pressing on before us, 
 and we shall lose our place. 
 
 So saying, he led the way by one side of the building to a 
 flight of broad stairs under the cover of a verandah, and they 
 ascended amidst the crowd of courtiers and military officers who 
 were thronging to the Durbar ; for proclamation was being made 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 187 
 
 as they waited without, and the cries of the Chobdars of 
 ' Durbar-i-Aum ! Durbar-i-Aum ! ' announced to all that the 
 Sultaun had taken his seat. The head of the stairs opened at 
 once into the hall of audience, so that when they reached the top 
 the scene burst fully upon them. To the Khan there was 
 nothing new in it ; but to Kasim, who had never seen anything 
 grander than his own village, or at most the town of Adoni, the 
 effect was dazzling and overpowering. 
 
 The room was large, but low in its proportions. The walls 
 were of that beautiful stucco which is only to be seen in per- 
 fection in the south of India, and which, from its high polish and 
 exquisite whiteness, so nearly resembles the purest marble. This 
 was wrought into most elaborate designs of arabesque work ; and 
 the sharp edges of every flower, leaf, and line were picked out 
 with a faint line of pure vermilion, here and there relieved with 
 gold, which gave a peculiar but agreeable effect to the ornament. 
 In the niches . and compartments into which the walls were 
 divided, upon the deep cornices, and especially around the open 
 arched windows, the patterns were more intricate and delicate 
 than elsewhere. The windows themselves were without frames, 
 and were open to the garden, which in all its beauty and luxu- 
 riance could be seen through them ; and they admitted the cool 
 breeze to play through the room, which otherwise, from its 
 crowded state, would have been insufferably hot. Heavy pur- 
 dahs, or gilded curtains of crimson cloth, hung above them, 
 which could be let down so as to exclude the air completely iif 
 required. The ceiling was covered with fret-work and arabesque 
 patterns of stucco in chequers, from the intersections of which 
 depended a small stalactite, decorated Uke the walls with red and 
 gold ; this, while it caused a heavy effect to the room, was never- 
 ' theless extremely rich and handsome. The floor was covered 
 with rich carpets to about one half of its length, where com- 
 menced a white muslin cloth, on which none dared to venture 
 but those whose rank or station about the monarch entitled them 
 to that honour. 
 
 At the further end of the room was a raised dais, which was 
 covered, like the floor, with white muslin ; but in the centre of it 
 was a square carpet of rich purple velvet, surrounded with soft 
 cushions, also of velvet, upon which sat Tippoo, alike the pride 
 and the dread of those by whom he was surrounded. 
 
 Kasim easily distinguished the bull-slayer of the previous day 
 in the person before him; but he was dressed with extreme 
 plainness in white muslin, and would not have been taken for the 
 Sultaun by a stranger, except from the place he occupied, and 
 
t88 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 the large and peeuliarly-formed turban, with which every one was 
 familiar from description. 
 
 On each side of him knelt two fair and rosy-faced youths, 
 dressed in gorgeous apparel, the children of Europeans captured 
 on various occasions, who, forcibly converted to Mahomedanism, 
 always attended the Sultaun, and waved chowrees, formed of the 
 white tail of the Tibet cow, with gold handles, on all sides of 
 him, to drive away the flies. On each side of the dais, in semi- 
 circles, sat the officers of state and of the army, in their various 
 costumes, leaving an open space in the centre, through which 
 those passed who desired to present their nuzzurs to the Sultaun. 
 
 Some French officers were there in gjittermg uniforms, but 
 whose tight-fitting clothes, bare heads and feet, without boots 
 or shoes, looked meanly amidst the turbaned heads and more 
 graceful costume of the courtiers. Behind all were a number 
 of the royal Chelas, or bodyguard, splendidly dressed, and 
 armed to the teeth, whose formidable appearance completely 
 awed the assembly, if indeed the presence of the Sultaun himsefr 
 was not sufficient to produce that effect. 
 
 The figure of the Sultaun was of middle height, and stout ; 
 his complexion was darker than that of most of those who sur- 
 rounded him, and he sat with an affected air of royalty, which, 
 though it at first impressed the spectator with awe, yet that 
 passed away in a great measure upon the contemplation of his 
 face, which wanted the dignity of expression that his body 
 assumed. His eyes were full and prominent, but the whites 
 of them were of a dull yellowish tint, which, with their rest- 
 less and suspicious expression, gave them a disagreeable look, 
 and one which bespoke a mind of perpetual but not profound 
 thought ; his nose was small and straight, and, with his mouth, 
 would have been good-looking, except for the habitual sneer 
 which sat on both ; his eyebrows and mustachios were trimmed 
 most carefully into arched lines, and he wore no beard. " In his 
 hand there was a large rosary of beautiful pearls, with emeralds 
 at the regular distances, which he kept perpetually counting 
 mechanically with the fingers of his right hand. Before him 
 lay a straight sword of small size, the hilt of which was inlaid 
 with gold and turquoise stones; and near him stood a gold 
 spitting-cup, inlaid with precious stones, into "which he inces- 
 santly discharged the saliva engendered by the quantity of pan 
 he chewed, the red colour of which appeared upon his lips 
 and teeth in a disagreeable manner ; and a chased gold writing- 
 case, containing some reed pens, ink, paper, and a pair of 
 scissors to cut it to the sizes required, lay near his left hand. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 189 
 
 The ceremony of presentation and of obeisance went on 
 rapidly; almost all offered their nuzzurs of gold or silver, 
 which the Sultaun took, and deposited beside Wm until there 
 had accumulated a goodly heap, Kasim, at the distance he 
 then was, could catch nothing of the conversation which was 
 going on ; for in spite of the loud cries of ' Khamosh ! Kha- 
 mosh ! ' from the attendants, there was more noise in the 
 assembly than he thought befitting the presence of the Sultaun. 
 After waiting some little time, and having advanced nearer and 
 nejirer to the musnud, the Sultaun's eye fell upon the Khan, 
 who in truth was a remarkable figure, even among that richly- 
 dressed assembly, being the only one who wore armour. As 
 the Sultaun's eye met his, the Khan advanced, and bidding 
 Kasim remain where he was till he should be called, he per- 
 formed his obeisance, presenting, with the handle of his sword 
 upon an embroidered handkerchief, his nuzzur of five gold 
 mohurs, which the Sultaun received most propitiously. 
 
 ' We welcome thee back. Khan Sahib, most he^tily,' said the 
 Sultaun; 'and it is pleasant in our eyes to see an old friend 
 return in health ; but thou art thin, friend, the effects of the 
 journey perhaps. Praise be to Alia ! his servant, unworthy of 
 the honour, hath been given power of dreams such as no one 
 else hath enjoyed since the days of the Apostle, on whose 
 memory be peace ! We dreamed last night — and the blessed 
 planets were in a most auspicious conjunction, as we learned 
 upon inquiry this morning as soon as we arose, which assures 
 the matter to us — that we should see the face of an old friend, 
 and receive a new servant, who should eclipse all the young 
 men of our court in gallant bearing, bravery, and intelligence.' 
 
 As he looked around when he had said this, all those within 
 hearing cried, 'Ameen! Ameen! who is ifavoured of Alia like 
 unto the Sultaun ? may he live a hundred years 1 whose know- 
 ledge is equal to his ? not that even of Aflatoon or Sikundur.' 
 
 'Ay,' he continued, 'behold it hath come true; here has 
 the Khan, as it were, dropped from the clouds, and with him 
 a young man, who, Inshalla! is one whose bravery is great. 
 Bring him forward, O Khan, that our fortunate glance may 
 rest on him.' 
 
 'May I be your sacrifice, Huzrut!' said the Khan, 'he is 
 unworthy the honour; nevertheless, I offer him unto your 
 service, and can answer that he hath as stout an arm, and as 
 brave a heart as he looks to have. Mashalla! I have seen 
 both tried, in circumstances of great peril to myself.' 
 
 ' Good 1 ' said the Sultaun, before whom Kasim had performed 
 
I90 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 the Tusleemftt, or three obeisances, and now stood with folded 
 hands. ' Good ! by the Prophet, a fine youth ! there is truth 
 on his forehead — ^his destiny is good.' 
 
 'Ul-humd-ul-illa! who can discern character Hke the Sultaun?' 
 cried several; 'behold all things, even men's hearts, are open 
 to him.' 
 
 ' He hath lucky marks about his face, only known to us,' con- 
 tinued the Sultaun ; ' and the planets are auspicious to-day. A 
 Syud too, his services will therefore be good, and beneficial to 
 himself and us.' 
 
 ' Ul-humd-ul-illa ! ' cried the court in ecstasy ; ' what wisdom ! 
 what penetration ! what gracious words ! they should be written 
 in a book,' 
 
 ' Wilt thou take service, youth ? ' he continued to Kasim ; ' art 
 thou willing to strike a blow for the lion of the Faith ? ' 
 
 ' Huzrut ! your slave is willing to the death,' cried Kasim 
 enthusiastically ; ' prove him ; he will not be unworthy of such 
 exalted patronage.' 
 
 ' Thou shalt be tried ere long, fear not. Enrol him,' he con- 
 tinued to a Moonshee ; ' let his pay be twelve hoons, with 
 allowance for a horse : hast thou one ? ' ■ 
 
 ' The Khan's generosity has already furnished me with one,' 
 said Kasim. 
 
 ' Good ! thy business shall be to attend my person, and our 
 friend the Khan will tell thee of thy duties. Enough ! you have 
 your dismissal.' 
 
 ' I beg to represent that the Khan escorted some kafir prisoners 
 from Bangalore,' said an officer who was sitting near the Sultaun; 
 ' would your Highness like — ' 
 
 ' True, true ! ' replied the Sultaun ; ' we had forgotten that ; ' 
 and he added, as the expression of his countenance changed, 
 ' Command silence, and let them be brought into the presence.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 There hardly needed the order to be given that silence should 
 be observed : as the words the Sultaun spoke fell upon the ears 
 of the assembly, and they observed the sudden change in his 
 countenance, the busy tongues ceased directly ; there continued 
 
TJPPOO SULTAUN. 191 
 
 a little talking and some bustle towards the end of the room, but 
 as the Chobdars called silence, and went hither and thither to 
 enforce it, all became hushed except the Sultaun himself, who 
 was inquiring from the secretaries whether any despatches had 
 accompanied the prisoners from Bangalore. 
 
 ' Huzrut ! ' said the Khan, again advancing, ' they are in the 
 possession of your slave, who craves pardon that in the confusion 
 of presenting his nuzzur, he forgot to deliver them.' And he laid 
 the packets at the Sultaun's feet, who instantly tore open the 
 envelope, and selecting one of the enclosures directed to himself, 
 fell to perusing it with great attention. 
 
 • This speaks well of the prisoners,' he said at length to Syud 
 Ghuffoor, who sat near him ; ' the Killadar of Bangalore writes 
 that one of them, a captain, is a man of knowledge, well versed 
 in the science of war and tactics ; that he understands fortification 
 and gunnery, so that he is worthy of being offered our clement 
 protection. Inshalla ! therefore, though we need no instruction 
 in these matters, — thanks be to Alia, who hath implanted a 
 natural knowledge of them in our heart, which is not surpassed 
 by any of the whoreson Feringhees — ' 
 
 And all around interrupting him, cried ' Ameen ! Ameen !' 
 
 ' Inshalla !' he continued, ' as this is an auspicious day, we will 
 offer life and service. If he accept it, well ; if not, I will send 
 him to hell, where thousands of his accursed and mother-defiled 
 race await his coming : are not these good words ?' 
 
 ' Excellent — excellent words ! They are not worthy to live ! 
 the race is accursed of Alia !' cried several ; ' the Sultaun's 
 clemency is great ! ' 
 
 As this ceased, the tramp of many feet was heard on the 
 wooden staircase, and as the noise approached nearer, Kasim, 
 who had been watching the Sultaun narrowly with intense 
 interest, could see that he was far from being at ease ; he fidgeted 
 upon his miisnud, the rosary passed twice as fast as usual through 
 his fingers, his eyes winked sharply, and he stroked his mus- 
 tachios from time to time, either with exultation or inquietude, 
 Kasim could not distinguish which; at length the prisoners 
 reached the head of the stairs, and their escort appeared to wait 
 there for commands. 
 
 ' Bid the officer advance,' said the Sultaun ; ' the rest may be 
 withdrawn for the present, we will send for them when this man 
 is disposed of.' 
 
 The order was obeyed, and all were withdrawn but one, who, 
 being desired to come forward through the lane which was opened 
 for him to the foot of the musnud, advanced slowly, but with 
 
192 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 erect and manly gait and proud bearing, nigh to where the 
 Sultaun sat. 
 
 ' Salaam to the light of the world, to the sun of Islam ! Perform 
 thine obeisance here, and prostrate thyself on the ground,' said a 
 Chobdar who accompanied the prisoner. 
 
 'I will salute him as I would salute my own monarch,' said the 
 prisoner, in a voice audible to all, and in good Hindostanee, but 
 spoken with rather a foreign pronunciation : and still advancing, 
 he had placed one foot upon the " white cloth which has been 
 already mentioned. 
 
 'Kafir!' cried the Chobdar, striking him, 'son of perdition, 
 keep back! dare liot to advance a Step beyond the carpet; 
 prostrate thyself to the Sultaun, and implore his clemency.' 
 
 The Englishman turned in an instant, at the blow he had 
 received, and raised his arm to strike again ; the Sultaun observed 
 the action and spoke. 
 
 ' Hold ! ' he cried ; ' do not strike, O Feringhee, and do some 
 of ye seize that officious rascal, and give him ten blows upon his 
 back with a cane.' 
 
 The fellow was seized and hustled out, while the Englishman 
 continued standing where he had been arrested. 
 
 ' Advance !' cried the Sultaun. 
 
 Some of those near tried to persuade him not to allow the 
 Englishman to approach. 
 
 ' Pah !' he exclaimed, ' I have caused the deaths of too many 
 with arms in their hands, to fear this unarmed wretch. Advance 
 then, that we may speak with thee conveniently ; be not afraid, we 
 will do thee no harm.' 
 
 ' I fear thee not, O Sultaun,' said Herbert Compton (for so in 
 very truth it was), advancing, and bowing stiffly yet respectfully, 
 ' I fear thee not; what canst thou do to me that I should fear thee?' 
 
 ' I could order thee to be put to death this instant,' said the 
 Sultaun sharply ; while others cried out fiercely that the speech 
 was insolent, and revUed him. 
 
 Herbert looked round him proudly, and many a one among 
 the crowd of flatterers quailed as his clear blue eye rested on 
 them. 'I am not insolent!' he exclaimed; 'if my speech is 
 plain and honest, take ye a lesson from it, cowards ! who could 
 insult one so helpless as I am ;' and he drew himself up to his 
 full height and folded his arms, awaiting what the Sultaun should 
 say to him. His dress was mean, of the coarsest white cotton 
 cloth of the country ; his head was bare, and so were his feet ; 
 but in spite of this, there was a dignity in his appearance which 
 inspired involuntary respect, nay awe to many. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 193 
 
 The time which had elapsed had but little altered Wm, and if 
 indeed there was a change, it was for the better ! his appearance 
 was more manly, his frame more strongly knit His face was 
 thinner and paler than when we last parted with him at the 
 capitulation of Bednore, from whence, with the rest of his com- 
 rades, he had been hurried into captivity ; but four years had 
 passed since then, and his weary imprisonment, chequered by no 
 event save the death or murder of a companion or a fellow- 
 captive, would have utterly worn down a spirit less buoyant and 
 intrepid than Herbert's. 
 
 Mathews had perished by poison almost before his eyes ; he 
 had been accused of having buried treasure, and persisting in the 
 denial of this, he had been tortured by confinement in irons, 
 denied food, subjected to privations of all kinds, which failing in 
 their eifect to force a confession of what had not taken place, he 
 had been poisoned by the Sultaun's order. Numbers had been 
 destroyed ; numbers had died of hopelessness, of the cUmate, of 
 disease engendered by inaction j many had been released at the 
 peace of 1784, but still Herbert and a few of his comrades and 
 fellow-prisoners remained, and had lingered on their wretched 
 existence in the various prisons and forts of the country; for 
 Tippoo hoped that long captivity and hardships at one time, and 
 again indulgence and relaxation, would induce them to accede to 
 his terms of service, which were offered from time to time, with 
 alternate threats of death and promises of immense rewards. 
 
 Herbert's situation near the person of the General, and the 
 plans of fortifications, books on the same, works on mathematics, 
 on engineering, and his many drawings, all of which had been 
 seized with him, had early marked him as an officer of superior 
 attainment, and one whose services would be highly valuable. 
 The others who were confined with him were for the most part 
 men of the artillery, of whose experience and excellent skill as 
 marksmen Tippoo had too often seen the fatal results to his own 
 army not to be very anxious to get them to join him. 
 
 A i&-^ of the captives, from time to time, dazzled by promises 
 which were never fulfilled and weary of imprisonment, had 
 voluntarily become renegades, and others had been violently 
 converted to Mahomedanism ; these served in the army, and, 
 though dissolute in their habits, were yet useful and brave when 
 occasion needed; and the value of their services only made 
 Tippoo more anxious to secure those of a higher grade and more 
 extensive acquirements and education. With Herbert, and those 
 who accompanied him, his many attempts had been vain ; and 
 while his desire to accomplish his ends became the more violent 
 
194 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 from their continued opposition, there now existed a necessity for 
 urging their compliance, which will presently be made manifest. 
 But we have digressed. 
 
 ' Peace ! ' cried the Sultaun, ' we have not sent for thee, O 
 Feringhee, to hear thy bold speech, but to advise thee as one 
 who is a friend to thee, and has a true interest in thy welfare.' 
 
 'Dost thou understand the condescending speech of the 
 Sultaun, or shall one of the Franceese interpret it for thee?' 
 asked one of the Moonshees officiously. 
 
 ' Peace ! ' again cried the Sultaun, ' he understands me well 
 enough ; if he does not, he will say so ; and now. Captain 
 Compton, since thus it is written is thy name, we have sent for 
 thee from the Fort, not as a common criminal and one whose 
 end is perdition, but with honour; we had thee seated on an 
 elephant, lodged in a good tent, supplied with excellent food, and 
 now thou art admitted into the presence, thou shouldest bow in 
 acknowledgment of the condescension shown thee; nay, thou 
 wouldst have done so, we are persuaded, but thy manners are 
 not formed upon the model of those of the true believers. Now 
 our good friend the Killadar writes to us that, weary of confine- 
 ment, and induced by a sense of the obligations thou and thy 
 companions are under to me, thou art in a frame of mind to 
 accept our munificent offers of entertaining thee in our service, 
 of raising thee to rank, of admitting thee to share — ' 
 
 ' Stop ! ' cried Herbert suddenly, while, as he spoke, the Sultaun 
 fairly started at the suddenness of the interruption to his harangue 
 and the boldness of the tone. ' Stop ! when we are on equal 
 terms thou canst offer me service ; it is a mockery to tempt me 
 with promises thou wouldst not fulfil.' 
 
 'By the gracious Alia and his Prophet, I would,' cried the 
 Sultaun eagerly : ' say then, wilt thou serve me ? thou shalt have 
 rank, power, wealth, women — ' 
 
 ' I am in your hands, a helpless captive, O Sultaun,' replied 
 Herbert ; ' and therefore I cannot but hear whatever thou choos- 
 est to say to me : but if thou art a man and a soldier, insult me 
 no more with such words. Nay, be not impatient, but listen. 
 When Mathews was poisoned by thy order, — nay, start not ! thou 
 knowest well it is the truth, — I was given the choice of life, and 
 thy service, or death upon refusal, — I chose death. Year after 
 year I have seen those die around me whom I loved ; I have 
 courted death by refusal of thy base and dishonourable offers : 
 thou hast not dared to destroy me. My life, a miserable one to 
 me, is now of no value ; those whom I love in my own land have 
 long mourned me as dead. It is well that it is so — I am hon- 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 195 
 
 oured in death. Alive, and in thy service, I should be dead to 
 them, but dishonoured : therefore I prefer death. I ask it from 
 thee as a favour ; I have no wish to five : bid yonder fellow strike 
 my head from my body before thine eyes. As thou lovest to look 
 on blood, thou wUt see how a man, and an Englishman, can bear 
 death. Strike ! I defy thee.' 
 
 ' Beat him on the mouth with a shoe ! gag the kafir son of 
 perdition 1 send him to hell !' roared many voices j ' let him die ! ' 
 while scowling looks and threatening gestures met him on all 
 sides. 
 
 'Peace!' exclaimed the Sultaun, who seeing that his words 
 were not heard amidst the hubbub, rose from his seat and com- 
 manded silence. ' Peace ! by Alia I swear,' he cried, when the 
 assembly was still once more, ' if any one disturbs this conference 
 by word or deed, I will disgrace him.' And then turning to 
 Herbert, who with glowing cheek and glistening eye stood await- 
 ing what he thought would be his doom, ' Fool, O fool !' he cried, 
 •art thou mad? wilt thou be a fool? Thy race mourn thee as 
 dead ; there is a new life open to thee, a life of honourable service, 
 of rank and wealth, of a new and true faith. Once more, as a 
 friend, as one who will greet thee as a brother, who will raise thee 
 to honour, who will confide in thee, I do advise thee to comply. 
 Thou shalt share the command of my armies — ^we will fight to- 
 gether : thou art wise — we will consult together : thou art skilled 
 in science, in which, praise be to Alia ! I am a proficient, and we 
 will study together. Alia kureem, wilt thou not listen to reason ? 
 Wilt thou refuse the golden path which thine own destiny has 
 opened to thee ? Let me not hear thy answer now. Go ! thou 
 shalt be lodged well, fed from my own table ; in three days I will 
 again hear thy determination.' 
 
 'Were it three years, my answer would be the same,' cried 
 Herbert, whose chest heaved with excitement, and who with some 
 difficulty had heard out the Sultaun's address. ' I defy thee ! I 
 spurn thy base and dishonourable offers, with indignation which 
 I have not words to express. When thou canst give me back the 
 murdered Mathews, whose blood is on thy head — when thou 
 canst restore to hfe those whom thou hast murdered, thrown from 
 rocks, strangled — ^when thou canst do this, I will serve thee. 
 For the rest, I abhor thy base and unholy faith.' 
 
 'Hog! son of a defiled mother ! vilest son of hell !' screamed 
 the Sultaun, almost speechless with passion, ' dost thou dare to 
 revile the faith ? Do ye hear him friends ? do ye hear the kafir's 
 words ? Have ye ears, and do not avenge me ? have ye swords, 
 and do not use them ?' 
 
196 TIPPOO SVLTAUN. 
 
 Fifty swords flashed from their scabbards as he spoke, and 
 many were uplifted to strike the daring and reckless speaker, 
 when Kasim, who had been listening with the most intense in- 
 terest, and remembering his promise of succour, while he felt 
 the high sense of honour which prompted the Englishman's 
 defiance of the Sultaun, rushed forward, and with uplifted arm 
 stayed the descent of the weapons, which would have deluged the 
 floor with blood, and committed murder on an innocent person. 
 
 ' Hold ! ' he exclaimed, with the utmost power of his strong 
 voice, — ' are ye men ? are ye soldiers ? to cut down a man un- 
 armed, and who is helpless as a woman ? Have you no regard 
 for honour, or for truth, when you hear it spoken ? 
 
 ' Rash and foolish youth ! ' cried the Sultaun ; ' is this thy first 
 act of service ? An act of disrespect and rebellion. And yet I 
 thank thee for one thing — ^though he whom thou hast saved will 
 curse thee for it — I thank thee for his life, which I have now to 
 torture.' 
 
 ' Thy death, kafir FeringheCi' he continued to Herbert, ' under 
 the swords of the Moslims would have been sweet and that of a 
 soldier — it shall now be a bitter one. Away with him to the 
 Droog ; no matter how he is carried thither, the meanest tattoo, 
 the meanest dooly is enough. Here, do thou, JafFar Sahib, see 
 this done ; travel night and day tiU it is accomplished : see him 
 and his vile companions, or such of them as will now dare to 
 refuse my offers, flung from the rock by Kowul Droog, and 
 hasten back to report that they are dead. Begone ! ' 
 
 ' Farewell, brave friend,' said Herbert to Kasim, as they laid 
 hold on him roughly, and with violent abuse urged his departure ; 
 ' if we meet not again on earth, there is a higher and a better 
 world, where men of all creeds will meet, but where yonder tiger 
 will never come. Farewell ! ' 
 
 ' Say, have I not acquitted myself of my promise to thee ?' 
 cried Kasim passionately, for he too was held by the Khan 
 and others. 
 
 'Thou hast,' was the reply. 'May God reward thy inten- 
 tions — ' His last words were lost in the exclamations, threats, 
 and obscene abuse of those who dragged him away. 
 
 The Sultaun re-seated himself on the musnud, and the tumul- 
 tuous heaving of the assembly was after a short while once more 
 stilled. No one spoke, no one dared to interrupt the current of 
 the monarch's thoughts, whatever they might be. All had their 
 eyes fixed upon Kasim, who, held by the Khan and another, 
 waited expecting his doom in silence, but not with dread : yet 
 his thoughts were in a whirl of excitement ; and the remembrance 
 
TIPPOb SVLTAUN. 197 
 
 of his mother, Ameena, the Englishman, and the acts of his 
 own life, flashed through his mind, till he could hardly distinguish 
 one from the other. But Kasim's earnest gaze was all the while 
 fixed upon the monarch, who for a few moments was absorbed in 
 a reverie, in which indecision and a feeling of mercy toward the 
 young Englishman appeared to be struggling with the fiercely 
 excited passion whidi still trembled about the corners of his 
 mouth and his chin in convulsive twitchings. After a little time 
 it passed away, and left only that stern expression which was 
 habitual to him when a sneer did not occupy his features. His 
 eyes had been fixed on vacancy; but on a sudden he raised 
 them up, and they met those of Kasim, who, still held by the 
 Khan, stood close to him. 
 
 'Ai Kumbukht!' he exclaimed. 'O unfortunate, what hast 
 thou done ? By Alia I would have loved thee, only for thy rash- 
 ness. Knowest thou the peril of coming between the tiger and 
 his prey? Knowest thou that I have but to speak, and, ere thou 
 couldst say thy belief, thy young blood would moisten the grass 
 yonder ? Knowest thou this, and yet didst thou dare to brave 
 me ? AUa kureem ! what dirt has not been ordained for me to 
 eat to-day ? Whose unlucky face could I have seen this morning 
 when I awoke ? Speak, slave ! thou art not a spy of the kafir 
 English, that thou wentest beside thyself in his behalf whom we 
 have doomed. to death?' 
 
 'May I be your sacrifice, O Sultaun !' cried Kasim, joining 
 his hands and addressing Tippoo, ' I am no spy — I am not faith- 
 less — thou hast the power to strike my head from my body — bid 
 it be done ; your slave is ready to die.' 
 
 ' Then why didst thou behave thus ? ' said Tippoo. 
 
 ' The Englishman was helpless — he was unarmed — he was my 
 friend — for I rescued him from insult at Bangalore,' replied 
 Kasim ; ' he told me his history, and I grieved for him : he be- 
 sought me not to enter thy service, O Sultaun, but to join his 
 race. I was free to have done so ; but I despised them, and 
 longed to fight against them under the banner of the lion of 
 Islam. I swore to befriend him, however, if ever I could ; the 
 time came sooner than I expected, and in an unlooked-for form ; 
 and I had been faithless, craven, and vile, had I failed him when 
 he could not strike a blow in his own defence. This is the truth, 
 O Sultaun ! punish me if thou wilt — I am thy slave.' 
 
 'Unhappy boy,' said the Khan to him in a whisper, 'thou hast 
 spoken too boldly. AUa help thee, for there is no hope for thee 
 that I can see. See, he speaks to thee.' 
 
 'Kasim All.' said the Sultaun. 'had one of these who know me 
 
198 Ttppoo sultaun: 
 
 dared to do what thou hast done, I would have destroyed him j 
 had any one dared to have spoken as boldly as thou hast done, 
 I would have disgraced him for disrespect. Thou art young— 
 thou art brave ; thou hast truth on thy forehead and in thy words, 
 and we love it. Go ! thou art pardoned : and yet for warning's 
 sake thou must suffer punishment, lest the example should 
 spread in our army, which — thanks to Alia ! who hath given 
 his servant the wisdom to direct and discipline it after a 
 fashion, the perfection of which is not to be met with upon 
 the earth — ' 
 
 Here he paused, and looked around, and all the courtiers cried 
 ' Ameen ! Ameen ! listen to the words of wisdom, to the oracle 
 of the faith of Islam !' 
 
 'For example's sake,' continued the Sultaun gravely, 'thou 
 must be punished. We had thy pay written down at twelve 
 hoons — it shaU be ten ; thou wast to be near my person — thou 
 shalt serve under the Khan, as he may think fit. If thou art 
 valiant, we shall hear of thee with pleasure, and reward thee ; and 
 remember our eyes, which are as aU-seeing as those of Alia and 
 the angels, will ever be fixed upon thee. Remember this, and 
 tremble while thou thinkest upon it !' 
 
 Kasim saluted the monarch profoundly and drew back; he 
 had been rebuked, but mildly, and the honest face of the Khan 
 was once more overjoyed. 
 
 ' Inshalla ! thy destiny is great,' he whispered ; ' now had I, or 
 any one else here, got by any accident into such a scrape, we 
 should have been heavily fined, degraded, and Alia only knows 
 what else ; but thou hast come off triumphant, and, as for the 
 loss of the money, thou needest not mind. Alia grant, too, there 
 may soon be an opportunity of winning fame. Inshalla! we will 
 yet fight together.' 
 
 Just then the loud cries of ' Khamoosh ! Khamoosh !' again 
 resounded through the hall, and the Sultaun once more spoke. 
 
 ' Let every officer inspect his cushoon* minutely during the 
 ensuing month,' he said ; ' let the officers of cavalry look well to 
 their horses : let those who have the charge of our invincible 
 artillery look to their carriages and bullocks : let all the depart- 
 ments of the army be in readiness to move at the shortest notice : 
 for we hear of wars against our detachments in Canara, and that 
 the infidel Nairs (may their lot be perdition !) have again taken 
 up arms, and are giving trouble to our troops. Therefore it was 
 revealed to us in a dream, which we have chronicled as it ap- 
 peared, and with which we will now delight the ears of our people.' 
 * A division of troops. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 199 
 
 And feeling under him for a manuscript, he began to read it with 
 pompous gravity. 
 
 • On the night before last, soon after this child of clay lay 
 down to rest, an angel of light appeared to him, ^ven like unto 
 the angel Gabriel, as he manifested himself unto the blessed 
 Apostle (may his memory be honoured !) and of whom this mortal 
 is an unworthy imitator ; and the angel said, — " The Nairs in thy 
 dominions are becoming troublesome, therefore shalt thou de- 
 stroy them utterly ; their abominations and the loose conduct of 
 their women are offences against the Most High, therefore they 
 shall be punished, — they shall be all honoured with Islamism." 
 And so saying the angel vanished, and this servant awoke, and 
 recorded the dream as he had heard it.' 
 
 ' Ajaib ! Ajaib ! Karamut ! Karamut ! * The Sultaun is the 
 friend of Alia — the Sultaun is the apostle of Alia ! ' burst from 
 the assembly, with many other ejaculations equally devout and 
 flattering. 
 
 ' Yes, my friends, even thus doth the providence of Alia over- 
 shadow us,' continued the Sultaun, ' and enable us to avert the 
 evils which the infidels would bring upon the true faith. Inshalla ! 
 however, we wiU teach them a lesson, and one which they will 
 remember while they have being. I have read you my dream, 
 and behold, in confirmation of it, this morning's post brought 
 letters from Arshed Beg Khan, our governor, which informs us 
 of the disorders, and that he is making head against them with 
 all the force he can muster : therefore we would have you all 
 prepared should reinforcements be needed. And now, Rhyman 
 Khan,' he added, ' what news hast thou for us from the court of 
 Nizam Ali Khan ? ' 
 
 ' Shall I speak it out. Protector of the Universe, or wilt thou 
 hear it in thy closet ?' said the Khan advancing. 
 
 ' Here, friend, here ; what secrets have I that my friends about 
 me should not know ? Mashalla ! in the Sircar Khodadad all is 
 as open as daylight' 
 
 Amidst the murmur of applause which this speech produced, 
 the Khan hemmed audibly, to ensure silence, and proceeded. 
 
 ' I beg to represent,' said he, ' that Nizam Ali Khan is 
 favourable to the Sircar — entirely favourable. The English 
 pressed him to give up the province of Guntoor, which he is 
 bound to do by treaty ; but he is unwilling (and no wonder) to 
 comply ; things have advanced to almost a quarrel between them, 
 and if he was sure of the feeling of this Sircar, I would pledge 
 my life on it that he would declare war to-morrow, and thus the 
 
 * Wonderful 1 wonderful I a miracle I a miracle 1 
 
aoo TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 two Sircars could fight under the banner of Islam, and exter- 
 minate the unbelievers. But, Inshalla ! there will be more proof 
 than my poor words ; for I heard from good authority that the 
 Huzoor was about to select an ambassador, a man of tact and 
 knowledge, who will explain all his wishes satisfactorily.' 
 
 • An ambassador ! sayest thou. Khan ? By Alia, rare news ! 
 He is then in earnest, and with his aid what may not be done ? 
 he can bring a lakh of men — cavalry too — into the field, and he 
 has infantry besides. Alia grant he may come soon ! let us only 
 chastise these infidel Nairs, and thus make a step towards the 
 extermination of unbelief from Hind. Let the Durbaa: be cloSed !' 
 he cried suddenly and abruptly after a short silence ; and rising, 
 he retired into one of the smaller rooms, where, alone, he 
 meditated over those wild schemes of conquest which were 
 eventually his ruin. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIIL 
 
 Dragged away by his relentless guards, Herbert Compton had 
 no leisure allowed him to speak with his companions ; even the 
 last miserable gratification of a, hurried farewell was denied him ; 
 and as he passed them, a melancholy group, some standing or lean- 
 ing against the building, others sitting upon the grass in dejected 
 attitudes, he strove to speak ; but every word was a signal for 
 fresh insult, and he was pushed, struck with shoes, spit upon by 
 the rabble of the courtiers' servants and grooms, to whom the 
 sufferings of a kafir Feringhee were the highest sport that could 
 be afforded. 
 
 A sad spectacle was Herbert's renewed captivity, in insult and 
 suffering, to those of his fellow-countrymen who beheld it. They 
 had seen him and several others of their body brought from 
 Bangalore in decency, if not with honour ; during their journey 
 the utmost indulgence had been shown them, and all their hearts 
 had been buoyant with excitement when Herbert alone had been 
 sent for into the Durbar, for they were well assured that upon his 
 fate would turn the issue of their life or death, continued captivity 
 or release. 
 
 There had been many among them who had, in the buoyancy of 
 hope anticipated a release ; before whose minds visions of home, of 
 return to those beloved, to those who had mourned theiii dead, had 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. aoi 
 
 been rapidly and vividly passing ; who, when a ray of hope had 
 darted in upon their cheerless thoughts, had allowed it to 
 illuminate and warm them till it had induced even extravagances 
 of behaviour. Some had exulted to their more staid companions; 
 others had sung or whistled joyfully ; and the mockery of their 
 guards and of the bystanders only served to excite them the 
 more, and to cause them to anticipate their triumph by words 
 and gestures not to be misunderstood by those to whom they 
 were addressed. But when Herbert passed out, ruffled, insulted, 
 dragged away without being allowed to exchange a word with 
 them — apparently led to death, and followed by the je^s and 
 scofifings of the crowd who thirsted for his blood— then did hope 
 forsake them, and the memory of the deaths of former com- 
 panions by poison, by torture, or by the executioner, cam^ upon 
 them suddenly, and cTaused a revulsion of feeling which had an 
 almost deadly effect on the most sanguine. The more sober and 
 less excited exchanged glances and a few words with each other, 
 expressive of their awful situation, and that their last hope had 
 fled. 
 
 They were, in bodies of three and four, led before the Sultaun 
 in the evening Durbar, and, like Herbert, offered the alternative 
 of death, or service and life. A few were found to prefer the 
 latter, but by far the greater part braved the tyrant's wrath, and 
 in despair chose to die. 
 
 That evening saw the return of a melancholy band to the fort 
 of Nundidroog, the rigours of the captivity of which had been 
 known to them before by report, as also the fate there of many a 
 brave fellow European and native, boasted to them by their 
 guards in the various forts and prisons in which they had been 
 confined. Nor was it as if. they had been led to death at once ; 
 those who could speak a few words of the language of the country 
 had implored this of the Sultaun, but had been refused with 
 exultation ; and they had to endure a long march of many days, 
 with every hardship and indignity which the unconcealed wrath 
 and spite of the Sultaun, descending almost in a redoubled degree 
 to his subordinate officers, could inflict upon them. Their food 
 was of the coarsest description ; bad water, where it could be 
 found, was given them to drink ; miserable doolies, in which it 
 was impossible to lie at full length, or even to sit, and open so 
 that the sun beat in on them, were given to some : they were 
 carried too by the inhabitants of the villages, who were pressed 
 from stage to stage, in order that they might travel with the ut- 
 most expedition; and as these men were unaccustomed to carry 
 loads in that way, the exhausted men they bore were jolted, until 
 
202 TIPPOO SVLTAUN. 
 
 excess of fatigue often caused faintness and even death. Blest 
 were those who died thus ! they were spared the misery the sur- 
 vivors had to endure. 
 
 Nor was the person under whose charge they travelled, Jaffar 
 Sahib, one likely to make any amelioration in their condition; 
 he had received his last orders from Tippoo at the evening Dur- 
 bar, relative to Herbert Compton (in regard to whom his instruc- 
 tions were somewhat different to those the Sultaun had given in 
 the morning), and also to the rest of the prisoners ; and well 
 mounted himself, and accompanied by an escort of his own 
 risala, the Jemadar hurried on, travelling the whole day, with but 
 short rests, when the exhaustion of some of the prisoners, or at 
 times the want of a relay of bearers, caused an unavoidable stop- 
 page. Everywhere it was made known that the Feringhees were 
 going to death ; and while crowds from many of the villages and 
 towns flocked to see them as they passed by, they were everywhere 
 met by bitter insults, abuse, and derision. 
 
 It was a bitter cup to quaff for Herbert Compton, who, in spite 
 of all, was not cast down. His stout heart, on the contrary, 
 prepared for death by long suffering and abandonment of all 
 hope, looked to the termination of his journey with joyful feelings 
 as the time when he should be released from his earthly troubles. 
 Indeed, since the capitulation of Bednore, after they were all led 
 away into captivity, — the frequent disappearance of his comrades 
 and brother officers telling their untimely fates, — he had daily 
 prepared himself for death, not knowing in what hour or by what 
 manner he should be summoned to it. This had lasted so long, 
 that the dim visions of hope which had now and then broken the 
 gloom in which his future was wrapped, so far as life was con- 
 cerned, were at an end ; now a hope of death succeeded, which 
 amounted to a certainty, and was even pleasant in contemplation. 
 At first, how bitter, how agonising had been his thoughts of 
 home, of his parents — worst of all, of Amy, whom he could not 
 help picturing to himself as worn down by sorrow, broken in 
 spirit, and mourning his absence, most likely his death, in vain. 
 His mother too, alas ! what a world of thought was there not in 
 her name who had so loved him, and whose tender nature could 
 ill have borne so rude a shock as that of his death, for he was 
 sure they must long ago have abandoned all hope of his being 
 alive. And when at the peace some captives were given up, and 
 it was told that the others were dead, though it was well known 
 in India that there were many retained, yet they would be ignorant 
 of this in England, and would conclude he was dead also. Thus 
 he looked to the future, with a hope, a certainty of reunion in 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 203 
 
 death with those he had best loved on earth, and this made him 
 cheerful and calm, when many around him either held the stern 
 silence of despair or mournfully bewailed their fate. 
 
 As they passed Bangalore the governor visited them, by order 
 of the Sultaun ; he had known Herbert, and supplied him with 
 Hindostanee books, which was done by Tippoo's order, that he 
 might in the solitude and ennui of prison-life learn the language 
 of the country, which would fit him for the duties for which he 
 designed him. He was grieved to see him, and advised him to 
 comply with the Sultaun's request, which Tippoo, knowing that 
 he had been kind to the young Englishman, and thinking he 
 might be able to turn him aside from his purpose, had advanced 
 to him. The brave soldier, who not long afterwards met a 
 warrior's death in defence of the fortress, used his utmost per- 
 suasion to alter Herbert's* resolution, but in vain, — it was deeply 
 rooted ; the alternative proposed was too dishonourable in pro- 
 spect, and the event so nigh at hand too welcome, for his resolu- 
 tion to be shaken. He bade Herbert farewell, with an expression 
 of deep feeling and interest which gratified him, and which his 
 friend did not seek to disguise. With one or two of the captives, 
 however, the governor was more successful ; the near approach 
 of death, and the inability to look on it continuously for many 
 days, was more than they could bear, and they yielded to solici- 
 tation which they little hoped would have been used. There 
 were still a few, however, whom the example of Herbert, and 
 their own strong and faithful hearts kept steady to their purpose, 
 men who preferred death to dishonour in the service of their 
 countr/s foe. 
 
 The Killadar caused nearly two days to be spent in the 
 negotiations with the prisoners, in despite of the inquiry of JafTar 
 Sahib, who pretended to be full of zeal in the execution of the 
 Sultaun's orders j but on the third morning after their arrival, 
 there was no longer pretence for delay, and the party again set 
 forward. 
 
 The day after Herbert knew they should arrive at the fort of 
 Nundidroog, and their place of execution was then but at a short 
 distance. Another day, thought he, and all will be over ! 
 
 Already the dark grey mass of the fort appeared above the 
 plain as they approached it ; its immense height and precipitous 
 sides rose plainly into view. That evening they passed over the 
 large tank to the southward of the fort on the Bangalore road ; 
 and as its huge bulk appeared to sleep peacefully reflected on the 
 waters, making its perpendicular sides and immense height the 
 more apparent, Herbert thought the death to which he was 
 
204 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 doomed would be easy and sudden, and that it was a more 
 merciful one than that of Mathews, or the lingering torment or 
 strangulation of so many others. 
 
 Herbert observed during the journey that the officer who com- 
 manded the large party which escorted them kept aloof from him 
 in particular; he had seen him address the others, and heard 
 from them that he endeavoured to reason them into acceptance 
 of the Sultaun's offers j to himself he had never spoken, but con- 
 cealed his face from him ; he had, however, seen it several times,, 
 and on each occasion was inclined to think that it was familiar 
 to him; but, on reflection, he could discover no clue to the 
 supposition in his mind, and he vainly strove to dismiss the idea 
 from his thoughts. 
 
 The town of Nundidroog was in sight j it was evening, the 
 mountain flung its broad shadow over the plain under the declin- 
 ing rays of the sun, and the warm red light of an Indian sunset 
 covered every object with splendour. The herds of cattle, and 
 of sheep and goats, were hastening home from their pasture 
 with loud lowings and bleatings, and the simple melody of the 
 shepherd's pipe arose, now far away, now near, from the various 
 herds they passed. On their left towered the huge rock almost 
 above their heads ; its fortifications, built on the giddy verge full 
 eight hundred feet above the brushwood and rocky declivity out of 
 which it rose naked, appeared ready to topple over the precipice. 
 There was one huge round bastion in particular, on the very edge 
 of the steepest and highest part, and Herbert speculated whether 
 or no that was the spot ; he was looking so intently at it that he 
 did not heed the approach on his right hand of the leader of the 
 party, who, speaking to him suddenly, almost startled him by the 
 familiar accent of his voice. 
 
 • Dost thou see yonder bastion, Feringhee ? ' said the officer, 
 pointing to it — ' yonder round one, from which the flag of the 
 Sultaun floats proudly upon the evening wind ? ' 
 
 * I do,' replied Herbert ; ' it is a giddy place.' 
 
 ' Many a kafir Feringhee,' continued the man, ' has been flung 
 from thence, while a prayer for mercy was on his lips, and his 
 last shrieks grew fainter and fainter as he descended to perdition: 
 many an unworthy Moslim and kafir Hindoo, taken in arms 
 against the true believers, have wished they had never been born, 
 or had never seen your accursed race, when he was taken to the 
 edge and hurled over it' 
 
 ' Death will be easy from thence,' said Herbert calmly. ' I can 
 look on it, and think on it with pleasure; is that the place 
 where — ^ 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 205 
 
 ' No,' cried the man exultingly intemipting him, ' that is too 
 good for thee and thy obstinate companions. Dost thou see 
 yonder lotos-shaped hill?' And he pointed to one around which 
 the evening vapour was wreathing itself in soft fleecy masses, 
 while the red sunlight lighted up its rugged sides and narrow 
 top. 
 
 ' I see it,' said Herbert. 
 
 • Beneath it,' continued the man, ' there is a rock; thou wilt see 
 it to-morrow — tiU then farewell,' 
 
 ' Stay ! ' cried Herbert, ' tell me, if thou wilt— for it matters 
 little to one so near death — ^tell me who thou art ; surely I have 
 met thee ere now ; thy voice is familiar to my ears.' 
 
 'Thou shalt knqw to-morrow,' was the only reply the man 
 gave, as he touched the flanks of his horse and galloped to the 
 head of the detachment. 
 
 The wearied prisoners were glad when they reached the 
 ancient Hindoo cloisters, where we have before seen the Khan 
 and Ameena with his risala encamped ; and though the evening 
 wind, which had arisen sharply, blew chill around them and 
 whistled through the ruined arches and pillars, they were glad to 
 eat their humble meal of coarse flour cakes and a little sour 
 curds ; and wrapping themselves in the horse-cloths which were 
 flung to them out of pity by the grooms, they lay down on the 
 hard ground, each with a stone for his pillow, and exhausted 
 nature claiming its repose, they slept soundly. 
 
 But Herbert only for a while ; he had dreamed vividly and yet 
 confusedly of many things, and at last awoke, fevered and un- 
 refreshed. A jar of water was beside them; he arose, drank 
 some, which revived him, and sat down on a broken pillar, for he 
 could not sleep again ; thought was too busy within him. There 
 was no one stirring except the men on watch, who lazily paced 
 to and fro close to him, talking in short sentences : he strove to 
 listen to their conversation. 
 
 • And do you think he knows where it is ? they say the Ferin- 
 ghees buried it when the place was taken,' said one. 
 
 ' Willa Alum!'* said the other, 'the Jemadar says he does, and 
 that he will make him tell where it is before — ' 
 
 Here Herbert lost the rest, and they did not return to the 
 subject again, but wandered away to others which to him had no 
 interest. The night was very chill, and a keen wind blew, rais- 
 ing the fine dust which had accumulated in the place, and 
 blowing it sharply against his face; there was something 
 melancholy in the sound, as it whistled and moaned through the 
 * ' God knows I ' 
 
2o6 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ruins, and through the branches of an old blasted peepul-tree 
 which, blanched with age, stood out a ghastly object against the 
 dark sky. At length, after some time of weary watching, a cock 
 in the town crew ; another answered his call ; and as Herbert 
 looked into the east, the grey flush of dawn was apparent, and he 
 was glad the day had come, though it was to be, as he thought, 
 his last. 
 
 The whole party were soon astir, the unhappy sleepers aroused, 
 and, as one by one they awoke to consciousness, with the light 
 that greeted them, miserable thoughts of death poured into their 
 hearts, and occupied them to the exclusion of every other idea. 
 One sat motionless, and apparently stupefied, as though he had 
 eaten opium ; another prayed aloud wildly, yet fervently ; others 
 laughed and spoke with a feverish excitement ; and there were 
 one or two who blasphemed and cursed, while they bewailed 
 their early and fearful fate. 
 
 For some hours they waited in the cloisters, and the sun was 
 high and bright, ere a body of men on foot, the soldiers of the 
 country, armed with sword and matchlock, marched into it. It 
 was plain that their escort was to be changed, and that the 
 respectable men who had been with them were no longer to 
 accompany them, but had given place to some of the lowest 
 description of Tippoo's troops, who were usually composed of 
 the unclean castes of the country. Their appearance was for- 
 bidding, and in vain the prisoners looked for a glance of pity 
 from the half-naked and savage-looking band to whom they were 
 given over; they appeared used to the scenes which were to 
 ensue, and regarded the miserable EngUshmen with a cold stare 
 of indifferent curiosity. 
 
 But little communication passed between the prisoners ; Her- 
 bert had for some days spoken to them, and advised them to 
 prepare for death by prayer and penitent confession to God ; he 
 had reasoned with several, who had from the first shown a fool- 
 hardy and light demeanour, on the madness of attempting in- 
 difference to their fate ; but as the time drew near, he was too 
 fully occupied with his own overpowering thoughts to attend to 
 the others, and he had withdrawn to as far a distance as possible 
 from them, where he sat moodily, and contemplated with bitter 
 thoughts his approaching death. 
 
 While he was thus occupied the Jemadar entered the court, 
 and having given some orders to the men who remained behind, 
 he directed the legs of the prisoners to be tied. This having 
 been executed, they were placed in the doolies, and the whole 
 again proceeded. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 207 
 
 Passing the outskirts of the town of Nundidroog, they travelled 
 for two or three miles through the avenues of mango-trees, which 
 in parts line the road : could they have had thought for anything 
 around them, they would have admired the varied prospect pre- 
 sented to them by the ru^ed rocky hills, and their picturesque 
 and ever-varying outlines : but one idea absorbed all others, and 
 they were borne along in a kind of unconscious state ; they could 
 see nothing but death, even though the bright sun was in their 
 eyes, and the glad and joyful face of nature was spread out before 
 them. 
 
 At length the leading men turned off the road by a by-path 
 towards a huge pile of rocks in the plain, about half a mile 
 distant, and the others followed j it was plain to all that this was 
 their destination. Then it,flashed across their minds that the rock 
 was not high enough to cause death instantaneously ; and while 
 some demanded in haughty words of expostulation to be taken to 
 the fort itself, or to the summit of the conical mountain, which 
 arose precipitously on the right hand, — others besought the same 
 with piteous and plaintive entreaty, in very abjectness compared 
 with their former conduct. They might as well have spoken to 
 the wind which blew over them in soft and cool breezes as if to 
 soothe their excited and fevered frames, Ignorant of the only 
 language of which the Europeans could speak a few words, the 
 rude soldiers listened with indifference, or replied with obscene 
 jests and mocking gestures and tones. 
 
 They reached the foot of the rocks ; the bearers were directed 
 to put down the doolies, and the prisoners were dragged from 
 them with violence. A few clung with fearful cries to the wretched 
 vehicle, which had been their wearisome abode for so many days, 
 and one or two resisted, with frantic efforts, to the utmost of their 
 power, the endeavours of their guards to lead them up the narrow 
 pathway; they were even wounded in their struggles; but the men 
 they had to deal with were far stronger than the attenuated Euro- 
 peans, and had been accustomed to the work too long to heed cries 
 or screams ; they were the far-famed guard of the rock, even now 
 remembered, who had been selected for their fierce behaviour, 
 strength, and savage deportment, to carry into execution the 
 decrees of the Sultaun. 
 
 All the while they had been accompanied by the Jemadar, who, 
 having ridden in advance of the party, now awaited their coming 
 at the top of the rock. Herbert was the first who arrived there, 
 led by the rope which, tied to both his arms, was held by one of 
 the guards, while others with drawn swords walked on each side 
 of and behind him. He had been cast down in heart since the 
 
2o8 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 morning, and faint and sick at heart ; but now his spirit seemed 
 nerved within him. One plunge, he thought, and all would be 
 over ; then he should be released from this worse than death. 
 Prayer too was in his heart and on his hps, and his soul was 
 comforted, as he stepped firmly upon the level space above and 
 looked around him. 
 
 The Jemadar was there, and a few other soldiers ; the terrace 
 was a naked roek, which was heated by the sun so that it scorched 
 his bare feet. There were a few bushes growing around it, and 
 on one side were two mud houses, the one close, the other open 
 for the guard. Besides these, tha-e was a hut of reeds, which 
 was used as a place for keeping water. 
 
 ' Thou art welcome, captain,' said the Jemadar with mock 
 politeness. ' Art thou ready to taste of the banquet of death ? ' 
 
 * Lead on,' said Herbert firmly, ' and molest me not by thy 
 words. I am ready.' 
 
 ' Not so fast, sir ; the Sultaun's orders must first be obeyed. 
 Say, art thou ready to take his service, or dost thou refuse ? ' 
 
 ' I have already told him my determination, and will waste no 
 words upon such as thee,' was Herbert's reply. 
 
 ' It is well ! ' said the Jemadar, ' thou wilt learn ere long to 
 speak differently : ' and he turned away from him to where 
 several of the others were now standing. He regarded them 
 for a few minutes steadily and exultingly, as one by one the 
 miserable beings were led up; and some, unable from mental 
 and bodily exhaustion to support themselves, sunk down on the 
 rock almost insensible." 
 
 There was one youth, a noble and vigorous fellow. Herbert 
 had remembered him when he was first brought to Bangalore 
 from some distant fortress^ — ^high-spirited and fiill of fire, which 
 even captivity had not tamed. But the long and rapid journey, the 
 bad food, the exposure to scorching heat and chilling dew, had 
 brought on dysentery, which had exhausted him nigh to death. 
 He was almost carried by the guards, and set down apart from 
 the rest. His languid and sunken eye and pallid cheek told of 
 his sickness ; but there was a look of hope in the glance which 
 he cast upwards how and then, and a gentle movement of his 
 lips, which showed that his spirit was occupied in prayer. 
 
 The Jemadar's eye rested on him. ' Let him be the first — he 
 will die else ! ' he cried to some of the guards, who, having 
 divested themselves of their arms, stood ready to do his bidding. 
 
 A cry of horror burst from the group of Englishmen. There 
 were two or three of the strong men who struggled firmly with 
 their captors, as their gallant hearts prompted them to strike a 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 209 
 
 blow, for their suffering comrade. But, bound and guarded, 
 what could they do ? 
 
 They saw the young man lifted up by two of the executioners, 
 and borne rapidly to the further edge of the rock, not twenty 
 yards from them. He uttered no cry; but looking towards 
 them sadly, he bade them farewell for ever, with a glance even 
 more eloquent than words. Another instant, and he was hurled 
 from the brink by those who carried him. 
 
 Almost unconsciously each bent forward to catch even a pass- 
 ing sound, should any arise ; and there was a dead silence for a 
 few moments, as the men who had done their work leaned over 
 the edge to see if it had been surely effected. But none arose : 
 the sufferer had been quickly released from his earthly pain. 
 
 ' Dost thou see that, Captain Compton ? ' said the Jemadar. 
 ' Thy turn will come.' 
 
 ' Now,' was the reply; ' I am ready.' And Herbert hoped that 
 his turn would be the next. His energies were knit, and his spirit 
 prepared for the change. 
 
 ' Not yet,' said the Jemadar : ' I would speak with thee first. 
 Lead the rest away into the house yonder,' he continued to the 
 guard, ' loose them, and lock the door.' It was done, and Her- 
 bert aJone remained outside. 
 
 ' Listen ! ' he said, addressing Herbert, ' does thou remember 
 me?' 
 
 ' I said before that I thought I knew thee ; but what has that 
 to do with death ? ' said Herbert. ' I am ready to die ; bid thy 
 people do their office.' 
 
 ' That will not be for many days,' he replied ; ' I have a long 
 reckoning to settle with thee.' 
 
 ' For what ? I have never harmed thee.' 
 
 ' When Mathews was in Bednore, and there was alarm of the 
 Sultaun's coming, thou didst suspect me, thou and another. 
 Thou didst insult and threaten to hang me. We are even now, 
 — dost thou understand?' 
 
 ' What ! Jaffar Sahib, the guide, the man who betrayed the salt 
 
 he ate?' 
 
 ' Even so. Ye were owls, fools, and fell into the snare laid for 
 
 you.' 
 
 ' Has thy resentment slumbered so long then ? ' said Herbert. 
 
 ' I pity thee : thy own heart must be a hell to thee.' 
 ' Kafir! dare to speak so again, and I will spit on thee.' 
 ' It would befit thee to do so ; but I am silent,' was Herbert's 
 
 reply. 
 
 ' Where is the money that thou and that old fool, who is now 
 
2IO TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 in perdition, buried in Bednore ? Lead me to it, and I will save 
 thy life. The coast is near, and thou canst escape. Fear not to 
 speak, — those around do not understand us.' 
 
 ' Thy master has been told by me, by Mathews, who lost his 
 life in that cause, and by every one, that there was none but what 
 he found. We hid no money — thou well knowest this : why dost 
 thou torment me ?' 
 
 ' Thou wilt remember it in three or four days, perhaps,' said 
 the man; ' till then I shall not ask thee again. Go to the com- 
 pany of thy people.' 
 
 Herbert's mind had been strung up to its purpose, and he 
 coveted death at that moment as the dearest boon which could 
 have been granted. But it was denied him; and he could only 
 gather from the leader of the party that further suffering was in 
 store for him. In spite of his utmost exertions to repel the 
 feeling, despondence came over him, — a sickening and sinking 
 of his heart, which his utmost exertion of mind could not repel. 
 
 The day passed away, and the night fell. As the gloorii spread 
 over their narrow chamber, the men, whotn the light had kept 
 silent or cheering each other, now gave way to superstitious 
 terrors; and, as they huddled together in a group, some cried out 
 that there were hideous spectres about them; others prayed aloud; 
 and those who were hard of heart blasphemed, and made no 
 repentance. As night advanced, some yelled in mental agony 
 and terror, and the thought of those who were to die on the mor- 
 row appalled every heart. None slept. 
 
 Four days passed thus ; on every morning a new victim was 
 taken, while the rest were forced to look on. Sometimes he 
 went gladly and rejoicing, sometimes he had to be torn from his 
 companions, who in vain strove to protect him ; two suffered 
 passively — two made desperate resistance, and their parting 
 shrieks long rang in the ears of the survivors. On the fourth day 
 the Jemadar arrived. 'Come forth,' he said to Herbert, 'I 
 would speak to thee. Wilt thou be obdurate, O fool ? wilt thou 
 longer refuse to tell of the money, and the Sultaun's benevolence ? 
 Bethink thee.' 
 
 ' Thou couldst not grant me a greater favour than death,' said 
 Herbert ; ' therefore why are these things urged ? If there was 
 money hidden thou shouldst have it ; I know it is thy god. But 
 there is none, therefore let me die. I tell thee once for all, I 
 spurn thy master's offers with loathing.' 
 
 ' Dost thou know what this death is ?' said the Jemadar; ' thou 
 shalt see.' And he called to several of the guards who stood 
 around. Herbert thought, as they led him to the brink, that his 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. zii 
 
 time was come. ' I come, I come, Amy !' he cried aloud — ' at 
 length I come ! O God, be merciful to me !' 
 
 They led him passively to the brink ; the Jemadar stood there 
 already ; it was a dizzy place, and Herbert's eyes swam as he sur- 
 veyed it. 
 
 'Thou art not to die, Fermghee,' said the Jemadar; 'but look 
 over. Behold what will be thy fate ! ' 
 
 Herbert obeyed mechanically, and the men held him fast on 
 the very verge, or the temptation would have been strong to have 
 ridden himself of life. He looked down : the hot and glaring 
 sunlight fell full on the mangled remains of his comrades, which 
 lay in a confused heap at the bottom : a hundred vultures were 
 scrambling over each other to get at them, and the bodies were 
 snatched to and fro by their united efforts. The Jemadar heaved 
 a fragment of rock over, which,, rebounding from the side, 
 crashed among the brushwood and the obscene birds ; they arose 
 screaming at being disturbed, and two or three jackals skulked 
 away through the brushwood. But Herbert saw not these; 
 the first glance and the putrid smell which came up had sickened 
 him, weak and excited as he was, and he fainted. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 • He has fainted, or is dead,' cried the men who held him, to the 
 Jemadar, who was busied in heaving over another fragment of 
 rock. ' He has fainted ; shall we fling him over?' 
 
 ' For your lives do not !' cried the Jemadar ; ' draw back from 
 thence — ^let us see what is the matter.' 
 
 They obeyed him, and laid Herbert down softly upon the 
 rock, while the Jemadar stood over him. His hand was power- 
 less and cold, his face quite pale, and he looked as though he 
 were dead. 
 
 ' He has cheated us,' said the Jemadar to those around ; 
 ' surely he is dead. Who prates now of the valour of the 
 Feringhees ? Even this leader among them could not look on a 
 few dead bodies without fainting like a woman : Thooh ! I spit 
 on the kafirs : I marvel that the Sultaun so desires him to enter 
 the service, and is at such trouble about him.' 
 
 ' He will die,' said one of the men; ' his hand grows colder 
 and colder.' 
 
212 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' He must not die yet, Pochul,' said Jaffar Sahib ; ' what would 
 the Sultaun say to us ? Away ! get some water ; he may revive. 
 This is only a faint, the effect of terror j he will soon speak 
 again.' 
 
 The man obeyed the order, and brought water. They dashed 
 some on Herbert's face, and opening his lips, poured some be- 
 tween his tightly closed teeth. But it was in vain ; he moved 
 not, nor showed signs of life for a long while ; and was it not 
 that his body continued warm, they would have thought him 
 dead. At length he sighed, and opening his eyes, gazed wildly 
 around him. The effort was greeted with a shout from those 
 about him, which he appeared not to hear, but sank back again 
 insensible. Again they essayed to revive him as they best could ; 
 and after a long time partially succeeded as before ; but it was 
 only to see him relapse again and again. Once or twice he 
 spoke, but incoherently. 
 
 For some hours he continued thus. At last a violent shiver- 
 ing commenced; and seeing him so affected (for the Jemadar 
 had left them for a while, having given the men strict orders to 
 look carefully to Herbert, and to remove him to their guard- 
 house), as they were aware he was a person of more than ordi- 
 nary consequence, they used what means they could to alleviate 
 his sufferings. One lent him his rozaee, or quilted counterpane ; 
 another kneaded his limbs or chafed his hands ; a third heated 
 cloths and applied them to his back and head. But it was in 
 vain : the shivering continued, accompanied at times with 
 dreadful sickness. After being in this state for awhile, he broke 
 into a violent heat — a burning, exhausting heat — which excited 
 him furiously. Now he raved wildly : he spoke sometimes in 
 English, sometimes in Hindostanee ; and as none of the men 
 around him understood either, they held a hurried consultation 
 among themselves, and came to the resolution of selecting one 
 of the prisoners to remain with him, and minister to his wants. 
 The office was gladly accepted by the man they chose, whose 
 name was Bolton, and whom they fixed on because he had been 
 seen in conversation with Herbert more than the rest, and could 
 speak a few words of their language, Canarese, which he had 
 learned where he had been last confined. 
 
 All that night was passed by the unfortunate young man in 
 violent raving, the consequence of the raging fever which con- 
 sumed him. He tossed incessantly to and fro in the small 
 corded bed upon which he had been laid; now yelling forth, in 
 the agony he suffered from his head, which he held with both 
 his hands ; and now moaning piteously, so that even the rough 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 213 
 
 guards felt compassion for the young and helpless Englishman. 
 ' Water ! ' was the only coherent word he could utter ; the rest 
 was a continued unintelligible muttering, in which some English 
 words and names were sometimes faintly discernible. 
 
 Poor Bolton did what he could, but it was in vain ; and when 
 the Jemadar returned in the morning for the purpose of adding 
 another victim to his last, he found Herbert in such a state 
 as to alarm him j for the Sultaun had sworn he would have 
 life for life if aught happened to him. 
 
 ' He must be removed instantly,' he said. ' Away, one of ye, 
 for a dooly ! Bring it to the foot of the rock — we will carry 
 him down thither, and he must be removed to the town.' 
 
 In the end too he was merciful, for he took Bolton with 
 him to attend on Herbert while he should live; it could not 
 be long, he thought, for he raved incessantly, until exhaustion 
 ensued, and he gained fresh strength for further frantic efforts. 
 
 And they left the fatal rock soon afterwards, the only two of 
 that numerous company alive ; nor was the fate of the rest long 
 protracted. They were murdered as the rest had been ; and 
 the bleached bones and skulls, and fragments of clothes which 
 had no shape to tell to whom they had belonged — for they had 
 been stripped from the dead by the beaks of vultures and teeth 
 of jackals — proved to those who long afterwards looked on the 
 place, that the tales they had heard of the horrors of that fatal 
 rock, and which they had in part disbelieved, were not unfounded. 
 
 It was on a mild and balmy evening that Herbert awoke to 
 consciousness, about a week after he had been removed. He 
 looked languidly around him, for he was so weak that even the 
 effort he made to raise himself caused a giddy faintness ; and 
 for an instant the remembrance of his last conscious moment 
 upon the brink of the precipice flashed across his mind, and he 
 shuddered at the recollection of what he had seen. Again he 
 looked around, but he was not upon the rock; the fatal and 
 wretched abode in which he had passed five days — such days 
 of enduring agony as he could not have believed it possible to 
 sustain — with its bare walls scrawled all over with the names of 
 its miserable inhabitants, and their care-worn, despairing, and 
 almost maniac faces, were around him no longer. He lay in 
 the open air, under the shade of a wide-spreading peepul-tree, 
 upon a mound of earth surrounding a tomb; which, from its 
 clean white-washed state, and the garlands of flowers which 
 hung upon it, was evidently that of a Mahomedan saint or holy 
 martyr. At a short distance was a small mosque, exquisitely 
 white and clean, behind which rose some noble tamarind-trees. 
 
214 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 and with them cocoa-nut and plantains, which formed an appro- 
 priate background to the pureness of the building, their foliage 
 partly shaded and intermingled with the minarets and orna- 
 mented pinnacles of the mosque. Before it was a little garden, 
 where flourished luxuriantly a pomegranate-tree or two, covered 
 with their bright scarlet blossoms — a few marigolds and cocks- 
 combs, intermixed with mint and other sweet herbs, which ap- 
 peared to be cultivated with care. The space around the tomb 
 and before the mosque, and for a considerable extent all round, 
 was carefully swept ; and the branches of the peepul and tama- 
 ripd-trees, which met and interweaved high above, formed a 
 cover impenetrable by the rays of the fiercest sun at noon-day ; 
 but it was now evening, and the red light streamed in a flood 
 between the stems of the trees, lighting up the gnarled branches 
 of the peepul and the thick foliage beyond. Innumerable parro- 
 quets and minas screamed and twittered in the branches above 
 him, and flew from place to place restlessly : but the only sound 
 of man was from one drawing water for the garden, by the aid of 
 the lever and bucket common to Mysore, whose monotonous yet 
 not unmusiqal song and mellow voice "ceased only to allow the 
 delicious sound of the rush of water to reach Herbert's ear, as 
 the bucket was emptied from time to time into the reservoir 
 which supplied the garden. 
 
 He lay in a half unconscious state, in that dreamy languor, 
 which, when fierce fever has subsided, is almost painful from its 
 vagueness; when the mind, striving to recal the past, wanders 
 away into thoughts which have no reference to it, but which lose 
 themselves in a maze of unreal illusions too subtle and shifting 
 to be followed, and yet too pleasant to excite aught but tranquil 
 images and soothing effects. 
 
 The sun sank in glory, — in such glory behind the mountains 
 beyond as Herbert had never before witnessed, save once, when 
 he was at sea, and the land which held him a prisoner, and was 
 his living grave, appeared in sight. As the evening fell, and the 
 golden tints of the west faded, giving place to the rich hues of 
 crimson and purple which spread over it, the sonorous voice of 
 the Muezzin, from a corner of the enclosure, proclaimed the 
 evening worship ; and in the melancholy yet melodious tone of 
 the invitation, called the Believers to prayer. A few devout 
 answered to it, and advancing from one side, performed their 
 ablutions at a little fountain which cast up a tiny thread of spray 
 into the air ; this done, they entered the mosque, and, marshalled 
 in a row, went through, with apparent fervour, the various forms 
 and genuflexions prescribed by their belief 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 "5 
 
 Afterwards two advanced towards Herbert,— one, a venerable 
 man in the garb of a Fakeer, the other a gentleman of respectabte 
 appearance, who, from the sword he carried under his arm, might 
 be an officer. 
 
 Herbert heard one say, ' Most likely he is dead now ; he was 
 dying when we last saw him, and his attendant went with Jaifar 
 Sahib to purchase his winding-sheet ; poor fellow, he was unwill- 
 ing to go, but the Jemadar forced him away.' 
 
 ' I have hope,' said the old Fakeer, ' the medicine I gave him 
 (praised be die power of Alia !) has rarely failed in sudi cases, 
 and if the paroxysm is past he will recover.' 
 
 Herbert heard this and strove to speak ; his lips moved, but 
 no words followed above a whisper : he was weaker than an in- 
 fant. But now the Fakeer advanced to him and felt his hand 
 and head ; they were cool and moist, and Herbert turned to look 
 on them with a heart full of gratitude at the kindness and interest 
 which their words and looks expressed. 
 
 ' Ya Ruhman 1 ya Salaam ! Oh he lives ! he is free from the 
 disease (blessed be the power of Alia !) — he is once more among 
 the living. Therefore rejoice, O Feringhee,' exclaimed the Fa- 
 keer, ' and bless Alia that thou livest ! for He hath been merciftil 
 to thee. Six days hast thou lain in yonder serai, and the breath 
 was in thy nostrils, but it hath now returned to thy heart, so be 
 thankful.' 
 
 ' I am gratefiil for thy kindness. Shah Sahib,' said Herbert, 
 speaking very faintly, — for he had learned the usual appellation 
 of all respectable Fakeers long before — ' Alia will reward thee ; 
 I pray thee tell me who thou art, and where I am. Methinks 
 I was — ' 
 
 ' Trouble not thyself to think on the past,' he replied ; ' it was 
 not destined to be, and thy life is for the present safe ; thou art 
 in the garden of the poor slave of Alia and the apostle, Sheikh 
 Furreed, of Bakpoor.' 
 
 'A worthy Fakeer, and one on whom the power to work 
 miracles hath descended in this degenerate time,' said his com- 
 panion; 'one who may well be called "Wullee," and who will 
 be honoured in death.' 
 
 ' I have an indifferent skill in medicine,' said the Fakeer ; ' but 
 to the rest I have no pretensions, Khan Sahib ; but we should 
 not speak to the youth ; let him be quiet ; the air will revive 
 him ; and when they return he shall be carried back to the serai.' 
 
 They left him ; and ere long he heard footsteps approaching j 
 a figure was running towards him — he could not surely be mis- 
 taken — ^it was an English face : he came nearer — it was Bolton. 
 
2i6 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 The poor fellow sobbed with very joy when he saw his officer 
 released, as it were, from the jaws of death ; he hung over him, 
 and bathed his hand with tears ; he little expected ever to have 
 heard him speak again. Now his officer lived, and while a load 
 of sorrow was removed from his heart, he blessed God that He 
 had been so merciful. 
 
 ' I have carried you forth day by day in my arms, and laid you 
 yonder,' said the faithful fellow, as he lifted him up like a child : 
 ' they said you would die, and I thought if you were sensible 
 before that time came, you would like to be in this shady cool 
 place, where the light would not be too strong for you, the fresh 
 air would play over you, and you could look around upon the 
 green trees and gardens ere you went hence.' 
 
 Herbert could only press his hand in silence, for his heart was 
 too full to speak ; indeed he was too weak also ; for in being 
 carried to the serai once iriore, he fainted, and it waslong ere he 
 recovered. But that night a few mouthfuls of rice-milk were 
 given him, and he slept peacefully, — ^that noiseless, almost breath- 
 less sleep, which is attendant on extreme weakness, when dreams 
 and pleasant phantasies flit before the imagination like shadows 
 chasing each other over beautiful prospects, when the day is 
 bright and soft. Herbert's visions were of home, of walks in the 
 twilight with Amy, of her soft words, of the plashing of the river 
 in their well-known haunts, sacred to him by the- dearest and 
 holiest ties, — and he woke in the morning refreshed and 
 strengthened. 
 
 He could now speak ; he could converse with the soldier who 
 had watched over him so devotedly, and he learned from him 
 all that had occurred. 
 
 ' You were delirious, sir,' he said ; ' and I was sent for from 
 among the rest ; poor fellows ! I hear they are all murdered. 
 I thought you had been struck by the sun, for you were bare- 
 headed; perhaps it was so, for you were quite mad and very 
 violent. They brought you here in the dooly, which was sent 
 for by the Jemadar, and at first no one would receive you. You 
 lay raving in the bazaar, and people avoided you as they would 
 have done a devil, — ^they even called you one. But the good 
 Fakeer who lives here saw you by chance, and took you away 
 from them, and he has watched you and given you various medi- 
 cines, which have made you, I fear, very weak, sir ; but you are 
 better now.' 
 
 ' So they were all murdered ? ' said Herbert, his thoughts revert- 
 ing to the past. 
 
 ' They were, sir ; but why think of that now ? it will distress 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 217 
 
 you — ^you should not ; there are brighter things in store for you, 
 depend on it.' 
 
 ' Alas ! ' said Herbert, • I fear not, Bolton ; but since God has 
 spared me from that death, and protected me through this dread- 
 ful illness, of which I have a confused remembrance, surely it is 
 not too much to hope.' 
 
 And he did hope, and from his soul he breathed a fervent 
 prayer ; for through the future there appeared a glimmering ray 
 of hope on which his mind loved to rest, though clouds and dark 
 vapours of doubt and uncertainty would rise up occasionally and 
 obscure it. Day by day, however, he recovered strength, and the , 
 old Fakeer sate by him often, and beguiled the time with tales and 
 legends of the mighty of the earth who were dead and gone. It 
 was a dreamy existence, to live weak and helpless among those 
 shady groves, to lie for hours listening to the ever-sighing trees, 
 as the wind rustled through their thick foliage, watching the 
 birds of varied plumage as they flitted among their branches, while 
 his ear was filled with wild legends of love, of war, of crime, or 
 of revenge. 
 
 But this had an end — ^it was too bright, too peaceful to last. 
 When a week had elapsed, the Jemadar who had avoided him 
 studiously during his recovery, came to him with the Fakeer ; for 
 knowing Herbert's detestation of him, he had not dared to 
 ventiure alone. 
 
 ' The Jemadar hath news for thee, my son,' said the old man ; 
 ' fear not, he wiU not harm thee — I would not let him do so. He 
 hath shown me the Sultaun's letter to him, which arrived a short 
 time ago by an express.' 
 
 ' Listen, Feringhee ! ' said Jaffar Sahib ; ' the Shah Sahib will 
 bear me witness that there is no wrong intended thee ; my royal 
 master doth but seek his own, and still asketh thee for the treasure.' 
 
 'Shah Sahib,' said Herbert, 'hear me say, and be witness, that 
 as Alia, whom we both worship, sees my heart, that it is pure of 
 deceit,- — I know nought of it Unlike those who loaded them- 
 selves with money, and plundered the treasury at Bednore, I and 
 a few others never touched it. Canst thou not believe that, to 
 save my life, I would have told if I had known aught of it ? ' 
 
 ' 1 believe that thou wouldst, my son, but — ' 
 
 ' There must have been lakhs of money and jewels buried there 
 or destroyed,' said the Jemadar ; ' else, where is the treasure ? 
 Every one was searched, and yet not half was found that I my- 
 self saw there before — ' 
 
 ' Before what ? ' asked the Fakeer, whose curiosity was raised. 
 
 • Let him tell his own tale of shame if he can,' said Herbert ; 
 
2i8 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' I would not so humble him, though he is my enemy, for some 
 reason that I know not of.' 
 
 'Thou knowest well I have cause to be so,' said the Jemadar, 
 with bitter rancour in his tone ; ' but this is foolishness ; here is 
 the Sultaun's letter ; thou must either tell of the treasure, or go 
 again into confinement ; — ^tell of it, and thou wilt be freed and 
 sent on an embassy to thine own people, — ^refuse, and the alter- 
 native is thy doom. Choose then-^-in this at least there is no 
 tyraimy.' 
 
 ' Alas ! I am but mocked,' said Herbert sadly ; ' I have given 
 thee my answer so many times, that this is but torment, exciting 
 hope that makes me dream of joy I can never realise. My own 
 people — alas ! to them I am dead long ago, and — But why 
 speculate ? I tell thee, before this holy witness, my kind and 
 benevolent friend, that I have no other reply to give than that 
 thou knowest' 
 
 ' It is well. Sahib, — thy fate is cast ; the old prison at Bangalore 
 awaits thee, where, if AUa give thee long life, thou art fortunate, 
 but where speedy death will be thy most probable fate.' 
 
 ' It will be welcome,' said Herbert ; ' but while I have life, I 
 will remember thee, O Fakeer, who hast been to me a friend in 
 bitter adversity, when to all others I was accursed. When am I 
 to travel ? ' 
 
 ' To-morrow,' repUed the Jemadar ; ' the letter is peremptory, if 
 thou art strong enough to bear the journey.' 
 
 ' He is not,' said the Fakeer, ' he is still weak. On my head 
 be the blame of his remaining longer.' 
 
 ' No,' said Herbert, ' I am feeble, it is true, but let it be as the 
 Sultaun wiUs. I am too long accustomed to hardship to resist 
 or object, and thou, my friend, wouldst only bring down his 
 wrath upon thee by keeping me here : yet think, when I am gone, 
 from this our short acquaintance, that our race can be grateful, 
 and when thou hearest us reviled, say that we are not as our 
 slanderers speak of us. For myself, while I have Ufe, I will 
 remember thee as a kind and dear friend ; and if Alia wills it, we 
 may meet again,' 
 
 ' If Alia wills it ? — Ya Moojeeb !* ya Kubeer If ya Moota-alee !J 
 grant that it may be that we may meet again.' 
 
 And, full of regret, of pain at parting with his old and true 
 friend, — even shedding tears, for he was weak in body and in 
 mind, as he left those quiet, peaceful groves and green shades, — 
 with the memory of his fearful illness, his kind nursing, and the 
 devotion of their possessor fresh and vivid in his thoughts, — Her- 
 * O answerer of prayer ! + O Lord of power ! + O most sublime I 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 219 
 
 bert left the place the next day, accompanied by his comrade in 
 captivity, whose only hope now was, that they should never again 
 be separated. In the secrecy of friendship, he had procured a 
 pen and paper from the old Fakeer, and had written a few lines 
 to the Governor of Madras, stating who he was, and that he still 
 lived ; this the old man promised to send whenever an oppor- 
 tunity occurred; but he was over-cautious, Herbert thought, 
 and there was but little hope that it would ever reach its des- 
 tination, 
 
 The journey did not fatigue him as he had expected; in 
 contrast to the hurried travel in coming, they returned to 
 Bangalore in three days, and Herbert was even stronger and 
 better for the exertion. He expected once more his old cell, 
 and the company of books, even sometimes a word with his 
 kind friend the Killadar ; but there was another trial in store for 
 him, of which he could have had no idea — it was terrible in 
 contemplation. 
 
 It would seem as if the capricious mind of the Sultaun was 
 never settled to one point about Herbert ; order after order was 
 revoked, and others substituted; the last, which met him at 
 Bangalore, was that Herbert should be taken to a solitary moun- 
 tain fortress beyond Mysore, in a region which was known to be 
 inclement, and from whence tidings of his existence could never 
 find their way. He had been passive in the hands of his captors 
 now for years, and this fresh mark of tyranny was nothing new, 
 nor the changes in the Sultaun's designs for him to be wondered 
 at. A few days' delay occurred at Bangalore, where some suits 
 of coarse but thickly quilted clothes were given to him, two or 
 three blankets, a counterpane, and a few other necessaries ; and 
 he once more journeyed onwards. A bitter pang to him was the 
 loss of his faithful friend and attendant Bolton, who was not 
 permitted to accompany him. They separated in sorrow, but 
 they exchanged written memoranda of each other's history, to be 
 made known to their countrymen in case either had ever an 
 opportunity. 
 
 Herbert travelled many days; following at first the road to 
 Seringapatam, the party struck off to the left when near the city ; 
 there he was rid of the hateful presence of the Jemadar, who to 
 the last urged him to confess the existence of the treasure, and 
 repeated his offers of conniving at his flight, should he dis- 
 close it. 
 
 At length a blue wall of mountains appeared in the far 
 distance ; their bases were wreathed with vapours, which rolled 
 along their sides but never appeared to reach the summit. Day 
 
220 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 after day, as they approached them nearer, their giant forms 
 displayed themselves in grander and more majestic beauty. 
 What had appeared chasms and rents in their sides, when 
 the light rested on them, now revealed valleys and thickly 
 wooded glens, into which imagination strove to penetrate, in 
 speculation of their real loveliness. 
 
 At length they reached the pass, which from the table-land of 
 Mysore descends into the plain of Coimbatoor ; and from thence 
 the boundless prospect which met Herbert's eye filled his mind 
 with deUght and rapture. The blue distance melted into the 
 sky, by a succession of the tenderest tints : away through the 
 plains rolled the Bhowanee, a silver thread glittering amidst the 
 most exquisite colours. The huge mountains were on his right, — 
 blue and vast — their rugged sides, here hewn into deep chasms, 
 and again clothed with woods of a luxuriance which he had never 
 before seen equalled. In the distance of the lofty chain, one 
 mountain of peculiar form, whose sides were naked precipices, 
 stood out boldly against the blue plain. The soldiers pointed to 
 it exultingly, and when he asked them the reason, he was told 
 that it was his destination. 
 
 They descended ; everywhere the same noble views, the same 
 glory of the works of Heaven, which Herbert worshipped in his 
 heart, met his gaze. Having passed along the foot, of the moun- 
 tains for two days, and approached them nearer and nearer, they 
 began to ascend. Below the rugged pass, the mighty forests, the 
 huge bamboos, the giant creepers, and their lovely flowers, had 
 filled Herbert's mind with wonder and awe ; as he ascended, this 
 gave place to feelings of delight. The path was rugged and 
 stony, and the pony he rode (for which the dooly had been 
 exchanged beneath the pass) climbed but slowly, and he was 
 obliged to rest him occasionally, while he turned round to enjoy 
 the mighty prospect. How grand it was to see the high table- 
 land of Mysore breaking into the plain in mountains of four 
 thousand feet high, of every conceivable form, and bathed in the 
 bright light of an Indian sun, while the boundless plains stretched 
 away from their feet ! 
 
 As he ascended, the air blew cooler and cooler, and plants and 
 beautiful flowers new to him grew profusely by the wayside-j at 
 last he saw — ^he could not be mistaken — some fern ! How his 
 heart bounded as he plucked it, and kissed its well-remembered 
 form. A little higher there was a bed of blue flowers peering 
 from among the luxuriant shrubs ; they had familiar faces, — he 
 stopped, and dismounting ran to them. They were violets, — the 
 same as those with which he had a thousand times filled his 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 221 
 
 Amy's lap in summer time, when they were children ; — ^how full 
 his heart was ! 
 
 Further on, a brake of brambles met his eyej the ripe black 
 fruit was a luxury to him, such as he had not dreamed of; and 
 below them a bed of wild strawberries, the same as they had 
 grown in the Beechwood groves and round the Hermitage, He 
 was now near the summit ; the air was cold and fresh like that of 
 England, the sky was bluer than below, and a few light fleecy 
 clouds floated about the mountain-top, veiling its beauty. They 
 still advanced, and he was in rapture : he could not speak, his 
 thoughts could only find vent in thanksgiving. A familiar 
 flower caught his eye in a bush above his head ; it was wood- 
 bine — the same, and as fragrant, as in England. Herbert's heart 
 was already full to overflowing, and thoughts of the past increased 
 by these simple objects were too powerful for him to bear calmly ; 
 he could resist nature's best relief no longer, and wept — tears 
 which soothed him as they flowed ; and while he sate down, and 
 with dim and streaming eyes gazed over the almost boundless 
 prospect, he felt that if he could have passed away to another 
 existence with those feelings, it would have been bliss. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Some years have now elapsed since Philip Dalton parted from his 
 friend Herbert at Bednore, upon the mission of the unfortunate 
 Mathews ; and it becomes necessary to revert to him for a while, 
 in order to present successively the various events which belong 
 to our history, in such a manner as may best serve to fix them 
 upon the reader's attention, and which from their connection, 
 though at considerable distances of time, it is needful to follow 
 to the end in their true order. 
 
 Philip's journey to the coast was rapid, but he had time once 
 more to tread the ground which was the scene of that spirited 
 conflict, once more to visit the grave of his young companion, 
 which was undisturbed; and he saw with satisfaction that the 
 simple monument which they had ordered to be erected over it, 
 to preserve it from being molested as well as to mark the place, 
 was in a state of forwardness and would soon be finished. In a 
 few days more the party were at the coast, and finding vessels 
 there belonging to the Government, they embarked, and with the 
 
222 TIPPOO StILTAUN. 
 
 soft and favourable breezes of the season, soon reached their des- 
 tination in safety. 
 
 Here now ensued a scene of bitter contention among the 
 friends of both parties, and opinions ran high on both sides. 
 While the one urged the incompetency, the neglect of orders and 
 caution, and the obstinacy of Mathews, in not listening to the 
 advice of those well calculated by their rank and experience to 
 give it, there were also those who argued, that in all his acts 
 Mathews was fully justified, — that, should disaster come, the 
 Government of the island was alone to blame, in having directed 
 him to undertake operations of such magnitude with means so 
 insignificant, which, though they had been eminently successful, 
 he could not be expected to maintain without large and speedy 
 reinforcements. 
 
 Before the council, however, the affairs were argued with calm- 
 ness and temper ; the letters of Mathews certainly threw no light 
 upon his position, his means of defence or intelligence of the 
 enemy ; and though Philip Dalton defended his commander with 
 zeal and temper, he was forced to acknowledge that there were 
 many points on which he, in common with others, had offered 
 advice that had been disregarded — points, the neglect of which 
 could not be otherwise than injurious to the discipline of the 
 army, which had already suffered in a great degree. 
 
 The arguments against Mathews finally prevailed, and the 
 orders for his supercession in the command were given to Macleod, 
 who, with Shaw and Humberstone, already mentioned, took a 
 speedy departure from Bombay. A severe indisposition pre- 
 vented Philip's accompanying them, as he had intended ; for 
 Macleod, aware of his talent, zeal, and military skill, had offered 
 him the same office on his own staff which he had filled with 
 Mathews, and he had accepted it ; and as the Government had 
 promised a reinforcement, which the commanders represented as 
 absolutely necessary to enable them to hold the ground they had 
 acquired, there was an opportunity for proceeding with troops. 
 This, besides being more agreeable to Philip, would enable him 
 to be of use to the officer who was nominated to the command, 
 from his knowledge of the road and of the country. 
 
 But he was destined never to prpceed : the three commanders, 
 who had sailed from Bombay in a small armed vessel belonging 
 to the Government, were attacked off the Mahratta fort of 
 Gheriah by some heavy Mahratta vessels, for which they were no 
 match. The officers defended themselves and their charge 
 bravely, and made a determined though ineffectual resistance, in 
 which one of their number, the gallant Humberstone, lost his life ; 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 223 
 
 the others, with the crew and vessel, were carried into Gheriah, 
 and it was not until after a long lapse of time that their release 
 was effected. When the news of this disaster reached Bombay, 
 it retarded the preparations for embarkation which were being 
 made for the troops; and ere many weeks had passed, the sad 
 intelligence of the disaster at Bednore completed die distress and 
 consternation of the Presidency. 
 
 From the few that escaped, who magnified the terrors of the 
 event, and described in fearfiil terms the miseries endured by the 
 prisoners, — and from the reports of the cruelties exercised upon 
 them, which had long been prevalent, and were known to be well 
 founded — Philip had despaired of ever gaining intelligence of his 
 friend Herbert ; and while he wrote to his family, whose direction 
 he was in possession of, to inform them of the sad event, and to 
 tell them that Herbert was known to have been in good health 
 when he was taken with the rest, he could give them but little 
 hope as to the final issue ; indeed upon this point he was quite 
 silent, as, having no hope himself, he was unable to impart any 
 to them. 
 
 He did not, however, write for several months after the in- 
 telligence had been received at Bomibay ; for the letters he had 
 dispatched for Herbert immediately on his arrival would, he 
 hoped, prevent his famUy from being over anxious; and he 
 thought that perhaps news mi^t arrive of the prisoners, of their 
 health and condition, which would be acceptable, or that some 
 treaty might be arranged between the English and Mysore 
 Governments which would put an end to their captivity ; indeed 
 it was in the latter confident hope that he wrote, when all pro- 
 spect of an immediate release was out of the question. 
 
 The letters which Herbert had dispatched had reached Eng- 
 land, and by them his family were informed of the issue of the 
 war as far as the capture of Bednore ; and he then wrote in the 
 highest spirits, like a young and gallant soldier, of the prospects 
 of the campaign, made light of his wound, and was eagerly look- 
 ing for fresh encounters with the enemy, in which distinction and 
 promotion were to be won. This account greatly soothed his 
 parents and Amy, who was especially tormented by agonising 
 fears and apprehensions regarding him, in spite of his often 
 repeated but playful assurances that he was safe and well. 
 
 ' He cannot be safe,' she used to argue to herself, 'when there 
 are such desperate engagements as that of which he writes us 
 word, and where he has too the baneful climate to contend 
 against ; but God is over all, and to Him I commit the future in 
 hooe and confidence.' 
 
224 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 And so she continued — a vague dread of future misery striving 
 for mastery in her heart with deep religious reliance ; and during 
 this struggle her parents became, from her altered appearance, so 
 anxious for her, that they would fain have removed her to one of 
 the watering-places for change of air and scene. 
 
 She firmly opposed the proposal, for she clung with increasing 
 attachment to her home, and apparently to the pursuits which 
 Herbert had shared with her. But if they looked at her sketches, 
 there used to be little advance made from day to day ; she would 
 sit for hours seemingly engaged on them, whilst her eye was 
 fixed upon vacancy, or gazing upon the familiar spots she was 
 delineating, where she had often watched his figure, or realising 
 to her tenacious memory all the words she had heard him speak 
 there. 
 
 And thus the time passed ', her companionship with the family 
 of Herbert increased, and she would spend days in conversing 
 with them, especially with Mrs. Compton, about him, listening to 
 every tale of his life, — to every incident even of his childhood 
 with delight, and an interest which appeared to increase in their 
 repetition. But the suspense after the receipt of his last letter-^ 
 the one dispatched by Philip Dalton^=- grew day by day more 
 insupportable ; several vessels arrived, but there was no intelli- 
 gence from Herbert. Many of the newspapers of the day mentioned 
 the expedition, with some criticisms upon its object, and pro- 
 phesied an ill termination to its exertions : and at length, when 
 the ship arrived by which she had expected a long despatch, and 
 there was none, and the letter was read from Mr. Herbert's agent, 
 as we have before recorded, wherein he stated broadly that there 
 was bad news from India — the poor girl's brain reeled under the 
 shock of having her worst fears confirmed. Her active and 
 already excited mind in an instant presented to her the being in 
 whose existence her own was wrapped up, as if in death, ghastly, 
 with disfiguring wounds ; and the thought, suddenly as it had 
 come into her mind, for the time paralyzed her faculties ; her body 
 was not strong enough to resist its influence, and, yielding at 
 once, she had fainted under the overpowering weight of her 
 misery. News, however, there was of Herbert, which in some 
 measure relieved their worst fears and gave room for hope ; 
 although sickening in its uncertainty, it gave room for hope, to 
 which every member of both famihes clung with the tenacity 
 naturally inspired by their affection. 
 
 The newspapers gave such accounts as could be gained of the 
 disaster, and the name of Herbert was mentioned among those 
 who were known to be in captivity. But they nowhere saw that 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 225 
 
 of Dalton, whom Herbert had so constantly mentioned in his 
 letters, and they concluded that he had been killed in one of the 
 engagements : this was an additional source of pain to them, that 
 Herbert had lost his dearest friend. 
 
 However in a few months after, the first letter from Philip 
 arrived at the rectory, and despite its melancholy tone, it gave 
 the family good reason to hope. Philip was one who could not 
 believe implicitly in the constant ill-treatment said to be exercised 
 by the Sultaun upon his prisoners, and he could plainly see that 
 such statements were encouraged by the Government, in order to 
 induce those favourable to their cause to lend their aid in the 
 struggle. And perceiving this, he wrote that he hoped the treaties 
 about to be drawn up between the two nations would be produc- 
 tive not only of Herbert's release, but of that of his fellow-cap- 
 tives ; — he undeceived them, too (which was necessary), as to the 
 natives of the country being savage, assuring them, on the con- 
 trary, that they were polite and courteous ; and as the hopes of 
 peace continued to be confirmed from time to time by Philip, 
 who wrote by every opportunity, as well as by the papers, they 
 remained in a most pitiable state of excitement, which was 
 doomed to be bitterly disappointed. 
 
 The peace of 1784 came. Many a man whose existence had 
 been despaired of by his long-expecting and wretched family re- 
 appeared, and that of the rectory now looked forward with 
 intense eagerness to the receipt of letters from Herbert or from 
 Philip Ddlton, announcing their reunion, and the prospect of 
 their speedy return home. 
 
 Alas ! while others rejoiced, they were plunged into deeper 
 despair than ever ; for, as Herbert's name did not appear in the 
 lists of those who had been given up, Philip did not immediately 
 write his bitter disappointment that his dear friend was not among 
 their number. 
 
 Who could paint the withering effect of this miserable intelli- 
 gence upon the unhappy Amy ? She had striven, and success- 
 fully, against her own despairing heart j whilst a ray of hope 
 broke in upon her gloomy future, she cherished it, and strove to 
 dispel the clouds which doubt would, in spite of her exertions, 
 accumulate before her. She was cheerful, and when Mrs. Comp- 
 ton mourned her son's early fate in bitter grief, and almost 
 refused comfort, Amy would soothe her, and raise her to hope 
 again. But from the last news there was no comfort to be gained. 
 Had Herbert been alive, he would have been given up like the 
 rest ; and though it was suspected at the time that many prisoners 
 were retained byTippoo in defiance ofthe articles of treaty, still that 
 
2 26 TIPPOO SULTAUJSr. 
 
 was so uncertsdfl, so vagtie and wretched a hope, that it was 
 abandoned as even sinful to indulge in, and Herbert was 
 mourned as dead. 
 
 It was happy perhaps for Amy that her own grief was in a 
 measure diverted by the long illness of Mrs. Compton, whom 
 the violence of the affliction brought to the very verge of the 
 grave. For many months did the gentle and patient girl minister 
 to her who was to have been her mother, with a devotion of 
 affection which hardly found its equal in that of her own daughter. 
 Froni no one's hand did the sufferer take the remedies prescribed 
 so readily as frdm Amy's ; none could smooth the pillow of the 
 languid invalid like Amy — none read to her so sweetly, none con- 
 versed with her upon their favourite subject — hifti who was lost 
 to them both — so eloquently and so devotedly as Amy. And her 
 beauty, which had grown Up with her years, until it was now sur- 
 passingly bright — her meek and cheerful resignation, after the 
 first pang of sorrow was over — her unceasing and untiring bene- 
 volence — made her an object of peculiar interest to the neigh- 
 bourhood of all ranks, to whom her sad story and early trials 
 were known. ■. 
 
 Calm and cheerful as she usually was in the society of her 
 family and at the rectory, no one but her mother knew the 
 bitter bursts of grief to which nature would force her sometimes, 
 when the memory of him they thought dead was more pro- 
 minently excited. Herbert was constantly the subject of their 
 conversation j for this Amy loved, and it often soothed her to 
 hear him spoken of or alluded to. But it was not this that 
 affected her ; it was often the merest trifle and sudden thought, 
 the sight of a flower, a word or tone from Charles, who now 
 strongly resembled his brother, that caused these paroxysms, 
 which, violent as they were, prostrated her for the time, only to 
 rise with renewed cheerfulness, resignation, and affection for 
 those she loved. 
 
 They continued to hear from Philip Dalton, who, restless under 
 the belief that Herbert still lived, spared neither money nor pains 
 to get information. As time flew on, it became known that some 
 Europeans were in confinement, and Philip had dispatched one 
 or two trusty emissaries to endeavour to discover Herbert. All 
 had, however, ended in disappointment, and he was baffled in 
 every inquu-y. He did not assert to Herbert's family that he 
 lived, but from time to time he renewed the supposition. After 
 the lapse of nearly four years, they heard from him that he was 
 about to return home on leave, and that he would take the 
 earliest opportunity of visiting the rectory. His coming was 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 227 
 
 earnestly and impatiently expected for many months j for how 
 much should they not have to hear of their long-lost Herbert 
 from his most devoted friend ! how many particulars of their short 
 service together and its fatal result, which, though the themes of 
 many letters, were incomplete in comparison with what they 
 should hear from him in person ! 
 
 At length his arrival in England was announced by him, and 
 though he could not say when he should be at liberty, he declared 
 it would not be long ere he performed his promise. Philip had 
 thought it better thus to leave them in uncertainty, lest, having 
 their attention fixed upon any particular day, the contemplation 
 of the excitement which would necessarily foJlOw would be more 
 than the female part of the families could endure. 
 
 But he did not, he could not delay long ; he was impatient to 
 communicate his suspicions, his hopes that Herbert existed, which 
 every day's experience and reflection told him were reasonable ; 
 and hardly a fortnight had elapsed, ere he took the mail to the 
 
 town of- , where the regiment had been quartered, and where 
 
 he had now a friend. Leaving his portmanteau at the barracks, 
 he took with him a change of linen, and late ift the afternoon 
 rode his friend's horse over to the rectory. 
 
 It was a lovely autumn evehiftg ; the twilight had begun to 
 deepen the shadows of the luxuriant woods of the park, and the 
 rectory groves appeared dark and Solemn at that hour. A few 
 leaves had already fallen upon the smooth and beautifully kept 
 entrance avenue, which passed under some huge elms, on whose 
 tops the noisy rooks still sat cawing, or rising suddenly with 
 eccentric and rapid flights large bodies of the colony sailed 
 through the air, alighting only to dispossess others of a more 
 favoured place or one more coveted. Beyond a turning in the 
 avenue, the house opened upon his view — an old edifice of red 
 brick, of the age of Elizabeth ; the large oblong windows of the 
 drawing-room, with their diamond panes, were a blaze of light ; 
 and even as he rode along he could distinguish the forms of many 
 within, and the cheerfiil notes of music came to him through the 
 open casement. 
 
 A pale elderly lady lay on the sofa working— he felt sure it was 
 Herbert's mother. There Were several standing round a piano- 
 forte : he listened for a while with deep pleasure, as the sounds of 
 music now rosCj now fell upon the evening air, and affected him 
 the more powerfully as the air was one he well remembered 
 Herbert to have often sung, and now the place he had occupied 
 there was vacant, perhaps for ever. 
 
 As he listeiied, the voic? f»f a female arose in a solo part, so 
 
228 TIFPOO SVLTAUN. 
 
 liquid, so melodious, so exquisitely modulated, that he drew closer 
 to hear it better. Could it be that of Amy ? he thought, or one 
 of Herbert's sisters, of whom he had heard him speak so often 
 that he fancied he almost knew them ? — Ellen perhaps, his favour- 
 ite ; but it was useless to speculate — he should soon know all. 
 The solo ceased ; again arose a full swell of voices, attuned by 
 constant practice, and assisted by the instrument and a bass violin, 
 which was played by an elderly gentleman. It lasted for a while, 
 then ceased entirely'— the party broke up cheerfully, and the 
 sound of their merry voices caught his ear — a change, perhaps 
 an abrupt one, from the melody he had heard, which he would . 
 have wished had been followed by silence, for his feelings were 
 mournful, and the image of his lost friend was painfully vivid to 
 his imagination ; they might have arrived together he thought. 
 
 Again he cast his eyes around him ; the house, with its deeply 
 embayed windows and quaint projections, was covered with roses 
 and creepers, which entwined thickly around the drawing-room ; 
 beside there were a pear-tree and a large fig-tree which were 
 trained over the wall, and almost hid it with their luxuriant foliage, 
 showing here and there the large black crossbeams which ap- 
 peared through the masonry of the wall, and added to its vener- 
 able appearance. Before the house there was a flower-garden, 
 which bloomed with a profusion of flowers, whose rich perfume 
 arose in the evening air. On one side a long conservatory, and 
 beyond it a thick and closely kept hedge that partly screened a 
 wall which led to other gardens. On the other side was a 
 lawn, close and mossy-looking, which stretched a short distance 
 to a sunken fence, beyond which was a field with a few single teres, 
 and the deep woods of the park made up the distance. The hall- 
 door was low and deeply screened by a porch, around which 
 roses and clematis flourished in luxuriance. 
 
 Dismounting from his horse he rang the bell, which was quickly 
 answered; and desiring the servant to inform Mr. Compton 
 that a gentleman wished to speak to him, he remained in the 
 porch. 
 
 'Who can it be?' said some, as the servant announced the 
 message. In another instant it had flashed into the minds of all 
 that it might be Captain Dalton ; and with him came the memory 
 of poor Herbert, now to be so freely awakened. 
 
 ' If it should be he, Maria,' said Mr. Compton to his lady, who 
 at the announcement had risen from the sofa, ' can you bear to 
 see him ? ' 
 
 'Yes, love — yes, here — but with you only. Go into the 
 dining-room, my children, we will call you after a while,' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 229 
 
 They obeyed instantly, and Mt. Compton hurried into the 
 hall to receive the stranger, while his lady prayed fervently for 
 support in the coming interview ; for she trembled exceedingly, 
 and her conflicting emotions almost overpowered her. 
 
 The servant was holding Philip's horse, and he himself was 
 pacing slowly up and down the narrow porch. As Mr. Compton 
 advanced, Philip turned to meet him; and his first glance as- 
 sured him that the friend of his lost son was before him. 
 
 ' You need not mention your name, my dear sir,' said the old 
 gentleman, as he clasped his hand most warmly and affection- 
 ately in his own, while his trembling voice showed how deeply he 
 was agitated ; ' I am convinced that I now welcome our long- 
 expected and already very dear Captain Dalton. We have been 
 long expecting you and I need hardly say how anxiously we 
 have looked for the arrival of one who was so dear to — ' and he 
 hesitated for an instant ; but mastering his emotion, he continued 
 — ' to our poor Herbert, from whom we heard so much of you. 
 God bless you, sir ! that you have come to us so soon, when 
 you must have had so many claims upon you from your own 
 family.' 
 
 ' I thank you, sir, heartily, for this warm welcome,' said Philip. 
 ' But before I proceed further, tell me candidly whether Mrs. 
 Compton is able to see me. That I have seen you, will be a 
 comfort to me, and for the present I will leave you, and give her 
 time for any preparation she may wish to make.' 
 
 ' By no means : she is already aware that this visit could be 
 from no other but yourself, and she will be better when she has 
 seen you. You must make some allowances for a mother's grief 
 — a fond mother's too — Captain Dalton.' 
 
 ' I know all, sir,' said Philip, pressing his hand ; ' and Miss 
 Hayward ? ' 
 
 ' She is fortunately not with us to-night,' replied Mr. Compton, 
 ' and we will speak upon the subject with her parents before we 
 tell her that you are come.' 
 
 They were at the drawing-room door, and Philip's heart beat 
 faster than he had ever remembered it to beat before. The sus- 
 pense and anxiety he was in, as to the issue of his meeting with 
 Mrs. Compton, almost overcame his habitual self-possession ; 
 and he would have given worlds could he have ensured her 
 equanimity, which was little to be expected. She, too, was not 
 less excited ; and a feeling of faintness came over her as she 
 heard the hand of her husband upon the lock. She made a 
 strong effort, however, to repel it, and the next moment he and 
 Dalton were before her. 
 
230 TIPPOO SULTAUM 
 
 ' This is Captain Dalton, Mariai' were all the words Mr. Comp- 
 ton had time to utter ere his lady advanced to meet him. It 
 needed not his words to assure her that the tall, manly, and 
 soldier-like figure of the young man was Philip ; and as she 
 eagerly took his proffered hand, while her eyes were full of tears, 
 she in vain strove to speak. She read in the expression of his 
 fine features, as she looked into his face, that her own grief was 
 reciprocated, and she could no longer restrain the utterance of 
 her feelings, nor the impulse of her affectionate heart. She 
 threw herself into his arms, as she would have done into her own 
 son's, and wept ; the tears and bitter sobs of a mother's grief 
 could not be restrained, and she yielded to them freely. 
 
 For a while his reserved demeanour, under which was con- 
 cealed as kind a heart as ever beat, struggled with his awakened 
 sensibilities; but nature asserted her power; Philip's tears 
 mingled with hers, and she could feel them falling fast upon her 
 cheek, though silently, as he bent over and supported her. Mr. 
 Compton did not interrupt them ; he was too glad to see her 
 emotion find so natural and easy a vent, for he had anticipated 
 a much more violent effect. Mrs. Compton soon rallied. 
 
 ' You will forgive this welcome of one who is so dear to us. 
 Captain Dalton,' she said, speaking with difficulty; 'but you 
 know that with you are associated many, many painiful recollec- 
 tions. Bear with me, — ^I shall be calm soon. I feel that my 
 heart has already been relieved and is lighter.' 
 
 Philip could not then say much in reply ; but soon their con- 
 versation flowed more naturally and calmly ; and ere long the 
 rest of the family were admitted, and he was introduced and 
 received as a brother among them. 
 
 Gradually their conversation turned upon him they thought 
 dead. Philip had to answer a thousand questions, and to give 
 the minutest particulars to the eager and loving inquirers ; and 
 though the tears of all flowed silently and fast, even as they 
 spoke, yet Mrs. Compton felt, when she retired to rest at a late 
 hour, as if some portion of the load which had oppressed her 
 had been removed, and she fervently blessed God who had sent 
 her such a friend and comforter. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 231 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 The first constraint of ceremony having been broken, and the 
 subject so near to the hearts of all touched upon even on the first 
 night of their acquaintance, as every succeeding day passed they 
 became more attached to each other — ^the parents, to one they 
 looked upon and loved as a son — ^the children, to their poor 
 brother's friend and dearest companion. Day by day the subject 
 of poor Herbert's fate was the theme of conversation ; they were 
 never weary of it, and Philip unfolded to them gently but unre- 
 ■servedly his convictions that Herbert still lived — confined perhaps 
 in some lonely hill-fort, away from the capital of Mysore, or 
 engaged in the hated service of the ruler of the country. For 
 many others were known to have submitted to Tippoo's will in 
 this respect, in the hope that some opportunity would be afforded 
 for escape, or some action with their countrymen would facilitate 
 their desertion. 
 
 Poor Amy ! the bitterest trial she had endured since the news 
 of Herbert's captivity, and next to his supposed death, was the 
 meeting with Philip, and receiving firom his own hands the little 
 packet which Herbert had entrusted to him in case of his death, 
 and which he had retained. For many days she could not see 
 him j but at length she fixed a day and hour, and he walked over 
 to Beechwood. He had not seen her except at church, where 
 he had caught a glimpse of her graceful figure, dressed in simple 
 mourning: this only excited his curiosity to know more of one 
 .whom his poor friend had loved with such intensity of affection 
 — a love so faithfully reciprocated. 
 
 Mrs. Hajward received the' young soldier, and in a short con- 
 versation with him justly estimated the strength and delicacy of 
 his feelings ; it was impossible for any one to have been more 
 deeply aware of the difficult part he had to perform, nor to have 
 evinced more tenderness in the manner in which he executed it. 
 
 ' I would not have pressed Miss Ha3^ard upon the subject,' 
 he said ; ' I would not willingly distress her, nor excite thoughts 
 which must violently aff^ect her ; but I made a promise solemnly 
 to Herbert, and I have come to fulfil it : and it will be a gratifi- 
 cation to me if I am allowed to do so. Still, if she declines an 
 interview with me, I would leave the packet with you, Mrs. Hay- 
 ward — convinced that it will be in safe hands, and it can be 
 delivered or not to Miss Hajrward as you please.' 
 
 ' If you will remain here. Captain Dalton, I will see Amy, and 
 
232 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 state what you say to her,' replied the old lady, * but I can pro- 
 mise nothing : she is usually calm and strong-minded, but your 
 coming may have such an eflFect upon her as to unfit her for re- 
 ceiving you. You shall, however, soon know the truth.' And 
 so saying she left the room. 
 
 Philip looked around. There were books, Italian and Spanish 
 poets open upon the table, with some beautiful embroidery, which 
 showed that Amy must have been there when he was announced. 
 On a side table was an unfinished landscape — a large tree, a few 
 sheep, and a mossy bank, beautifully painted ; and the colours 
 and water which stood near it proved that she had lately been 
 engaged upon it Philip went to examine it, and while ad- 
 miring the freedom and vigour of the drawing, and the keen 
 perception of nature evident in the coloring, the door gently 
 opened, and a lady entered, whose appearance caused in his heart 
 a thrill of excitement, and a confusion in his address which he 
 had little expected. 
 
 ' Miss Hayward, I presume,' he said, advancing to her with 
 hesitation \ for her beauty, the sweet expression of her face, and 
 her mild blue eyes, fixed his attention, and rendered his manner 
 involuntarily constrained. 
 
 Amy could not reply, her heart was full even to choking ; she 
 had in vain tried to compose herself when his name was announced; 
 but unable to do so, she had left the room ; and it was only on 
 hearing the message her mother had delivered, that she deter- 
 mined to see the friend of her Herbert, to speak to him who had 
 received his last message for her ; and she came down alone to 
 meet him. She had, however, taxed her powers of endurance to 
 the utmost: the sight of the tall and manly figure of Philip, 
 his dark and expressive features — bronzed somewhat by an 
 eastern sun, yet preserving the ruddy glow of health — his soldier- 
 like form and bearing — all caused at first a rush of remembrances 
 almost too powerful to endure ; and her imagination, despite of 
 her efforts not to yield to such thoughts, could not help picturing 
 to herself how Herbert would have been improved — how he would 
 have looked, how he would have met her after their long absence ! 
 She could not speak to Dalton, but trembled exceedingly, and 
 would have fallen ; but, seeing her agitation, he assisted her to a 
 seat ; she sank into it, and, unable to speak, buried her face in 
 her hands. Philip sat silent for a while, but he saw that further 
 delay would only be a protraction of her misery. 
 
 ' Miss Hayward,' he said very respectfully, ' I am the bearer 
 of a small packet for you, which I promised to deliver; if 
 you will receive it from my hands, I shall be gratified, as 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 233 
 
 you will have enabled me to fulfil a promise 1 have looked on 
 as sacred.' 
 
 Again Amy endeavoured to reply, but her words failed her, 
 and her hand trembled so much as she stretched it out to him, 
 that he feared the consequences of her emotion. 
 
 'I implore you to be calm, Miss Hayward; shall I ring for 
 water — for your mother? can I do aught to assist you?' he 
 continued, as he gave her the little packet, which she received 
 with extreme agitation, and not daring to look at him. 
 
 ' No, I thank you, Captain Dalton,' she said at length, after a 
 severe effort to repress her feelings, in which she partly suc- 
 ceeded. • I am better now, and will hear whatever he — ^whatever 
 you have to say — it will be better than to delay.' 
 
 But Philip feared the result, and urged that her mother at 
 least should be present. 
 
 'No,' she replied, 'it is better thus; with her I should fail, 
 alone, I think, I can be firm ; therefore proceed.' 
 
 And he obeyed her : he told her of their last service — of the 
 events of the war ; and when she appeared to listen calmly, he 
 mentioned their last few days' intercourse, their last interview, 
 their farewell, and their mutual promises in case of the death of 
 either. There was no message in particular to herself — the 
 packet would explain all, he said ; he had been desired to men- 
 tion to her the events that had occurred before he received it, 
 and he was thankful he had been spared to deliver the message 
 himself. 
 
 Amy listened patiently, and grew calmer as he proceeded; he 
 could not see her features, for her hand covered them as she 
 leaned back ; but at length, before he ceased, he could perceive 
 that his simple narrative had soothed her ; for a silent tear forced 
 its way between her slender fingers, and trickled over her fair 
 hand ; she appeared not to be aware of it, and others followed 
 rapidly; nature had yielded her most gentle remedy for a 
 troubled spirit — silent tears, which flow without pain or sobbings. 
 
 He did not disturb her thoughts, which appeared entirely to 
 absorb her, and he fancied that she prayed mentally, for her lips 
 moved. He arose, and stealing to the door, opened it very 
 gently and quitted the apartment; it was enough that he had 
 seen and spoken to her. Mrs. Compton stood without, anxiously 
 awaiting the issue, should there have been occasion for her aid; 
 he told her how touchingly, how beautifully she had heard bim; 
 and the mother was glad that Dalton had seen her, that the crisis 
 had passed so calmly. 
 
 'She will be better for this hereafter,' she said, and judged 
 
234 TIPPOO SVLTAUN. 
 
 rightly. Amy was more cheerful, and more equably so from that 
 day. 
 
 Mrs. Hayward accompanied Philip to her husband's study, to 
 bear him the happy tidings that had so rejoiced her j and here 
 they long and earnestly talked over Philip's hopes, his almost 
 certainty that Herbert lived. There was much which appeared to 
 both Mr, and Mrs. Hayward improbable in what he thoughts- 
 much that they could not understand, from their ignorance of the 
 habits of the natives, and of their highly civilised and cultivated 
 character. In the end, however, they could not but encourage 
 the glimmering of hope which had entered their minds^^dimmed, 
 it is true, by doubts and fears, but still abiding there. It would 
 have been cruel, however, to have mentioned this to Amy, and 
 for the present she was ignorant of it. 
 
 Amy sat long so absorbed in thought that she had not noticed 
 the departure of Philip Dalton j and when she spoke, not daring 
 to withdraw her hands from her eyes, and received no answer, she 
 looked around and saw that she was alone. Then she thanked 
 Philip in her heart for his tender consideration of her, and long 
 remembered the act, simple as it was, with gratitude. She held 
 the packet she had received, and once more dared to look on the 
 well-known handwriting. She knew that it could be of no later 
 date than the letters she had already in her possession ; but it 
 was not opened, it was to be given her only in case of his death ; 
 and her mind was oppressed with feelings of awe, as she almost 
 hesitated to break the seal and peruse its contents. It is a 
 period for solemn thought when we open a letter from one known 
 to be dead^to think that the hand which traced the characters 
 is cold and powerless, that the mind whose thoughts are there 
 recorded is no longer constituted as ours. This carries us 
 involuntarily into a deep train of thought and speculation, vague 
 and indefinite — leading to no end but a vain striving for know- 
 ledge of what is better hidden in futurity. Or if the writing be 
 that of one dear or familiar to us, how many reminiscences 
 crowd instantly into the mind ! tokens of affection, in which 
 nature is prolific, soothing the thoughts of the survivor, while they 
 hallow the memory of the dead. 
 
 Amy's packet was precious indeed; Herbert had written to 
 her gravely and thoughtfully, yet here and there with passionate 
 love, as though he had at times failed in checking the expression 
 of feelings to which, when she received the letter, he could no 
 longer respond. He had enclosed a little locket, which con- 
 tained his hair, and implored her with an earnestness which his 
 strong sense of honour prompted, but which cost him pain to 
 
TIPPQO SULTAUN. 235 
 
 write and her to peruse, while she honoured his memory in death, 
 not to refuse that station in life to which she would be solicited 
 by many. She appreciated these expressions with 3 just sense of 
 the feeUngs under which he had written them; but while she 
 read them, she more stroogly than ever clung to his memory 
 with grateful and devoted, yet mournful affection. And could 
 Philip have seen her as she rose from the perusal of tha.t letter, 
 with eyes dim and glistening with tesars, and advancing to the 
 window, look forth in her calm and gentle beauty over the broad 
 and glowing landscape — he might have worshipped her in his 
 heart as a personification of one of those pure beings who do 
 service in heaven, and who, toughed with our infirmities, can be 
 supposed to feel in some degree the sorrows of an earthly 
 existence. 
 
 From that day forth there was no reserve on Philip's part 
 towards the Beechwood family, with whom he was ever a wel- 
 come and a sought-for guest. His own affairs, and a visit to his 
 elder brother (for his mother, his only surviving parent, had died 
 while he was in India), occupied him for a month after his 
 departure from the rectory ; and whe?i this period had arrived, 
 he was only too glad to avail himself of the pressing invitations 
 of both families to return and spend some time alternately with 
 them. The young Haywards too had returned home ; the one 
 from Scotland, where he had been on a visit ; the other from 
 Oxford, where he was studying for a degree. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 In this delightful society Philip's time flew rapidly and happily ; 
 he was fond of the chase and of shooting, and in the noble stud 
 of Beechwood, and over its broad manors and preserves, there 
 were ample resources for both pursuits, and the young men 
 became intimate and inseparable compa,nions. Among them- 
 selves they often talked of Herbert as of a departed brother, and 
 Philip at length unreservedly opened his heart to them on the 
 subject which, except one of later growth, was nearest to it 
 
 Our hearts often take strong impressions from the veriest 
 trifles ; — how much more when they are assisted or coloured by 
 adventitious circumstances ! As Philip listened to the sweet 
 voice he had beard singing as he rode up to the rectory on the 
 
236 TIPPOO SULTAUlSr. 
 
 evening he first arrived there, his sensibilities had been power- 
 fully excited towards the songstress, either because she might be 
 the affianced, or the sister of his friend. 
 
 He had been introduced to all the family in succession on that 
 evening, and he was at once struck with the beauty of one of the 
 young ladies, and her great likeness to his friend ; she had the 
 same large and expressive blue eye, regular features, and brown 
 hair, falling upon her shoulders in luxuriant curling tresses ; she 
 was taller in proportion than he was, but her figure was remark- 
 able for its grace and beauty of contour. He then hoped she 
 might be the songstress ; why, he could hardly have told. 
 
 He heard her repeat the air to which he had first listened, for 
 it was often afterwards sung by the small but well-trained band, 
 and distinguished by the name of Captain Dalton's favourite; 
 night after night did Philip sit listening with increasing delight to 
 Ellen's rich voice as she sang either alone or in parts. Indeed 
 she was a thorough mistress of the art, in which she had from the 
 first been well grounded ; and her execution evinced a pure taste, 
 which, entering into the spirit of the composer, sought rather to 
 draw gratification from giving expression to his thoughts, than to 
 indulge in the poor vanity of exhibiting her own powers. She 
 was by no means insensible to the marked pleasure which her 
 singing gave to the young soldier j and from this commencement, 
 there gradually sprang up a warm and increasing attachment, 
 which her parents observed with sincere pleasure. 
 
 Philip found, on a further knowledge of her character, that she 
 possessed many tastes and feelings in common with his own ; and 
 he observed with delight her extensive charity, her visits with 
 Amy to the sick and poor of the neighbourhood, and their close 
 and affectionate friendship. Somehow or other, he oftener spoke 
 to her than to the rest, and she listened (so he thought) with more 
 interest than the others to his tales of foreign climes and hard 
 service ; he oftener found something to do for her, oftener walked 
 with her, or escorted her and Amy upon their charitable visits. 
 A thousand kindnesses passed between them, which in others 
 would have been forgotten, but with them were treasured up, and 
 remembered vividly when they were separated. 
 
 We do not intend to be the chroniclers of this tale of mutual 
 attachment, which steadily increased, and — as there was no op- 
 position from her parents, but on the contrary the utmost desire 
 that it should progress steadily and uninterruptedly — ^was in the 
 end successful. Philip waited, however, until he had known her 
 for nearly a year ; and when he felt sure that his offer would be 
 accepted, he made it, and was rewarded. The gentle and lovely 
 
TIPPOO SULTAVN. 237 
 
 girl had long been his, and she now gave herself up to the ardent 
 feelings of her loving heart. 
 
 They were married : early in the spring of the year succeeding 
 the one in which Philip had arrived, the joyous bridal took place 
 — on one of those bright and sunny days when hardly a cloud 
 dims the serenity of the sky, when the buds are just bursting into 
 life, and nature, having rested through the winter, is about to 
 resume her robe of luxuriant foliage, ere she rejoices in the 
 genial sun and the warm winds of summer. 
 
 Amy consented, with much fear and many doubts of her abi- 
 lity, to go through her simple duties as one of the bride's-maids ; 
 and she appeared that day in more than her usual beauty, having 
 thrown off her garb of mourning. Ellen's sisters, and Philip's 
 only one, were the others ; and as the joyous procession wound 
 down the broad aisle of the old church, and the light streaming 
 through the painted windows rested upon the group collected 
 around the altar, assuredly on a gayer bridal party, or one whose 
 hearts were more linked together by affection, the bright and 
 glowing sun never shone. Nevertheless, there were a few among 
 them on whom the hand of sorrow had lain heavily, and who, if 
 they did not join in the exuberant joy of the rest, were as sincere 
 and as fervent in their prayers and wishes, for the happiness of 
 those who plighted their vows in their presence. 
 
 Some months — nearly a year — passed, and, what Philip had 
 wished so much, the purchase of a majority in a regiment then 
 in India, was at last within his attainment ; for he had not con- 
 cealed from Mr. Compton nor from his wife, that he still looked 
 to that land for distinction and advancement in his profession, 
 and also for the chance of sooner or later discovering a clue to 
 the fate of him whom all still mourned. The handsome portion 
 which he had received with Ellen had enabled him to meet the 
 outlay for this advancement with perfect convenience, and in a 
 short time he was gazetted as Major in the — th, then serving in 
 the Madras Presidency ; and being anxious to join his regiment, 
 he prepared without delay. 
 
 This was, however, productive of another incident in the family 
 circle of Beechwood. In the mind of the youngest of Amy's 
 brothers, Philip's wild tales of adventure — of battles, of marches, 
 of the gorgeous country, and its curious and interesting inhabi- 
 tants — of their ceremonies and their -various faiths— of tiger 
 and wild-boar hunts — ^had excited a restless curiosity to be- 
 hold them, and to become an actor in the stirring scenes 
 which were every day taking place. But when Philip spoke 
 of Herbert, and of his own hope that he would be eventually 
 
238 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 recovered, Charles JBayward's enthusiasm was wanned by his 
 .affection, and his waking thoughts and dreams were alike inces- 
 santly occupied with speculations upon the subject, which unfitted 
 him for study, and rendered him restless and uneasy. Long 
 before Philip had declared his intention of returning to India, 
 Charles had determined upon requesting his father's permission 
 to enter the army in a regiment serving as near the scene of Her- 
 bert's disappearance as possible. 
 
 Charles, too, loved his sister with an intensity which would 
 have Urged him to make any sacrifice for her sake, and it was 
 anguish to him to see her bowed down by mental suffering, and 
 clinging with fond tenacity to the memory of the dead, when his 
 own exertions, guided by the experience of their friend Dalton, 
 might, under the aid of Providence, be instrumental in restoring 
 her to her usual health and joyous spirits. It was true she had 
 expressed no thought or hope of Herbert's existence to any of 
 them 5 and the youth, as he roamed with her through the park, 
 or sat with her in her own little study, where she was surrounded 
 by precious memorials of Herbert, often longed to tell her of 
 Philip's suspicions, and his own wild yearnings towards that 
 distant land. 
 
 Had he done so, there is little doubt that she would have 
 disclosed to him, sooner than she did, the hope she secretly 
 cherished, that Herbert still existed and would return. No sooner 
 had Philip openly declared his intention of revisiting India, than 
 Charles' determination was formed to break the matter at once 
 to his father, and to proceed with Philip, should no opposition be 
 made-^some objections he certainly anticipated, but he thought 
 he could overcome them. Before he broached the subject to 
 his parents, he held a long and anxious conversation with Philip, 
 and was delighted to find that he not only coincided in his views, 
 but was prepared to aid them by his interest in the purchase of 
 an ensigncy in the regiment to which he now belonged, in which 
 there was a vacant commission. 
 
 His proposal, as he had anticipated, was met by many objec- 
 tions and niuch distress on the part of his parents and sister. 
 Loving him tenderly as she did, Amy could not bear the thought 
 which at first obtruded upon her, that India would be his grave, 
 as it had been that of Herbert But the young man was resolute ; 
 and, after exhausting all his arguments, he called Philip Dalton 
 to his aid, who not only promised to be a guardian to him, but 
 declared he would let slip no opportunity of bettering his station 
 and prospects in his profession. All opposition, therefore, ceased 
 gradually, partly because Charles appeared to relish the prospects 
 
TIPPOO SULTAVN. 239 
 
 of a militafy life more than any othef, and partly because there 
 appeared a likeUhood of rapid advancement in the regiment while 
 it remained on its eastern service. 
 
 The day at last arrived when he was to leave home for his long 
 absence ; to all it was a source of bitter grief, but the most so to 
 his mother and to Amy ; and ere the hour came when he was to 
 depart from them, Amy led him away from the house, and, 
 wandering together, they talked over the future — to him bright 
 with promise — a contrast, and a sad one to h^rs, which was so 
 overcast. They wandered on through the parks, and fey the 
 stream, where years before she had roamed with Herbert. Charles 
 knew that she must be thinking of him whose fate was wrapt in 
 mystery, and he longed to know and to share all her thoughts 
 and feelings on the subject. Gradually he led her to speak of 
 Herbert; and as their conversation warmed, the devoted girl 
 could no longer refrain from unburdening her heart, and confess- 
 ing the hopes which only her God, to whom she addressed them 
 night and morning in fervent prayer, knew to exist. 
 
 Stillj however, Charles Was sorely perplexed, and his judg- 
 ment and affection were at variance; but the latter prevailed 
 under her artless confidence, and he told her in hesitation and 
 fear of PhiUp Dalton's feopes of the chances of Herbert's hfe, 
 spoke to her of the folly of cherishing hope only because they had 
 not heard he was dead, but nevertheless declared how this had 
 preyed on his mind till it almost amounted to an earnest of 
 success. 
 
 She listened with breathless interest to his narrative — it was too 
 much in accordance with her own thoughts to be slighted. She 
 did not blame her brother that he had kept it from her, and she 
 could not have borne it from Dalton : now she beheved all — not 
 rashly, however — for her mind was strong and tempered by 
 affliction ; but there was more room for hope than ever, and she felt 
 as though the hand of Providence was discernible in the matter, 
 guiding her brother onward in the track of her lost Herbert. 
 Now that their most secret thoughts were in common, she felt that 
 she could part with Charles more easily ; and he left her at last 
 in their little summer-house, where she loved to sit, and where 
 they had been conversing-^aiflicted, yet ivith hope in her heart. 
 • His mother bade him farewell, with many tears and many 
 prayers for his safety; and, accompanied by his father and his 
 elder brother, Charles was rapidly whirled away from his home, 
 to enter upon the life of danger and adventure he had chosen for 
 himself. In another week, he, with Philip Dalton and his wife, had 
 left their native shoiies for a long and perhaps perilous absence. 
 
240 TJPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 Six months had now passed at Seringapatam, during much of 
 which time Kasim Ali had been absent on the various duties 
 connected with his new situation. He had risen in rank, and 
 from the steadiness of his conduct, the Khan would have been 
 glad to have kept Kasim always with him ; but this was impos- 
 sible, for the Sultaun's eye was upon him, although, remembering 
 the scene in the Durbar, he had wished to see little of one who 
 had behaved so boldly before him, yet whom he respected from 
 the lucky appearances he believed Kasim to possess, and which 
 he had given himself credit for having discovered. He would 
 often say to his favourite, Syud Sahib, that he was sure Kasim 
 Ali, notwithstanding he was in disgrace, would be of service to 
 him in the end, and that it was better he should be checked at 
 first, and thus, inspired with a thirst for distinguishing himself, 
 than spoiled by too early notice or promotion. 
 
 But he had nevertheless given a strong proof of his reliance 
 on the young man's ability and courage. Hardly a month had 
 passed after his disgrace, and Kasim was fast sinking into a state 
 of apathy at his dim prospects, which at first were so brilliant, 
 when the Sultaun entrusted him with a mission requiring much 
 delicacy and tact in its execution. It will be remembered that 
 the Khan had stated in the Durbar, that he had heard of an 
 embassy to Seringapatam being meditated at the Nizam's court ; 
 and this Tippoo so earnestly desired, that his restless mind was 
 in a constant state of irritation upon the subject. Could he only 
 detach the Nizam from the alliance of the hated English — could 
 the Afghan monarch only see the two great Mahomedan powers 
 of the south united in a close alliance — ^he would pour his hardy 
 followers upon their northern possessions — ^there might be a 
 second battie of Paniput ! And, with such a result, what was 
 to prevent the northern army joining with the Nizam's — with 
 his own — and, falling in one overwhelming mass upon the 
 English possessions, — ^their driving the hated race into the 
 sea for ever? A month passed, and still no embassy arrived, 
 nor was there any intelligence of one; to gain news therefore 
 of the Nizam's court, he dispatched Kasim, attended only by a 
 horseman or two, to travel by rapid marches to Hyderabad, and 
 to discover, as far as lay in his power, the sentiments of the 
 Court and the feeling of the people. 
 
 Kasim was gratified beyond expression by the selection of 
 him above others of known sagacity for such a mission, and he 
 determined to spare neither exertion nor zeal in his master's 
 cause, in order to regain his favour. By the most rapid marches 
 he traversed the nearest road to Bellary — that to the westward ot 
 
TJPPOO SULTAUN. 241 
 
 Nundidroog; and resting only a night at his own humble but 
 not less dear home, where he found his -mother well and his 
 affairs continuing prosperous, he pushed on to Hyderabad ; where, 
 as soon as he arrived, he set himself to work to gain information. 
 For nearly three months did he wait there, expecting with 
 anxiety the determination of the vacillating prince. At one time 
 he heard that an embassy would soon set oflf, and that a noble- 
 man was appointed ambassador; this wis again contradicted, 
 and it was riimoured that the Nizam had entered into a fresh 
 league with the English. But in the end there was no doubt 
 that an embassy would be sent to try the temper of the Mysore 
 chief ; and Kasim, hearing from undoubted authority the name 
 of the gentleman who had been nominated, Ali Reza, waited on 
 him, disclosed the subject of his mission, and having given such 
 an account as he was able of the Sultaun's anxiety, received in 
 return the purport of the proposed embassy, which was in effect 
 what Tippoo looked for. Having obtained this, and being 
 assured by Ali Reza that they should meet again in a short 
 time, Kasim left Hyderabad, and, with the same expedition, 
 returned to Seringapatam. Again, on his way, he stayed with 
 his mother ; again he visited the spot, which continued dear 
 to him from the memorable night's adventure, — the trees were 
 growing up, and the tomb of the poor soldier was tleatly kept. 
 He had to answer a thousand questions to his mother respecting 
 their journey and Ameena, Of whom Kasim could now tell her 
 nothing, except that the Khan, whenever he inquired after her 
 health, said she was well and happy. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Thk Sultaun was delighted at the news }ie received, which, while 
 it surpassed his expectations, apparently confirmed him in his 
 immediate plans of action. As the rainy season of 1788 closed, 
 large bodies of troops were despatched to Coimbatoor, for the 
 purpose of prosecuting the war against the rebellious Nairs, who, 
 in the jungles and forests of Malabar, continued to defy the 
 governor's power, and the forces from time to time sent against 
 them. Among the latter was Kasim, soon after his return from 
 the mission to Hyderabad, from the success of which he had 
 hoped to have re-occupied his place near the Sultaun's 
 
 Q 
 
242 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 person: but the wrong he had done had not been entirely 
 forgiven or forgotten. 
 
 Nor was the Khan his companion ; he was detached with the 
 other half of the Khan's risala, which was commanded by 
 Dilawur Ali, an officer somewhat like the Khan himself, but 
 older — one of Hyder Ali's earliest adherents, who had been 
 spared through many a hard fight and rough service; to him 
 Kasim was of the utmost use, both as an excellent secretary, 
 and an intelligent and upright adviser. 
 
 The Sultaun took the field in person against the Nairs in 
 January of the ensuing year, and prosecuted the war against 
 them with the utmost energy. In one fort alone, two thousand 
 of them capitulated, who were converted, under the threat of 
 death if they refused the rite of Islam : complying therefore, 
 they publicly ate of beef, which, abhorrent as it was to them, 
 they were obliged to partake of. The war prospered, and, ere 
 the rains had set in, the territory was subdued by the ravages of 
 the Mysore army ; for the war had been proclaimed a holy one 
 by the Sultaun, who, with mad fanaticism, everjrwhere destroyed 
 temples, broke their images and plundered their treasures. 
 Those Nairs who would not accept the conversion offered, 
 were hunted like wild beasts and destroyed in thousands. 
 
 The army at Coimbatoor heard of these events one by one as 
 they happened, and of the marriage of the Sultaun's son to the 
 beautiful daughter of the lady ruler of Cannanore ; and he soon 
 afterwards arrived in triumph at Coimbatoor, having left a large 
 detachment to complete the destruction of the Nairs. 
 
 Great were the rejoicings upon the victories that had been 
 gained ; the army had tasted blood, and, like their tiger leader^ 
 thirsted for more. Here was celebrated the Mohurrum, the 
 sacred anniversary of the deaths of Hassan and Hoosein, with 
 all the pomp and with all the zeal to which an army of fanatical 
 Mahomedans could be excited by the example of their bigoted 
 Sultaun. At this time was issued the proclamation that the 
 kingly Noubut was to be performed five tinies on every Friday, 
 because that day was the sabbath of the faithful — the day on 
 which the flood happened — the day on which the Heaven was 
 created. The Sultaun and his astrologers observed the aspect of 
 the stars; and in a fortunate hour when the Moon was in Taurus, 
 Mercury and Venus in Virgo, the Sun in Leo, Saturn in Aquarius, 
 and Venus in opposition to Libra, it was proclaimed with pomp 
 in the mosques that the music would be played and royal state 
 observed. Then the deep tones of the huge kettle-drums burst 
 from the neighbourhood of the Sultaun's tent, and the assembled 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 243 
 
 army broke into loud acclamations and hoarse cries of ' Deen ! 
 Deen ! the Sultaun is the apostle ! the Sultaun is the conqueror ! ' 
 
 A few days afterwards the long looked-for embassy arrived 
 from Hyderabad, and Kasim once more welcomed his friends. 
 They were presented to the Sultaun in a full durbar of his 
 oflScers, native and European, with all the pomp of regal state. 
 They were at once disgusted with the assumed consequence of 
 one whose state was less than that of their prince ; but they 
 presented the splendid Koran they had been entrusted with, 
 upon which it was said that the Nizam had sworn to aid Tippoo 
 with his whole army and power against the English. The letters 
 they bore were cautious and dignified; yet, through the over- 
 whelming flow of Eastern compliment, could be discovered the 
 hidden meaning which Tippoo had so long and so earnestly 
 expected. The ambassadors were dismissed for the present with 
 honour, and the whole army rejoiced that such an alliance would 
 be entered into. 
 
 A long conference did Tippoo hold that night, with the officers 
 whom he habitually consulted, upon the subject of the embassy. 
 He had long been solicitous of allying himself by marriage with 
 the princely family of the Dekhan, but had never had an oppor- 
 tunity of proposing it ; now, when the Nizam had sought him — ■ 
 when, humbled by the English and in dread of the Mahratta 
 power, that prince had asked aid against both from his brother in 
 the faith — ^he thought he could make that a condition of com- 
 pliance. It had been his favourite project for years, and he was 
 now determined to urge it. 
 
 It was in vain that those who wished his cause well, advised 
 him bluntly and honestly to forego his request for the present ; 
 there were others who listened to his rhapsodies about the stars, 
 to the records of his dreams, until they were carried on to support 
 the demand ; and it was made as proudly by the vain and inflated 
 Sultaun, as his receipt of the embassy had been ostentatious and 
 offensive. 
 
 But the Nizam's ambassadors were men of sound judgment ; 
 they knew that their prince had lowered himself already in send- 
 ing the embassy to a self-constituted Sultaun — a low-born upstart ; 
 and, men of high family themselves, they could well appreciate 
 the situation in which he would feel himself placed by the pro- 
 posal. They answered the demand in cold and haughty terms, 
 and, requesting their dismissal, soon after left his camp. 
 
 It was in vain that the Sultaun's best friends urged their recall 
 as of vital importance to himself, — and to the cause of Islam, the 
 ambassadors were allowed to proceed on their return to Hydera. 
 
244 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 bad. The Saltaun's message was received with indignation by 
 the Nizam, whose pride instantly rose against the degradation of 
 the proposed matrimonial connection. An embassy from Tippoo, 
 which followed, was dismissed with a flat refusal ; and the Nizam, 
 throwing himself now entirely into the cause of the English, 
 pressed them for the execution of the treaty of 1768, which in- 
 volved the conquest of Mysore. 
 
 Those who were near the Sultaun when he received the reply, 
 for he had waited the issue of his demand ere he commenced the 
 operations he had long ago determined upon, saw how nearly the 
 refusal had touched his pride, and expected some outbreak of 
 violent passion. But he stifled his feelings for the time ; or per- 
 haps, in the pride of possessing the fine army he commanded, 
 and the slavish adoration which it paid him, he did not heed the 
 slight. He was only heard to say, ' Well, it is a matter of no 
 consequence ; we, who are the chosen of Alia, will alone do the 
 work which lies before us, marked out so plainly that we cannot 
 deviate from it. Inshalla! alone we will do what Nizam Ali 
 Khan will wonder at in his zenana, as he sits smoking like an 
 eunuch. Ya, kureem Alia ! thou art witness that thy servant's 
 name has been left out from among those who are not to be 
 attacked; Nizam Ali and the base infidel English have done 
 this. But let them beware; thou canst revenge me on them 
 both if thou wilt!' 
 
 His army too felt the slight which had been offered, and in 
 their mad zeal might have been led to the gates of Hyderabad or 
 those of Madras, but that was not the Sultaun"s plan ; he had 
 resolved on one which had been sketched out by his father, and 
 which he thought he had now matured. The possession of 
 Travancore had long been coveted by his father, but he had 
 been repulsed in his attacks upon it ; and as many of the con- 
 quered Nairs had taken refuge in the Travancore territory, the 
 Sultaun now demanded that they should be given up as rebellious 
 subjects. This being indignantly refused, as he expected, he at 
 length marched from Coimbatoor at the head of thirty-five thou- 
 sand men, the flower of his army. 
 
 The Khan had arrived with the remainder of the corps from 
 Seringapatam, and had brought Ameena with him, to the disgust 
 and chagrin of his other wives, who, during his stay, had vainly 
 endeavoured to begin their scheme of tormenting the gentle girl. 
 She had hitherto been unmolested, and as happy as it was possible 
 for her to be with these companions, and such others as she be- 
 came acquainted with from time to time. 
 
 The friends were now once more united, and- looked forward 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 245 
 
 with ardour to sharing the events and dangers of the campaign 
 together. Kasim, in the daily march, often watched the well- 
 known palankeen of Ameena to its destination, and, as often as 
 etiquette permitted, inquired after her. He heard she was well, 
 and it would have been pleasant to him could he have known the 
 truth— that he was often the subject of interesting conversation 
 between her and her lord, and that she remembered him grate- 
 fully and vividly. 
 
 Through the plaitt which extends Westward to the ocean, be- 
 tween the huge afld precipitous Neelgherries on the one hand, 
 and the lofty and many-peaked Animallee range on the other, the 
 host of Tippoo poured. Day by day saw an advance of many 
 miles ; and the season being favourable, they marched on with- 
 out a check. The Sultaun was always at the head of the column 
 of march, sometimes on foot with a musket on his shoulder, show- 
 ing an example to his regular infantry who followed in order, 
 relating his dreams, and pretending to inspiration among his 
 sycophants who marched with him. At other times he appeared 
 surrounded by his irregular cavalry, whom of old he had led 
 against the English at Perambaukum,— ^a gorgeous-looking force, 
 consisting of men of all descriptions— the small and wiry Mah- 
 ratta, the more robust Mahomedan, men from Afghanistan and 
 from the north of India, whom the splendid service and brilliant 
 reputation of the Sultaun had tempted from their distant homes. 
 
 Sometimes he would be seen to dash out from among them as 
 they rode alo'ng^— a wild and picturesque-looking band — and 
 turning his horse in the plaitt, would soon be foUowed by the 
 most active and best-mounted of his officers, whose bright costumes, 
 armour, and gaudy trappings glistened in the sun as they rode at 
 one another. Then would ensue some mock combat or skirmish, 
 in which the Sultaun bore an active and often a victorious part, 
 and in which hard blows were by no means of rare occurrence. 
 Ever foremost in these mock encounters were Kasim Ali and the 
 Khan his commander ; the former however was always the most 
 conspicuous. He was usually dressed in a suit of chain-armour, 
 which had been given him by the Khan, arid which he wore over 
 his usual silk or satin quilted vest ; on his head was a round 
 steel cap, surmounted by a steel spike, and around it was always 
 tied a shawl of the gayest red or yellow, or else a mundeel or 
 other scarf of gold or silver tissue. He usually carried a long 
 tilting-lance of bamboo^ with a stuffed ball at the end, from which 
 depended a number of small streamers of various colours ; or else 
 his small inlaid matchlock, with which from time to time he shot 
 at birds, or deer as they bounded along in the thickets which 
 
246 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 lined the road. He had expended all the money he could spare 
 in purchasing handsome trappings for his horse ; and indeed the 
 Khan's noble gift well became his silver ornaments and the gay 
 red, yellow, and green khogeer,* the seat of which was of crimson 
 velvet, with a deep fringe cut into points, and hanging far below 
 its belly. 
 
 Tippoo often noticed the young. Kasim since his mission to 
 Hyderabad, and as he attended the Khan (who was always 
 among the crowd of officers near the person of the Sultaun) he 
 frequently had an opportunity of joining in these mel'ees, in which 
 he was dreaded by many for his strengSi, perfect mastery of his 
 weapons, and beautiful horsemanship. Indeed the Sultaun had 
 himself, or more than one occasion, crossed spears with the 
 young Pat61, and been indebted for victory to the courtesy of his 
 antagonist rather than his own prowess. He never addressed to 
 him more than a word or two during these mock encounters, 
 noticing him however to the old Khan, by whom the gracious 
 speeches were related to Kasim in his tent. 
 
 Kasim had been more than usually fortunate one morning, a 
 few days after they had left Coimbatoor j he had engaged rather 
 roughly with another officer, and had overthrown him, and the 
 Sultaun expressed himself with more than usual warmth to the 
 Khan. 
 
 ' By the Prophet, we must forgive thy young friend,' he said, 
 'and promote him; didst thou see how he overthrew Surmust 
 Khan just now, Klian Sahib ? there are few who could do that. 
 We had much ado to persuade the Khan that it was accidental ; 
 thou must tell the youth to be more discreet in future ; we would 
 have no man his enemy but ourselves.' 
 
 ' May your condescension increase ! ' cried the Khan ; ' I will 
 icU the youth ; but did my lord ever see him shoot ? ' 
 
 ' Ha ! can he do that also. Khan ? could he hit me yonder 
 goat, thinkest thou ? ' exclaimed Tippoo, as he pointed to one, the 
 patriarch of a herd, browsing among some craggy rocks at a short 
 distance, and which, interrupted in its morning's meal, was 
 bleating loudly, as it looked over the glittering and busy host 
 which was approaching. 
 
 'It is a long shot,' said the Khan, putting his forefinger 
 between his teeth and considering; 'nevertheless, I think he 
 could.' 
 
 'Wilt thou hold me a wager he does?' cried the Sultaun; 
 ' I will bet thee a pair of English pistols against that old one of 
 thine, he does not hit it' 
 
 * Stuffed saddle. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 247 
 
 ' May your favour never be less upon your servant ! I accept 
 it,' cried the Khan ; and he turned round to seek Kasim, who 
 was behind among the other oflScers. The Sultaun stopped, and 
 those around him cried out, ' A wager ! a wager ! Inshalla, the 
 Sultaun will win, his destiny is great ! ' 
 
 Kasim was brought from the rear after some little time, to 
 where the Sultaun stood awaiting him ; the Khan had not told 
 him why, and he appeared to ask for orders. All was soon 
 explained to him ; but the distance was great, and he doubted 
 his power ; however, not daring to disobey, he addressed himself 
 to his task. The goat continued steady, and after a long aim he 
 fired. It was successful ; the animal lost its footing, rolled from 
 its high place, and ere any one of the grooms could reach it with 
 a knife, or pronounce the blessing before they cut its throat, it 
 was dead : the ball had broken its neck. ' Mashalla ! Wonder- 
 ful ! ' passed from mouth to mouth, while some wondered at, and 
 others envied the young Patdl's success. 
 
 'It must have been chance,' cried the Sultaun good-humouredly ; 
 ' even we, who are by the blessing of Alia a sure shot, could not 
 have done that. Nevertheless thou hast won the pistols, Khan, 
 and shalt have them. But what say you, my friends, to a hunt ; 
 yonder are the Animallee hills, and it is strange if we find no 
 game. We will prove thee again, young sir, ere we believe thy 
 dexterity.' 
 
 ' A hunt, a hunt ! ' cried all ; and the words were taken up and 
 passed from rank to rank, from regiment to regiment, down the 
 long column, until all knew of it, and were prepared to bear their 
 part in the royal sport. Preparations were begun as soon as the 
 army arrived at its halting-place; men were sent forward for 
 information of game ; all the inhabitants of the country "round 
 were collected, by the irregular horse to assist in driving it towards 
 one spot, where it might be attacked. 
 
 For a day previously, under the active superintendence of the 
 royal huntsman, the beaters, with parties of matchlock and rocket- 
 men, took up positions all round a long and narrow valley ; its 
 sides were thickly clothed with wood, but it had an open space 
 at the bottom through which it was possible to ride, though with 
 some difficulty, on account of the long and rank grass. The 
 ground was soft and marshy in places, and had been, at one time, 
 cultivated with rice, as appeared by the square levels constructed 
 so as to contain water. Large clumps of bamboos arose to an 
 enormous height here and there, their light foliage waving in the 
 wind, and giving them the appearance of huge bunches of 
 feathers among the other dense trees by which they were sur- 
 
248 TtPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 rounded. ' Where the ground was not marshy, it was covered with 
 short sward, in some places green, in others parched by the heat 
 of the sun. The sides of the valley arose steeply for. five or six 
 hundred feet, sometimes presenting a richly coloured declivity, 
 froiii which hung the graceful leaf of the wild plantain, creepers 
 innumerable, smaller bamboos, and other light and graceful 
 foliage, amongst which was mingled the huge leaf and sturdy 
 stem of the teak. 
 
 Far above the head of the valley— terminated by, ah abrupt 
 rock, over which a rivulet flung itself in a broken waterfall — hill 
 after hill, mountain after mountain towered into the fleecy mists 
 and clouds — not so lofty as the Neelgherries, which, in the dis- 
 tance on the right, appeared like a huge blue wall, except where 
 the sun glistened upon a precipice of many thousand feet in 
 height, (3r where a vast chasm or jutting shoulder threw a broad 
 shadow over the rest — but still very lofty, and wooded almost to 
 the summit. A strong body of infantry had been placed across 
 the mouth of the valley, with directions to throw up stockades in 
 the elephant paths ; and what game it was possible to drive in 
 from the plain had thus been compelled to enter, and lay, it was 
 thought, securely in the valley. One or two elephants had been 
 seen, which gave hope of more. 
 
 Upon the back of that noble white-faced elephant Hyder 
 (which was taken at the siege of Seringapatam, and still adorns, 
 if he be not recently dead, the processions of the present Nizam), 
 in a howdah of richly chased and carved silver, lined with blue 
 velvet, sat Tippoo — his various guns and rifles supported by a 
 rail in front of him, and ready to his hand. Only one favourite 
 attendant accompanied him, who was in the khowass, or seat 
 behind, and had charge of his powder and bullets. The Sul- 
 taun's dress was quite plain, and, except for his peculiar turban, 
 he could not have been distimguished. 
 
 His cortege was gorgeo'us beyond imagination. As soon as 
 the usual beat of the kettle-drums had announced that he had 
 mounted his elephant, all who had others allowed them hurried 
 after him, dressed in their gayest clothes and brightest colours. 
 Fifty Or sixty elephants were there of that company, all rushing 
 along close together in a body at a rapid pace ; around them was 
 a cloud of irregular cavalry, who, no longer fettered by any kind 
 of discipline, rode tumultuously, shouting, brandishing spears 
 and matchlocks, and occasionally firing their pistols in the air. 
 The hoarse kettle-drums sent forth their dull booming sound, 
 mingled with the trampling of the horses, and at times the shrill 
 trumpeting of the elephants. The army had cast aside its uni- 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN, 249 
 
 form for the day ; officers and men were dressed in their gayest 
 and most picturesque apparel-*— turbans and waistbands, and 
 vests of every hue, and armed with weapons of all kinds, swords 
 and shields, matchlocks and heavy broad-bladed spears ; such as 
 had not these, brought their own muskets and ammunition. 
 
 Thousands had gone on before, and were seen crowding the 
 sides of the entrance to the valleyj but kept back by the exertions 
 of the huntsmen, in order that the Sultaun should enter first, 
 and take up his positiba in the most open place, while the game 
 should be gradually aroused and driven towards him. From the 
 shape of the valley, awd its almost perpendicular sides, it was 
 impossible to surround it so as to make a simultaneous advance 
 from all sides. 
 
 One of the Sultaun's own elephants had been sent for the 
 Khan and Kasim, who were desired to keep as near him as the 
 crowd would allow. They reached the entrance of the ^len at 
 last, and by the streamlet they met the chief huntsman, who was 
 ready to lead them to the spot they should occupy, but the Sul- 
 taun would not permit this. 
 
 ' Let us advance together,' he cried ; ' I see the end of the 
 glen is occupied by men, so nothing can escape us. Bismilla ! 
 let the signal be given to proceed.' 
 
 It had been previously agreed upon ; and the discharge of a 
 small field-piece, which had been dragged to the spot, awoke a 
 thousand echoes in the quiet glen, and the merry thousands with 
 one hoarse shout rushed forward. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 It was a heart-stirring and magnificent sight to see the advance 
 of that mighty hunting party into the glen. Scarcely a quarter of 
 a mile across, the numerous elephants and horsemen were so 
 closed together that it was impossible for anything to escape the 
 line which now slowly but steadily advanced. The distance from 
 the mouth to the waterfall was not more than three-quarters of a 
 mile, and nearly straight, so that the greater part of the interven- 
 ing distance could be seen disticntly — in some places presenting 
 a thick and impenetrable jungle, in others open, as we have 
 before stated. Along the most abrupt sides, and in advance of 
 the royal party, men were stationed, who, as the line advanced, 
 
250 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 discharged rockets, which whizzing into the air descended at a 
 short distance among the trees and brushwood, and urged on the 
 game to the end, where it was met by other discharges. Hun- 
 dreds of men bore large flat drums, which they beat incessantly 
 with sticks ; and from time to time the broken and monotonous 
 sound of the kettle-drums which accompanied Tippoo. and showed 
 where he was, mingled with the din of shouts, screams, halloos, 
 the shrill blasts of the coUery horn, the shriller trumpetings of the 
 elephants, and the neighings of tihe wild and frightened horse& 
 All these noises collectively reverberated through the narrow 
 glen, and from the echoes there arose one vast chaos of stunning 
 sound, the effect of which was assisted by the clear air, while it 
 produced the wildest excitement among the hunters. 
 
 At first no game was seen, except the wild hog of the country, 
 which in hundreds arose from their resting-places, ran hither and 
 thither confusedly among the crowd, — sometimes upsetting and 
 seriously wounding a man or two ; or a timid deer occasionally, 
 unable to escape up the sides and terrified by the din, tried to 
 break the line and perished in the attempts Innumerable pea- 
 fowl arose, and with loud screaming flew onwards, or alighted 
 upon the sides of the glen, and thus escaped ; and birds of every 
 plumage darted from tree to tree ; large flocks of parroquets flew 
 screaming into the air, and after wheeling rapidly once or twice 
 alighted further on, or rising high took at once a flight over the 
 shoulder of the glen and disappeared. 
 
 At length two huge black bears were roused from their den 
 among some rocks which overhung the little stream, and with 
 loud roars, which were heard by all, strove to pass through the 
 line ; they were met by the swords and shields of fifty men upon 
 whom they rushed, and, though they strove gallantly for their 
 lives and wounded several, they were cut to pieces. 
 
 The party had now proceeded about half way, and there was 
 before the Sultaun's elephant a patch of dry rank grass which 
 reached above its middle — even above old Hyder's, who far ex- 
 ceeded all the rest in height ; it was of small extent, however, 
 and was already half surrounded by elephants with their gay 
 howdahs and more gaily dressed riders. 
 
 ' Hold ! ' cried the Sultaun, ' we would try this alone, or with 
 only a few ,• it is a hkely place. Come, Khan, and you Meer 
 Sahib, and you Syud Ghuffoor, see what ye can do to help us ; 
 now, Kasim Ali, prove to me that thou canst shoot — Bismilla ! ' 
 
 ' Bismilla ! ' cried one and all, and the Mahouts urging on the 
 noble beasts, they entered the long grass together. They had 
 not gone many yards, when Hyder, who led, raised his white 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 251 
 
 trunk high into the air, giving at the same time one of those low 
 growls which proved there was something concealed before him. 
 ' Shabash, Hyder ! ' cried the Sultaun, ' thou shalt eat goor for 
 this J get on, my son, get on.!' 
 
 The noble beast seemed almost to understand him, for he 
 quickened his pace even without the command of the Mahout. 
 At that moment a rocket, discharged from the side, whizzed 
 through the grass before them. The effect was instantaneous ; 
 two beautiful tigers arose at once. One of them stood for an 
 instant, looking proudly around him, and lashing his tail as he 
 surveyed the line of elephants, several of which were restless and 
 cowardly ; the other tried to sneak off, but was stopped by a shot 
 which turned him ; and with a terrific roar, which sounded clear 
 far above the din of the beaters, it charged the nearest elephant 
 It was beaten off, however, receiving several shots, and was then 
 followed by a crowd of the hunters. 
 
 Kasim and the Khan had a mind to pursue it too, but the 
 former's attention was at once attracted to the Sultaun, who, 
 having fired and wounded the other tiger, had been charged by 
 it, and had just fired again ; he had missed, however, and the 
 animal, excited to fury, had sprung at old Hyder — a far different 
 foe to that his companion had attacked. Hyder had received 
 the onset firmly, and as the tiger strove to fasten upon his 
 shoulders had kicked him off; but at the second charge, when 
 the Sultaun could not fire, the tiger had seized the elephant's leg, 
 and was tearing it with all the energy of rage, which now defied 
 his exertions to shake him off. 
 
 In vain did the Sultaun try to fire ; he could see the tiger only 
 for a moment at a time, and as Hyder was no longer steady, he 
 again missed his aim. Kasim was, however, near, and with others 
 was anxiously watching his opportunity to fire ; but ere he could 
 do so, one of the men on foot, a stout brawny soldier, with 
 sword drawn and his buckler on his arm, and to whom death had 
 no terror in comparison with gaining distinction under the Sul- 
 taun's own eye, dashed at the tiger, and dealt him a fierce blow 
 on the loins. The blood gushed forth, and the brute, instantly 
 quitting his hold, turned upon the man with a roar which appalled 
 all hearts ; the latter met him manfully, but was unskilful, or the 
 beast was too powerful. All was the work of an instant : the 
 tiger and the man rolled upon the ground, — ^but only one arose; 
 the lacerated and bleeding body of the brave fellow lay there, his 
 features turned upwards to the sun, and his eyes fixed in the 
 leaden stare of death. Now was Kasim's opportunity ; as the 
 tiger looked around him for an instant to make another spring — 
 
252 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 lie fired ; the brute reeled a few paces to the foot of the Sultaun's 
 elejjhant, fell back, and his dying struggles were shortened by 
 the vigorous kicks of the old elephant, who bandied the carcass 
 between his legs like a football. 
 
 ' Bus ! bus ! old Hyder,' cried the Sultaun, who had been 
 soundly shaken. ' Enough ! enough^! he is dead — ^thanks to thy 
 friend yonder ; — ^what ! not satisfied yet ? Well, then, this to 
 please thee,' and he fired again. It was apparently sufiicient, for 
 the noble beast became once more composed. 
 
 While the Mahout* dismounted to examine the elephant's 
 wounds, the Sultaun made some hurried inquiries regarding the 
 man who had been killed. No one, however, knew him; so 
 directing his body to be borne to the rear, and the Mahout hav- 
 ing reported that there was no injury of consequence done to 
 Hyder, the Sultaun, and with him the whole line, once more 
 pressed forward. 
 
 As he passed Xasim, the Sultaun now greeted him heartily. 
 ' Thou didst me good service, youth,' he cried ; ' but for thee my 
 poor Hyder would have been sorely hurt. Enough — ^look sharp ! 
 there may be more work for thy gun yet.' 
 
 So indeed there was : at every step, as they advanced, the 
 quantity of game appeared to increase ; another bear was aroused, 
 and, after producing a vast deal of merriment and shouting, was 
 slain as the former ones had been. Several hyaenas were speared 
 or shot ; guns were discharged in all directions at the deer and 
 hogs which were everywhere running about, and bullets were 
 flying, much to the danger of those engaged in the wild and 
 animated scene : indeed one or two men were severely wounded 
 during the day. 
 
 Suddenly, when they had nearly reached the head of the glen, 
 the Sultaun, who was leading, stopped ; the others hastened after 
 him, as fast as the thick crowd would allow, and all beheld a 
 sight which raised their excitement to the utmost Before them, 
 on a small open spot, under a rock, close to the right side of the 
 glen, stood three elephants ; one a huge male, the others a female 
 and her calf, of small stature. 
 
 No one spoke — all were breathless with anxiety; for it was 
 impossible to say whether it would be advisable to attack the 
 large elephant where he stood, or to allow him to advance. The 
 latter seemed to be the most prevalent opinion ; and the Sultaun 
 awaited his coming, while he hallooed to those in advance to urge 
 him on. The noble monarch of the forest stood awaiting his 
 foes — his brethren, who were thus trained to act against him. 
 
 * Elephant-driver. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 253 
 
 His small red eye twinkled with excitement ; . his looks were 
 savage, and he appeared almost resolved upon a rush, to en- 
 ' deavour to break the line and escape, or perish. He did not 
 move, but stood holding a twig in his trunk, as if in very excess 
 of thought he had torn it down and still held it. However, there 
 was no time for consideration. As the Sultaun raised his gun to 
 his shoulder several shots were fired, and the noble beast, im- 
 pelled by rage and agony, rushed at once upon the nearest 
 elephant among his enemies. A shower of balls met him, but he 
 heeded them not : he was maddened, and could see or feel only 
 his own revenge. In vain the Mahout of the elephant that was 
 attacked strove to turn his beast, which had been suddenly para- 
 lysed by fear ; but the wild one appeared to have no revengeful 
 feelings against his fellow. While they all looked on, without 
 being able to afford the least aid, the wild elephant had seized in 
 his trunk the Mahout of the one he had attacked, wheeled him 
 round high in the air, and dashed him upon the ground. A cry 
 of horror burst from all present, and a volley of bullets were 
 rained upon him ; it had the effect of making him drop the body : 
 but though sorely wounded, he did not fall, and retreating, he 
 passed from their sight into the thick jungle. 
 
 ' Pursue ! pursue ! ' cried Tippoo from his elephant. ' Ya 
 Mahomed! are our beards to be defiled by such a brute? 
 Inshalla! we will have him yet. A hundred rupees to him 
 who shoots him dead.' 
 
 The crowd hurried on ; their excitement had reached almost a 
 kind of madness ; and the reward offered by the Sultaun, and the 
 hope of his favour, had operated as a powerful stimulus. Every- 
 one scrambled to be first, horsemen and foot, and those who 
 rode the elephants, all in confusion, and shouting more tumultu- 
 ously than ever. All other game was disregarded in the superior 
 excitement; even two panthers, who, roused at last, savagely 
 charged everybody and everything they came near, were hardly 
 ■ regarded, and were killed after a desperate battle by those in th^ 
 rear. Those in the van still hurried on — the Sultaun leading, 
 the Khan and Kasim as near to him as etiquette would allow, 
 and the rest everywhere around them. 
 
 They were close to the top of the glen ; the murmur of the 
 fall could sometimes be heard when the shouting ceased for an 
 instant, and its white and sparkling foam glistened through the 
 branches of some noble teak-trees which stood around the little 
 basin. The ground underneath them was quite clear, so that 
 the elephants could advance easily. 
 
 'He is there — I see himi' cried the Sultaun, aiming at the 
 
254 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 wounded elephant, and firing. • Holy Alia, he comes ! be ready 
 —Fire ! ' 
 
 The noble animal came thundering on with his trunk uplifted, 
 roaring fearfully, followed by two others, one a large female, who 
 had a small calf with her, not larger than a buffalo ; the other 
 a male not nearly grown. It was a last and desperate effort to 
 break the line ; the blood was streaming from fifty wounds in his 
 sides, and he was already weak; with that one effort he had 
 hoped to have saved himself and the female, but in vain. As 
 he came on, the Khan cried hurriedly to Kasim, 'Above the 
 eye ! above the eye ! you are sure of him there.' He was met 
 by a shower of bdls, several of which hit him in the head. He 
 seemed to stagger for a moment; his trunk, which had been 
 raised high in the air, dropped, and he fell ; his limbs quivered 
 for an instant, and then he lay still in death. Kasim's bullet 
 had been too truly aimed. 
 
 ' Shabash, Shabash ! he is dead ! ' shouted the Sultaun, wild 
 with excitement ; ' now for the rest. Spare the yoiing one ; now 
 for the female — beware, she will be sarage ! ' 
 
 But she was not so at first ; she retreated as far as the rock 
 would allow her, and placing herself between her enemies and 
 her calf, which, unconscious of danger, still strove to suck her 
 milk, she tried to protect it from the shot, that hit her almost 
 every time. Now and then she would utter low plaintive moans, 
 which if those who fired at her possessed any feeUng, would have 
 pleaded with them to leave her unmolested. At times, goaded 
 on by maddening pain, she charged the line, but only to be 
 driven back foiled and disheartened. 
 
 ' Ya Alia ! ' cried Kasim, ' will they not let her go free — she 
 and the young one? Listen, Khan, to her moans. By the 
 Prophet I will not fire — I cannot.' 
 
 But the others continued the attack ; and it was evident that 
 she could not hold out much longer. She made one more 
 desperate effort, but was beaten back by loud shouts and rockets , 
 and her moans, and the cries of the calf, became more piteous 
 than ever. 
 
 ' For the sake of Alia put her out of pain ! ' said the Khan. 
 'Aim now again just over the eye, in the temple ; be steady, the 
 shot is sure to kill. Now ! see they are going to fire again at 
 her.' 
 
 Kasim raised his unerring matchlock : the firing had ceased at 
 the moment — ^all were loading. One sharp crack was heard, and 
 the poor beast sank down without a moan or a struggle. 
 
 A crowd rushed forward to seize the calf, which was pushing 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUA. 255 
 
 its mother with its proboscis and head, as if to raise her up, 
 uttering even more touching and piteous cries than ever. Alas ! 
 to no purpose. It had by a miracle escaped the shower of balls, 
 and was strong enough to give much trouble to its captors ere it 
 was secured. The Sultaun, who had looked on in silence, now 
 dismounted to examine it; and all his officers and courtiers, 
 Mahoinedan and Hindoo, followed his example. The scene was 
 a striking one, as that splendidly-dressed group stood beneath 
 the shade of the noble teak-trees, by the waterfall and the clear 
 stream which murmured over shining pebbles. Behind them was 
 the rock, a sheer precipice of fifty feet, covered with flowers and 
 creepers and beautiful mosses ; by it lay the dead female, and 
 near her the male elephant, whose length some were measuring 
 and registering. 
 
 Ahready more than one had tried the temper of his sword upon 
 the dead elephant's carcass, and the Sultaun stepped forward to 
 see the exercise, which requires a strong and steady hand, and a 
 fair cut, or the sword would bend or break. 
 
 Many had performed the feat with various success — none 
 better than our friend Kasim; and many others were awaiting 
 their turn, when the young elephant, bound and secured, was 
 brought before the Sultaun. Instantly it appeared to Kasim that 
 his eye lighted up with the same cruel expression he had once or 
 twice noticed, and his countenance to appear as if a sudden 
 thought had struck him. 
 
 ' Bind it fast ! ' he cried to the attendants, ' tie it so that it 
 cannot move.' For the poor thing was bleating and crying out 
 loudly at its rude usage, while its innocent face and tremblings 
 expressed terror most strongly. The order was obeyed — it was 
 bound with ropes to two adjacent trees. 
 
 ' Now,' cried the Sultaun, looking around him proudly, and 
 drawing his light but keen blade, ' by the blessing of the Prophet 
 we are counted to have some skill in our Qusrut — let us prove 
 it ! ' So saying, and while a shudder at the cruelty of the act ran 
 round the circle, and the Hindoos present trembled at the im- 
 piety, he bared his arm, and advancing, poised himself on one 
 foot, while the glittering blade was uplifted above his head. At 
 last it descended ; but being weakly aimed, the back of the poor 
 beast yielded to the blow, while it screamed with the pain. 
 Almost human was that scream ! The Sultaun tried again and 
 again, losing temper at every blow, but with no better success. 
 
 ' Curse on the blade ! ' he cried, throwing it upon the ground ; 
 ' it is not sharp enough, or we should have cut the beast in two 
 pieces at a blow.' Several stepped forward and offered their 
 
2S6 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 swords ; he took one and looked around — his eye was full of 
 wanton mischief 'Now Ramah, Seit,' he cried to a portly 
 Hindoo banker who was near, ' thou shalt try.' 
 
 ' May I be your sacrifice,' said the banker, joining his hands, 
 and advancing terror-stricken, your slave is no soldier] he never 
 used a sword in his life.' 
 
 ' Peace ! ' exclaimed the Sultaun, stamping on the ground, 
 ' dost thou dare to disobey ? Take the sword, O son of perdi- 
 tion, and strike for thy life, else it shall be worse for thee.' 
 
 ' But your slave is a Hindoo,' urged the trembling banker, ' to 
 whom shedding the blood of an elephant is damnable.' 
 
 ' It is right it should be so,' cried Tippoo, whose most dan- 
 "gerous passion, bigotry, was instantly aroused by the speech; 
 ' what say ye, my friends ? this is a kafir, an enemy of the true 
 faith J why should he not be made to help himself on to perdi- 
 tion?' and he laughed a low, chuckling, brutal laugh, which 
 many remembered long after. 
 
 ' A wise speech ! Ah, rare words ! Whose speech is like the 
 Sultaun's ?' cried most of those around ; ' let him obey orders or 
 die ! ' 
 
 ' Therefore take the sword, most holy Sahoukar,' continued 
 the Sultaun, with mock politeness, ' and strike thy best.' 
 
 The poor man, in very dread of his life, which indeed had 
 been little worth had he disobeyed — advanced and made a 
 feeble stroke, amidst many protestations of want of skill. His 
 excuses were received with shouts of laughter and derision by the 
 ribald soldiery, who, with many of his flatterers, now surrounded 
 the Sultaun, and urged him on. The man was forced to repeat 
 the blow many times, nor was there a Hindoo present who was 
 not compelled to take a part in the inhuman barbarity. 
 
 Why dwell on the scene further ? The miserable animal was 
 hacked at by the strong and by the weak — ^bleating and moaning 
 the while in tones of pain and agony, which grew fainter and 
 fainter, until death released it from its tormentors. Then only 
 did the Sultaun remount his elephant ; and the human tiger, 
 sated for that day with blood, hunted no more. 
 
 ' By Alia and his Prophet ! ' said Kasim to the Khan as 'they 
 returned, and unable any longer to keep his indignant silence, 
 ' should there be a repetition of this, I vow to thee I will for- 
 swear his service. This is the second instance I have seen of 
 his cruelty : hast thou forgotten the bull ? ' 
 
 ' I have not,' said the Khan ; ' I well remember it ; but this 
 is the worst thing he has ever done, and is the effect of the 
 refusal of the marriage. He is ever thus after being violently 
 
TIJPPOO SULTAUN. 257 
 
 provoked ; but it is much if Alia does not repay him for it with 
 reverses — we shall see.' 
 
 Their horses were at the entrance of the glen, and alighting 
 from their elephant, they mounted them, and rode on towards 
 the camp, which, with its innumerable white tents, could be seen 
 from the elevated ground on which they then stood, at about two 
 miles distant, backed by the blue distance, and the noble range of 
 the Neelgherry mountains. Here and there groves of date or 
 palm-trees studded the plain, and in places were seen dense 
 jungles, between which were open patches of cultivation, and 
 little villages with their white temples or mosques. The thou- 
 sands who had come out for the sport were now returning, some 
 in crowds together, singing a wild song in chorus, others in 
 smaller groups chatting upon the events of the day. Here and 
 there was a palankeen, its bearers crying their monotonous song 
 as they moved, bearing to the camp either some one too indolent 
 or too grand to ride on horseback, or else the fair inhabitant of 
 the Sultaun's or some other harem, who had been allowed to see 
 as much as was possible of the amusement of the royal hunt. 
 
 ' That is surely the Khanum's palankeen,' said Kasim, as its 
 well-known appearance met his view at a turn of the road. 
 , 'Yes,' said the Khan, ' she has been dull of late, and I begged 
 her to come out ; she could have seen nothing, however, and 'tis 
 well she could not, for that butchery was horrible. Bah ! how 
 the creature bleated ! ' 
 
 ' I wish it had not been, Khan, but there is no use speaking 
 of it now. But how is it that the Khanum is unattended in such 
 a crowd as this? Some loocha* or shoda* might insult her, or 
 say something disagreeable.' 
 
 ' By the Prophet ! well remarked — the horsemen must have 
 lost her ; let us ride up and see.' They urged their horses into 
 a canter, and were soon with her. 
 
 ' How is this ? ' cried the Khan to the Naik of the bearers ; 
 ' how comes it that thou art alone ? ' 
 
 ' Khodawund ! ' replied the man, ' we lost the escort, and so 
 thought we had better return by ourselves, for we knew not 
 where to look for them in such a crowd.' 
 
 ' We had better stay by the palankeen ourselves. Khan Sahib,' 
 said Kasim; and Ameena well remembered the tones of his 
 voice, though she had not heard it for some months ; ' it is not 
 safe that the lady should be here alone.' 
 
 • Be it so then, Kasim ; we will not leave her.' 
 
 In a few minutes, however, the Sultaun, who they thought 
 
 * Disreputable fellow. 
 
2S8 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 was before, but who had lingered behind to shoot deer, advanced 
 rapidly on horseback at the head of the brilliant group of his 
 officers; — a gay sight were they, as the afternoon sun glanced 
 from spear and sword, from shield, matchlock, and steel cap, and 
 from their fluttering scarfs of gay colours and gold and silver 
 tissue. A' band of spearmen, bearing the heavy broad-bladed 
 spears of the Camatic ornamented with gay tassels, preceded 
 him, calling out his titles in extravagant terms, and running at 
 their full speed. Behind him was the crowd of officers and 
 attendants, checking their gaily caparisoned and plunging 
 horses j and quite in the rear, followed the whole of the ele- 
 phants, their bells jingling in a confused clash, and urged on by 
 their drivers at their fullest speed to keep pace with the horses. 
 The Sultaun sat his beautiful grey Arab with the ease and grace 
 of a practised cavalier, now checking the ardent creature and 
 nearly throwing him backwards, now urging him on to make 
 bounds and leaps, which showed how admirably he had been 
 taught his paces, and displayed his own and his rider's figure to 
 the best advantage. 
 
 ' By Alia, 'tis a gallant sight, Kasim ! ' said the Khan ; for they 
 had drawn up to one side, as the cavalcade came thundering on 
 over a level and open spot, to let it pass ; ' looking at them, a 
 soldier's eye glistens and his heart swells ; does not thine do 
 so ? Look out, my pearl ! ' he cried to Ameena ; ' veil" thyself 
 and look out — ^the Sultaun comes.' 
 
 ' My heart beats,' said Kasim, ' but not as it would were he 
 who rides yonder a man whom I could love as well as fear.' 
 
 • Inshalla ! ' cried the Khan, ' thou wilt forget to-day's work ere 
 long, and then thou wilt love the Lion of the Faith, the terrible in 
 war, even as I do. Inshalla ! what Sultaun is there on the earth 
 like him, the favoured of Alia, before whom the infidels are as 
 chaff in the wind ? But see, he beckons to me ; so remain thou 
 with the Khanum, and bring her into camp.' And so saying, the 
 Khan gave the rein to his impatient charger, and bounded on- 
 wards to meet the Sultaun, who appeared to welcome him kindly. 
 
 Kasim saw the Khan draw up beside him ; joining his hands 
 as if speaking to him; and as the wild and glittering group 
 hurried by, horses and elephants intermingled, he lost sight 
 of him among the crowd, and the cavalcade rapidly disappeared 
 behind a grove of trees. 
 
 And now she, who for many months had often filled his 
 dreams by night, and been the almost constant companion 
 of his thoughts by day, was alone with him. He had seen her 
 fair and tiny hand shut the door of the palankeen, which was 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN, 259 
 
 an impenetrable screen to his longing eyes ; and he would have 
 given anything he possessed for one glance — to have heard one 
 word, though he dared not have spoken to her. 
 
 And in truth, the thoughts of the fair inmate of the vehicle, 
 which was being borne along at the utmost speed of the bearers, 
 were busied also in a variety of speculations upon her young 
 guardian. Did he remember her still ? had he still the handker- 
 chief with which his wound had been bound ? for he had never 
 returned it. Did he remember how she handed him matchlock 
 after matchlock, to fire upon the wild Mahrattas, and cried with 
 the rest Shabash ! when they said his aim was true ? She had 
 not forgotten the most trivial incident ; for her heart, in the lack 
 of society, had brooded on these occurrences ; they were asso- 
 ciated too, in her youthful mind, with the appearance of one so 
 noble and gallant, of whom she heard such constant and florid 
 encomiums from the Khan her husband, that it would have been 
 strange had she not dwelt on this remernbrance with more than 
 friendship for the author of them. But the current of these 
 thoughts — when his noble figure was present to her imagination — 
 as he had dashed on hotly in pursuit of the Mahrattas, — was 
 suddenly and rudely interrupted by a hubbub, the reason of 
 which she could not at first comprehend. 
 
 The bearers were proceeding rapidly, when, at a turning of the 
 cross road which they had taken for shortness, they perceived an 
 elephant, one of the royal procession, which, either maddened by 
 the excitement of the hunt, or goaded to desperation by its 
 driver, was running hither and thither upon the road in the 
 wildest manner. The Mahout repeatedly drove his sharp 
 ankoos* into its lacerated head; but this appeared to enrage, 
 and make it the more restive, instead of compelling it to go for- 
 ward, as was evidently his wish. 
 
 The bearers stopped suddenly, and appeared irresolute; to 
 attempt to pass the infuriated animal was madness, and yet what 
 to do immediately was difficult to determine, for the road was 
 bounded by a thick and impenetrable hedge of the prickly pear. 
 it was in vain that Kasim shouted to the Mahout to go on, for 
 he did not immediately comprehend the cause of the elephant's be- 
 haviour ; the obstinate beast could not be moved in the direction 
 required — it was impossible to force him through the hedge, and 
 it was frightful to see his behaviour, and to hear the wild screams 
 and trumpetings he uttered when struck with the sharp goad. 
 Kasim saw there was danger, but he had little time for thought ; 
 he however drew his sword, and had just ordered the bearers to 
 
 * Pointed goads with which elephants are driven. 
 
26b nPPQO SULTAVl^. 
 
 retreat behind the corn&r, frheii the elephant, which by a sudden 
 turn had seen what was behind, uplifted its trunk, and with a 
 loud cry dashed forward. 
 
 Kasim was brave and CGol ; and yet there was something so 
 frightful in the desperate rush of the maddened animal, that his 
 heart almost failed him ; nor could he discover whether it was 
 himself or the palankeen that was the object of the elephant's 
 attack ; but he' had confidence in the activity of his horse, ^his 
 sword was in his hand, and he little feared for himself The 
 elephant's advance was instantaneous ; Kasim saw the palankeen 
 was his object, and dashing forward almost as he reached it, he 
 struck with his whole force at the brute's trunk, which was just 
 within reach. The blow and pain turned the animal from his 
 purpose, but his huge bulk grazed the palankeen, which, with its 
 terrified bearers, fell heavily and rudely to the ground, and rolled 
 upon its side. 
 
 Kasim heard the scream of Ameena (who had been unable 
 to discover the cause of the alarm, and was afraid to open the 
 door) tl\e moment the shock was given, and throwing himself 
 from his horse he hurried to her assistance, for he was certain 
 she must be severely hurt. This was no time for ceremony ; in 
 an instant the palankeen was set upright, the door opened, and 
 seeing the fair girl lying, as he thought, senseless within,- he cried 
 out for water, while he supported her inanimate figure, and 
 poured forth a torrent of passionate exclamations which he could 
 not restrain. 
 
 But no water was there to be had, and it was fortunate that the 
 lady had received no serious injury ; she was stunned and ex- 
 tremely terrified ; but a few moments of rest, and the conscious- 
 ness of Kasim's presence, revived her. Instantly a thought of 
 her situation, and her own modesty, caused her to cover herself 
 hurriedly with her veil, which had become disarranged; and, not 
 daring to look upon Kasim, whose incoherent inquiries were 
 sounding in her ears, she implored him in a few broken sentences 
 to leave her, and to have her carried onwards. He obeyed, 
 though he would have given worlds to have heard her voice 
 longer, broken and agitated as it was; he withdrew sadly, yet 
 respectfully; and the danger being past — for the elephant had 
 fled madly down the road by which they had come — ^they pur- 
 sued their way to the camp. 
 
TIFPOO SULTAU^. ,a6i 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 ' But he saw my face — he must have seen it,' cried Ameena \ as, 
 after relating the adventure to her lord, she was lying upon the 
 soft cushions which had been spread for her. • I was not sensible, 
 and he thought I must be hurt. Ah, what wilt thou not think of 
 me, my lord !' And she hid her burning face in her hands upon 
 the pillow. 
 
 ' What matter, fairest ?' replied the Khan, as, bending over her 
 with much concern in his countenance, he parted the hair upon 
 her forehead and kissed it tenderly. ' What matter ? had it been 
 another, indeed, who had opened thy palankeen, the officious 
 rascal should have paid dearly for his temerity : but Kasim — why 
 should it concern thee ? did he not save thy life ? and is he not 
 my friend ? and now again have we not cause to be thankful to 
 him ? Let this not distress thee therefore, but praise Alia, as I 
 do, that thou art safe.' 
 
 It was not, however, the simple gaze of Kasim upon her face 
 that had disturbed the agitated girl, though in confessing this to 
 her lord she sought ease from other thoughts which were engross- 
 ing her. He had seen her face ; hapKpy were it if that had been 
 the only result of the accident ; but the passionate words which 
 in his anxiety for her he had uttered, had- fallen upon her ears, 
 and but too readily accorded with her own previous thoughts ; 
 she remembered, too, as she looked around with returning con- 
 sciousness after the shock, how she had seen his expressive eyes, 
 lighted up with enthusiasm and anxiety, gazing on her ; and she 
 had read in them, even had he not spoken, that he loved her. 
 And when she repeated to her husband again and again that 
 Kasim had looked upon her face,, that was all she dared to tell 
 him of what had happened. 
 
 Poor Ameena ! the Khan's constant theme of conversation had 
 been Kasim Ali, as from time to time any new feat of arms, of 
 horsemanship, any new weapon or gay dress he had worn, attracted 
 his attention ; he would delight to relate all to her minutely, to 
 recount how adroitly he had foiled such an one, how handsome 
 he had looked, and to dwell upon these themes with expressions 
 of praise and satisfaction at Kasim's daily proving himself more 
 and more worthy of his patronage. Often would he foretell an 
 exalted station for the young man, from the Sultaun's early selec- 
 tion of him to fulfil so delicate a mission as that to Hyderabad ; 
 and on that very day, when he had been beckoned by the Sultaun, 
 
262 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 it was to hear the praises of Kasim Ali, to be asked whether it 
 was not he who had won the reward he had offered ; and, upon 
 his answering in the afiSrmative, the Sultaun had graciously bidden 
 him bring Kasim to the morning Durbar, when he should be 
 enrolled once more among his personal attendants. 
 
 Ameena was obUged to Usten to all this ; and after listenmg, 
 she would brood over these discourses upon his noble qualities, 
 until her heart grew sick at the thought that to her none such 
 would ever be — and her dearest hopes, for one to love her in 
 whom should be united all those qualities which she heard he 
 possessed, had long ago been bUghted for ever. She needed no 
 new event to remind her of Kasim's first service, nor to impress 
 more strongly upon her mind his noble but melancholy features ; 
 which, except when lighted up by the hot excitement of battle, 
 habitually wore a sad expression. And yet the last adventure had 
 come, like the first, unsought and unexpected, and the conse- 
 quences were sad to both. In Ameena, producing an inward 
 shame, a consciousness of harbouring thoughts she dared not 
 reveal — a vain striving between her honour to her lord and her 
 love for the young man his friend. In Kasim-, a burning passion 
 — which, as it exists in Asiatics, is almost irrepressible — struggling 
 with his high feelings of rectitude, of respect, nay of affection for 
 him he served, which was hardly to be endured. 
 
 And thus it continued, producing misery in both ; except in 
 forgetfulness, there was indeed no alleviation; and that was 
 impossible, for they thought of little else than of each other, 
 through the long hours of the days and nights which followed. 
 
 The Sultaun had ordered the Khan to bring Kasim Ali before 
 him in the morning after the usual march, but it was in vain that 
 his messengers sought him, to apprise him of the order; he had 
 been seen to ride off after the arrival of the Khanum, and was 
 not to be found. In truth, the young man felt himself unable 
 to meet the Khan with any composure after what had happened, 
 and he also dreaded (if Ameena had heard the expressions he 
 uttered) that she was offended. He had no possible means of 
 ascertaining this — of imploring her not to denounce him to the 
 Khan, as faithless and treacherous ; and under the influence of 
 these mingled and agitating feelings, the young man continued 
 to ride hither and thither as if without a purpose — now in some 
 level spot urging his horse into a furious gallop, to gain release 
 from the thoughts which almost maddened him — again allowing 
 him to walk slowly, while he brooded over the exquisite beauty 
 and gentleness of her whom he had twice saved from injury, per- 
 haps from destruction. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUR. 263 
 
 But the hour for evening prayer drew nigh, and he turned his 
 horse towards the camp : its many fires were everywhere twink- . 
 ling upon the fast darkening plain, and the deep sounds of the 
 evening kettle-drums, mingled with the dull and distant murmur 
 of thousands of voices, were borne dearly upon the evening 
 wind. 
 
 He quickened his pace, and as the sonorous and musical 
 voices of the Muezzins among the army, proclaiming the Azan,* 
 called the faithful into their various groups for prayer, he rode 
 up to the Khan's tent, where the usual number had their carpets 
 spread, and awaited the proper moment for commencement. 
 Kasim joined them, but the act of supplication had little effect 
 in quieting his agitation; the idea that Ameena might have 
 told all that , had passed precluded every other thought, and 
 caused a feeling of apprehension, from which he could not release 
 himself. 
 
 When the prayer was ended, the Khan addressed him in his 
 usual kind and hearty manner, and calling him into his private 
 tent, poured out his thanks, and those of Ameena, for his timely 
 and gallant assistance in her late extreme danger. As he spoke, 
 Kasim at once saw there was no cause for suspicion ; and as the 
 dread of detection passed from his heart, a feeling of tumultuous 
 joy, that his words had not been ill received by her to whom he 
 had addressed them, on the instant filled its place, and for a 
 while disturbed those high principles which hitherto had been 
 the rule of his conduct. 
 
 ' And now,' said the Khan, after he had fairly overwhelmed 
 the young man with thanks, ' I have news, and good news for 
 thee ! thou art ordered to attend the morning Durbar, and I 
 suspect for thy good. The Sultaun (may his condescension 
 increase !) has looked once more with an eye of favour upon 
 thee ; he means to give thee a command among his guards, and to 
 attach thee to his person. I shall lose thee therefore, Kasim, 
 but thou wilt ever find me as sincere and devoted a friend as 
 thou hast hitherto done. We may soon be separated, but so 
 long as we march thus day after day, indeed so long as this cam- 
 paign continues, we may at least associate together as we have 
 been accustomed to do.' 
 
 Kasim could hardly reply intelligibly to the Khan's kind 
 expressions. That he had been exerting his influence with the 
 Sultaun on his account, he could have no doubt ; and this, with 
 the affectionate friendship he had professed, again very powerfully 
 brought all- the young man's best feelings to his aid, and he went 
 
 * Call to prayer. 
 
264 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 from his presence late in the evening, with a determination to 
 seek Ameena no more, and, if possible, to drive all concern for 
 her from his heart. Vain thought ! Away from the Khan, his 
 excited imagination still dwelt upon her, and his visions that night 
 of their mutual happiness almost appeared to him an earnest 
 that they would be ultimately realised. 
 
 He aceompaaied the Khan as usual during the march, for the 
 army proceeddi the next morning on its way, and at its early 
 close he rode with him to the place where the Sultaun held his 
 morning Durbar, in some anxiety as to what would happen. 
 The tents of the monarch had not been pitched, for under the 
 thick shade of some enormous tamarind-trees there was found 
 ample space for the assembly; and pillows had been placed, and 
 soft carpets spread for his reception. One by one the different 
 leaders and officers of rank arrived, and dismounting ranged 
 themselves about the place which had been set apart for the 
 Sultaun : their gay dresses somewhat sobered in colour by the- 
 deep shade the trees cast upon them, and contrasting powerfully 
 with the green foliage, which descended in heavy masses close 
 to the ground. On the outskirts of the spot the grooms led 
 about their chargers, whose loud and impatient neighings re- 
 sounded through the grove. On one side the busy camp could 
 be seen, as division after division of horse and foot arrived in 
 turn, and took up their ground in regular order. 
 
 At last the Sultaun's kettle-drums were heard, and in a few 
 minutes he galloped up at the head of a crowd of attendants, 
 and immediately dismounting, advanced into the centre of the 
 group, and returned the low obeisances of those who hastened to 
 Offer them. There were a few reports to be listened to, one or 
 two summary and fearful punishments to be inflicted ; and these 
 done, the Sultaun turned to Rhyman Khan, who stood near 
 him. 
 
 'Where is the young man?' he said; 'we have thought much 
 of him during the night, and our dreams have confirmed the 
 previous visions we have mentioned regarding him. Therefore 
 let him be brought, we would fain do justice in his case : this is 
 a fortunate day and hour, as we have read by the stars ; and the 
 planetary influences are propitious.' 
 
 Kasim was at hand, and amidst the crowd of courtiers, syco- 
 phants, and parasites, who would have given all they possessed 
 to have been so noticed, he advanced, performed the TusleemEt, 
 and then stood with his hands folded in an attitude of humility 
 and attention. 
 
 ' Youth !' cried the Sultaun, ' we have heard that it was thou 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 265 
 
 who killed the mad elephant yesterday, when our royal hand 
 trembled and our gun missed fire. We offered a reward for that 
 deed — dost thou claim it?' 
 
 ' May I be your sacrifice ! ' rephed Kasim, ' I know not ; what 
 can I say? — let the Khan answer for me.' 
 
 ' He has already told me all,' cried the Sultaun, ' therefore we 
 have sent for thee. Hear, then, and reflect on what we say to 
 thee. Thou shalt be raised higher than thou wast before, and 
 we will arrange thy pay hereafter. It will be thy business to 
 attend on and accompany us; and in the coming battles, in 
 which by the add of the Prophet we intend to eclipse our former 
 achievements, which are known to all — ' 
 
 Here he looked aroundj and cries of ' Wonderful ! The Sultaun 
 is great and valiant ! he eats mountains and drinks rivers ! before 
 his eye the livers of his enemies melt into water ! ' passed from 
 mouth to mouth. 
 
 ' Therefore,' he continued, after a pause> ' do thy service well 
 and boldly, and it shall be good for thee that thou hast eaten the 
 salt of Tippoo. Thou art Jemadar from this time forth, O Kasim 
 Ali ! and hear all of ye that it is so ordered.' 
 
 , The congratulations of all fell upon the gladdened ears of the 
 young Pat61, who, in truth, as he bowed lowly and fell back 
 among the crowd, was somewhat bewildered by his new honour, 
 so great and so unexpected. Now he should rank with the men 
 of consequence, — nay, he was one himself; and he felt, as was 
 natural, proud and elated at his promotion. 
 
 The Khan's joy knew no bounds. ' I thought,' he said, ' thoU 
 wouldest be taken into favour, and have thy pay increased, but 
 this is most excellent. By Alia! Kasim, say or think what thou 
 wilt, the Sultaun has a rare discrimination. Wilt thou now for- 
 get the scene of yesterday, and the young elephant ? ' 
 
 ' I shall never forget it,' said Kasim, ' but I pray Alia it may 
 never be repeated.' 
 
 ' Ameen ! ' responded the Khan ; ' yet Usten — the Sultaun 
 speaks.' 
 
 And the voice of the Sultaun was again heard, interrupting 
 the Khan. ' Proclaim silence ! ' he cried to the attendants ; and 
 after the loud cries of ' Khamoosh ! khamoosh ! ' had in some 
 degree subsided, he addressed the assembled officers, whose 
 number was every moment increased by other wild and martial 
 figures from the camp, who crowded behind the rest on tiptoe to 
 hear his address. 
 
 ' Ye all know,' he said, ' how the infidel Rajah of Travancore 
 — who has his portion already with the accursed — has allowed 
 
266 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 our rebellious and infidel subjects the Nairs to have shelter in his 
 territory. We have demanded them from him, and have met 
 with insult and scorn in his replies ; are we, who are the chosen 
 of Alia, to bear this patiently ? ' 
 
 ' Let him die ! let him be sent to hell ! ' cried the assembly 
 with one voice, their passions suddenly aroused by this abrupt 
 address. 
 
 ' Stay ! ' continued Tippoo — his visage becoming inflamed, and 
 his eye glistening like that of a tiger's chafing into fury, — ' we, 
 by the favoiir of Alia, possess accurate knowledge of the councils 
 of the unbelievers and of the kafir English. We know that 
 this miserable Rajah is upheld by them in his contumacy ; but 
 we have ere now humbled their pride. Baillie and Mathews, 
 with their hosts — ^where are they ? and we will, Inshalla ! humble 
 them again, and drive them into the sea ! They have threatened 
 us with war if we attack the wall which this RajaJi hath built upon 
 our subjects' territory, and over which we have a right to pass to 
 Cochin, whither it is our pleasure to go. Say, therefore, my 
 friends, shall there be peace ? Shall we, who wear swords on our 
 thighs, eat dirt at the hands of these lying and damnable kafirs ? 
 or shall-T-' 
 
 The remainder of his speech was lost The cry for war was as 
 one voice. He had appealed to the fierce passions of his oflScers, 
 who saw only victory in prospect, and they had responded as 
 warmly as he could wish. 
 
 ' Be it so,' cried the Sultaun, when the tumult was stilled ; ' in 
 a few days we shall see this wonderful wall, of which we hear 
 things that would produce terror in any mind less strong or 
 valiant than our own ; and then, Inshalla-ta-AUa ! we will see 
 what can be done by the army of the Government, which is the 
 gift of Alia, led by him who is an apostle sent to scourge all 
 kafirs and sceptics. You have your dismissal now; — go, and 
 prepare your men for this service. Mashalla ! victory awaits our 
 footsteps ! ' 
 
 In a few days afterwards the army arrived within sight of the 
 wall ; it was of considerable height and thickness, had a broad 
 and deep ditch in front, and presented a formidable obstacle to 
 the invading army. It is probable that, had Tippoo attacked the 
 wall at once, he might have carried it by escalade ; but he was 
 evidently uncertain as to the result of his negotiations ; he hesi- 
 tated for a time to strike a blow which must inevitably embroil 
 him with the English, and therefore drew off a short distance to 
 ,the northward; where, engaged in correspondence with the 
 English and Travancore Governments, he passed most o. his 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 267 
 
 time, thus allowing his enemy every opportunity to increase his 
 force and prepare for resistance. 
 
 Kasim's post near the Sultaun's person led him into daily and 
 close communication with the monarch, and he gradually gained 
 an insight into his extraordinary character. Sometimes, when he 
 uttered the noblest and loftiest sentiments of honour, he would 
 love and respect him ; again some frivolous or ridiculous idea 
 would get possession of his imagination, and drive him into the 
 commission of a thousand absurdities and terrible cruelties. It 
 was no uncommon thing to see beyond the precincts of the camp 
 a row of miserable Hindoos hanging upon trees, who had defied 
 the Sultaun's efforts at conversion, and had preferred death rather 
 than change the religion of their fathers. For Shekh Jaffur had 
 arrived in camp with a division of the army which was ordered to 
 join from the Canarese provinces, where he had been particularly 
 active against the Nairs ; and to him Tippoo delegated the direc- 
 tion of the torture and punishment of those Hindoos, whom, on 
 the slightest pretext, either of rebellion, disobedience, or denial 
 of supplies, they could get into their hands. With this duty 
 Kasim Ali had no concern; but he observed that under the other 
 it flourished, and that day after day some wretched beings were 
 dragged before the monarch, whose death appeared to stay his 
 appetite for slaughter till the negotiation should end, as he 
 expected, by his letting loose his army upon the defenders- of 
 Travancore. 
 
 But month after month passed, and the season was advancing; 
 the immense preparations of the English, the Nizam, and the 
 Mahrattas, to join in one common league for his destruction were 
 everywhere reported; it was necessary for him to strike some 
 blow, else, after the preparations he had made and the threats he 
 had promulgated, his conduct would appear in a weak and 
 puerile light to his enemies. To Kasim Ali this state of in- 
 activity was insupportable; he had hoped from the Sultaun's 
 address that the army would at once have been led to battle, and 
 he was disappointed beyond expression when, after a trifling 
 skirmish before the waE, the whole drew off to that ground it was 
 destined to occupy for so long. Instead of active employment 
 in the field, in the excitement of which he might for the time 
 forget Ameena, or strengthen his resolution to think no more of 
 her with love — there was absolute stagnation. 
 
 The life he led was entirely the opposite of what he wished it, 
 and during the days of idleness and inactivity he had little else 
 to do than dream of her. But he refrained from seeking her, 
 even when opportunity was afforded by the return of his old 
 
268 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 friend the cook Zoolficar, who, having been left at Seringapatam 
 by the Khan, had been sent for upon the misconduct and dis- 
 charge of the- one he had brought with him. 
 
 His arrival was heartily welcomed both by the Khan and 
 Ameena ; by the first, because he could once more enjoy his 
 excellent cookery and most favourite concoctions ; by the lady, 
 because his sister, the old servant of her family at Hyderabad, 
 who had joined the worthy functionary at Seringapatam, accom- 
 panied him to the camp. She was gladly welcomed by Ameena, 
 who, among the women that attended upon her, had no one to 
 whom she cared to open her heart; for they were all natives of the 
 south, with whom she had little communion of thought and 
 feeling, and who spoke her language indifferently. 
 
 With Meeran, however, almost a new existence commenced ; 
 while alone the most part of the day — ^when the Khan's duties 
 and attendance upon the Sultaun kept him away from her — she 
 had few occupations except her own thoughts, which were sad 
 enough ; yet in Meeran's society, humble though she was, she 
 could ever find topics of conversation — of her home, her family, 
 her friends and acquaintance ; old subjects long gone by were 
 revived and dwelt upon with all the zest of fresh occurrences ; 
 and the incidents of her travel to the city, and every event 
 connected with herself since she left her home, were repeated 
 again and again with that minuteness which is commonly the 
 result of a want of other occupation. 
 
 It hardly needed the very quick penetration common to a 
 woman whose wits had been sharpened by a residence in such a 
 city as Hyderabad, to discover very soon that her young and 
 beautiful mistress was unhappy ; and Meeran heard so often of 
 the young Patdl, as Ameena still called him, and found that she 
 so evidently delighted to speak of him and his acts, that she very 
 naturally concluded that much of her unhappiness was attribut- 
 able to the young man, however innocent he might be of the 
 cause. For, after speaking of him, and describing his noble 
 appearance as she had seen it on several occasions, and repeat- 
 ing the constant eulogiums of her lord, Ameena would often 
 involuntarily find a tear starting to her eye, or a deep-drawn 
 sigh heave forth, which she fain would have suppressed, but 
 could not. 
 
 Now Meeran had from the first, and while there was yet a 
 chance of averting the evil, protested against the giving away of 
 her child (for so she called Ameena) to a man as old as the 
 Khan for a sum of money; and though she had every respect 
 for him, yet she could see no harm, after a little consideration, 
 
Tippoo svltaun: 269 
 
 and the overcoming a few scruples, of striviflg to help the lovers. 
 She had nursed Ameena at her own breast, she had tended her 
 from infancy, had been the confidant of all her secrets, and, if 
 the truth were known, had helped the young girl to form exactly 
 such an idea of a lovei as it appeared Kasim was — ^young, gallant, 
 handsome, and of a fine generous temper. 
 
 Kasim had renewed his acquaintance with the good-natured 
 Zoolficar, and on several occasions the man had come to his 
 little tent upon one excuse or another ; sometimes to talk over 
 their journey, sometimes to cook him a dish he liked, when the 
 Khan was employed elsewhere, and they did not dine together. 
 Often, had their conversation fallen upon Ameena; and though 
 at first the mention of her name had been avoided by the young 
 Jemadar, yet the theme was so pleasant a one, that he insensibly 
 dwelt upon it more and more. Soon Kasim heard from the cook 
 that his sister was with his young mistress, and that she was 
 happier in the society of her old nurse than she had been before 
 her arrival. 
 
 Habitual indulgence in conversation about her naturally begat a 
 craving in the young man to know all the particulars of Ameena's 
 daily existence. The most trifling circumstances appeared to 
 be welcome to him ; and it was not long ere Zoolficar, finding 
 that he could not give the information so greedily looked for as 
 minutely as was required, proposed that his sister should supply 
 it. This, however pleasant, was nevertheless a matter of more 
 difficulty, and one that required concealment ; for it would have 
 been at once fatal to Ameena's reputation, had her favourite 
 servant been seen in private conversation with one like Kasim 
 Alj. Despite of obstacles, however, they contrived to meet ; and 
 on the first of these interviews the nurse saw clearly enough how 
 passionately devoted Kasim was to her fair mistress, and how 
 precious to him was every detail of her hfe, of her meek and 
 gentle temper, and of her loving disposition. The nurse would 
 often bewail her unhappy destiny^ in being cut off from all 
 chance of real happiness in company with the Khan ; and she 
 could appreciate, from the evident agitation of the young man, 
 and his half-suppressed eslclamations, how difficult it was for him 
 to withhold an open declaration of his thoughts. Yet she could 
 not help seeing that through all this there was nothing breathed 
 of dishonour to the Khan, no wish to meet her whom she was 
 sure he so passionately loved. 
 
 It was not until after some time and many such conversations 
 ^ith the young Jemadar, that Meeran dared to mention to 
 Ameena that she had seen him. She had heard from Kasim 
 
270 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 the account of his protection of her from the enraged elephant, 
 and he had confessed what he had then uttered. 
 
 ' She knows of his love, then,' said Meeran mentally, ' and she 
 dares not mention it to her old nurse. We shall see whether 
 this humour will last long. Inshalla ! they shall yet be happy in 
 each other's society.' 
 
 She could not appreciate the nice morality either of Kasim or 
 her young mistress : she knew that neither was happy, and be- 
 lieved she had in her power the means of making both so. 
 ' Could they but meet,' she used to say, ' they might speak to 
 each other, and even half the words that I hear, spoken by one 
 to the other, would set their hearts at rest for ever.' 
 
 But Ameena grew really angry with the woman, that she had 
 dared to think of such a step, much less to speak of it. Meeran 
 bore all good-humouredly, but she determined to persevere, con- 
 vinced that she was acting for their mutual good. 
 
 Time passed onj the army advanced nearer to the wall, and 
 at length the Sultaun, tired of inactivity or protracted negotiation, 
 determined to strike the first blow in the strife, which it was use- 
 less to disguise to himself was fast approaching ; and could he 
 but possess himself of Travancore, his operations against the 
 English would be materially aided. His resolution was, how- 
 ever, suddenly and unexpectedly made. Kasim with some men 
 had been directed to examine a part of the defence where the 
 wall joined a precipice, some miles from the camp, and to report 
 the practicability of its assault. His statement confirmed the 
 Sultaun's previous intentions, and he gave orders for the attack- 
 ing parties — ^ten thousand of the flower of his army — ^to prepare 
 for immediate action. 
 
 Kasim was aware that his post would be one of danger, for the 
 Sultaun was determined to lead the attack in person, and it was 
 more than probable that he would be bravely opposed by the 
 defenders of the lines j among these were many of the fugitive 
 Nairs, who burned for an opportunity of revenging upon the 
 Sultaun's army the many insults and oppressions they had 
 sufiered. 
 
 Much, however, was hoped from so powerful an attack on an 
 undefended point ; and the Sultaun's order was delivered to the 
 army on the afternoon of Kasim's report. The divisions for the 
 assault were ordered under arms after evening prayer, and all 
 were in readiness, and exulting that ere that time on the morrow 
 the barrier before them would be overcome, and the dominions 
 of their enemy open to plunder. 
 
 The night was bright and clear and cool : there was no wind, 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 271 
 
 and the melancholy and shrill notes of the collery horn came up 
 sharp upon the ear from all parts of the wall before them, which 
 extended for miles on either side. Lights were twinkling here 
 and there upon it, showing that the watchers did not sleep, and 
 sometimes the flash and report of a musket or matchlock ap- 
 peared or was heard, fired by one or other of the parties. The 
 camp of the Sultaun was alive with preparation, and the busy 
 hum of men arose high into the still air. Soon all was com- 
 pleted ; and when it was no longer doubtful that darkness veiled 
 their preparations, the mass of men moved slowly out of the 
 camp, and led by Kasim, took their way to the place he had 
 discovered. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 The huge column moved slowly and silently onwards, aided by 
 the light of a brilliant moon. The Sultaun, at its head, some- 
 times on foot, at others on horseback, or in bad places upon his 
 elephant, cheered on his men and officers with words he knew 
 would best arouse their zeal and spirit. There was hardly need, 
 however, for the army proceeded as fast as the nature of the 
 ground would permit. All night they marched, but slowly 
 enough, through the narrow and rugged road, and sometimes 
 through the thick jungles ; and often the Sultaun would turn to 
 Kasim, and question him about the path, evidently thinking that 
 he had lost it, and that the expedition would be in vain. But 
 the young Jemadar was sure of the way; the guides he had 
 taken with him when he explored the path in the first instance 
 were also confident ; and as morning broke, the dull grey light 
 disclosed the precipitous rock which was their object, close 
 before them. 
 
 ' Art thou sure this is the place, Kasim AH ? ' said the Sultaun, 
 as he rode backwards and forwards, vainly endea;vouring to find 
 the path which led to the summit. ' Art thou sure ? By the 
 Prophet, it will be worse for thee if thou hast led us wrong ! ' 
 
 ' May I be your sacrifice,' said Kasim, 'this is the place. Let 
 the army halt here for a short time ; your slave will take a few of 
 the pioneers and see if it be clear of the enemy ; but it is not 
 probable they would defend it, so far from the gate, and in this 
 wild jungle.' 
 
 ' I will accompany thee,' replied the Sultaun ; and despite the 
 
272 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 entreaties of the numerous officers by whom he was surrounded, 
 he rode after Kasim. A strong body of infantry supported them 
 in case of danger. 
 
 There was however none : the path, which was concealed from 
 view by a large tree, and ran up between two high rocks, was un- 
 def^ided. A few men might have disputed it against a host, 
 but the Sultaun's threatening disposition of troops in front of the 
 gate, which was many miles distant, had drawn all the defenders 
 to that spot ; and where the wall terminated against the rock 
 there was no one left to guard it. 
 
 Accompanied by a few of the household slaves, sword in hand, 
 Kasim advanced slowly and cautiously up the path. There was 
 perfect silence, except when a jungle fowl, scared from its roost 
 by the unusual sound of men's feet, flew with a loud whirr into 
 the dense thickets beyond the pass ; or when the ravens, aroused 
 from the trees below, flew before them from bush to bush, croak- 
 ing their dismal welcome to the fdast they seemed to anticipate. 
 
 They gained the top without interruption ; and Kasim, sending 
 word tb' the Sultaun (who had not ventured with the leading 
 party up the pass) that all was safe, went on to the edge of the 
 precipice, and looked over the scene before him. 
 
 The night mists still lay quietly in the hollows, looking like 
 unruffled lakes in the dim light ; and here and there a huge rock, 
 like the one on which he stood, was surrounded by them, and 
 appeared like an island. Immediately below him all was clear, 
 and the long columns and crowds of persons — the elephants 
 moving majestically about, and horsemen here and there appear- 
 ing where the jungle was thin or open — was a sight at which the 
 young soldier's blood danced briskly through his veins ; for all 
 were now pressing forward towards the pass, and he hoped that 
 the leading divisions would soon be at the summit. Away to 
 the left, the line of wall, with its bastions and towers, which so 
 long had been their object of desire, stretched over the undu- 
 lating ground; but it was deserted, except at a distant point, 
 where two or three faintly twinkling lights showed that a watch 
 was kept 
 
 ' By the Prophet, thy road is a rare one, Kasim Ali !' said the 
 Sultaun, who had come up to him unobserved, and touched his 
 shoulder; 'the army will soon be up, though it is somewhat 
 narrow. Dost thou see any one stirring on the wall ? ' 
 
 ' No one, my lord ; they have all been deceived by the troops 
 oefore the gate, and imagine the attack is to be made there.' 
 
 '• Yes,' said the Sultaun, 'we are unrivalled in such stratagems ; 
 it was ourself who planned the ambuscade which ended in the 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 273 
 
 discomfiture of Baillie and his kafirs ; and we have ever exercised 
 the talent which Alia hath confided to us, among many others, 
 of military skill, in which we surpass the English and French — 
 may their races be defiled !' 
 
 How long the Sultaun might have continued the theme of his 
 own praises, which was always a most pleasant one to him, it is 
 impossible to say, but his harangue was rather rudely interrupted 
 by two shots, discharged in quick succession from a distant part 
 of the wall before them, one of which whistled over their heads 
 (for they were standing upon the crest of the rock) — the other 
 struck the ground a little below them. 
 
 ' Ha ! so the rogues are awake,' cried Kasim ; ' I beseech you, 
 my lord, to turn back, and not to expose yourself to danger. 
 Your slave will lead the way, and send these infidels to perdi- 
 tion.' 
 
 ' Inshalla !' cried the Sultaun, yielding to the solicitations of 
 all around him, and retiring a few paces, ' InshaUa ! many will 
 see the angel of death ere night. On with ye ! victory is before 
 — cry Alia Yar ! and set on them. Think that ye fight for the 
 faith, and that your Sultaun is beholding your deeds of prowess.' 
 
 'Alia Yar! Deen ! Deen!' was now shouted by the hoarse 
 voices of the crowd which occupied the top of the rock, and the 
 cry flew from division to division down the pass and into the 
 plain ; thousands shouted ' Alia Yar ! Alia Yar ! ' the Sultaun's 
 war-cry, and strained every nerve to press onwards. 
 
 The shout of the army was answered by several single shots 
 from the same spot as before; and an officer of the regular 
 infantry, who had been standing on the very brink of the preci- 
 pitous rock, was seen to toss his arms wildly into the air, and, 
 ere he could be caught by several who rushed to his assistance, 
 had fallen headlong into the thicket below. 
 
 * Follow Kasim Ali Pat^l ! ' cried the daring young man — for 
 he was the foremost, and the path was not at first apparent to 
 the rest. Drawing his sword and putting his arm through the 
 loops of his shield, he dashed down it, followed by a hundred of 
 those who waited the signal of attack. 
 
 They scrambled down the side of the declivity on to the wall — 
 there was nothing that could be called a path for soldiers — and 
 it was still so dusk that objects could but ill be discerned. Once 
 on the wall, however, all was fair before them : the parapet was 
 broad enough for three or four men to pass abreast ; but Kasim 
 and the rest were obliged to wait a while ere they were joined by 
 a sufficient number to press on. 
 
 ' We shall have hot work ere long,' said the officer who had 
 
274 TJPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 accompanied Kasim, ' and this is no place for infantry to fight in 
 — a narrow wall, with a deep ditch on the one hand, and a thick 
 jungle, with only a narrow path through it on the other. By 
 Alia, I like it not' 
 
 ' Art thou a coward ? ' said Kasim, turning on him with some 
 contempt in his voice ; ' thou hadst better in that case go to the 
 rear. Fie on thee to speak thus ! do we not eat the Sultaun's 
 salt ? Come on, in the name of the Prophet ! there are enough 
 of us — more are coming every moment, and the top of the rock 
 is already crowded.' 
 
 ' Thou shalt see I am no coward,' cried the officer, darting 
 forward ; but he was stopped by another deadly shot, and fell on 
 his face without uttering a word or cry. 
 
 His fate did not, however, check the assault. 'Alia Yar! 
 Alia Yar ! ' was still the shout, and the whole body hurried on. 
 impelled forward by the pressure from the rear. There was no 
 retreating; on the one hand was the impassable ditch, on the 
 other the jungle — ^here and there open, and with paths through 
 it running parallel to the wall, by which many rapidly advanced. 
 They saw nothing of the defenders, though from time to time a 
 fatal shot struck the dense mass, and one of their number fell 
 headlong from the narrow path, or sinking down wounded, was 
 thrown over by his comrades. The thick jungle hid the de- 
 fenders of the wall, who retreated as the others advanced ; for 
 they were as yet too few to offer any resistance. But gradually 
 the noise of the shouting and firing was heard along the line of 
 wall, and its defenders hurried along to the right to meet their 
 enemies, judging that their flank had been turned, and that there 
 was little hope of retaining their post if the Sultaun's army should 
 succeed in advancing. In this manner parties joined together 
 and gradually succeeded in arresting the rapid approach of their 
 enemies, who had now to fight for every foot of ground. Tower 
 after tower was desperately disputed; the day was advancing, 
 many of the men were already exhausted by their long night 
 march, and to stop or retreat was impossible. 
 
 ' At this rate we shall never reach the gate,' cried the Sultaun, 
 who had entered a tower which had just been taken, and where 
 Kasim and many others were taking breath for an instant ere 
 they recommenced their advance. ' We shall never gain the 
 gate — it must now be nearly three coss from us ; ' and he looked 
 from one to the other of those assembled. 
 
 ' And the men are very weary,' said Kasim, for he spoke boldly. 
 
 ' Ya, Alia kureem 1 ' exclaimed the Sultaun, ' dost thou despair, 
 Kasim Ali ? ' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 275 
 
 ' Alia forbid!' was his reply ; ' by the favour of the Prophet we 
 shall prevail ; but my lord sees that it is tedious work, for the 
 kafirs have heard the firing and are collecting more and more in 
 every tower ; and though they pay dearly for their temerity in 
 resisting the power of the Lion of the Faith, as these unblessed 
 bodies testify, yet the taking of every succeeding tower is a work 
 of more labour, and many of the faithful have tasted of death.' 
 
 ' A thought strikes me,' said the Sultaun ; ' what if the wall 
 were thrown down ? we should then possess a breach, by which 
 we could enter or go out at pleasure.' 
 
 ' A wise thought ! Excellent advice ! What great wisdom ! ' 
 was repeated by the whole circle, while the Sultaun stood by 
 silent, apparently in further consideration upon the subject. 
 
 ' Yes,' he continued, after holding his forefinger between his 
 teeth in an attitude of deliberation for some time, — ' yes, it is a 
 good thought j and we charge you, Syud,' he added, to his rela- 
 tive, 'with its execution; collect the pioneers, heave over the 
 battlements into the ditch, fill it up level with the plain. In- 
 shalla ! there will be a broad road soon. Be quick about it ; and 
 now, sirs, let us lose no more time, but press on ; our swords are 
 hardly red with the blood of the infidels, and tliey appear to be 
 collecting yonder in some force.' 
 
 ' But,' said the Syud, ' this is a pioneer's work : in the name of 
 the Prophet, leave me not with them.' 
 
 ' I have spoken,' replied the Sultaun, frowning. * Enough ! see 
 my command obeyed, and be quick about it.' 
 
 ' We may need the road too soon,' said a voice : but, although 
 they tried hard, they could not discover whose it was. 
 
 Once more then they resolutely set forward, and the Sultaun 
 was on foot among his men, who were full of animation as he 
 often spoke to them, and reminded them that those who fell were 
 martyrs, who would be translated to Paradise, and those who 
 survived would win honour and renown. But it was easy to see 
 that, tired ahd exhausted as they were, the men had not their first 
 spirit; and some hours of constant fighting, with no water to 
 refresh them, had been more than they could support ; the oppo- 
 sition every moment became more and more certain and effective, 
 and each step was disputed. 
 
 Meanwhile the road over the ditch progressed but slowly. The 
 Syud had thought himself offended by being left behind to see it 
 done, and looked sulkily on without attempting to hasten the 
 operation. The pioneers were too few to effect anything rapidly ; 
 indeed it would have been impossible to have done what the 
 Sultaun had ordered, even bad the whole force joined in the 
 
276 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 work ; for the ditch was wide and deep, full of thorns, briars, 
 matted creepers, and bamboos, which had been planted on pur- 
 pose to offer a hindrance to an enemy. A few stones only had 
 been displaced, though the work had gone on nearly an hour, 
 when it was suddenly and rudely interrupted. 
 
 The advancing party had proceeded hardly half-a-mile, with 
 much labour, when on a turn of the wall they perceived a square 
 building filled with the enemy, who in considerable numbers had 
 taken post there, and were evidently determined to dispute it hotly. 
 
 ' Ah ! had we now some of my good guns,' cried the Sultaun, 
 as he beheld their preparations for defence, ' we would soon dis- 
 lodge those unblessed kaiirs. By Alia, they have a gun too ! 
 there must be some one yonder who understands fighting better 
 than those we have yet seen.' 
 
 ' May their mothers be defiled ! ' cried a gasconading com- 
 mander of a battalion of infanty, who was well known for his 
 boasting. 'Who are they that dare oppose us? my men are 
 fresh ' (for they had just come up from the rear), ' and if I am 
 ordered I will go and bring the fellow's head who is pointing the 
 gun yonder.' 
 
 ' Ameen ! ' said the Sultaun, quietly ; ' be it so — thou hast 
 volunteered — go 1 Stir not thou, Kasim Ali, but remain here j 
 we may require thee-' 
 
 The officer addressed his men for a few moments, formed them 
 as compactly as he could on the narrow wall, and placing him- 
 self at their head, with loud cries of ' Alia Yar ! ' they dashed on, 
 followed by many who had collected during the pause. Those 
 in the enclosure reserved their fire till they were near. 
 
 'They have no ammunition,' cried the Sultaun; 'Ya Fukr- 
 oo-deen ! Ya Nathur WuUee ! I vow a covering for both your 
 tombs if they take the place.' But as he made the invocation, 
 they saw (for all were looking from the tower where they had 
 stayed in intense eagerness) one of the men inside the enclosure 
 lift a match to the gun, and apply it ; — it would not ignite. 
 
 ' Ya Futteh-O ! ' cried Kasim, snatching a matchlock from a 
 fellow who stood near, and aiming ; ' it is a long shot, but, Bis- 
 milla ! ' and he fired. 
 
 The man was raising his hand again when the shot struck him ; 
 he fell back into the arms of those behind him. 
 
 ' Another, for the sake of the Prophet, or it will be too late ! ' 
 cried Kasim, not heeding the cries of ' Shabash ! Shabash ! ' 
 which all poured forth. 
 
 It was indeed too late : the success of the first shot had gained 
 the advancing party a moment, but ere he could be sure of his 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 277 
 
 aim a second time, the fatal match was applied, and with the 
 explosion half of the leading division fell as one man. 
 
 'May perdition light on them !' cried the Sultaun, in agony ^ 
 ' may hell be their portion ! My men waver too. Ya Kubeer ! 
 Ya Alia kureem ! Support them — Ya Mahomed ! — against the 
 infidels ! ' 
 
 But his wild invocations were of no use ; the commander of 
 the party had fallen ; and the men, having fired a volley at ran- 
 dom, turned and fled as hastily as they could on that narrow, 
 crowded way. 
 
 ' Cowards ! ' exclaimed Kasim. ' Ah, had I here fifty of the 
 youth of my country, and their good swords — Inshalla ! we 
 would see whetherwe were to eat this abomination.' 
 
 The Sultaun was speechless with rage for some moments. 
 ' Order on the next corps ! ' he shouted at last ; ' that unworthy 
 one shall be disgraced. Before my very eyes to behave thus ! 
 Do not stay to fire,' he cried to its commander who came up ; 
 ' upon them with the steel ! were ye English, ye would carry the 
 place — ye are of the true faith, will ye not fight better ? Ya 
 Karwa Owlea ! Ya Baba Boodun ! grant me your prayers.' 
 
 • Let me head this attack,' cried Kasim, for others appeared to 
 hang back ; ' on my head and eyes be it — I will carry the place 
 or die in the effort ! ' 
 
 * Remain here 1 ' exclaimed the Sultaun fiercely j ' art thou, too, 
 rebellious ? remain and shoot if thou wilt, we may need thee. 
 Let them go whose duty it is.' 
 
 ' Jo Hookum ! ' exclaimed the officer who had been addressed ; 
 ' I will either carry it or die.' 
 
 Again the advance was made, while those in the tower kept up 
 an incessant fire, the Sultaun himself aiming frequently; but 
 they had now to face men emboldened by success. The division 
 was allowed to advance nearly to the same place as the former 
 had done ; and again the fatal cannon, loaded almost to the 
 muzzle with grape, was fired. A loud shout from the enemy 
 followed. The execution was terrible; the survivors hesitated 
 for a«moment, then turned and fled, leaving a heap of mangled 
 and writhmg forms between them and the enemy. At this 
 moment too, a body of men from an eminence on the flank, who 
 had hitherto been concealed, poured in a destructive volley, 
 which added to the terror. The retreating body met another 
 which was hurrying on to their assistance, and the <;onfusion 
 became irretrievable. Blows and bayonet-thrusts were even ex- 
 changed on the narrow wall, and many a man fell wounded or 
 maimed by the hands of his fellow-soldiers, while only the power- 
 
278 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 fill could keep possession of the passage. On a sudden arose a 
 cry of ' The road ! the road ! ' and as if the means of escape were 
 thus open, the whole, for a great distance down the wall, turned 
 and fled. 
 
 The Sultaun saw the action ; it was in vain that he tore his 
 hair, threw his turban on the ground, raved, swore, implored the 
 assistance of the Prophet and all the saints in one breath, and in 
 the next wildly invoked the vengeance of Heaven upon his 
 coward army. It was in vain that he threw himself, accompanied 
 by Kasim and his personal attendants, into the crowd, and upon 
 the narrow path strove to withstand the torrent which poured 
 backwards. It was in vain that he shouted — screamed till he 
 was hoarse : his voice was lost in the mighty hubbub, in the cries 
 of thousands, the oaths, the groans, and rattle of musketry from 
 behind. It was in vain that, drawing his sword in despair, he 
 cut fiercely at, and desperately wounded, many of the fugitives, 
 and implored those around him to do the same. He was at last 
 oveipowered, and accompanied by Kasim and a few of the 
 strongest of his slaves, he was borne on with the crowd. No one 
 heeded him ; in the mtl'ee he had lost his turban, by which he 
 was usually known, and he became undistinguishable to his 
 soldiery from one of themselves. 
 
 Thus it was that the throwing down of the wall was interrupted ; 
 the cry from the panic-stricken multitude, re-echoed by the 
 advancing troops, rose almost instantaneously upon the air with a 
 deafening sound. ' The road ! the road ! ' all shouted, and 
 hurried to where they expected to have seen it completed. The 
 narrow stream met from two opposite directions, pouring on, 
 urged by the energy of despair from behind. The two ex- 
 tremes met; there was no time for thought — -mot a second; 
 those who were first had hardly looked into the ditch, a^d seen 
 there only a heap of stones instead of a road, and those thirty 
 feet below them, ere, with one wild cry to Alia, they were pushed 
 into it by those behind, whose turn was to come next. A few 
 there were — men of desperate strength — --who clung to the battle- 
 ments with the tenacity of despair; a few who, drawing their 
 swprds, turned and tried to cut their way through the mass. 
 Vain effort ! force was met by force, for the danger was not 
 perceived till the men were on the brink and were pushed over ; 
 those in the rear thought they had escaped, and no warning cry 
 was heard, or, if heard, attended to or understood. 
 
 The multitude poured on. Ten thousand men had to pass by 
 that place. Those who leaped, lay at the bottom, many maimed, 
 others crushed and entangled amidst the thorny briars and thick 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 279 
 
 grasses. The mass at the bottom of the ditch gradually in- 
 creased; and a road arose, not of the ruins of the wall, but a 
 mass of human bodies : those uppermost struggling in agony for 
 life, those underneath already at rest in death — a quiet founda- 
 tion for the superincumbent structure. 
 
 The Sultaun and his companions were hurried on. Kasim 
 had a dread of what he should see — a sickening feeling, as the 
 shrieks and imprecations which arose from that horrible spot fell 
 upon his ear as they approached ; they could do nothing however, 
 for to turn was impossible ; to leap from the walls into the midst 
 of the enemy would have been death, for they pursued the flying 
 army with exulting shouts, and pressed close upon the flanks and 
 rear with their long spears. By the road there was a chance of 
 life — a chance only — ^and that was clung to as a reality at that 
 moment. 
 
 They reached the brink. ' Way for the Sultaun ! aid the 
 Sultaun ! rescue your King ! ' shouted Kasim with his utmost 
 energy, while he dealt blows right and left, as did also the others 
 with him, to stay the crowd even for an instant. The Sultaun 
 looked down on the horrible heap, which, wildly agitated, was 
 heaving with the convulsions of those beneath it ; he appeared to 
 turn sick and stagger, and Kasim observed it. 
 
 • For your life,' cried he, ' Lall Khan and some more of ye, 
 keep together, or he is lost ! Now leap with me ! ' and as the 
 Sultaun still hesitated, Kasim seized him by thie arm and threw 
 himself from the brink. 
 
 Now began a fresh struggle — one for life or death, in which 
 only the strongest prevailed. For an instant Kasim was stunned 
 by the shock, but he saw Lall Khan trying to help on the Sultaun, 
 whose features wore the hue of despair, and he. made a mighty 
 eifort to aid him. The footing upon the heaving, mass was 
 unsteady and insecure ; in the wild despair of death, the struggling 
 beings below clung to the legs of those above them, and thus the 
 weak were drawn down to destructiori. But Kasim Ali and those 
 who followed him were powerful men, and raising the almost 
 senseless body of the Sultaun in their arms, and spurning many a 
 feeble and exhausted wretch beneath their feet, they bore it with 
 immense exertions across the ditch. 
 
 There remained, however, the counterscarp to surmount. 
 Here many a man who had passed across the ditch failed to 
 ascend, for it was of rock, and so rugged and inclining inwards 
 as to afford no footing. It was vain attempting to raise the 
 Sultaun to the top, without he made some exertion, and Kasim 
 shouted his danger in his ear, while he pointed to the place. 
 
28o TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 The Sultaun at last comprehended the peril, and being raised 
 by Kasim and the others on the shoulders of the tallest of his 
 slaves, he twice essayed to mount the bank, and twice fell back 
 among the writhing and crushed wretches at the foot, upon whom 
 they were standing. 
 
 The second time he was raised he was evidently much hurt, 
 and could not stand ; what was to be done ? Motioning to the 
 others — for to speak was impossible — Kasim mounted by their 
 aid to the top; and the Sultaun being once more lifted, was 
 received by the young man, who supported him a few steps, and 
 then laying him down, groaning heavily, he flew to the rescue of 
 those who had so nobly aided him. 
 
 One by one they had ascended by his and their mutual aid, 
 and the generous fellow had stretched his hand to several despair- 
 ing wretches, who were weak with their efforts and previous 
 fatigue, and rescued them from death ; when, seeing the enemy 
 now lining the wall and about to fire upon the bank opposite to 
 where he stood, he turned away in order to remove the Sultaun, 
 who still lay where he had placed him, out of danger. He had 
 gone but a few paces, when he heard a sharp discharge of match- 
 locks, and felt a cold stinging pain in his shoulder and all down 
 his back; the next instant a deadly sickness, which precluded 
 thought, overpowered his faculties, and he sank to the ground in 
 utter insensibility. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 While the principal division of the army was displaying its 
 choicest manoeuvres in front of the gate of the wall, now and 
 then venturing within shot, and giving and receiving a distant 
 volley, the noise of the firing came faintly to those engaged, and, 
 as it was expected, caused no sensation, except of anxiety for 
 the moment when their victorious Sultaun should arrive, driving 
 before him the infidel defenders ; and when the gates should be 
 opened, and the mass of cavalry should rush in to complete 
 their rout and destruction. Many a man there anticipated the 
 pleasure of slaughtering the flying foe, of Tiunting them like wild 
 beasts, of the fierce gratifications of lust and unchecked plunder ; 
 but hours passed and no victorious army appeared ; the defenders 
 of the fort called to them to come on, with insulting gestures and 
 obscene abuse, and shook their swords and matchlocks at them 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. aSi 
 
 in defiance. This was hardly to be borne, and yet they who 
 mocked them were beyond their reach ; at length, as they looked, 
 several horsemen approached them with desperate speed, their 
 horses panting with fatigue and heat The Khan and many 
 others rode to meet them. 
 
 'Ya Alia kureem,' cried all, 'what news? where are the 
 army and the Sultaun? why do you look so wildly?' 
 
 • Alas ! ' answered one who was well known to the Khan as a 
 leader of note, ' the army is defeated, and we much fear the 
 Sultaun is lost ; he was in the van leading on the attack with 
 Syud Sahib, Hussein Ali, Bakir Sahib, and the young Pat^l, who 
 was fighting, we heard, like a tiger, when Alia only knows how the 
 army took a panic and fled.' 
 
 ' And you were within the walls ? ' cried many voices. 
 
 • We were, and had marched some miles. Alas ! it would 
 have been better had we never entered.' 
 
 ' And how did you escape ? ' 
 
 ' The ditch was already filled with our companions,' said the 
 horseman, ' and we scrambled over their bodies ; I found a horse 
 near, and have ridden for my life to tell the news.' 
 
 They asked no more questions, and each looked at his fellow 
 with silent shame and vexation that this should have been the 
 end of all their hopes. One by one the leaders drew off, and in 
 a short time division after division left the ground, and returned 
 towards the camp ; a few only daring to meet the discomfited 
 host, which soon began to pour by hundreds into it, exhausted, 
 humbled, full of shame and mortification. 
 
 Among the first was the Sultaun ; for the elephants had, at a 
 little distance, kept a parallel line with the wall. One was easily 
 procured for him, and having been lifted upon it, he was rapidly 
 borne to the camp ; but he was unattended, and arrived at his 
 tents almost unknown and unobserved. 
 
 But the loud nagara soon sounded, and men knew that he was 
 safe ; and though it was the signal that the Durbar was open, 
 and that he expected their presence, few went to him, or cared to 
 meet him in the temper which they knew must possess him. 
 The Khan was among the first who entered ; his low salaam was 
 almost disregarded, and he took his seat, pitying the Sultaun's 
 shame and mortification, \jhich was fully expressed on his sullen 
 ' countenance. 
 
 One by one, however, the leaders of the divisions which had 
 remained behind entered, and took their places in silence ; none 
 dared to speak ; and the restless eyes of the monarch, the whites 
 of which were yellow and bloodshot, wandered from one to 
 
282 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 another round the assembly, as if searching for some pretext to 
 break forth into the rage which evidently possessed him, and 
 which was augmented by the pain of the sprain of his ankle. 
 There was a dead silence, so unusual in his Durbar ; and the 
 words which were spoken by the attendants to one another were 
 uttered in a whisper. Now and then the Sultaun rubbed his ankle 
 impatiently, and knit his brows when a severe paroxysm of pain 
 passed through it : or else he sat silent, looking round and round ; 
 — the bravest of those present used to say afterwards that they 
 waited to see who would be first sacrificed to his vengeance. 
 The silence was insupportable ; at last Nedeem Khan, his favour- 
 ite and chief flatterer, ventured to speak. 
 
 ' May Alia and the Prophet ease the pain thou art suffering, 
 O Sultaun ! ' he said ; ' can your slave do aught to relieve it ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, rare bravery to speak ! ' cried the Sultaun with bitterness ; 
 ' thou wert not with me, Nedeem Khan, to partake of the abom- 
 ination we have eaten this day at the hands of our own friends 
 and those infidel Hindoos — ^may their ends be damnation ! No, 
 thou didst volunteer to be with the division without the gate, that 
 thy fine clothes and fine horse might be seen by the defenders of 
 the wall. Verily thy destiny is great, that thou wert not among 
 that crowd, nor struggling with that heap of — Pah ! where is 
 Kasim Ali Pat^? ' he continued after a pause ; ' why is he not 
 present ? and Lall Khan also ?' 
 
 'Kasim Ali Jemadar Huzrut!' cried Lall Khan advancing, 
 ' has not been seen since — ' 
 
 ' Not been seen ! ' thundered the Sultaun, attempting to rise, 
 and sinking back in pain, — ' not been seen ! and thou to tell me 
 this ! Oh kurabukht ! By Alia, Lall Khan, hadst thou not too 
 aided me, thou shouldest have been scourged till the skin was cut 
 from thy back. Begone ! thou and thy companions — seek him, 
 dead or alive, and bring him hither to me.' 
 
 ' Asylum of the world ! he lies, if he be killed, among the dead 
 upon the edge of the ditch, and the enemy is in possession of the 
 walls, and — ' 
 
 ' Begone ! ' roared the Sultaun ; ' if he was in hell thou 
 shouldest bring him. Begone ! thou art a coward, Lall 
 Khan.' 
 
 ' Huzrut ! ' said the old Khan, rising and joining his hands, 
 hardly able to speak, for his grief was choking him ; ' if your 
 slave has his dismissal, he will accompany Lall Khan in search 
 of — ' He could not finish the speech, and the big tears rolled 
 down his rough visage upon his beard. 
 
 • Go, Rhyman Khan,' said the Sultaun, evidently touched by 
 
TTPPOO SULTAUN. 883 
 
 his emotion ; ' may you be successful.' And again he relapsed 
 into silence, as the two officers departed on their almost hope- 
 less errand. 
 
 ' The tiger will have blood ere he is pacified,' whispered 
 Bakir Sahib, who had arrived, and now sat near Nedeem. ' I 
 pray Alia it may be none of this assembly ! ' 
 
 ' Will they find Kasim Ali ? ' asked the other. 
 
 'Willa Alum,' responded his friend, 'I think not; but he 
 will be no loss to us.' 
 
 ' None — ^but what is this ? ' 
 
 As he spoke there was a noise without, and suddenly a man, 
 evidently a Hindoo, rushed bare-headed into the assembly, 
 crying out, ' Daad ! Daad ! Daad ! '* and advancing threw him- 
 self on the ground, and lay at full length motionless before the 
 Sultaun. 
 
 ' What ho, Furashes.! Chobdars ! ' roared the Sultaun, his face 
 quivering with rage ; ' what is this hc^^this defiled father of 
 abomination ? were ye asleep to allow our Durbar to be polluted 
 by his presence ? who and what art thou ? ' he cried to the 
 trembling wretch, who had been roughly raised by the Furashes ; 
 ' speak ! art thou drunk ? ' 
 
 ' You are my father and mother: — you are my Sultaun — you 
 are my god ! ' cried the man ; ' I am a poor Brahmin ; I am 
 not drunk— I have been plundered — I have been beaten by a 
 devil they call Jaffar Sahib j he seeks my life, and I have fled 
 to your throne for mercy.' 
 
 'Thou shalt have it,' said the Sultaun quietly, with his low 
 chuckling laugh, which not even his officers could listen to 
 without feeling their blood curdle ; ' thou shalt have it. Away 
 with him, Furashes ! ' he cried, rai&ing bis shrill voice, ' away 
 with him ! I see an elephant yonder ; chain him to its foot, 
 and let him be dragged to and fro before the place he has de- 
 filed.' 
 
 The wretched man listened wildly to his sentences-he could 
 not understand it ; he looked on the Sultaun with a trembling 
 smile, and then with a feigned laugh round the assembly; 
 nought met his eye but stem and inexorable faces ; there were 
 many who felt the horrible injustice of the act, but none pitied 
 the fate of the Brahmin after the event of the morning. 
 
 ' Do ye not hear ? ' cried the Sultaun again ; arid, ere he could 
 say a word, the Brahmin was borne shrieking out of the tent. 
 All listened fearfully, and soon they heard the shrill scream of 
 the elephant, as, after the wretched man had been bound to his 
 
 1* Complaint. 
 
284 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 foot, the noble and tender-hearted animal — it was old Hyder — 
 was unwillingly goaded into a desperate run, and, dashing 
 forward, soon put an end to his sufferings. They looked, and 
 saw something apparently without form jerked along at the end 
 of a chain by the foot of the elephant at every step he took in 
 the rapid pace into which he had been urged. 
 
 ' The Durbar is closed,' said the Sultaun after a time, during 
 which he had not spoken, but continued moodily to watch the 
 door of the tent for the elephant, as it passed to and fro. ' Ye 
 have your dismissal, sirs, we would be alone.' 
 
 They were glad to escape from his presence. 
 
 'I said how it would be, Khan,' said Bakir Sahib, as they 
 passed out; 'Alia knows what would have happened if that 
 Brahmin had not rushed in.' 
 
 ' Alia knows ! ' said the other ; ' I trembled for myself, for he 
 was savage to me. After all it was the Brahmin's fate — it was^ 
 written — ^who could have averted it ? ' 
 
 The glaring day waned fast. Kasim had been wounded about 
 mid-day, and stiU lay near the same spot, enduring almost in- 
 sufferable agony. At first he had been insensible, but when he 
 recovered and was enabled to look around him, the place was 
 deserted, except by a few of the enemy at a distance, who were 
 busily employed in stripping the dead and wounded of their 
 arms and clothes. He found his sword, his shield, and daggers 
 were gone, — ^his turban and waistband, and upper garment also : 
 his head and his body were bare, for they had thought him dead, 
 and the fierce rays of the burning sun descended in unmitigated 
 fury upon him, increasing to an agonising degree the torment of 
 thirst. 
 
 'Water! water!* he cried to those whom he saw afar off; 
 ' Water, for the sake of your mothers and your children 1 — will 
 ye suffer me to die ? ' 
 
 Alas ! they heard him not ; they were too busy in their work 
 of plunder ; and if they had, it would have been only to return, 
 and with a thrust of a spear or a sword to have ended his 
 sufferings. To him death would have been welcome, for his 
 agony was past enduring, and he had no hope of alleviation till 
 he died. But his voice was too weak for them to hear ; and if 
 he exerted it there came a rush of blood into his mouth which 
 almost choked him. 
 
 He tried to move, to drag himself under the shade of a bush 
 which was at a short distance.; it was impossible, — the pain he 
 suffered became excruciating; and, after making several desperate 
 but ineffectual attempts, he fainted. This temporary oblivion, at 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. . 285 
 
 least, brought absence from pain, and was welcome, — ^but it did 
 not last ; and as the returning life-blood poured through his 
 heart, his agony of body was renewed, and thoughts too rapid 
 and too vague to assume decisive forms — a weak delirium, in 
 which his mother, Ameena, his friend, the Sultaun, the dreadful 
 passage of the ditch, and the heaps of struggling forms — were 
 incoherently mingled in wild confusion. Now his distempered 
 fancy caused him to imagine that he again bore on the Sultaun, 
 — now his form would seem to change into Ameena's, and he 
 would shout his despair, and cry the war-cry of the faith as he 
 strove for life and mastery among the thousands who fiercely 
 struggled with him ; but his fancied shouts were only low moans, 
 which from time to time escaped him, as he lay to all appearance 
 dead. 
 
 And again the thirst, the heat, and the pain slowly but surely 
 brought on frenzy — fierce ravings of battle and hot contest ; and 
 words of encouragement to those around him : defiance of the 
 enemy, with wild invocations of Alia and the Prophet, broke 
 from his lips in faint murmurs, though passionately uttered ; he 
 thought them shouts, but they could scarcely have been heard 
 by one standing over him. At times the sweat poured from him 
 in streams, or stood in big drops on his brow ; again his frame 
 would seem to dry up, till he thought it would crack and burst 
 
 In a lucid moment he found he had dragged himself, during a 
 paroxysm of delirium, under the shade of the bush; it was 
 grateful to him, and soothed his burning head and skin; and 
 with the coolness came visions of quiet shady groves — of foun- 
 tains, whose ceaseless plashings, mingling with the gentle rustling 
 of leafy boughs, were music in his ears — of bubbling springs, 
 whose waters flowed up to his lips and were dashed thence by 
 malignant forms which his excited brain created. By turns 
 despair and hope possessed him, but in his quiet moments he 
 prayed to Alia for death, for release from suffering, and from 
 the deadly sickness caused by a burning throat and loss of 
 blood. He could feel that he had been shot through the body, 
 and he wondered how it was possible to retain life in such a state. 
 
 As often as he looked for a moment over the open space, he 
 saw in hundreds the horrible birds of prey, ravens and kites, and 
 the filthy and powerful vultures, tearing the hardly cold bodies, 
 and disputing with each other over their sickening banquet, while 
 th ers wheeled and screamed above them ready to take the place 
 of any who should be driven by the rest from their meal. 
 Wherever he looked, it was the same ; there were hundreds of 
 ohe obscene birds, struggling, scrambling, fighting with each 
 
286 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 other, while thousands of crows, in clamorous and incessant 
 flight, hovered over, alighting where chance threw in their way 
 a coveted morsel ; and now and then some prying raven would 
 approach him with long hops, croaking to his fellows, his keen 
 black eye glistening brightly in anticipation, and would hardly 
 be scared away by the faint gestures and cries of the sufferer. 
 
 The night fell gently — that night, which many an one would 
 spend in luxury, in the enjoyment of voluptuous pleasures, sur- 
 rounded by objects which enthral the senses, lying upon the 
 softest carpets, while burning incense filled the air with rich 
 perfume, and the soft sighs of women and the gentle tinkling 
 of their anklets sounded in their ears — that night he would pass 
 in terror, surrounded by the ghastly forms of the dead. 
 
 The sun sank in glory, the hues of the brilliant west faded 
 dimly on his aching sight, and from the east over the wooded 
 hills the yellow moon arose, dim at first, and seemingly striving 
 to maintain the waning daylight. Soon, however, that faded 
 away, and the melancholy and quivering wail of the brass horn, 
 and the deep sound of the evening kettle-drums from the wall, 
 showed that the enemy were setting their night-watch. The 
 gorged birds of prey flapped their broad wings heavily in their 
 short flights to the nearest trees, to roost there till the morrow 
 should break, enabling them to recommence their glutting and 
 bloody feast. 
 
 They were succeeded by beasts of prey : one by one jackals 
 issued from the jungle, and looking carefully around, first one 
 and then another raised his nose into the air, and as he sniffed 
 the banquet, sent forth a howl or shriek which ran through the 
 unfortunate Kasim's veins like ice. Now he could see many, 
 many, running to and fro in the moon's bright light, and their 
 cries and screams increased fearfully. To his excited and deliri- 
 ous spirit — for his senses fled and returned at intervals — the 
 place he thought was the hell he had read of, and the howls Hke 
 those of the damned. Now stalked abroad the stealthy wolf, and 
 the gaunt and fierce hyaena mingled his horrible howl with those 
 of the innumerable jackals which hurried on in packs to the 
 ditch ; and Kasim could hear the distant hayings of others as 
 they answered the invitation from afar. How he prayed for 
 death ! Had he possessed a weapon, he would have rid himself 
 of life ; but he had to endure all, and he shrank into the bush 
 as far as he could, to screen himself from the notice of the wild 
 animals, lest he should be torn in pieces by them ere he was 
 dead. Some even came and sniffed at him, and their bright and 
 wild eyes glared upon him ; but seeing that he yet lived, they 
 
TIPPOO SVLTAUN. ^«7 
 
 passed on to where in the ditch carcases lay in heaps inviting 
 them to feast. 
 
 On a sudden, while he lay in utter despair, he thought he 
 heard the clashing sound of an elephant's bells, and the peculinr 
 and monotonous cry of palankeen-bearers. Could it be ? or was 
 it only a mockery of his senses, such as had raised water to his 
 lips and spread before him delicious and juicy fruits ? He 
 listened in fearful suspense ; he did not hear it for a time, and 
 hope, which had arisen strong within him, was dying away, when 
 it came again on the soft night breeze that had just arisen, and 
 he could hear it clearly above the yells and howls of the beasts 
 around him, who were fighting savagely over the dead. 
 
 Alia ! how he panted, as the welcome sound came nearer and 
 nearer; and how his spirit sank within him as he thought it 
 might only be travellers by some by-road he knew not of. Now 
 his faculties were all sharply alive ; had he possessed the power 
 of motion, how gladly would he have hurried to meet them ; he 
 tried to move, to raise himself, and fell back helpless. ' Alas ! ' 
 he said aloud, ' it is but a delusion 5 they will pass me, and the 
 hght of morning will never shine on Kasim Ali alive.' His own 
 voice seemed awful in the solitude, but he could speak now, 
 although very faintly, and if they passed near him he was 
 determined to exert his utmost energy in one cry, should it even 
 be his last effort. 
 
 A horse's neigh now rang shrill and clear in the distance, and 
 the clash of the elephant's bells became more and more distinct. 
 They were coming .'—they were surely coming — perhaps for him — 
 perhaps it was the Khan — perhaps the Sultaun had thought of 
 him — how tumultuous were his thoughts ! 
 
 Now he even thought he couM hear voices, and presently there 
 was another loud snorting neigh, for the horses had smelt the 
 dead afar off. He crawled out from his hiding-place, and looked 
 with intense expectation ; there was a twifaklilig light far away 
 among the jungle. It blazed up. 
 
 ' Ya Alia kureem ! it is a torch — they come, they come ! ' cried 
 the poor fellow. He heard a confused sound of voices, for the 
 yells of the beasts had ceased : he could see many slinking off 
 into the thickets, and there was perfect silence. Now the red 
 light illumined the trees at a little distance — ^they were descending 
 one side of a hollow towards him — he could track their progress 
 by the light upon the trees — he lost it for a time, as they 
 ascended the other side^again it gleamed brightly, and on a 
 sudden burst like a meteor upon his glance, as the body of 
 men, with several torches, the elephant, the palankeen, and 
 
288 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 some horsemen appeared for a moment on an open spot pressing 
 towards him. 
 
 He could not be mistaken : but Kasim now dreaded lest the 
 garrison should make a sally over the ditch; he looked there — 
 all was dark, but in the distance a few lights on the wall were 
 hurrying to and fro, as though the alarm was given, and a shrill 
 blast of the collery horn was borne to his ear. ' They will not 
 come ! ' he thought, and thought truly ; they would not have 
 dared to face the ghastly spectacle in the ditch. 
 
 The voices were real, and the lights were but a short distance 
 from him : the party had stopped to consult, and the poor fellow's 
 heart beat wildly with suspense lest they should advance no 
 further ; he could not hear what they said, but on a sudden a cry 
 arose from several, ' Kasim Ali ! Kasim Ali ! ho ! ' which re- 
 sounded far and wide among the still jungle. 
 
 He strove to repeat it, but the blood gushed into his throat : 
 he fell back in despair. They came nearer and nearer, shouting 
 his name. 
 
 ' It was near this spot,' said one; 'I am sure of it, for here is 
 a corpse, and here another : let us look further.' And they 
 continued to track the way of the fugitives by the dead. 
 
 ' Kasim Ali ! Kasim iUi ! ho, hote ! ' shouted a voice which 
 thrilled to Kasim's very soul, for it was the Khan's : how well he 
 knew it — an angel's would have been less welcome. One torch- 
 bearer was advancing, hardly fifty paces from him ; he waited an 
 instant, then summoning his resolution, ' Ho ! hote ! ' he cried, 
 with all his remaining power. The sound was very faint, but it 
 was heard. 
 
 • Some one answered ! ' shouted the torch-bearer. 
 . 'Where? for the sake of Alia,' cried the Khan from his 
 horse. 
 
 ' Yonder, in front.' 
 
 ' Quick, run ! ' was the reply, and all hurried on, looking to 
 the right and left. 
 
 Kasim could not speak, but he waved his arm ; as they came 
 close to him, the broad glare of the torch fell on him, and he 
 was seen. 
 
 All rushed towards him, and the old Khan, throwing himself 
 recklessly from his horse, ran eagerly to his side and gazed in his 
 face. Kasim's eye was dim, and his face and body were covered 
 with blood ; but the features were well known to him, and the 
 old soldier, unable to repress his emotion, fell on his knees be- 
 side him, and raising his clasped hands wept aloud. 
 
 ' Shookur-khoda ! Ul-humd-ul-illa ! ' he cried at last when he 
 
TIPPOO SVLTAVN. 289 
 
 could spesJt, « he lives ! my friends, he lives ! I vow a gift to 
 thee, O Moula Ali, and to thee, Burhanee Sahib, for this joy ; 
 I vow Fatehas at your shrines, and to feed a hundred J'akeers in 
 your names.' 
 
 ' Do not speak, Kasim Ali, my son, my heart's life. Inshalla ! 
 you will live. Inshalla ! we will tend thee as a child. Do not 
 stir hand or foot:' (Kasim had clasped the Khan's hand, and 
 was endeavouring to raise it to his lips :) ' no th^ks, no thanks — 
 not a word! art thou not dear to us? Ay, by Alia and his 
 apostle ! Gently now, my friendsj gently ; so, raise him up — 
 now the palankeen here, 'tis the Khanum's own, Kasim — n6ver 
 heed his blood,' he added, as some of the bearers strove to piit 
 
 their waistbands under him. 'Aistee, aistee!* — kubardarit 
 
 well done ! Art thou easy, Kasim ? are the pillows right ? — what, 
 too low ? thou canst not breathe ? — now, are they better ? — ^nay, 
 speak not, I understand thy smile;' and truly it was one of 
 exquisite pleasure which overspread his face. 
 
 ' What, water ? ' he continued, as Kasim motioned to his bpeii 
 mouth, ' Ya, Alia ! he can have had none here all day. Quick, 
 bring the soraee and cup ! There,' he said, filling a cup vdm the 
 sparkling and cool fluid, ' Bismilla, drink ! ' 
 
 The fevered Kasim clutched it as though it had contained the 
 water of Paradise; cup after cup was given him, and he was 
 refreshed. The flower of life, which had well nigh withered, was 
 revived once more, and hope again sprang up in his breast. 
 
 ' Go on with easy steps,' cried the Khan to the bearers,' I will 
 give you a sheep to-morrow if ye carry him well and quickly.' 
 
 ' On our head and eyes be it,' said the chief of the bearers, 
 and they set foi-ward. 
 
 The men on the wall fired a few random shots at the party, 
 but they were too distant to aim with effect, and it proceeded 
 rapidly. The journey of some miles was a severe trial to the ex- 
 hausted Kasim, and they were several times obliged to rest ; but 
 they reached the summit of the last declivity aftef some hours, 
 and the welcome sight of the huge camp below, the white tents 
 gleaming brightly in the moonlight, among which hundreds of 
 watchfires were sparkling, greeted the longing eyes of Kasim. 
 In a few minutes more they had arrived at the Khan's own tent, 
 and he was lifted from the palankeen into the iriterior, and laid 
 on a soft bedding which had been prepared within. The place 
 was cleared of those who had crowded round, and although 
 Kasim's eyes were dizzy, and the tent reekd before him, he was 
 conscious that the gentle voices which were around him, the 
 
 • Easy, easy I t Take care, 
 
290 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 shrouded forms wiiich knelt by him, and the soft hands which 
 washed the hard and clotted blood from him, were those of 
 Ameena's women. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 The excitement of the day had prevented the Sultaun from 
 feeling the pain of the severe sprain until late, when it became 
 insupportable : in vain it was fomented and rubbed ; that seemed 
 only to increase the swelling and stiffness ; but when he heard 
 that Kasim had arrived in the camp badly wounded, he could 
 not withstand the desire of seeing him to whom he owed the 
 "preservation of his life ; accordingly he was lifted into a chair, 
 and, entirely unattended, directed his bearers to carry him to the 
 Khan's tent, where he sent orders for his chief physician to 
 meet him. 
 
 Such an honour was entirely unlocked for by the Khan and 
 his household ; nevertheless he was received with respect, carried 
 into the tent where Kasim was, and set down by the side of the 
 sufferer, who lay almost in a state of insensibility, showing con- 
 sciousness only at intervals. The women servants who had been 
 fomenting the wound, and had arisen at his entrance, now re- 
 sumed their occupation ; for though Daood and his other men 
 had offered their services, the Khan had thought truly that there 
 was more lightness and softness in the hand of woman; and 
 Ameena's nurse, Meeran, had set the example to the rest, aided 
 by the instructions of her brother Zoolficar, who was busy pre- 
 paring a poultice of herbs for the wound. 
 
 The Sultaun regarded Kasim intently before he spoke to the 
 Khan, and several times stooping down felt his pulse and head. 
 
 ' Inshalla ! he will yet live,' he said ; ' we, the chosen of the 
 Prophet, are counted to have much skill in the treatment of 
 wounds, and therefore we say, Inshalla ! he will live; his pulse is 
 strong and firm, and he is not going to die.' 
 
 ' Alia forbid,' echoed all around. 
 
 'Whose advice hast thou got for him, Khan?' asked the 
 Sultaun. 
 
 ' None as yet. Asylum of the World ! My Khanum's women 
 here have been fomenting the wound, and a slave of mine who 
 has skill in such matters, for he was a barber once, is preparing 
 a poultice.' * 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 291 
 
 ' We desire to know what is in it,' said the Sultaun j ' there is 
 much in having lucky herbs boiled under the influence of salutary 
 planets; send for him.' The replies of Zoolficar were deemed 
 satisfactory by the Sultaun, who desired him to proceed with the 
 work. The Hukeem too shortly afterwards attended, and began 
 carefully to examine the patient ; he had evidently but little hope, 
 and shook his head with a melancholy air when he had made his 
 survey. 
 
 ' There is no hope of his life,' said the old man. « I have seen 
 many shot, but a man never survived such a wound — his liver is 
 pierced, and he must die.' 
 
 ' I tell thee no ! Moorad-ali,' said the Sultaun ; ' we have had 
 dreams about him of late, his destiny we know is linked with our 
 own, and we are alive — Inshalla ! we shall yet see him on horse- 
 back.' 
 
 • Inshalla-tarAlla,' said the Hukeem, 'in him alone is the 
 power, and we will do what we can to aid any merciful interfer- 
 ence he may make.' But his directions for an application were 
 little different from the mixture of the cook, which was shortly 
 afterwards applied. The Sultaun waited a while in the hope of 
 hearing Kasim speak, but he continued to lie breathing heavily 
 and slightly groaning, when additional pain caused a pang. 
 
 ' We can do no good,' he said to the Khan ; ' let us leave him 
 to the care of Alia, who will restore him to us if it be his destiny. 
 Come then with me to the morning Durbar ; we will summon the 
 leaders, and settle some plan for the future, which we were too 
 disturbed to arrange yesterday.' 
 
 The Khan followed him, charging the women strictly with the 
 care of the poor sufferer until he returned ; he was soon after- 
 wards engaged in deliberation with the Sultaun and his officers. 
 One of two alternatives presented themselves to Tippoo ; either 
 to abandon the undertaking suddenly, and while the English 
 should think him engaged there to faU upon their territory with 
 fire and sword, — or to send for heavy guns from Seringapatam, 
 and breach the barrier, when an assault, such as could not be 
 withstood by the besieged, might be made with success. The 
 latter was in the end adopted ; the army serving in Malabar was 
 desired to join the Sultaun by long forced marches ; heavy bat- 
 teries of guns were ordered directly from the city; and his 
 officers, from his manner and the eagerness with which he entered 
 into the matter, saw how intent he was on providing for the 
 emergency. 
 
 The pain Tippoo had suffered the whole night was intense ; 
 but the excitement of the Durbar, the dictation of the letters to 
 
3$2 ItlPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 his officers, and the deliberation, had prevented him from be- 
 traying it more than by an impatient gesture or ill-suppressed 
 oath. At last he could bear it no longer, and sank back upon 
 his musnud, cursing terribly the infidels who had caused his 
 defeat and suffering; but he rallied again immediately, and 
 started up to a sitting posture, while he exposed and pointed 
 to his ankle, which he had hitherto kept concealed under a shawl. 
 
 ' Ye see what pain and grief are devouring us,' he cried, * and 
 we call upon ye to revenge it.' 
 
 ' We are ready — on our head and eyes be it !' cried all. 
 
 ' For every throb of pain,' continued the Sultaun, speaking in 
 suppressed rage from between his closed teeth, while he held his 
 ankle, ' we will have a kafir's life ; we will hunt them like beasts, 
 we will utterly despoil their country. Ya, Alia Mousoof! we 
 swear before thee and this company, that we will resent this 
 affront upon thy people to the death — that we will not leave this 
 camp, pressing as are our necessities elsewhere, till we have sent 
 thousands of these kafirs to perdition ; and ye are witness, my 
 friends, of this.' 
 
 ' And I swear to aid thee, O Sultaun !' cried the Khan with 
 enthusiasm, ' and to revenge that poor boy if he dies.' ' And I ! 
 and I ! ' cried all, as they started to their feet in the wild spirit of 
 the moment ; * the kafirs shall be utterly destroyed.' 
 
 ' I am satisfied now,' cried the Sultaun ; ' what has happened 
 was the will of Alia, and was pre-ordained ; whatever a man's fate 
 is, that he must suffer;' and the assembly assented by a general 
 ' Ameen !' 'However, Inshalla !' he continued, 'we have seen 
 the last reverse ; and we are assured by comforting thoughts that 
 the army of the faith will be henceforth victorious. Ye have 
 your dismissal now, for we are in much pain and would consult 
 our physician.' 
 
 During the absence of the Khan, the attentions of the women 
 to poor Kasim had been incessant, and everything was done that 
 kindness could suggest to procure any alleviation of his pain. 
 His wound was fomented, his limbs kneaded, his still parched 
 and fevered lips moistened with cool sherbet. Meeran had 
 striven to comfort her young mistress for some time, but in vain : 
 she had not been able to repress her emotions when he was 
 brought in wounded, although she dared not in presence of her 
 lord give full vent to her feelings; but when she knew that he 
 had left the tent with the Sultaun, she could no longer restrain 
 herself, and gave way to a burst of grief, which would have 
 proved to Meeran, had she not before known of her love for 
 him, how deep and true it was. 
 
TIPPOO SVLTAtltr. 4$3 
 
 ' I must see him, Meeran,' she said at length j » the Khan is 
 gone now, and canst thou not devise some means ? Quick ! 
 think and act promptly,' 
 
 ' I will send away the women, my rose, — ^thou shalt see him,' 
 said the attendant ; ' when I cough slightly do thou come in ; 
 they say he cannot speak, and lies with his eyes shut.' 
 
 ' Ya, Alia kureem !' cried Ameena ; ' what if he should die ere I 
 see him ? Oh grant him life, — thou wilt not take one so young and 
 so brave. Quick, good nurse ! I am sick at heart with impatience.' 
 
 Meeran found but little difficulty in sending away the women 
 upon some trifling errands, for Kasim slept, or appeared to dose ; 
 so taking their place by his side, she coughed slightly, and Ameena, 
 who had been waiting anxiously behind the screen which divided 
 the tents, withdrew it hastily and entered- 
 
 She advanced with a throbbing heart ; she could hardly sup- 
 port herself, as well from her despair of his life as of her own 
 feelings of love for him, which would now brook no control ; her 
 mind was a chaos of thoughts, in which that of his death and 
 her own misery were the most prominent and most wretched. 
 
 Nor was the sight before her, as she drew near Kasim, at all 
 calculated to allay her fears j he lay to all appearance dead ; his 
 eyes were closed, and his breathing was so slight that it scarcely 
 disturbed the sheet which was thrown over him ; the ruddy 
 brown of his features had ch^iged to a deathlike hue, and his 
 eyes were sunken. 
 
 Ameena was more shocked than she had anticipated, and it 
 was with difficulty that she could prevent herself from falling to 
 the ground when she first saw his features, so -deadly was the 
 sickness which seemed to strike at her heart ; but she rallied after 
 an instant of irresolution, and advancing sat down by her nurse, 
 who gently fanned the sleeper. 
 
 ' He sleeps,' she whispered j ' Zoolficar has bound up the wound, 
 his remedies are always sure, and there is luck with his hand. 
 Alia kureem ! I have hope.' 
 
 'Alas ! I have none, Unna,' said Ameena ; ' I cannot look on 
 those altered features and hope. Holy Alia ! see how he looks 
 now — what will happen?' and she gasped in dread, and put her 
 hand before her eyes. 
 
 ' It was nothing — nothing, my life, but a slight spasm, some 
 pain he felt in his asleep, or perchance a dream ; but it is past ; 
 look again, he is smiling !' 
 
 His features were indeed pleasant to behold. Even in a few 
 minutes a change had come over them ; he had been dreaming, 
 and the excitement and pain of one had been followed, as is often 
 
294 TtPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 the case, by another of an opposite nature — one of those delirious 
 visions of gardens and fountains which had mocked him as he 
 lay on the battle-field again arose before him, and he fancied that 
 Ameena was beside him, and they roamed together. They saw 
 his lips moving, as though he were speaking, yet no sound came, 
 except an indistinct muttering j but Ameena, whose whole soul 
 was wrapt in watching him, fancied that the motion of his lips 
 expressed, her name, and mingled emotions of joy and shame 
 struggled within her for mastery. 
 
 Again the peaceful vision had passed away, and his brow con- 
 tracted ; his nervous arms were raised above the covering over 
 him, and his hands were firmly clenched ; he ground his teeth 
 till the blood curdled in their veins, and his lips moved rapidly. 
 ' Oh that I could wake him, Unna !' said Ameena ; ' that I could 
 soothe him with words — that I dared to speak to him. Hush ! 
 what does he say ?' 
 
 'Water! water!' whispered Kasim hoarsely. The rest they 
 could not hear, but it was enough for Ameena ; a jar of cool 
 sherbet stood close to her ; with a trembling hand she poured 
 out some into the silver cup and held it to his lips. She only 
 thought of his pain, and that she might alleviate it, and Meeran 
 did not prevent the action. The cool metal was grateful to 
 Kasim's dry and heated lips ; they were partly open, and as she 
 allowed a little of the delicious beverage to find its way into them, 
 the frown from his brow passed away, the rigid muscles of his 
 face relaxed, and as she softly strove to repeat the action, his eyes 
 opened gently and gazed upon her. 
 
 For an instant, to his distempered fancy, her beauty appeared 
 like that of a houri, and he imagined that he then tasted the 
 cup of heavenly sherbet with which the faithful are welcomed to 
 Paradise ; but as he looked longer, the features became familiar 
 to him, and the eyes — those soft and liquid eyes — crested on him 
 with an expression of sjmapathy and concern which they could 
 not conceal. For an instant he strove to speak — 'Ameena !' The 
 name trembled on his lips, but he could not utter it ; he suddenly 
 raised himself up a little, and coughed ; it was followed by a rush 
 of blood, which seemed almost to choke him. 
 
 Ameena could see no more ; her sight failed her, and she sank 
 down beside him unconsciously. Meeran, however, had seen all ; 
 she raised her up, and partly carrying, partly supporting her, led 
 her away, while she called to her brother, who stood at the tent- 
 door to watch, to come to Kasim's assistance. 
 
 ' Thou must keep a stouter heart within thee, my pearl ! ' she 
 said to Ameena, after having with much assiduity recovered her 
 
TtPPOO SULTAUN. 49S 
 
 ' Holy Alia ! suppose the Khan had come in then, when thou wert 
 lying fainting beside him — ^what would he not have thought ? I 
 shall never be able to let thee see him again if thou canst not be 
 more firm.' 
 
 'Alas !' sighed Ameena, *I shall see him but little again; his 
 breath is in his nostrils, and there is no hope : this night — to- 
 morrow — a few hours — and he will cease to live, and then I shall 
 have no friend.' 
 
 ' Put thy trust in Alia ! ' said the nurse, looking up devoutly ; 
 ' if thy destiny is linked with his, as I firmly beUeve it is, there 
 will be life and many happy days for you both,' But her words 
 failed to cheer the lady, who wept unceasingly, and would not 
 be comforted. 
 
 Days passed, however, and Kasim Ali lived ; his spirit of life 
 within him would one while appear to be on the verge of extinc- 
 tion, and again it would revive, and enable him to exchange a few 
 words with those by whom he was tended. It was in vain that 
 he entreated the Khan to allow him to be removed to his own 
 tent; his request was unheeded or refused, and he remained. 
 Gradually he regained some strength ; and with this, a power of 
 conversing, which he was only allowed to exert at intervals by the 
 physicians, and by the kind old cook, who, with the Khan's 
 servant Daood and Ameena's nurse, were his chief attendants. 
 As he lay, weak and emaciated, he would love to speak with 
 Meeran of her who he knew had visited him on the first night of 
 his wound, and to hear of her anxious inquiries after his progress 
 towards recovery. 
 
 To Ameena the days passed slowly and painfully ; sometimes, 
 when the Khan spoke of Kasim, it was with hope,^ — at others, as 
 if no power on earth could save him ; but she believed her nurse 
 more than him, for her hope never faUed, and she was assured by 
 Zoolficar that the crisis had passed favourably, that all tendency 
 to fever had left him, and, though his recovery would be slow, yet 
 that it was sure ; and on this hope she lived. Day and night her 
 thoughts were filled with the one subject, and she conversed 
 upon it freely with the Khan, who loved to speak of Kasim, with- 
 out exciting any surprise in his mind. 
 
 And often would she steal softly on tiptoe to the place where 
 Kasim lay asleep, at such times as she knew he was attended only 
 by Meeran; and looking upon his wasted features, to satisfy her- 
 self that he was advancing towards recovery, she would put up a 
 fervent prayer that it might be speedy. But Kasim knew not of 
 these visits, for Ameena had strictly charged her nurse not to 
 mention them, lest they should excite him or he should look for 
 
«9i5 nPPQO SUI.TAUN. 
 
 th^r contjniaance. O.ft^n woul4 thf old nurse rally her upon her 
 caution, and urge that it would gratify Kasim, ajid aid bis recovery, 
 to §piak with her, but Ameena was resolute. 
 
 ' I should fail in my purpose,' she would say. ' Meeran, I dare 
 not risk it; to Ipok on him daily, even for an instant, is hap- 
 piness to me which thou knowest not of, and such as I may 
 indulge in without shame ; tjut to speak to hini, knowing his 
 feelings and mine, would be to approach the brink of a giddy 
 precipice, from whence we might fall to perditipiv Am I not the 
 Khan's wife ? he \s old — I cannot love him, Meeran, but I honour 
 him, ai)4 while he liv^s I will be true to hiin.' 
 
 'Alia spijij thee power, my child !' Meeran would reply; ' thou 
 art but a child, it is true, but thou hast the faith and honour of 
 an older woman, and Alia will reward thee.' 
 
 But it was a sore temptation to Ameena, and as she gradually 
 became habituated to her silent and stealthy visits, the thought 
 rose up in her heart that it would be pleasant to sit by him for 
 a while, to watch his gentle and refreshing slumbers, even to tend 
 him as Meeran ^nd the others, did, above all, to listen to his 
 converse; but she put these thoughts from her by a violent 
 effort, and when once conquered they returned with less force. 
 
 Nor did Kasim occupy a less dangerous position; but his 
 principle of honour was high, and, experiencing the constant 
 kindness of the Khan, shown daily in a thousand acts, could he 
 plot against his honour ? His passion had imperceptibly given 
 place during his long and great weakness to a purer feeling, 
 which his best reflections and gratitude to his benefactor daily 
 strengthened. 
 
 Weeks, nay months, passed. Kasim's recovery was slow and 
 painful ; it was long ere he could even sit up, and speak without 
 pain and spitting of blood. But as his strength enabled him to 
 do so, he was allowed to sjt for a while, then to crawl about, a 
 shadow of his former self! He was pitied by all, and there was 
 hardly a man in that camp who did not feel an interest in the life 
 and recovery of the Patfl. Often, too, would the Sultaun visit 
 him, and overpower him with thanks for his preservation ; and 
 he showed proofs of his gratitude, in advancing him to higher 
 rank, and to a place of trust near his own person. 
 
 But the life of dull inaction that he led was irksome to Kasim 
 Ali ; the noise of the cannon thundered in his ear, and from the 
 Khan's tent he could see the batteries day after day playing upon 
 the wall, that had hitherto defied them. There was now a huge 
 breach, through which the whole army might have marched, with 
 little chance of opposition ; the ditch became gradually filled up 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUK ?97 
 
 by the rubbish, asd the fire of the besiegers was but faintly 
 returned by those within ; still, however, at times they showed 
 a bold front, and often sallying forth, would do mischief to the 
 advanced posts of the army. 
 
 Day after day reports of the progress of the siege, the camp 
 gossip, the arrival of the remains of that splendid embassy which 
 the Sultaun had sent to Constantinople, and the failure of its 
 purpose, and the immense sums it had cost, were retailed to 
 Kasim by the Khan arid others ; but he was helpless, and, though 
 he longed again to mix in the strife and to strike a blow for the 
 faith, the power was denied him. 
 
 Meanwhile the Sultaun had been a severe sufiferer; the sprain 
 of his foot was acutely painful, and subsided only after a tedious 
 confinement, during which his temper had been more than 
 usually capricious. The failure of his noble embassy to Turkey, 
 the immense sum it had cost him, without any equivalent, except 
 a letter of compliment from the Sultaun of Constantinople, the 
 true value of which he could justly appreciate — the continued 
 preparations of the English, the Mahrattas, and the Nizam, and 
 their united power — pressed on him with force and occupied his 
 thoughts by day and his dreams by night. 
 
 He had summoned the heaviest of his artillery from Seringa- 
 patam, and in time he had completed a breach, some hundred 
 yards in extent, which invited attack; at length it was made. 
 Opposition there was none, and the army, thirsting for revenge 
 and plunder, poured upon the now defenceless territory of 
 Travancore. Impelled by a smarting sense of the degradation 
 they had suffered in the attack on the wall, and in the subsequent 
 delay which had occurred before the storming of the breach, the 
 army now gave itself up to frightful excesses. The inhabitants 
 were hunted like wild beasts, shot and speared by the merciless 
 soldiery— their women and children destroyed, or sent into a 
 captivity, to which death would have been preferable. Thousands 
 were forcibly made to profess the faith, and amidst the jeers of 
 the rabble were publicly fed with beef and forced to destroy 
 cows, which they had hitherto venerated. 
 
 But the necessities of his position began at length to press hard 
 upon the mind of the Sultaun ; he was far from his capital ; in 
 his present condition he was unable to strike a blow against his 
 enemies ; and, though he had endeavoured to mislead the English 
 by plausible letters, and protestations of undiminished friendship, 
 yet he could not disguise from himself that there was a stern 
 array of preparation against him, which required to be met by 
 decisive and vigorous operations. 
 
298 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 'They shall see — the kafir English!' — ^he exclaimed in his 
 Durbar, after the receipt of a letter from his capital, which 
 warned him of danger ; ' they shall see whether the Lion of the 
 Faith is to be braved or not. Mashalla ! we have hitherto been 
 victorious, and the stars show our position yet to be firm ; our 
 dreams continue good, our army is faithful and brave, and those 
 who remember the triumphs of Perambaukum and of Bednore 
 will yet strike a blow for the Sultaun.' 
 
 These addresses were frequent, and the army was in daily 
 expectation of being ordered to return, but as yet it did not 
 move; the most sagacious of his officers, however, urged it at 
 last with such force upon the Sultaun's notice, that he could no 
 longer delay. ' We must utterly destroy the wall,' he repUed to 
 them ; ' then we will return.' 
 
 And this was done. It was a magnificent sight to see that 
 whole army, headed by the Sultaun himself, advance to the 
 various positions upon the wall, which had been previously 
 assigned, for the purpose of razing it to the ground. As the 
 morning broke, the various divisions, without arms, moved to 
 their posts, where pickaxes and shovels had been already pre- 
 pared for them. All the camp-followers, the merchants, grain- 
 sellers, money-changers, men of all grades, of all castes, were 
 required to join in the work, and in the enthusiasm of the 
 moment rushed to it eagerly. The Sultaun himself, dressed in 
 gorgeous apparel, and surrounded by his courtiers, his chiefs and 
 slaves, quitted his tent amidst a discharge of cannon which rent 
 the air, the sound of kettle-drums and cymbals, and the shouts of 
 assembled thousands, ' Alia Yar ! Alia Yar ! Deen ! Deen ! ' 
 
 Tippoo rode on Hyder, his favourite elephant : the umbaree 
 he sat on was of silver gilt, the cushions of crimson velvet, and 
 the curtains of the finest cloth with gold fringes. The housings 
 of the noble beast, of crimson velvet trimmed with green, swept 
 the ground. Around him were all his officers, on a crowd of 
 elephants and horses, decked with their richest trappings, and 
 wearing cloth-of-gold or muslin dresses, with turbans of the gayest 
 colours, red and pink, white, lilac, or green, sometimes twisted 
 into each other. 
 
 The Sultaun dismounted from his elephant, for which a road 
 had been made across the ditch, and seizing a pickaxe ascended 
 the wall. For a while he stood alone, high upon a pinnacle of a 
 tower, in the sight of his whole army, whose shouts rose to the 
 skies, with pride in his heart and exultation flashing from his 
 eye : his favourite astrologer was beneath him, busied with cal- 
 culations. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 299 
 
 • Is it the time, Sheikh?' he asked: • surely it is near ?' 
 
 ' My art tells me it will be in a few minutes,' was the reply. 
 
 There was a breathless silence; at length the Sultaun's arm 
 was uplifted to strike — the fortunate moment had arrived ! 
 
 ' Bismilla-ir-ruhman-ir-raheem, in the name of the most clement 
 and merciful ! Strike, O Sultaun ! ' cried the Sheikh. 
 
 The blow descended, and a shout arose, which mingling with 
 the cannon and the drums, almost deafened the hearers ; while 
 each man of that great host applied himself to the task and tore 
 down portions of the wall. Gradually, but rapidly, the long ex- 
 tent within sight disappeared, and in six days the whole for nearly 
 twenty miles had been so destroyed as to make it useless for any 
 purpose of defence. This completed, the army began to retrace 
 its steps toward the capital, soon to enter upon new and fiercer 
 scenes. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 We must not linger by the way, but at once proceed to the city, 
 where the army has arrived a few days. And now there is bustle, 
 activity and Itfe, where of late all was dull and spiritless. Its 
 arrival has brought gladness to many, but none to her whom we 
 now introduce to the reader. 
 
 ' And thou hast seen him, Sozun ? ' said Kummoo, the Khan's 
 wife who has been before mentioned, to her servant, who had 
 always enjoyed her confidence — a woman with a cunning visage 
 and deep-set twinkling eyes ; ' thou hast seen him — and how 
 looked he ? They say he was terribly wounded, and even now 
 is pale and emaciated.' 
 
 'They say truly, Khanum,' said the woman; 'your slave 
 watched for him at the door of his house, and pretending to 
 be a beggar aske'd alms of him in the name of the Beebee 
 Muriam and Moula Ali of Hyderabad ; and when he asked me 
 if I were of Hyderabad, I said yes, — may Alia pardon the lie — 
 and he flung me a few pice ; lo, here they are. Yes, lady, he is 
 pale, very pale : he looks not as if he could live.' 
 
 ' Ya Alia spare him ! ' cried the lady : ' when I last saw him he 
 was a gallant youth ; he was then going with the Khan to the 
 Durbar ; and as I beheld him urging his noble courser to curvet 
 and bound before this window, my liver turned to water, and, as I 
 live, his image hath been in my heart ever since.' 
 
300 TIPPOQ SVLTAUN. 
 
 'Toba! Toba ! for shame ! Beebee,' said the woman in a mock 
 accent of reproof. ' How can you say so — and you a married 
 woman ? ' 
 
 ' And if I am married,' cried the lady, while her large lustrous 
 eyes flashed with the sudden light of passion, and her bosom 
 heaved rapidly, 'if I am married, what of that? Have I a hus- 
 band, or one that is less than a man ? Have I children, have I 
 love ? have I even a companion ? Have I not hate where there 
 should be love-r^barrenness, where children should have blessed 
 me — z. rival, whose beauty is the only theme I hear, to insult me ? 
 Have I not all these, Sozunbee ? Thou hast had children — they 
 have loved thee, their merry prattle hath sounded in thine ears, 
 they have sucked their life from thee. Thou wast ground by 
 poverty, and yet wast happy — thou hast told it me a thqusand 
 times. I am rich, young, and beautiful ; yet my lord hath no 
 pleasure in me, and I am a reproach among women. Why should 
 I honour him, Sozun ? I love-^why should I not be beloved ? 
 Ya Alia kureem ! why should I not be beloved ? ' 
 
 ' It is possible,' said the dame. 
 
 ' Possible ! ' echoed the lady, panting with excitement j ' I tell 
 thee it must be. Listen, Sozun — thou canst be secret ; if thou 
 art not, were I turned into the street to-morrow I would dog thee 
 to thy death, and thou well knowest my power is equal to my 
 determination. I love that youth : he is noble, his large eyes 
 speak love, his form is beautiful — Mejrioon's was not more fair, 
 I could sit and gaze into his eyes, and drink in the intoxication 
 of this passion for ever. Dost thou hear ? He must know this ; 
 he must feel that I will peril life, fame, all for him. Thou must 
 tell him this, and bring him here, or take me to him, — I care not 
 which.' 
 
 ' There will be peril in it, my rose,' said Sozun.- 
 
 ' And if there is, dost thou think that would deter me ? ' cried 
 Kummoo, in a tone of bitter scorn; 'were there a thousand 
 more perils than thou, whose blood is now cold, canst see or 
 imagine in my path, I could see none. If thy heart burned as 
 mine doth, Sozunbee,' she added, after a pause, ' thou wouldst 
 think on no peril — thou wouldst only see a heaven of bliss at 
 the end — the path between would be all darkness and indifference 
 to thee.' 
 
 ' I have felt it,' said the woman with a sigh. 
 
 'Thou?' 
 
 ' Yes, Beebee. I thought no one would have ever known it 
 but he and I ; and he long ago died on the battle-field. Thou 
 hast surprised me into confessing shame.' 
 
TIPPOO SVLTAUN. 361 
 
 * Then thou wast successful ? ' 
 
 ' Even so,' replied the woman, covering her burning face from 
 the earnest gaze of her mistress. ' I was young as thou art j he 
 loved me, and we met.' 
 
 ' Then by that love, by the memory of that hour, I conjure 
 thee, Sozunbee, as thou art a woman, and hast loved, aid me in 
 this, and my gratitude shall know no bounds ; aid me, and I will 
 bless thee awake and asleep — aid me, or I shall go mad. I have 
 endured thus long without speaking, and methinks as I now 
 speak my brain becomes hot, and it is harder to bear than if I 
 had been silent.' 
 
 'I will, Khanum, I will,' cried the woman; I will do thy 
 bidding, and only watch my opportunity. At times he walks on 
 the northern rampart alone— I will meet him there.' 
 
 ' Give him these, then, and thou needest not speak much ; he 
 is learned, and will understand them. There is a clove, that will 
 teU him I have long loved \ there is a pepper-<;orn, to bid him 
 reply quickly. Now begone ; come to me when thou hast seen 
 him, but not till then. I shall bum with impatience, but I can 
 wait. May Alia speed thee ! ' 
 
 The woman took her departure, and Kummoo, looking from 
 her lattice window, watched her across the large Square, till She 
 disappeared behind some buildings. 
 
 ' Ya Alia, should he despise me, should he spurn me ! ' she 
 thought ; ' should he— But no, he will not ; h£ is young) he will 
 hear I am beautiful, and his blood will burn as mine does now. 
 Then he Shall know what woman's love is, and we will fly 
 together, whither I care not.' 
 
 'Kummoo, sister!' said a voice behind her, at which she 
 started, and the blood rushed to her face. 
 
 ' Why, Hoormut, is it thou ? How thou didst startle me. I 
 thought — ^but no matter : what seekest thou ? ' 
 
 ' Hast thou seen Ameena since she arrived ?' 
 
 'No — why dost thou ask me of one so hateful? Dost thou 
 think I would go to seek her?' 
 
 ' I know thou- wouldst not; but I heard that she had received 
 rich presents from the old dotard, and I went to see them. It 
 was true, they are superb.' 
 
 ' Holy prophet ! what are they ? Presents ! and we have not 
 even clothes fit to wear.' 
 
 'There were shawls and brocades, aftd jewels too,' returned 
 Hoormut ; ' and a goldsmith sat in thfe verandah making gold 
 anklets, whose weight must be immense. I tell thee we We fools 
 
302 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 to bear this, and to preserve a civil demeanour to them. Hast 
 thou seen the Khan of late ? ' 
 
 ' No,' replied Kummoo, 'we are thrown by and neglected now, 
 for her. It was to be expected that it would come to this, when 
 we received her as if she was welcome, instead of making 
 the Khan eat dirt as he deserved.' 
 
 ' And yet thy mother counselled that it should be so.' 
 
 ' She did ; she thought that by means of the law we might get 
 rid of her ; but it seems there is no hope, for a man may have 
 four wives lawfully, and this was a regular marriage ; the Khan 
 has the papers. But my mother will aid us ; trust me that she 
 loves me too well not to resent the insult which has been offered 
 me. By the Prophet, that should be her palankeen crossing the 
 square ! it may be coming hither. It is — it is ! ' she exclaimed, 
 as she looked from the^window; 'it has stopped at the gate. She 
 must have news for us, that she comes out from home.' 
 
 The old lady's heavy tread was soon heard on the stairs, and 
 both flew to meet her at the door. As she entered she embraced 
 both cordially, and they led her to the seat of honour. 
 
 A hooka was quickly brought, and as soon as she had taken 
 breath, she began to smoke and to speak. 
 
 ' And art thou well, Kummoo-bee ? ' she said to her daughter. 
 'Thou art thin: Mashalla! time was when thou wert fatter. 
 Sozun came to me a short time ago, and said thou wert low- 
 spirited, so I have come to see thee.' 
 
 ' I have little to do but eat vexation,' said Kummoo with a 
 pout; 'have I not a rival? and is not that enough to make my 
 days unhappy and my nights sleepless ? ' 
 
 • And one who is loaded with rich gifts, while we are denied 
 new clothes,' said Hoormut, joining in. ' O mother, canst thou 
 listen to our shame and not aid us ? once thou didst promise 
 thou wouldst' 
 
 ' It is her beauty which makes [that old dotard fond of her,' 
 said Kummoo. ' For she has no spirit — she is like a sheep ; if 
 that were blighted, he would shake her off at once.' 
 
 'Is there no means of turning him from her?' said Hoormut, 
 drawing nearer ; ' you, my mother, once said you had a woman 
 servant who was wise and could command spells ; could she not 
 aid us ? ' 
 
 'She is ill,' said the old lady; 'then she was well. She 
 was preparing the incantations necessary for her purpose when 
 the Khan left this on service ; they have been neglected since 
 then, but she may be able to resume them. I will inquire 
 of her.' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 303 
 
 • Couldst thou not send for her, mother ? ' said Kummoo. 
 
 . • She is ill — nevertheless she may come. Yes, let the 'palan- 
 keen go, and here is my ring: let her know that she is 
 wanted.' 
 
 Kummo hurried to the door, and dispatched a slave with the 
 ring and a message in her mother's name : they soon heard the 
 bearers depart 
 
 Not much conversation passed till the return of the palankeen, 
 for the subject was not an agreeable one to any of them, and the 
 ladies had nothing but their own fancied insults and neglects to 
 reflect upon. At last the palankeen arrived, and they soon had 
 the satisfaction to behold the old woman hobble into the room, 
 supporting herself on a stick. 
 
 Kummoo and the other flew to assist her. ' Welcome, mother ! ' 
 cried both; 'your coming is happiness, may your steps be 
 fortunate ! ' 
 
 ' Alia kureem ! ' sighed the old woman, as she sank down on 
 some soft cushions which had been spread for her. 'Alia 
 kureem ! I bless the Prophet and the Imaums and the spirits of 
 good that I am here in safety ; it is a fearful thing for one so old 
 to venture forth. Art thou well, Kummoo-bee?' she asked, 
 peering into her face with her yellow eyes, and into Hoormut's 
 also, who now sat by her. 
 
 • As well as may be, mother,' said the girl, ' when I am not 
 loved nor honoured in my house ; hast thou no charm to pre- 
 serve the love of men — none to destroy a rival ?' 
 
 • Then this is why thou wouldst see me,' exclaimed the old 
 woman; 'in trouble! only Kureena is sure to be sent for and 
 consulted ; is it not so ? ' 
 
 ' Thou knowest, for my mother says she has told it you, of the 
 shame, the neglect, the insult, and bitterness which we endure 
 daily. We have no honour as wives — ^we are as faded flowers, 
 thrown aside for a fresh one which he hath lately taken to his 
 bosom.' 
 
 'Thou art not faded, Kummoo,' said the crone, patting her 
 cheek ; ' thy hand is soft and warm, thine eye is lustrous and full 
 of fire, thou art not faded.' 
 
 'No, Mashalla ! lam not; but cease this trifling: wilt thou 
 aid us ? hast thou spells ? hast thou blighting, withering curses, 
 to fall on one who has despoiled us of our honour and made us a 
 mockery among women ? ' 
 
 « Ay, Alia knows ! ' joined in Hoormut-bee ; ' wherever I go I 
 am taunted with this shame; one tells me the Khan's new wife is 
 beautiful — another speaks of the magnificent gifts she has re- 
 
364 TIPPOO SULTAUK 
 
 ceived, and I feel that I could feat lAy very fingei? for shame. 
 Mother^ for the sake of the Prophet, aid us ! ' 
 
 ' Thou seest the strait they are in, Kureena/ said Kummoo's 
 mother. 
 
 'Can they do like me?' cried the old woman in a cracked 
 tone ; ' can they keep fasts and do penances to fit them for the 
 work, to make the spells sure? can they dare to be present 
 while these are said in the silence of the night, and when the 
 spirits who obey them are hovering near to receive them ? ' 
 
 The women shuddered ; superstitious terror for the moment 
 asserted its full sway over them : but Kummoo's was a daring 
 spirit. 
 
 ' I can, mother ! ' she cried, striking her breast ; ' I dare to 
 follow thee, were there a thousand devils in my path, so that I 
 had my revenge.' 
 
 The woman peered into her face. 'I thought I had been 
 stout-hearted myself,' she said j ' but, yoUng and ignorant as thou 
 art of this matter, I should have trembled ; thou dost not fear ? ' 
 
 ' I know no dread when I have a purpose before me,' said the 
 lady proudly ; ' art thou thus minded, Hoormut-bee ? ' 
 
 ' Inshalla ! I will do as thou dost,' returned the other ; 
 ' whither thou leadest, I will follow.' 
 
 ' Enough ! ' cried the crone j ' can we be alone here when the 
 time comes, of which I will forewarn ye ? ' 
 
 ' We can,' said Kummoo, ' without a chance of interruption.' 
 
 ' Good — but no, it will be better done yonder, at thy mother's : 
 there all can be prepared.' 
 
 ' It will be less dangerous there,' said the old lady j ' thou 
 canst do thy work in the closet which is off the private room. 
 And when, Kureena-bee,' shalt thou be ready ? ' 
 
 ' In a month, perhaps : the spell is a heavy one to work, and 
 requires preparation and thought^ lest anything should be 
 omitted. Ye must send Fatehas to the shrine, feed Fakeers in 
 your presence, eat cooling victuals, and abstain as much as may 
 be from meat. Thus ye will be prepared ; but on me wiU fall 
 the sore fast and penance : it is hard for an old woman to endure, 
 but ye are in an evil strait, and I were ungrateful for years of 
 protection from your house, Kummoo-bee, and for the salt I have 
 eaten, did I refuse you my aid. And now bid me depart^ for I 
 have much to do ere night.' 
 
 ' Not till you have eaten,' cried Kummoo ; ' Mashalla ! are we 
 inhospitable ? ' 
 
 'Not a mouthful, not a taste,' said the old woman rising. 
 ' No food must pass my lips, save what is cooked by my own 
 
TIPPOO SULTA UN. 30S 
 
 hands till the spell is finished ; the vow is upon me, and I must 
 begone.' 
 
 ' Alia Hafiz ! ' then cried both the ladies, leading her to the 
 door, ' we trust to thee, mother ; do not forget us.' In a few 
 minutes the sound of the bearers was heard, as they rapidly 
 traversed the street below them. 
 
 ' She is as true as a soldier's sword,' said Kummoo's mother, 
 who had been almost a silent listener to the conversation ; ' she 
 will not disappoint ye. Many a time hath she protected thee, 
 Kummoo, from the evil eye, when it was upon thee — many a 
 time wrought a spell for me, by which thy father's love returned 
 when I had fancied it was grown cold; and thou hast more 
 courage than ever I possessed — ^thy work will be the surer.' 
 
 ' Inshalla ! ' said Kummoo, ' I feel as though I had that hated 
 girl within my grasp, and could crush her.' 
 
 ' Hush ! ' said her mother, ' thou shouldst not hate so.' 
 
 ' I hate as I love, mother ; and those who reject the one, pro- 
 voke the other ; thou shouldst know me by this time.' 
 
 Her mother was silent; she knew well the temper of her 
 daughter, and her uncontrollable passions. ' It is their destiny,' 
 she thought, ' let them work it out ; I dare not oppose it.' And 
 when the palankeen returned, she took her leave. 
 
 Meanwhile the object of this unprovoked hate was daily 
 becoming more and more precious to the Khan. Returned 
 from active service, while his risala continued absent under the 
 command of his two subordinates, in the seclusion of the zenana 
 he delighted to pass most of his time in Ameena's company, and 
 his sole study seemed to be to provide for her comfort, to deck 
 her with the costUest robes, to have jewels made for her of ex- 
 treme value, to get up entertainments, to which the other wives 
 were sometimes, but rarely invited ; he could not bear the 
 remembrance of the bitter days he had passed with them, when 
 Ameena, in her beauty and purity, and mild and gentle disposi- 
 tion, was before him 
 
 Ameena's beauty too now appeared to increase daily ; for in 
 the cool and shady zenana her complexion had assumed a more 
 delicate tint, and her skin become softer and more polished. It 
 was ravishing to the Khan to behold her, as she moved about 
 the court of her zenana, tending her few flowers, that bloomed 
 beside a small fountain which always threw up a tiny column of 
 spray, or ministering to the wants of her various favourites. 
 Above her the broad matted leaves of the plantain mingled 
 with the lighter sprays of the cocoa-nut and betel-palm, and a 
 huge tamarind-tree threw its broad shadow over all, forming that 
 
 U 
 
3o6 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 refreshing green light so grateful to the eye. The walls of the 
 court were kept carefully white-washed, and the area spread with 
 the finest gravel. 
 
 On two sides there were open rooms, supported upon rows of 
 pillars and arabesque arches, which were carved and painted in 
 quaint devices ; costly carpets were spread upon their floors, and 
 in the centre was placed a musnud, covered with white muslin, 
 upon which rested soft cushions of crimson velvet. On a perch 
 was a gorgeous looree, whose brilliant plumage glittered in hues 
 of gold and blue and scarlet ; and there were two or three cages 
 hanging within, wrapped round with muslin cloths, and gaily 
 decorated with coloured beads and bells, from which larks poured 
 their merry song, now trilling their own joyous notes, now 
 imitating a hundred sounds of other birds with which they had 
 become familiar. A young gazelle, with a collar of red velvet 
 about its neck, with tiny bells sown to it and fastened around its 
 fore legs above its knees, frisked here and there in merry play ; 
 and high above the trees soared a number of beautiful pigeons, 
 enjoying the bright and glowing sun and the fresh air in which 
 they sported. 
 
 These were daily sights, and the Khan would lie beholding 
 Ameena's graceful actions, now and then bursting out into a 
 torrent of praise of her beauty, and now joining in her tasks of 
 feeding her birds or her pigeons, or would call them for her 
 when they appeared to fly far away from her gentle voice. And 
 their time passed peacefully on, marked by no occurrence where- 
 by they could remember its flight — a continued stream of quiet 
 pleasure, down which, the Khan suffered himself to glide, en- 
 joying tlie peaceful contrast to the life oi turmoil he had passed 
 in the camp ; the more so as it showed to him the character of 
 Ameena in its true light, that of domestic intercourse, freed from 
 the interruption of others. 
 
 Kasim Ali too was his constant guest and companion; his 
 wound had healed after tedious months of suffering ; long after 
 the army had arrived at Seringapatam he was unable to resume 
 any duty or his attendance upon the Sultaun, and his time was 
 passed mostly in company with the Khan, assisting him in the 
 business of his risala, writing letters for him, or examining his 
 accounts. He still retained too the happiness of occasional 
 intercourse with Ameena, by means of the old servant; and 
 as often as he received fruit, or any delicacy she thought ac- 
 ceptable to his weak condition, the gifl: was accompanied by kind 
 messages, which Meeran would fain persuade him meant more 
 than was apparent. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 307 
 
 To Kasim Ali her love was too precious a thought to part with 
 easily, and he clung to it with all the ardour of his soul, for he 
 felt himself alone among that host. He possessed acquaintances, 
 it was true, but they were either the wild and debauched char- 
 acters of the army, whom he had riiet now and then on service, 
 and in his attendance at the Durbar, with whom he had no 
 congeniality of feeling— or the friends of the Khan, elderly men, 
 who looked on him as a youth of inexperience, and with whom 
 it would be beneath their importance to associate. But Kasim 
 was content as it was. In the business the Khan provided for 
 him there was enough of employment, and his weak state and 
 constant ill health prevented him from seeking other society. 
 Day after day he was seen in the Khan's Durbar, acting as his 
 secretary, and fulfilling the duties of that important trust far more 
 efficiently than the Mutsuddees* whom the Khan had hitherto 
 employed. 
 
 We have before mentioned the extensive system of peculation 
 practised by Jaffar Sahib, of whom indeed we have long lost 
 sight ; but as he was employed in a different sphere from the 
 persons who belong to our history, we have not thought it worth 
 our while to follow him into his career of oppression and spolia- 
 tion, where he revelled in all the opportunies of gratifying his 
 worst passions ; nor was he a singular instance in the army of the 
 Sultaun. Bigots in faith, zealots in the practice of it, there was 
 no greater enjoyment to hundreds than the destruction of the 
 Hindoos in those provinces of Malabar which had gradually been 
 driven into rebellion, and afterwards conquered by the Sultaun, 
 as we have already mentioned. 
 
 Employed with a portion of the risala, he had carried out to 
 the letter the instructions which the Sultaun had personally com- 
 municated to him. Bum, slay, destroy, convert, were the reiter- 
 ated orders, and they were literally obeyed. JaiFar Sahib had 
 been with the camp only for a few days, when the storming of the 
 breach was expected ; and that having taken place, he was sent, 
 with the rest of his own character, to finish the work in the 
 defenceless territories of Travancore. But he had at last been 
 withdrawn from thence, and was now attached to the large cavalry 
 force which held possession of the plain of Coimbatoor, and 
 guarded the passes into the table-land of Mysore. 
 
 To the Jemadar's system of deception, however, Kasim Ali 
 fancied he had at length gained a clue, when it was prominently 
 brought to his notice by the Khan himself, who, much disturbed 
 upon the subject, one day handed him a letter he had received 
 
 * Clerks. 
 
.3o8 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 from the Bukhshee* of the army, who, it seemed, had detected 
 the false accounts the Jemadar had furnished. 
 
 ' The worst of all is,' said the Khan, after they had spoken a 
 long while upon the subject, ' the demand which the Government 
 will make upon me for the arrears of this peculation, for it would 
 appear that it has gone on for a long time.' 
 
 ' For years. Khan Sahib,' replied Kasim ; ' here they give you 
 the dates. I think I had better go over to the Bukhshee, and 
 get access to the whole of the accounts which have been made 
 out ; we may perhaps detect the whole matter, and trace it to its 
 source.' 
 
 ' A wise thought, Kasim — I will go with thee. But that the 
 honour of Rhyman Khan is too well known, this might brand me 
 for ever with infamy.' 
 
 They went. The Khan was too well known to have such a 
 request refused ; and day after day did he, with Kasim and 
 secretaries, pore over the accounts, sometimes thinking they had 
 discovered the cheat, at others almost despairing, so cleverly had 
 the matter been managed. The delay and consequent vexation 
 was beginning to have a serious effect on the Khan ; when, after 
 a day of severer toil than usual, Kasim had no doubt remaining 
 that the whole of the papers had been written by the Moonshee, 
 whose disgrace we have mentioned, though the handwriting was 
 feigned and altered in all ; and he mentioned his suspicion to the 
 Khan. 
 
 This seemed to throw a new light upon the subject ; they knew 
 that the Moonshee was still attached to the person of Jaffar 
 Sahib as a kind of secretary, for he could not write himself, and 
 it became a matter of paramount importance to separate him if 
 possible from the Jemadar ; nor was this difficult to manage. A 
 few men of the risala always remained with the Khan, under the 
 charge of Dilawur Ali Duffadar, the rough old soldier we have 
 before mentioned. He bore the Jemadar no very good will, and 
 readily undertook to carry off the Moonshee, unknown to his 
 protector, and bring him to the city. 
 
 Accordingly, he took his departure the following morning with 
 six resolute fellows, and by rapid marches soon gained the 
 camp. Here, however, it was no easy task to apprehend the 
 person they sought, for he kept constantly with the Jemadar, and 
 it was necessary he should not know of the proceeding ; but they 
 succeeded at last. The Moonshee was decoyed to the outskirts 
 of the camp by one of the men disguised as a Fakeer, where they 
 were met by the Duifadar and his mounted party, and in 
 * Paymaster. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 309 
 
 spite of his prayers, protestations, and threats, he was carried 
 rapidly towards the city. 
 
 The rage of Jaffar Sahib was excessive when he fancied himself 
 deserted by his dependent ; no one could tell how he had dis- 
 appeared or whither he had gone ; the last known of him was 
 that he had been seen in the company of a Fakeer, going in a 
 certain direction. Jaffar Sahib was seriously uneasy at his sup- 
 posed defection, not only because he had now no one on whom 
 he could depend to transact his intricate business, but because 
 this man knew more of his secret transactions than he cared to 
 entrust to any one else, and which if divulged would be his ruin. 
 
 The arrival of the Moonshee was a source of true joy to the 
 Khan and Kasim; at first, as might be expected, he knew, or 
 pretended to know, nothing about the matter ; but the suspicion 
 was so strong against him, that the Khan, by a short mode of 
 doing justice often practised in India, directed that no water 
 should be given to him till he confessed the whole. 
 
 The threat was in the end sufficient ; the fellow held out most 
 vehemently for about a day, and then, 'overcome by terror at their 
 determination, and threats that this was only the commencement 
 of his punishments, declared he would confess all ; and he un- 
 folded secretly to the Khan and Kasim the whole of the deceits 
 which had been practised from the first. Every account was 
 gone through, and a fearful array of peculation registered against 
 the Jemadar, who was written to, to make the best of his way to 
 the city to answer the complaint against him. Ere the messenger 
 reached the camp, however, the Jemadar had arrived at the city ; 
 for his active emissaries had traced the arrival of Dilawur Ali 
 and his party, and their sudden departure, and it was evident 
 that they must have carried off the Moonshee. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 The detection of his long concealed and successful peculations 
 was a thunderbolt to the Jemadar. ' The Khan refused to see 
 him, or to hear any exculpation he had to urge ; and then, know- 
 ing the influence Kasim Ali possessed with his commander, he 
 sought him, and implored him to use his influence with the Khan 
 for pardon and for silence on the subject j he became abject, he 
 
310 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 even threw himself at the young man's feet, and When theSe 
 failed, offered him a bribe to accede to his terms. It wanted but 
 this to excite Kasim All's full indignation: he had despised the 
 man for his meanness, but the insult aroused him, and he spurned 
 the offer fiercely. 
 
 ' Cheat and rogue !' he cried, ' many a man is whipped through 
 the bazaars for less than this. Inshalla ! I shall live to see this 
 done upon thee. I have not forgotten thee, and thou art too 
 well known in the army for any good men to feel regret at thy 
 fate. Men say that thou art a devil, and not a man. By Alia 
 I believe them. Begone ! wert thou the Sultaun's son I would 
 spurn thee.' 
 
 There was no one near, and the Jemadar eyed Kasim as the 
 thought flashed into his mind that a thrust of his sword or dagger 
 would silence him for ever, and that without his aid the Khan 
 would easily be persuaded to drop the prosecution. Kasim was 
 weak too, and might easily be overcome, and his hand stole to 
 his sword-hilt ; but the string which secured it to the scabbard 
 was fast, and he could not draw it ; with a muttered curse he 
 clutched a long knife he wore in his girdle, and, on pretence of 
 repeating his request, advanced a step ; his eye glistened like that 
 of a tiger about to spring ; another moment might have been fatal 
 to Kasim Ali, but he saw the action, and instantly seizing his 
 sword which lay before him he started to his feet. 
 
 ' I see thy cowardly intention, Jemadar,' he said ; ' as yet, I 
 will not draw this weapon, which would be polluted by a coward's 
 blood ; but advance one step, and by Alia and the Apostle thou 
 mayest say the Kulma, for thou diest. Begone ! in the name of 
 the Prophet, and seek not thine own death.' 
 
 The coward attempted to stammer out an excuse, to protest 
 that he had been misunderstood ; but he could say nothing in- 
 telligible, and he slunk away defeated and mortified, with deadly 
 hate rankling at his heart and urging him to revenge. 
 
 ' That I should have been foiled by that boy ! ' he said aloud 
 as he quitted the house ; ' that I should have been destined to 
 devour such abomination ! that I, Jaffar Sahib, should have been 
 thus trampled upon ! Ya Ali ! ya Hoosein ! grant me power of 
 revenge. Yea, his blood will hardly wipe out the insult I have 
 suffered. Yes, tell him so,' he cried to a woman who he thought 
 watched him ; 'tell him so — tell him Jaffar Sahib curses him, and, 
 as there is a light in heaven, will have his revenge for what has 
 happened.' 
 
 ' Jaffar Sahib !' cried the woman, rushing forward ; ' thou canst 
 not be he? thou canst not be he whom I thought dead years ago?' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 311 
 
 ' Begone ! I know thee not ; thou art one of his foll6wers, and 
 I curse thee ; ' and flinging her off, for she had dung to his arm, 
 so violently that she stumbled against a stone and fell, he strode 
 on at a rapid pace. 
 
 She arose slowly, and looked after him as he hurried on. 
 ' Holy Prophet !' she said, as she brushed aw'ay the dust and her 
 loose hair from her eyes, ' it must be he ; his look when he was 
 excited, his very tones, his name too, all are his. Jaffar Sahib ! 
 that name hath not sounded in mine ears since we met l^t, when 
 the bright moon was above us, and the trees castiiig their deep 
 shade over us veiled that from her prying glare which isven now 
 shames me to remember. Holy Alia ! he did not remember 
 Sozun ! how should he ? Years have passed since we were yotirtg, 
 and they have not been without effect ; and to meet thus, when I 
 had thought hira dead long, long ago, and nioumed him in my 
 heart ! Ya Alia ! what destiny is this before me ? Be it what it 
 may,' she continued, walking a few paces, ' I will see him, and he 
 shall know that Sozun still lives.' 
 
 Jaffar Sahib had but one resource left; and as he hurried 
 along his mind became resolutely bent upon attempting it. To 
 urge the Khan again was inipossible, and against Kasim his 
 desire of revenge became more wild and implacable every mO' 
 ment. • My only refuge is in the Sultaun ; I will go to him and 
 confess my fault. If I am fortunate — and who shall dare to say 
 that the destiny of Jaffar Sahib is evil ? — ^there is no worse to be 
 apprehended than if I were proceeded against publicly. I may 
 be fortunate and prevent all.' And thus saying and meditating 
 how he should open his statement, he arrived before the gate of 
 the palace, and entered it hastUy,) being well known no opposition 
 was made to him, and he passed on to the appartment of those 
 who waited upon the Sultaun, for he well knew that at that hour 
 he must be alone, or in consultation with Pumea, or Kishun Rao, 
 his advisers and ministers. 
 
 ' Is the Sultaun alone, Abdool Hoosein ? ' he said, addressing 
 the monarch's chief and confidential attendant, who, with a 
 crowd of others, waited without. 
 
 ' He is engaged in writing,' said the functionary ; * it would be 
 as much as my life is worth to disturb him. This day he has 
 received letters which have sorely distressed him, and be is not 
 in his right senses.' 
 
 ' I must see him,' said the Jemadar ; ' my business is of the 
 utmost importance.' 
 
 ' You must write then, for it is impossible for me to mention 
 it,' returned the man doggedly. 
 
312 TTPPoo sultaun: 
 
 * Abdool 'Hbosein,' said Jaffar Sahib, taking him afeide, ' thou 
 knowest we have been friends hitherto, and, Inshalla ! mean to 
 continue so. I cannot write what I have to say — ^it would be 
 impossible ; but here is a trifle ; ' and he slipped a gold coin into 
 his hand. ' ^ " 
 
 ' It is not enough,' said the attendant, glancing his eye from 
 the money to the giver, for he well knew with whom he had to 
 deal; 'it is not enough — ^take it back.' 
 
 . ' Nay, be not hasty,' returned the other ; * here is more, but I 
 have no gold.' 
 
 - ' Tis the worse for thee, JafFar Sahib ; I do not move under 
 three gold pieces, and no one else dares to — " 
 
 ' Take them then in the name of the Shitan,' cried the Jemadar, 
 ' Go ! say that I am here, and have a petition to make.' 
 
 'The Sultaun thinks thou art at the camp,' said the attendant; 
 '. 'twas but yesterday he spoke of thee.' 
 
 ' Hcwill soon know why I am here,' replied the Jemadar ; 
 ' but begone ! I have neither time nor inclination to bandy words 
 with thee.' 
 
 ■ The man went and returned. ' Go,' he said, ' in the name of 
 Sheikh Suddoo, the father of mischief; I would not be present 
 at your interview with the Sultaun for much. Away ! he hath 
 sent for thee.' 
 
 How the heart of the coward beat as he heard these words ; 
 but there was now no means of retreat, and he proceeded. 
 
 The Sultaun sat in a small room which communicated with the 
 private apartments of the palace ; the walls were plain,, but the 
 ceiling was richly painted and ornamented, and the casements 
 and shutters of the windows also. On the floor there was spread 
 a clean white calico covering ; and at one end, upon a carpet 
 supported by cushions, surrounded by heaps of papers, and hold- 
 ing in his left hand a stiff leather case, which supported the 
 paper on which he was writing, sat the Sultaun. 
 
 Jafiar Sahib hesitated for a moment at the door, for he had 
 looked through a chink, and seen that there was a frown on the 
 Sultaun's brow, and that peculiar expression about his mouth 
 which was always the precursor of mischief ; but there was no 
 time iallowed him for reflection. The Sultaun had heard and 
 Called to him ; and the Jemadar, hastily entering, at once threw 
 himself at full length flat on the ground before him, with his arms 
 and legs extended, and lay there motionless and silent. 
 
 * Why, Madur-bukht, what ails thee ? in the name of the Pro- 
 phet speak and tell ; we thought thee at the camp. 'Why hast 
 thou come here without leave? why hast thou transgressed 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 313 
 
 orders, and the regulations of our army, which were drawn up 
 with our own wisdom and are perfect models of military know- 
 ledge. Speak, O Kumbukht ! O man without a destiny ! why 
 art thou come ? ' 
 
 ' Pardon, O Asylum of the World ! ' cried the Jemadar, not 
 daring to look up ; ' thy slave's fault is great, and his liver is 
 turned to water ; I crave forgiveness ere I can tell my errand. 
 My lord is generous — he will forgive magnanimously and will not 
 punish the error of his slave.' 
 
 ' Get up, in the name of the Prophet ! and tell thy tale ; do 
 not lie snivelling there like a Hindoo : by Alia ! thou remindest 
 me of the Brahmin who said thou hadst plundered him, and whom 
 we — ^but no matter. Get up ! or by the Apostle I will prick thee 
 with my sword ; ' and he drew it. 
 
 ' Alia and the Prophet be my refuge, and the saints Hassan and 
 Hoosein ! ' cried the man, rising up and joining his hands, while 
 he trembled fearfully ; ' if thou art against me, O Sultaun, I have 
 no refuge in the world ; may I be your sacrifice ! I will speak 
 the truth ; why should I tell a lie?' 
 
 ' Speak, then, and say it, Madur-Bukhta ! ' cried the Sultaun 
 impatiently ; ' dost thou think that we, the beloved of Alia, on 
 whom rest the cares and protection of this kingdom, and of the 
 true faith in Hind — dost thou think that we have nought to do 
 but listen to thy prating ? Quick ! ' 
 
 ' Huzrut ! ' said the Jemadar, his agitation almost denying him 
 utterance ; 'thou mayest order me to be blown away from a gun, 
 if what I say be not true.' 
 
 ' Well ! ' exclaimed the Sultaun, ' what more ? ' 
 
 ' I am disgraced — ^my character is gone — I have no friend — 
 no, not one. Rhyman Khan and his minion Kasim Ali have 
 leagued together to blast my reputation and to ruin me.' 
 
 ' Hold ! ' cried Tippoo ; ' the one is a man I am proud to call 
 my friend, the other saved my life ; beware how thou namest 
 them.' 
 
 ' May I be your sacrifice ! thou mayest hang me if it be not 
 the truth ; listen and judge : — ^when I was with the camp, en- 
 gaged in the Sircar's affairs, my Moonshee, a- humble man, 
 disappeared ; your slave thought he had been murdered, and 
 became uneasy ; he discovered in a few days that the Khan had 
 sent a party of. the risala and carried him away privately ; since 
 then he and Kasim Ali have kept him here, tortured him, and 
 made him draw up a declaration that your slave had made false 
 accounts.' 
 
 ' Ha ! ' said the Sultaun ; ' but go oa' 
 
314 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' Yes, false accounts, protector of the poor ! I who have fed 
 on the Sircar's bounty, I who have eaten the Sircar's salt, who am 
 a Khanazad,*-— that I should do so base an act ! ' 
 
 ' Peace ! ' exclaimed the Sultaun ; 'I see by thine eye, Jaffar 
 Sahib, that thou art guilty ; there is no hiding truth from me. 
 As I slept one night, the dream is reofirded, the angel Gabriel 
 appeared to me. "Thou art a SultaUB," hfe said, "and the 
 destinies of thousands and millions are in thy hands 3 thou shalt 
 be able from henceforth to detect a lie at once," and so saying 
 he vanished ; and I, who am a child of clay, and hot worthy of 
 the honour, feel that he said truly. DoSt thou not tremble as I 
 read thy heart in thine eye, and see that thoU art a thief? yes, 
 thou dost wince — the thief of the Sircar Khodadadt Shall I 
 have thee taken into the square, Kumbukht, and set in a high 
 place, and a proclamation made that thou art a thief? Toba ! 
 Toba ! wert thou not content with the plunder of the infidels, 
 but thou must needs steal from us ? Ya Alia kureem ! grant us 
 patience to bear this.' 
 
 ' Enough ! enough, O fountain of mercy ! ' said the trembling 
 wretch ; ' enough; I beseech you by my long and faithful service' 
 to forgive me, to pardon the past, to keep me from shame. I am 
 your slave, I lick the dust of your feet ! Holy Alia ! be my aid, 
 and ye saints and martyrs in whose name I. have slain and 
 despoiled infidels ! ' 
 
 ' Who is this grovelling wretch ? ' said Meer Sadik the Dewan, 
 and Kishun Rao the Treasurer, who then entered. 
 
 'Ay, who is he? ye may well ask,' replied the Sultaun; 'one 
 who, Inshalla ! has owned himself to be a thief, — to have taken 
 the Sircar's money, — to have been unfaithful to his salt' And 
 then, though the miserable Jemadar pleaded hard for mercy, he 
 told all he had guessed at, and invented the rest, joking the 
 while upon the affair, at the expense of the culprit, who could 
 have borne wrath, but not the cold and bitter irony of the Sultaun, 
 and those who heard it. 
 
 'Alia! Alia! this is worse than death,' he cried at length; 
 ' bid me be blown away from a gun, it will be an end to all 
 misery and persecution.' 
 
 ' Not so fast, Jaffar Sahib,' said the Sultaun ; ' we intend, 
 Inshalla ! to make thee pay back the money thou hast taken, and 
 to keep thee alive to serve us and eat our salt What say ye, 
 sirs ? ' he cried to the others. 
 
 ' I beg to represent,' said Kishun Rao, ' that your slave hath 
 learned with grief of the peculation which has been discovered in 
 • One born in the family. t Tlie Government, the gift of God. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN, 315 
 
 the department of the paymaster, from the false accounts of the 
 risalas and the infantry, and, was about making a report upon the 
 subject ; but enough ; here is one culprit, let him smart for it, 
 and the rest will be more careful.' 
 
 ' Not so ! Rao Sahib,' said the Sultaun ; ' not so ; this man we 
 will pardon, because we have the memory of many of his services 
 in our heart, where, Shookr Khoda ! the services of each man of 
 our invincible army is treasured up ; this timfe we will spare his 
 fame. Dost thou hear?' he cried to Jaffar Sahib; 'thou art 
 free to go, and we shall desire Abdool Rhyman Khan to suspend 
 his proceedings ; but thou shalt pay to our treasurer two thousand 
 boons * by to-morrow at this time, if not, it will be worse for 
 thee.' 
 
 ' I call the Prophet to witness,' cried Jaffar Sahib, ' I have not 
 half the quarter of that sum ; five hundred I might perhaps — ' 
 
 * Peace ! ' exclaimed the Sultaun ; ' how darest thou to swear 
 to a lie in the presence of the friend of the Apostle ? I have 
 spoken.' 
 
 ' I have it hot — ^where atn I to find such a sum ? ' 
 
 ' In hell ! ' roared the Sultaun, * where I will send thee to seek 
 it, if thou delayest one moment beyond the time. Begone ! Look 
 thou to this, Kishun Rao — ^we have spoken, and we will be 
 obeyed ; we shall expect thy report punctually.' 
 
 Jaffar Sahib silently made his obeisance, and retired burning 
 with shame and anger, and renewed threats against Kasim, the 
 author of all. Alone he could have borne the Sultaun's irony 
 and bitter words, but that others should know of his detection 
 and disgrace was more than he could endure. He did not wait 
 to speak to those in the ante-chamber, but hurried at once to his 
 temporary lodging in the bazaar. 
 
 ' We have sent for you, my friends,' said the Sultaun to his 
 ministers, after a short pause, 'to advise with us regarding 
 momentous affairs which press upon our notice; not that we 
 need advice-^for, by the blessing of the Prophet ! whose agent 
 we are upon earth, and the favour of the Most High, we receive 
 such intimations of our destiny in dreams, and by secret and 
 holy communings with the saints, that our path is clearly marked 
 out for us ; but there are, nevertheless, matters which we have 
 heard of within the last few days that disturb our rest. The kafir 
 Feringhees of Madras have written to us, and remonstrated 
 sharply for our atttack upon Travancore; they have the insolence 
 to demand satisfaction for it, and the price of what was de- 
 stroyed. Vain arrogance! they should know us better, than 
 * A boon is about four rupees. 
 
3i6 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 to think a mere threat could disturb the ruler of the kingclotn~ 
 which Alia hath given into our hand. They are making mighty 
 preparations for war ; they have incited the kafir Mahrattas (may 
 their end be perdition 1) and the imbecile ruler of Hyderabad to 
 join against me. Nay, be not surprised ; for though these have 
 been the reports of the bazaars for months, yet we did not 
 believe them ; but here are the proofs : ' and he handed to them 
 the letters he had received, containing the intelligence, which 
 they perused in silence. 
 
 ' And now hsten,' he continued, his mean features lighting up 
 with a sudden excitement ; ' hsten to the revelation we have had 
 from Alia himself. These letters arrived but yesterday ; and as 
 we lay cogitating upon their contents, and praying to Alia to 
 enable us to devise some means of extrication from the difficulty, 
 our eyes closed and we fell asleep. Soon, however, gorgeous 
 visions began to crowd upon us, and shapes of glory, which, 
 though almost indefinite, yet hovered around, fiUing the mind 
 with wondrous delight ; as we looked, we heard a voice which 
 said, " Art thou hungry, O Sultaun ? " and then I bowed down 
 and cried, saying, " I lack food, O Alia ! but it is revenge for the 
 blood of the martyrs shed in thy cause, and I am hungry for aid, 
 that all thine enemies may be subdued, and the banner of the 
 faith float proudly over the realms of Hind, even as it did of 
 yore under the power of Delhi ; " and then, even as I finished 
 speaking, three trays, whose surface sparkled with the light of 
 Heaven, and upon which were piled fresh dates, the food of the 
 true believers in paradise, descended to me, and the angel said, — 
 "Eat, O beloved of the Apostle! and thou wilt ba able to discern 
 the hidden meaning of this vision : " and I ate ; and lo ! there 
 came light into my heart, and I know that the three trays of 
 dates were the dorninions of the three confederates my enemies, 
 and they were sweet to the taste, even as victory is sweet to the 
 soldier.' 
 
 ' Ajaib ! most wonderful! most extraordinary!' echoed the two 
 listeners, who were provoked enough at this puerile harangue. 
 ' Inshalla ! there is no fear.' 
 
 ' Fear ! ' cried the Sultaun bitterly ; ' fear I no, there is no 
 fear ; there is joy that at last we shall have them in our power. 
 In a few months the King of the Afghans will rise in our favour, 
 and, leagued with the Rajah of Nipaul, and the rulers of Joudh- 
 poor and Jynuggur, who shall be able to withstand them ? The 
 French will rise with ten thousand men ; our valiant troops are a 
 lakh and more. Pressed on all sides, our enemies will fall ; and 
 then for revenge and plunder 1 ' As he spoke his eyes flashed 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 317 
 
 fire, his action was high and restless, and even that sedate 
 counsellor the Dewan caught a portion of his excitement. 
 
 ' Upon them then,' he cried, ' in the name of Alia ! Syud 
 Sahib is below the passes with all the cavalry. Bangalore hath a 
 gallant commander, and the garrison is staunch and true ; there 
 is plenty of powder and ball ; to the north are all the Droogs,* 
 for the Mahrattas and. Nizam to break their force against. In- 
 shalla then ! unfurl the standard of the faith in Durbar this 
 night, and cry Alia Yar ! He who is faithful to his creed and his 
 Sultaun will follow thee to the death.' 
 
 ' Asylum of the World ! ' said an attendant, entering ; ' these 
 letters have just arrived, and are said to contain news from the 
 army ; there hath been fighting.' And he laid them at Tippoo's 
 feet. 
 
 ' Ha ! * cried the Sultaun exultingly, taking them up and 
 tearing the covers off as he looked at the seal ; • Syud Sahib ! 
 then the English must have advanced. Now listen, my friends, 
 to news of victory. Inshalla! the Syud is a brave man and 
 a skilful general-!^' But, as he read silently, they saw his 
 features change in expression; his brow contract; his lips 
 become compressed ; a nervous twitching of his face com- 
 menced, which always expressed his violent agitation, and they 
 exchanged significant glances with each other. At last he was 
 no longer able to beaar his vexation, and broke out into a par- 
 oxysm of rage. 
 
 'Ya Futteh-o ! Ya Alia Mousoof! A hog, and not a man, 
 hath done this — a coward and a fool! not Syud Sahib, but 
 Syud Ahmuk ! — ^beaten — disgraced — foiled by the kafir Enghsh 
 *-forced to retire beyond the Bhowanee, and he is now close 
 upon the Guzalhuttee pass. O saints and martyrs ! grant me 
 patience to read, to hear all;' and he read on. 'Reinforce- 
 ments? infantry and guns? — that they may be led into evil, 
 and lost to me ! Never, by the Prophet ! never, by the soul of 
 my father ! — may his sepulchre be honoured ! Thou mayest 
 even fight it out, Syud, or return disgraced ; thou shalt have the 
 option. What think you, sirs ? ' 
 
 ' It is heavy news,' said Meer Sadik, ' and enough to ruffle my 
 lord's temper ; but the Syud is wary and cautious. Perhaps 
 the English force is overwhelming, and he has wisely retired 
 before it, drawing them into a snare, from whence it will be 
 impossible to escape.' 
 
 ' Ha ! thinkest thou so ? By Alia ! a good thought ; he shall 
 have the men and the guns ; we will write the order now 
 
 * HiU-forts. 
 
318 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 to the commanders pf the Cushoons* to attend the evening 
 Durbar.' 
 
 ' I beg to represent,' said Kishun Rao, ' that in such an under- 
 taking there is no one like thyself, O Sultaun ; under thine own 
 eye all will go well; without thee, there is fear and hesitation, for 
 the responsibility is great' ' 
 
 ' Well spokeni' responded the monarch; 'we have — blessed be 
 the Dispenser of Wisdom ! — such military skill, that before it the 
 genius of the kafir English is nothing, and their livers become 
 water. Was it not so in Baillie's afifeir ? Inshalla ! then, we 
 will lead this expedition, and there will be many such.' 
 
 'And,' continued the Rao, 'what is there to prevent the 
 victorious army, when it has driven the English beyond the 
 boundary, to follqw them tq the gate of Madras — to bum, to 
 slay, to plunder, and destroy all? The French, their bitter 
 enemies, will rise upon them ; and when the success is noised 
 abroad, the Mahrattas, who hate them, and the Nizam, who is 
 now under their power, will cast them off; and then what is 
 to prevent the army of the Sircar Khodadad from driving them 
 into the sea, and, with the power thus gained, of turning upon 
 the faithless Nizam and destroying his power utterly ? then shall 
 Madras be the seaport of the Sultaun, and he may pitch his 
 tents on the plain of Surroonuggur, and take his pleasure in the 
 palace of the proud ruler of Hyderabad.' 
 
 ' Mashalla ! Mashalla ! Inspiration ! Inspiration ! ' exclaimed 
 the Sultaun in rapture ; ' it shall be done ; the thing is easy. 
 Our dreams forewarned us of this, and behold, our destiny points 
 to it. One victory gained, and the Mahrattas are on our side^ 
 Sindia and his power can be thrown into the scale : then with the 
 Afghans, the Rohillas, the brave men of the Dekhan, the Assud 
 lUahee, and the French — Ya Futteh-o ! thou wilt grant victory, 
 and our power will reach a pitch such as men will wonder at and 
 admire.' 
 
 ' But stay, whose letter is this by the same post ? ' and he 
 opened the envelope. The look of exultation at once gave way 
 to passion. ' Here is another coward, another traitor ! — Palghat- 
 cherry has fallen ! the place we ourselves saw provisioned and 
 garrisoned with the best troops ; — shame on them ! shame on 
 them ! they are women, not men. By Alia ! I have women in 
 the Mahal who would have died ere they had suffered a kafir to 
 enter. Now there is a road opened from sea to sea, and the 
 infidel English will not be slow to avail themselves of it. Yet 
 this does but hasten our intentions. Ye have your leave now to 
 * His division of regular infantry were so called. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 319 
 
 retire, my friends. Go, and say there will be a Durbar to-night, — 
 no, to-morrow at noon ; for, by the blessing of the Prophet ! ere 
 then a new dream may be vpuchsafed for our guidance, Khoda 
 Hafiz 1 ' 
 
 They withdrew with many obeisances, and the strange being 
 was left to his meditations, and to the wild visions of conquest, 
 which the words of the Rao had resolved into matters apparently 
 within his grasp. 
 
 JaflFar Sahib reached his abode with feelings it would be difi&cult 
 to describe ; the money was but a trifle to him in amount, for in 
 his career of rapacity and plunder he had amassed thousands ; 
 but it was so lent out among bankers, suttlers, the men of the 
 risala, and those of the bazaar, that he feared he should hardly 
 be able to raise it in time to meet the Sultaun's demand, and 
 without it he had little hope that mercy would be extended 
 to him. As he dismounted from his horse, his attendant Madar 
 met him. 
 
 'A woman is within,' he said, pointing to the door of the 
 apartment; 'she came here a short while ago, and would take no 
 denial, saying she would wait for thee.' 
 
 ' A woman ! in the name of the Shitan what doth she want ?-^ 
 is she young and fair ? ' 
 
 ' Willa-alum !' replied the man, grinning, ' your worship will 
 see ; she is veiled from head to foot.' 
 
 ' Most strange ! Away with ye all from hence, it may be the 
 matter is private, and we would be alone.' As he spoke, he 
 entered the doOr. There was a small room at the back of the 
 open shop he had hired j a door led from that into a small court, 
 where was a shed for cooking or bathing, and a low verandah. 
 There was no one in the room ; he opened the door, and looked 
 around. Close beside it, in the verandah, sat a woman, veiled 
 from head to foot in a thick sheet ; she appeared to be trembling 
 violently, for the covering was much agitated. 
 
 • Who, in the name of Satan, art thou,' cried the Jemadar, * who 
 comest at this unseasonable hour ? ' She did not reply, and he 
 spoke again more roughly. 
 
 * Alia be merciful to me ! Jaffar,' she exclaimed, throwing her- 
 self at his feet, and clasping his knees, while she cast the veil 
 from her, ' it is indeed thou ! hast thou forgotten Sozun ? ' 
 
 ' Sozun ! Sozun ! ' he repeated, as he drew his hand across his 
 forehead, ' she of Salem ? Holy AUa ! hast thou risen from the 
 dead ? is this a dream ? ' 
 
 ' No ! no ! look on me. My features are wasted, but I am the 
 same ; thou didst spurn me a while ago like a dog, and my heart 
 
320 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 was broken. There was kindness between us once, JaflFar ! ' and 
 she sighed deeply. 
 
 ' I knew thee not,' he said, raising her up, and, for the moment 
 yielding to a softer feeling, caressed her. ' I had been maddened ! 
 insulted by that dog of a Patdl, Kasim AIL I knew thee not, 
 Sozun.' 
 
 ' Ha ! dost thou know him ? ' 
 
 ' To my cost ; he and his dotard patron, Rhyman Khan, have 
 despoiled me of money — ^villified my character; but enough, 'tis 
 no affair of thine. Why dost thou ask ? ' 
 
 ' I have too a reckoning to settle with him, but let it pass ; we 
 will speak of that which once was pleasant to us. Thou hast not 
 forgotton me then, Jaffar ? ' 
 
 ' Alia is my witness — never ! But canst thou come hither this 
 night at dusk, unobserved ? then we will speak of past times un- 
 interruptedly ; now I have affairs of moment to settle, and must 
 begone.' 
 
 ' I will come surely,' was the reply j * thy voice is music in 
 mine ears after so long a separation.' 
 
 ' Follow me then, and I will dismiss thee openly before my 
 servants ; but be sure thou dost not fail to-night.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 Looking from her latticed chamber sat Kummoo-bee, her heart 
 beating so that its pulsations seemed audible to her own ear, her 
 bosom heaving as though it would almost burst the bounds of 
 the light boddice which enclosed it, and her eye flashing brightly, 
 as she thought upon the sure success of her mission. Little she 
 heeded the soft and chastening Ught which the moon's rays cast 
 upon every object around, silvering the tall white minarets of the 
 mosque, till they stood out in perfect relief against the deep blue 
 of the sky, and resting upon the sharp pinnacles of the ancient 
 temples, where all else was lost in shadow. The large courts 
 around them, into which she looked in the day-time, then filled 
 with busy throngs, were now deserted, save by the broad giant 
 shadows which the temple and the trees around it cast across 
 them. Now and then the shrouded form of a Brahmin would 
 pass noiselessly through them, the moon's light resting brightly 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 321 
 
 upon the white drapery around him ; but as he hurried on the 
 deep black shadow seemed to enshroud him, and he was no 
 longer discerrjible within its influence. 
 
 As Kummoo sat thus, she would idly speculate, with vacant eye 
 fixed upon some figure in the square beyond, or listen to the 
 hoarse and distant noubut, which, as the night advanced, beat at 
 the tomb of the SuUaun's father, or to the wailing and quivering 
 sound of the brass horns which arose from the eamp, when the 
 watch was being relieved. She heeded riot the luscious perfume 
 of orange-flowers and tube-roses, which, loadipg the air, came in 
 at her open window from the garden beneath ; but her whole 
 senses were absorbed in one object, which she rather wooed than 
 strove to turn away from her mental vision ; at times too a tear 
 would fill her large lustrous eye, and, welling over the Ijd, trickle 
 down her face unheeded-^a tear of burning passion — no soother 
 to her excited mind, but rather aggravating those feelings which 
 had now become almost too painful to be borne. 
 
 ' What can delay hesr ? ' she said, speaking half aloud to her- 
 self J ' by this time I might have been with him. Ya, Fatinja, aid 
 me ! my liver is burnt with passion, and the air which comes 
 to me seems hot^-hot with my own breath ; I can bear this no 
 longer. Why does she tarry ? — she is old, or she might be dally- 
 ing with him. Wh^t if she were ? but no, that cannot be — she 
 dared not She knows well I would tear her limb from limb if 
 she harboured even a thought of his love ; and she is faithful too. 
 I must wait ; he was away perhaps-^he may have been here — 
 here, under this roof, where he little dreamed there existed one 
 whose greatest happiness would be to die at his feet. Holy 
 Alia ! who ig that ? ' she cried, as a long train of musing into 
 which she had fallen was suddenly interrupted by the openipg of 
 her chamber door. ' Who comes ? ' 
 
 * Sozunbee,' was the reply. 
 
 ' Sozunbee ! ' she said, while the blood poured through her 
 frame in wild pulsations ; • and 'tis thou at last ! Hither, quick ! 
 quick ! sit here, and tell me all. I have long, long looked for 
 thee; why hast thou t^J^ried? I am ready now^even nowj 
 come, let us haste — what ? thou dost not speak ! Woman ! hast 
 thou done my bidding ? — hast thou seen him ?^f not, tell me, 
 and I shall be cool — now I am burning ! — Ya Alia kureem, burn- 
 ing ! ' and she fanned herself violently, while her articulation 
 showed that her mouth was quite parched. ' Speak ! why dost 
 thou not speak ? ' 
 
 ' I have seen him,' was the reply. 
 
 ' Well ! Oh for patience to listen 1 By Alia I thou canst never 
 
322 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 have loved, Sozunbee, or thou wouldst know what it is to have 
 fire within thee — fire ! — ^wilt thou not quench it ? ' 
 
 ' It will be hard for thee to hear all, lady ; shall I tell it ? ' 
 
 'All — all ! thou sawest him — ^well ! why dost thou hesitate?' 
 
 ' I would spare thee pain ; go now to rest, thou wilt be calm 
 to-morrow.' 
 
 ' Pain ! what dost thou mean ? Pain ! — he cannot — ' she 
 almost gasped in a hoarse whisper, while her eyes flashed so that 
 Sozun could hardly bear their intense gaze; 'he cannot have 
 denied me ! he dare not have flung aside love like mine ! Holy' 
 Prophet ! Sozun, thou dost jest ! ' and she laughed wildly. 
 
 ' May the holy Mother of Ali, and the Lady Murium, and the 
 saints aid thee, my life !' said the woman, rising and passing her 
 hands over her head, to withdraw the evil from her. ' May they 
 give thee peace ! As I live I saw him and spoke with him, but 
 thou must be calm ere I tell it thee.' 
 
 ' I am calm — see, I am quite calm,' she said, making a violent 
 effort to swallow ; ' feel my hand — it is cool — I can listen.' 
 
 But her hand belied her words ; it burned as though she were 
 in a fever, and the quick and strong pulsations of her blood were 
 distinctly perceptible ; to delay, however, was but to excite her 
 more. 
 
 ' I went,' said Sozun, ' to his abode ; long I watched at the 
 door : men came and went ; the Khan was there ; there was 
 haste and bustle, and much deliberation. At last all departed ; 
 a Khitmutgar* observed me, and asked me what I did there ? 
 I said I would speak with the Syud, that I had a matter to tell 
 him of J he went in, and I followed. I was closely veiled. 
 "Wait here," said the man, " I will inform him." I waited ; the 
 moments were like hours. " Go in," said the man when he 
 returned, " he is alone." I trembled as I proceeded, and found 
 myself in his small apartment ere I was aware. The Syud was 
 writing. " Stop ! who art thou ? " he asked, and his words 
 were sweet as the sound of children's voices at play. I salaamed 
 thrice.' 
 
 ' Quick ! quick ! good Sozun, what said he ? ' asked the lady 
 eagerly. ' I care not what thou didst.' 
 
 ' Thou shalt hear. "I am your slave," said I, " and bring thee a 
 message — wilt thou listen ? " " Say on," he replied, " I hear thee ; 
 sit down and speak; hast thou any complaint?" "No, no!" I 
 said, " I have none ; cease writing, and listen." He did so : then 
 I untied the corner of my dooputta, and gave him what thou 
 hadst sent ♦' Dost thou understand the tokens ? " I asked. 
 
 * Attendant 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 323 
 
 ' Beebee ! he looked sorrowfully on them. " They speak of 
 love," he said ; " why hast thou brought them to one who is 
 dying?" 
 
 ' " She is fair," I said — " most lovely. Her eyes are large, 
 her lips are red ; in beauty she is like a rose when it opens to 
 meet the morning sun which drinks the fragrant dew from its 
 cup. She has seen thee, O Syud, and her liver has become 
 water." 
 
 ' " What misfortune is around me ? " he said. There was no 
 anger in his tone, but sorrow. " I have no love now but for one ; 
 but let that pass. Go to her who sent thee : say I pity her — say, 
 as we have never met, and I know her not, so let her turn her 
 thoughts to another ; she will see many in the Durbar." 
 
 ' He had thought thee one of the palace dancers ; thou 
 knowest they are high and proud, and men account themselves 
 fortunate to win a smile from them : I eagerly undeceived him. 
 
 ' " She is no Tuwaif," I said ; " she is a householder, and as far 
 above them in beauty as the moon is above a star." ' 
 
 ' And what said he, Sozun ? ' 
 
 ' Then he grew grave, my pearl, and said sternly, — " Such love is 
 sinful — ^it is impure ; bid her forget it. She hath a lord — what 
 am I to her ? Why hath she looked on me with eyes of passion? 
 Begone ! say to her, Kasim Ali Pat^l is no man of dishonour, 
 but pure and unstained; as yet, no dissolute or debauched 
 gallant. Away ! thou art an offence to me." Beebee ! I tried 
 to speak ; he would hear nought. " Begone ! begone ! " alone 
 sounded in mine ears, and his eyes were so large and so severe 
 that I trembled.' 
 
 ' And was this all, Sozun ? was tliis all ? Ah fool ! ah fool ! 
 why didst thou not say I was a Tuwaif — anything — a slave — he 
 would have heard thee. Ah fool ! couldst thou not have pleaded 
 for me in words — hot, burning words, such as would have 
 inflamed his heart, dried up the cold dew of his virtue, and 
 turned him to me with a love as violent as mine own ? Couldst 
 thou not have said that I live upon his look ? — one look I had, 
 only one, which mine own thoughts have magnified into years of 
 intercourse — couldst thou not tell him that I am one who will 
 brook no control ? Ya Rehman Alia ! couldst thou — ' 
 
 ' But he said he loved another,' interrupted Sozun, vainly 
 endeavouring to stem the torrent of her mistress's words. 
 
 ' What, another ! O woman, thou didst not say so — thou didst 
 not dare to say it. He loves another ! Then he can love, if he 
 has loved another. Who is she ? couldst thou discover her, O 
 dull one? A Tuwaif perhaps — some vile and worthless one 
 
324 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 some scum of perdition ! No, he is too noble for that. — Water, 
 Sozun, water ! By Alia, I choke ! Enough — now take the vessel. 
 Thou saidst another. Ha ! if it were she ! ^it were she ! What 
 dost thou think ? ' 
 
 'Who?' 
 
 ' Ameena ! it must be — ^it can be no other. She is beautiful, 
 very beautiful; he hath saved her life, twice saved it. They 
 have been in camps together, and he must have met her, and 
 then — Dost thou not* see all, Sozun, clear to thine eye as day- 
 light ? Does it not all open gradually upon thee, as when the 
 dawn of morning dispels the darkness, objects that were before 
 dim and shadowy assume palpable forms ? ' 
 
 ' There is suspicion surely, Khanum, but we have never heard 
 aught breathed against her.' 
 
 ' No, she hath been discreet ; but may it not be so ? I ask 
 thee calmly, when Alia knows my heart is on &e.' 
 
 ' It may, but — ^ 
 
 ' Enough ! enough ! we will watch : and she who was born to 
 be my curse — she who hath thrown me from my seat of pride, 
 and intruded between me and my rights — may perchance be 
 rudely thrown from her elevation. Grant it, O Prophet ! O ye 
 saints and holy men, grant it ! Yes, we will watch now, Sozun ; 
 wilt thou not aid me ? ' 
 
 ' To the last.' 
 
 ' Enough then now ; this hath calmed me somewhat for the 
 while : revenge is dimly seen in the distance, but it will come, it 
 will come ! Now lie down beside me and sleep ; the night is far 
 spent, I am weary of watching, and my heart aches, Sozun.' 
 
 ' Alia keep thee, lady ! ' returned the other ; ' I will watch 
 beside thee for a while, for I feel not sleepy, and the air is 
 pleasant.' 
 
 And she watched silently, for her thoughts were busy with the 
 events of that night — her strange meeting with Jaffar, his now 
 apparently reckless character, and the threats he had held out 
 against the young Patdl ; for she had been with him long, and if 
 they had not renewed the passionate love of former years, he had 
 caressed her, and vowed to befriend the only being for whom he 
 had ever felt affection. 
 
 The fresh breeze of night, laden with perfume from tree and 
 flower, poured in gentle whispers through the casement, mur- 
 muring and sighing above it amidst the slender leaves of the 
 palms. Abroad all was still, except now and then the bark of a 
 dog, or the call of the sentinels upon the walls to each other that 
 all was well. Gradually the moon's glorious light crept round to 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 325 
 
 the window, and stealing into the room, it wandered over the 
 recumbent figure of the lady till it rested upon her face. ' She 
 sleeps now,' thought Sozun, ' or the light would disturb her ; 
 peacefully too ! and oh, how lovely her features and those long 
 lashes appear, as the light plays among them, and kisses them 
 in very wantonness. I would he could see her now — he, with 
 those glorious eyes so full of expression, into which no woman 
 could look without love ! her fate is in the power of her destiny. 
 May it be propitious ! Our paths are dark and rugged before us, 
 yet we must walk on without a light or a guide. And now I will 
 to rest also, for mind and body are both weary.' 
 
 Men poured into the Fort from every side the following morn- 
 ing, both officers and men ; for the order had gone forth for all 
 to hear the determination of the Sultaun upon the crisis. 
 Elephants and horses, gay palankeens, their bearers striving with 
 each other for precedence, proceeded to the Durbar, exerting 
 their utmost speed with loud cries ; and glittering armour, cloth 
 of gold and silver, and the most brilliant silks, satins and muslins, 
 shone in the bright sun, as the turbans, the vests, or the scarfs of 
 the wearers. Rumour had gone forth that the Sultaun himself 
 would proceed against the infidels, and every man was eager to 
 be led to war and plunder — ^victory in the one, and rich booty 
 in the other, being his by anticipation. 
 
 Crowds hurried on. The hall of audience in the palace had 
 long been filled, and the people reached from the entrance far 
 beyond into the courtyard. Cries of * Deen ! Deen ! Alia Yar ! 
 Alia Yar ! ' rose perpetually from among the mass, and mingled 
 with the sound of the kettle-drum and shrill pipes, which con- 
 tinued playing while the Durbar was open. The Sultaun was 
 seated upon his throne, over which, suspended by a fine wire, 
 so as to appear really to flutter over him, was hung a golden 
 bird, whose wings and tail, set with precious gems, glittered as 
 the wind stirred it to and fro. This was the Humma, or sacred 
 bird of Paradise, whose shadow, so long as it falls upon a 
 monarch, prevents his sustaining any injury, and to which many 
 miraculous powers were ascribed by the lower order of soldiery, 
 or those who had risen from it. Around Tippoo — some engaged 
 in fanning him, others gently moving peacocks' feathers or tails 
 of the Thibet cow to and fro, to prevent the flies from settling on 
 him — were a number of fair and youthful creatures, whose ruddy 
 or pale cheeks showed their origin to have been in the cold and 
 distant climate of the West. They were all dressed sumptuously as 
 women, they had been instructed in the arts of music and 
 dancing, and were thus held up to the scorn of the people 
 
326 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 generally, who were taught, by frequent allusions to them, that 
 all English were effeminate cowards, fit only to be dressed as 
 women, and to be engaged in such frivolous occupations. Some, 
 of the boys were young, and had known no other existence than 
 that debased slavery. These took pride in their gorgeous dresses, 
 and moved about to display them ; others, apparently over- 
 powered by shame at their disgraceful situation, hung down 
 their heads and strove to conceal their faces from the prying 
 glances of the spectators. A miserable lot was theirs : many of 
 them retaining a vivid remembrance of their countrymen, their 
 faith, and their freedom, were obliged to perform a routine of 
 bitterly degrading duties, dancing and singing before the Sultaun 
 for the amusement of the Court ; and although many of the spec- 
 tators pitied the poor boys and their sad fate, yet no one dared 
 to utter a word of sympathy in their behalf, while there were too 
 many who rejoiced in their abject condition. 
 
 Seated near the monarch were his sons, three fine youths ; 
 and in double and treble rows from the throne, the officers of the 
 army, of the state, his own flatterers and sycophants, and a host 
 of others, as closely packed as it was possible to stand or sit. 
 From time to time some of the boys would perform a dance 
 before him, or a few jesters, buffoons or actors, exhibit some 
 ribald scene : the more their language was indecent and keenly 
 directed against the English, the more applause it received from 
 those present, particularly from the Sultaun, who encouraged 
 them by words and promises of Uberal reward ; while shouts of 
 laughter would resound through the haU at any successful sally or 
 witty allusion. 
 
 The moments were, however, precious ; and when the Sultaun 
 observed that the hall was full, the dancers and jesters were 
 dismissed, and silence commanded. The order was obeyed, and 
 all looked with impatience to hear the real result of their 
 monarch's deliberation, in regard to the matter of peace or war, 
 which had so long appeared to be doubtful. For a while he ap- 
 peared to meditate : then, partly raising himself up, he selected 
 a small paper from among the heap before him, and, ere he read 
 it, spoke to those immediately around him. 
 
 ' We, whose government is the gift of Alia,' he said, ' desire 
 no concealment in our affairs ; therefore listen, O ye faithful, and 
 my friends — ^we are about to read you a revelation which was 
 vouchsafed to us last night, and which on awaking we recorded ; 
 it hath since pleased the author of power to afford our mind a 
 clue to the unravelment of the mystery, and this too we will 
 unfold to you. As we lay asleep soon after midnight, we 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 327 
 
 thought we stood on the shore of the sea, and afar off sailed 
 many great and powerful ships which bore the colours of the 
 English. As we looked, behold a little cloud arose, and soon 
 there was a mighty wind, before which all was scattered, and 
 those who were on the seashore awaiting their arrival returned to 
 their homes dejected and dispirited. These were the kafir 
 Feringhees (may their graves be unblessed !) — they are helpless 
 now ; and, by the favour of the Prophet, as .they have provoked 
 a war by their own imprudence and bad faith, they shall find 
 that the men of Islam are ready and willing to fight for their 
 faith.' 
 
 ' We are ready ! we are ready ! ' cried the assembly with one 
 voice ; * lead us to battle ! we are your children — we will fight 
 with you to the death.' 
 
 ' Listen further,' he continued ; ' there was yet another vision 
 more wonderful than the last vouchsafed to us, which proves that 
 all those Moosulmans who fight against us in the armies of the 
 English become hogs when they are stricken with death.' 
 
 ' They deserve it — they are faithless and treacherous — ^they sin 
 against the holy Prophet (may his grave have rest !) — so may 
 their ends be perdition and unholy ! ' shouted rhany of those who 
 listened, while the rest cried, ' A miracle ! a miracle ! that such 
 revelations should be made to our Father and our Sultaun ! ' 
 
 ' But that was not all,' continued Tippoo ; ' for, to prove his 
 words, the angel withdrew a film from before mine eyes, and I 
 beheld a most extraordinary spectacle — one which fiUed me with 
 amazement : before me stood a man with a hog's head, who, 
 when he saw me, advanced to meet me. " Who art thou ? " I 
 said. " I am one of the true faith of Islam," he cried, " but I 
 no longer desire to be called one, for I fought against it under 
 the banners of the infidels, and now I suffer for my indiscretion 
 and faithlessness. I am, as you see, a hog ; and these men have 
 all been transformed into hogs ; they also were killed in the 
 various engagements with the kafirs ; we are in the dreary land 
 of spirits, and thine is permitted to hold communion with ours 
 here, in order that the glory of the faith may be upheld, and the 
 terror of our example made known among thine armies." 
 
 ' Then methought all became dark and dreary, and a cold wind 
 blew, and before us were shadowy objects which the eye could 
 not determine at first ; but as we looked upon the scene, dim 
 forms were seen advancing towards us in lines, even like unto 
 regiments, and the spirit which had spoken to us began to man- 
 oeuvre them after the manner of the English, with whose system 
 it appeared to be acquainted. But, O my friends, as I looked, 
 
328 TIPPOO SVLTAUN. 
 
 all had Hogs* faces ! and the words of him they obeyed sounded 
 like grunts in our ears. Wherefore we beseech you to consider 
 this thing, and whether it is better to live and die in a natural 
 state — the beloved and chosen of Alia — or whether ye would also 
 be hogs, and wallow in the filth of your own abomination, like 
 unto the Christians and those who serve them ? ' 
 
 'Miracles! miracles!' shouted the assembly; 'the Sultaun is 
 the beloved of Alia ! To him alone are now revealed visions 
 aiid wonderful dneams ! for him we will fight, and for the faith ! ' 
 
 ^ Ay, ye say right,' cried TippooJ; * very wonderful axe the mani- 
 festations of Alia to his servant j therefore we shall this day begin 
 our march, fbr We have heard that the kaJfirs are below the passes : 
 Ihshalla I a few days will bring" us up to them, and then we will 
 see whether their pride and haughtiness cannot be humbled. Let 
 us, therefore, join together and send these infidels to the regions 
 of perdition ; and if ye be crowned with victoiy, ye will be full of 
 honour and renowii, and become the envy of the world ; while to 
 those who fall, martyrs in the cause of Islam, hear what the 
 Prophet (blfessed be his name !) hath promised. " They shall enter 
 into pleasant places, where many rivers flow, and curious fountains 
 send forth most murmuring streams, near which they shall repose 
 themselves on soft beds, adorned with gold and precious stones, 
 under the shadow of the trees of Paradise, which shall continually 
 yield all manner of delicious fruits. And they shall enjoy beauti- 
 ful women, pure and clean, having black eyes and countenances 
 always fresh aiid white as polished pearls, who shall love none 
 but thfems'elyes, with whom they shall enjoy the perpetual pleasures 
 of love, and solace themselves in their company with amorous 
 delights to all eternity ; drinking with them niost delicious liquors 
 without ever being overcharged by them, which shall be admini- 
 stered by beautiful bOys, who shall be coiitiriually running round 
 their beds to serve thefn up to them in Cups of gold and glasses 
 fixed on diamonds." ' 
 
 ' We will follow the good path ! ' cried hundreds, with flashing 
 eyes and fi&rce gestures j ' show us the infidels, and we will fall on 
 them and annihilate them for ever !' 
 
 ' Bismilla, so be it !' returned the Sultaun ; ' every man to his 
 post ! pay shall be issued to all, and to-morrow we shall advance. 
 The planets are in a fortunate conjunction, and the kafirs shall 
 tremble once more at our terrible war-cry of Alia Yar.' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 329 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIL 
 
 ' Nay, cheer theej beloved ! thou must be now as thou wert ever 
 wont to be, stout of heart and fearless for the future,' said Rhyman 
 Khan to his fair wifC) aS) on the evening of that day, he sat with her 
 in their quiet secluded apartments, with the moon's broad light 
 playing on the slightly agitated fountain before them, and the 
 cool wind rustling amidst the leaves above their heads. ' Thou 
 must not fear j what is there to dread? Hast thou not thine own 
 nurse with thee, and my household, who are devoted to thee ? 
 hast thou not these apartments, where no One dares to intrude 
 without thine especial leave, and a guard of my most faithful men 
 around thee? why shouldst thou fear?' 
 
 ' My lord,' she said, looking up to him — and it was hard to 
 resist those pleading eyes — ' I know I am not worthy to share the 
 fate of one who is honoured in the councils of the Sultaun, and 
 who is respected in the assemblies of the great ; yet, if thou art 
 ill, who will tend thee like Ameena ? if thou art wounded, who 
 will soothe thy pain ? Thou wouldst have no one to cheer thy 
 dulness ; even the Pat61 would fail thee — thou wouldst think of 
 Ameena ! ' 
 
 ' But the Englishj fairest — men affect to despise them, but the 
 Sultaun well knows their power, though he denies it to all, and 
 scoffs at it (I pray Alia, he may feel it not soon) — 'tis the English 
 I dread for thee. Fighting with them is not like fighting with 
 the infidel Hindoos, who are slaughtered Uke sheep, but the war 
 of men against men — the shock of contending armies-^the roar 
 of artillery — liie rattle of musketry ; this thy gentle heart cannot 
 bear.' 
 
 ' Bid me go before thee into the battle — bid me attend thee as 
 thy servant — bind a turban on my brow and a sword to my waist, 
 and see if Ameena will not follow thee to the death ! ' she cried, 
 hastily rising. ' If the Mahratta women have done this many a 
 time, thinkest thou that a Moghul of the old and proud blood of 
 Delhi dares not?' 
 
 A sudden cry of admiration broke from the Khan. She had 
 arisen from her seat and advanced towards him ; her always soft 
 and loving eye was filled with a daring and flashinsg- light ; her 
 bosom heaved^ and her slight and beautiful form was drawn up 
 to its full height, as she stood almost panting, when she ceased 
 to speak. 
 
 'By Alia and the Prophet, thou art fit to be a soldier's wife !' 
 
330 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 he cried, starting to his feet ; ' one who feels so keenly a soldier's 
 honour and his fame, ought to share it with him. 1 had not 
 thought that this spirit dwelt within thee. Come to me, girl — 
 henceforth thou needst not fear ; come evil or good, thou shalt 
 share it with Rhyman Khan. I swear by thine eyes I will not 
 leave thee ; art thou content now ?' 
 
 'Thou art too kind!' she murmured, as she bowed her head 
 upon his shoulder ; ' thou knowest I have none here but thyself, 
 and my home is afar off; thou art father, mother, husband — all 
 to me. I bless thee that thou hast heard my prayer, and that I 
 am not to be left tormented by a thousand fears for thee, and 
 dreads (may they be visionary !) of coming eviL' 
 
 ' Of evil, Ameena ? ' 
 
 ' Ay, my lord ; hast thou not felt often, upon the eve of some 
 event in thy life, when, as yet, it had not burst from the womb 
 of futurity, an unknown, undefinable sense of dread which per- 
 vaded thy senses, causing thought to be painfully acute, and to run 
 into a thousand channels too intricate to follow for a moment, till 
 it was lost in vague, oppressive conjecture leading to no end? ' 
 
 ' Never, Ameena ; I have never troubled myself to think much, 
 but have been content to take events as it pleased Alia to send 
 them.' 
 
 ' I may be wrong then,' she returned ; ' these may be the off- 
 springs of my own imagination only, and not common to others. 
 It is well it is so j they are not enviable.' 
 
 'There will be danger, Ameena,' said the Khan, who mis- 
 apprehended her ; ' bethink thee again upon going with me into 
 the rough camp; remember, Kasim All will be here, and will 
 protect thee, as he hath done before.' 
 
 ' Oh no ! no ! I would not stay — I would not stay with him, 
 but go with thee, my noble lord,' she said, averting her burning 
 face from him ; ' for the sake of the Prophet do not mention that 
 again ; thou hast already said thou wouldst let me accompany 
 thee.' 
 
 ' Bismilla ! then be it so ; yet why tumest thou away ? art thou 
 angry that I doubted thy firmness? I never doubted that, 
 girl, since the night when we looked from the tower upon the 
 burning village and those fierce Mahrattas ; dost thou remember 
 them ? ' 
 
 Alas ! she remembered but too well ; and even then the 
 temptation had arisen within her to remain where Kasim Ali was, 
 to be left under his care ; but she had put it back with a struggle, 
 and the Khan's doubt of her bravery had rallied her spirit, and 
 with it her best feelings had come to her aid. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 331 
 
 'I remember, Khan,' she said carelessly; 'but I would now 
 prepare the few things I shall require, and warn Meeran to accom- 
 pany me.' 
 
 ' Go then ; I had told the Patdl he would have to look after thee, 
 and, strange enough, he thought thou wouldst be better with me 
 as he was not to go. Perhaps he may be in the Dewan Khana, 
 I will go there and seek him.' 
 
 Ameena was left alone ; how strange it was, she thought, that 
 Kasim should have advised what she herself had suggested; 
 perhaps his dread had been the same as hers, and the very idea 
 brought painful blushes to her face, and led her into a reverie 
 which well nigh upset her resolutions ; it would be so easy to 
 change her determination, to confess her fears, to haVe him near 
 her, to rely on him in all dangers ; this would be happiness. But 
 Ameena's virtue was strong, far stronger than her servant's, who 
 at first almost reproached her for the voluntary loss of the oppor- 
 tunity, which, as she said, destiny had presented. Meeran's 
 sophistry was unable, however, to contend with the honest 
 purpose of her youthful mistress, and she at length, but not 
 without some difficulty, yielded to her whim, of which she pro- 
 tested she would be tired enough when the English cannon 
 roared in her ears, and the balls whizzed through the camp. 
 
 Ameena might not, perhaps, have held out long against the 
 combined effects of her own inclination and the terrible stories 
 her nurse told her of the furious English ; but there was little 
 time for discussion — they were to move on the morrow; pre- 
 parations for absence, though small, had to be made that night, 
 and long ere noon the following day the army had left the city, 
 for a longer absence than was at first contemplated. 
 
 But it is beyond our province to follow with the minuteness 
 essential to history every event connected with the campaign, 
 and we assume to ourselves, upon the precedents of many 
 veterans who have toiled before us in the field of literary pursuit, 
 the right of slightly sketching those details of historical occurrence 
 which, however necessary to the historian, can be omitted, or 
 merely glanced at, in a tale of the present character. 
 
 The Sultaun, at the head of his noble army, proceeded down 
 the Guzulhuttee pass, the one in the angle formed where the 
 grand range of the Neelgherries joins the table-land of Mysore, 
 and where a tributary of the Bhowanee pours its rapid waters into 
 the plain. On their right, as we have described when we took 
 Herbert Compton to his lonely prison on the Neelgherries, rose 
 their vast and blue chain, stretching far away into the distance ; on 
 the left, the wide plain, and the table-land breaking away into it 
 
332 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 in a series of giant ravines and gloomy depths. But for these the 
 monarch had no eyes ; a gloomy presentiment of evil appeared 
 to possess him, and the constant succession of messengers with 
 bad tidings, of the news of fall after fall of strongholds, forts, 
 towns, and whole districts before the slight force of the English, 
 inspired him with a dread which the confidence of the officers 
 around him could not restore. Still if he could strike a decisive 
 blow, he thought all would yet be well ; and the fame and terror 
 of the lion of Mysore, once more spread through the country, 
 and reaching the ears of the English and their confederates the 
 Nizam and the Mahrattas, would divert them from their alliance 
 or convert them into positive friends. 
 
 The Bhowanee was full, but the army crossed in basket-boats, 
 and, in the action which followed, met their enemies in such 
 force and spirit, that the issue of the conflict compelled the 
 English commander to draw off his force during the night, and 
 to retreat, in the hope Of effecting a junction with the com- 
 mander-in-chief, whose force Was daily expected. His movement 
 was aided, as if providentially, by a violent rain, which, falling in 
 the Sultaun's camp, caused confusion not easily to be remedied 
 in the morning, when the escape of the English was known. 
 
 Frantic with rage, Tippoo ordered an immediate pursuit, which, 
 though gallantly performed by his troops, was ineffectual, as well 
 from the nature of the ground, and the protection afforded to 
 the English by the thick prickly pear-hedges, as from the resolute 
 determination and patience with which it was met. At the small 
 village of Shawoor the English commander determined to make 
 a stand, for his men were worn out by fatigue and excitement ; 
 and this place— where as memorable a display of obstinate British 
 valour against overwhelming odds as took place at Korygaum 
 or Seetabuldee might have occurred, was not fated to be so dis- 
 tinguished. A false rumour arose of the advance of the main 
 body of the army under Meadows, which, while it gave new 
 energy to the English, inspired the Sultaun with dread; a 
 vigorous charge by the English cavalry determined the day and 
 the campaign; and the Sultaun, dispirited by this and by the 
 death of a favourite and gallant officer of rank, drew off his 
 troops; he could not be persuaded to resume the attack, but 
 retreated southwards towards Errode, on the river Cavery. 
 
 Meanwhile the two English armies had united, and now ad- 
 vanced upon the Sultaun, who again retreated towards Coimba- 
 toor; but imagining danger in that quarter, he turned again 
 northwards, and falling upon the town of Darapoor, in which 
 were some English sick and details, he captured it, and exacted 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 333 
 
 a fearful revenge for his defeats and vexation. From hence, 
 hearing of the advance of the English in the direction of Salem, 
 and knowing the passes into Mysore in that directioii to be easy 
 and unguarded — in fact, only a series of undulations — he hurried 
 thither, accompanied by all his cavalry, leaving a large body of 
 his best infantry to hold the English in check, and, if necessary, 
 to occupy the high and rugged passes that led directly to the 
 capital. 
 
 The English armies were in possession of the country around 
 the Tapoor pass, which leads frpm the fine town of Salem and 
 farther to the south from Trichinopoly into Mysore ; and it was 
 evident to the Sultaun that their territories to the south must be 
 inefficiently protected, considering the large amount of force 
 which had been dispatched for the invasion of his dominions. 
 His whole mind was now bent upon striking a blow in the rear 
 of the advanced force, which should turn their attention from 
 their meditated object to the defence of ppsitipns and districts ; 
 by this means time would be wasted, and the season for active 
 operation pass away. Acting, therefore, upon this suggestion, he 
 dexterously avoided the English army, though passiijg within 
 sight of it ; and leaving the magnificent range of the Shevaroy 
 mountains to the left, he took the direct road through the beauti- 
 ful valley in which Salem is situated to Trichinopoly. It was on 
 the noble temple of Seringham that his fury first fell j and by the 
 desecration of its sacred images, the plunder and forcible con- 
 version of its priests, and the uncontrolled licence given to his 
 bigoted soldiery to mutilate and destroy, a spirit of revenge was 
 actively aroused against him in the minds of his Hindoo adher- 
 ents, which had long been excited by his acts of horrible oppres- 
 sion and cruelty to their unhappy brethren the Nairs. 
 
 From Seringham ruin and devastation was mercilessly carried 
 through Coromandel : each man had licence to plunder as he 
 listed, and neither youth nor age was- spared ; the savage Pind- 
 harees of later years were not more destructive than the army of 
 Islam, led on by its champion ; and, although repulsed from the 
 fort of Tiagar by a mere handful of British soldiers, yet that of 
 Trinomallee was less fortunate in its defence, and on its unhappy 
 garrison and inhabitants were vented in cruelties and tortures all 
 the spleen that mortified vanity and ill success could prompt. 
 
 Tippoo had hoped too to arouse the ancient animosity of the 
 French against the English, and to have involved them in the 
 war ; but his overtures for assistance were rejected or evaded by 
 the Governor of Pondicherry, and hia negotiations for an embassy 
 to the Court of I^Quis XVI. met with no encouragement. Foiled 
 
334 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 in these attempts, he renewed his correspondence with many 
 English ofificers, in the same hollow strain of attempted complaint 
 and wonder at the commencement of hostilities that had before 
 proved unsuccessful But he had more able diplomatists and 
 more wary commanders to deal with now than formerly; and 
 having been unable to put into execution his threat of burning 
 Madras, he abandoned the design, and hurried to meet the storm 
 which now threatened to burst forth from the Nizam and the 
 Mahrattas on the north, and from the English on the east ; for 
 Lord Cornwallis was already at Vellore, and the army assembled 
 there were prepared to advance. But the Sultaun, although the 
 force with him used the most strenuous exertions, failed to arrive 
 in time to occupy the passes, and the English ascended to the 
 table-land of Mysore without opposition. 
 
 During the period of our tale hitherto, the Sultaun had been 
 separated from the ladies of his harem, which had remained in 
 Bangalore, nor had he held much communication with them for 
 some years. The places of his lawful wives were supplied from 
 time to time as caprice willed the change, by numbers — some 
 rudely torn from their families by his agents — others captives 
 taken from among the Nairs and Hindoos of the coast, where his 
 excesses had been most dseadful, to remain in favour for a while, 
 and to be flung aside when their novelty palled upon his senses. 
 But the mother of his children and lus own mother remained 
 dear to him — dear as any could be to one of so cold and 
 heartless a temperament, which warmed only at the trumpet-call 
 of bigotry, and felt none of those endearments common to men 
 of all ranks in the intercourse of their families. His anxiety was 
 excited upon their account from the near approach of the Eng- 
 lish, which he was unable to check, though he several times 
 attempted it by distant cannonades and threatening displays of 
 large bodies of cavalry. It was therefore absolutely necessary 
 that they should be removed j and having sent orders for them to 
 prepare, the next day, at the head of his whole army, he escorted 
 them from the fort to his encampment, and preparation was made 
 for sending the harem on to the capital. 
 
 But while these stirring events proceeded in the camp, and 
 men's minds were gradually filled with alarm at the progress of 
 the English and the formidable nature of their attack, events 
 had occurred at the city which demand that we should notice 
 them. 
 
 The army had left some days, and all was quiet within .the fort, 
 which but a short time before had resounded with the continuous 
 beating of the Sultaun's kettle-drums, the exercise of the soldiery, 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 335 
 
 and the bustle of the thousands attendant upon the Sultaun. 
 But the work of the arsenals and foundries continued in full 
 vigour, and it was plain to see that if the worst was feared, there 
 was at least preparation made to meet it. In the midst of this, 
 however, with which he had no concern, Kasim Ali, formed for the 
 active occupation of the camp, led a life of inaction, from which 
 he saw no hope of release until he should once more resume his 
 post near the Sultaun, and lead into battle against the English his 
 own gallant fellows, who had often sworn to follow him to the 
 death. 
 
 There was one, however, to whom his every movement was an 
 object of intense interest, and who, tormented by a thousand 
 contending passions, now vowed revenge against him because her 
 suit had been rejected, now iiriplored her attendant again and 
 again to go to him. But after her first refusal, Sozun had no 
 mind to encounter the stern looks of the young Patd, and as 
 often as she was sent, she would return with a lie that he had 
 repulsed her. 
 
 It was night — quite dark, for the heavens were overcast with 
 thick clouds, and the wind sighed and moaned within the trees 
 above the Khan's dwelling ; every now and then a gust would 
 whistle round the apartment where the lady Kummoo sat, shak- 
 ing the latticed windows and shutters which were carefully closed. 
 She was alone with Sozun, and the theme had long been Kasim 
 Ali and her wild, ungovernable passion for him. 
 
 ' I tell thee I will bear this no longer, Sozun,' she said, as she 
 arose, and opening the shutter looked forth. ' The night is dark 
 — it is fit for the venture ; no one will see us, or if they do, we 
 shall not be known.' 
 
 ' Holy Alia ! ' exclaimed the woman, ' thou wilt not go to him, 
 Khanum ? ' 
 
 ' Ay will I, Sozun ; my heart bums, my soul is on fire ! can I 
 bear this for weeks and months ? am I a stone ? I tell thee nay ; 
 but a daring, loving woman, whose thoughts, night and day, are 
 fixed on one object ; it is now within my grasp, and the moment 
 urges. Come, I am ready ; take thy sheet and wrap thyself — 
 thou knowest the way.' 
 
 ' It is in vain for thee to go, Khanum ; wilt thou eat shame ? 
 hast thou no pride? — a woman to seek him who spurns her 
 love!' 
 
 ' Peace, fool ! he has not seen me yet. Come, and delay no 
 longer. I command thee ; the way is short, and methinks I am 
 already in his embrace. Quick ! see, I am ready.' 
 
 ' If thy absence should be discovered, lady ? ' 
 
 ( 
 
336 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' I care not ; I will say boldly I go to my mother; come, why 
 - dost thou delay ? ' 
 
 Sozun knew her mistress's character too well to dare a refusal, 
 and she wrapped herself closely and preceded her. As they 
 descended the stairs they met a servant ' I go to my mother's 
 for a while — ^let no one follow me,' said the lady, and passed on. 
 In a few moments they had quitted the house and were in the 
 open street. 
 
 ' Lend me thine arm, Sozun,' said the lady in a whisper : ' I 
 tremble much, and the night is dark, very dark; "I did not think 
 it would be so fearful. AJla ! how the clouds scuny along the 
 heavens, and how the wind moans and sighs.' 
 
 ' We had better return, Khanum.' 
 
 ' No, no, not for worlds ! I must see him j-^uick ! give me 
 thine arm and lead on !' 
 
 Hastily traversing a few streets, Sozun stopped at a small door 
 in a wall. ' Thi? is the place,' she whisp^jr^d ; and as she sai4 
 it she felt the arm within hers shake as if with ague. 
 
 * For the sake of the Prophet, let ns turn hack^^it is not too 
 late — I have not knocked — ^thou art not fit to meet him,' said the 
 woman in broken sentences. 
 
 ' Peace, fool ! in a few moments I shall see him ; dare I not 
 this ? Knock, and say he expects us.' 
 
 Thou art a bold woman, thought Sozun, and she knocked 
 loudly. The door was opened instantly ; two men stood within. 
 
 ' We are expected,' said Sozun, in a disguised voice, without 
 waiting to be questioned, and they proceeded. 
 
 ' The Patdl hath good company,' said one fellow. 
 
 • I marvel at this,' said the other ; ' I have served him long, 
 and have never known the like of this before.' 
 
 The women lost the rest as they passed hastily on. Kummoo's 
 knees could hardly support her, but she followed Sozun mechani- 
 cally, her heart beating violently, and her thoughts striving to 
 arrange a few sentences for the interview ; vain effort ! they rose 
 one upon another in wild confusion, defying retention. 
 
 Sozun knew the way; she entered the open verandah and 
 looked through the door into the next apartment ; Kasim was 
 there, reading, as she had first seen him. 'That is he,' she 
 whispered gently ; ' enter ! ' 
 
 Kummoo was a bold and daring woman, but now her heart 
 almost failed her — for a moment only, however — and she entered 
 and stood before him. 
 
 ' Who art thou ? ' he cried ; • and who has dared to admit 
 thee?' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAVN. 337 
 
 She could not reply ; a few broken words escaped her ; and 
 unable any longer to stand or to control herself, she fell at his 
 feet, and clasping his knees sobbed aloud. 
 
 ' Thou art fair — ^very beautiful,' he said, as he raised her up 
 and gazed upon her features, for her veil had fallen ; ' who art 
 thou?' 
 
 ' One who has loved thee long ! I saw thee once — I have lived 
 upon thy look,' she said confusedly. 
 
 ' Thou art not a tuwaif ; thy speech is not like theirs.' 
 
 ' I am not' 
 
 ' Thou art a wife then, or thou wouldst not wear that ring?' 
 
 ' Why should I tell a lie? — I am; my lord is old — he is absent 
 — he loves me not — he has neglected and thrown me aside for 
 another. I have seen thee, O Patdl, and my liver is become 
 water; I have come to thee — pity me and love me, as I would 
 love thee ! ' 
 
 Kasim was sorely tempted ; her beauty, her large lustrous eyes 
 sparkling with passion, shone upon him ; she hung on him ; her 
 hand, as it touched his, was hot and trembling. He raised her 
 up and caressed her, and she threw herself upon his broad chest 
 and again sobbed — it was with passion. 
 
 Then, even then, a thought flashed into his mind, quicker than 
 light ; could she be the Khan's wife j could he be the man, old, 
 absent, who had flung her aside for another? his heart felt as 
 though it made a mighty bound within his bosom. 'Tell 
 me,' he cried, ' by your soul — say, for my mind misgives me — 
 tell me, art thou not the wife of Rhyman Khan ? ' 
 
 She could not reply — she burned — her mouth became parched 
 and her eyes swam. 
 
 ' Speak,' he cried, ' for the sake of Alia ! ' But no reply came ; 
 confusion was evident on her countenance ; as he held her from 
 him, suddenly her head drooped, and her form relaxed within 
 his grasp ; had he not supported her she would have fallen ; for 
 the sense of sudden detection had overpowered her already too 
 excited feelings, and she had fainted. 
 
 • Holy Prophet ! what is to be done ? — she is insensible,' 
 exclaimed Kasim aloud j he was heard by Sozun, who entered. 
 
 • Tell me, by your soul, if she is the Khan's wife ? ' he cried in 
 agitation not to be repressed 
 
 ' What matter if she is, Pat^l ? she loves you, your destiny is 
 bright; shall I retire?' 
 
 • It is as I thought then. Holy Alia ! I bless thee that this 
 was spared me ! See, she is recovering ; yonder is water — take 
 her hence speedily, her secret will die with me; assure her of 
 
 y 
 
338 TTPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 this, and tell her the Khan is my friend and benefactor.' And 
 so saying, he opened a small door and disappeared. 
 
 ' He is gone,' said Sozun, as her lady recovered and looked 
 wildly around her: it was enough. They did not wait more 
 than a few minutes ; then Kummoo returned to her distasteful 
 home, filled with rage and shame, and burning for revenge. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 Months had passed, and Herbert Compton remained in the 
 lonely fastness to which he had been doomed. He had no hope 
 of release — ^none of escape. As he looked forth over the vast 
 plain beneath his feet, he could see the interminable forests 
 spread out before him, through which he well knew there was 
 no path, or, if any, one known to the inhabitants only of the 
 hills — intricate, and utterly unattainable by himself. The Fort 
 itself occupied a round knoll on the very verge of the range, and 
 jutted out, a bold promontory, into the plain, forming evidently 
 one of the extreme angles of the chain of mountains upon which 
 he was; its sides were dizzy precipices of five thousand feet 
 almost perpendicular to the bottom, where they rested amidst 
 forests, the waving even of which could not be seen from the top. 
 Looking eastward was the plain of Coimbatoor, stretching away 
 to a dim horizon, where, at the distance of a hundred miles, were 
 seen the rocky ranges of the Barah Mahal hills, broken at first, 
 but gradually appearing to unite and form a continuous chain 
 away to the left, till, increasing in height in the immense 
 circle, they joined the huge mass on part of which stood his 
 prison. 
 
 Through this the Bhowanee, the Baraudee, and several other 
 streams which escaped from the mountains, wound their silent 
 course, glistening in the bright sun like silver threads, away to 
 the broader Cavery, a faint glimmer of which might now and then 
 be seen, as th6 early rays of the morning sun shone upon the 
 plain. Away to the south and west the mountains recommenced 
 with the triangular peak of Dindigul, which could sometimes be 
 seen, and continued, range over range, of every form, of evay 
 hue with which a brilliant sun, acting upon a dry, a damp, or a 
 hot atmosphere, could clothe them — hues of sombre grey, of 
 violet, of brilliant purple, till in the nearer range of the Animallee 
 hills they assumed more positive colours and forms. 
 
ttPPOO SULTAUN. 339 
 
 To the west lay the broad valley, filled with wood, the only 
 road to the sea; and thence Herbert's sad thoughts often 
 wandered in vivid remembrance of the past, to the land where 
 those most dear to him on earth mourned him as dead. He 
 could not think that they could retain any hope that he lived ; 
 years had fled since they had heard of him, and he was become 
 to them as one in the grave ; one for whom — when any trivial 
 incident, a word, a look, a tone, recalls the dead to present 
 association — regrets, mingled with hopes for the future, are the 
 spontaneous expressions of undying affections, and a tear is 
 silently dropped, the overflow of some heart which clings to the 
 memory of the dead with fondness which even time does not 
 impair. 
 
 To the north and west Herbert looked across the tremendous 
 chasm througli which the military road now winds its gradual 
 and easy ascent up to Coonoor, upon the verdant and sunny hills 
 beyond. It was clothed with wood here and there, as though 
 planted with the most consummate taste, occupying now the side, 
 now the gorge of a tiny valley, through which a small stream 
 leaped from rock to rock, till, joining some larger one, it dashed 
 down the precipitous sides of the chasm, into the foaming stream 
 of the Baraudee, the roar of which sometimes reached his ear. 
 At times he could distinguish noble herds of elk browsing upon 
 the smooth, verdant sides of the declivities, and would watch 
 their motions for hours with curious interest ; or huge herds of 
 buffalos, tended by a few herdsmen, who appeared to be the only 
 inhabitants of those lovely regions, where the cool climate of his 
 beloved country was joined to the brightness and radiance of an 
 eastern sun. 
 
 But though he lived amidst the most exquisite scenery that it 
 is possible to conceive, it was but a poor compensation for liberty; 
 true, under the rigour of a burning climate, captivity would have 
 been more diflScult and painful of endurance than here, where he 
 might almost fancy himself in his own land ; and could he have 
 enjoyed the happiness of wandering about as he listed over those 
 beauteous hills, through the valleys and beside their bounding 
 streams, it would have sufficed to him to have thus dreamed 
 away his existence. Poor Herbert ! his guards might have set 
 him free ; for escape from those mountains, through untrodden 
 and pestilential jungles, into a country where death would await 
 him if he were discovered, was guarantee enough that he would 
 have remained; but they were answerable for him with their 
 lives, and every kindness consistent with his safety was shown 
 him ; and though their food was coarse barley bread, ricie. and 
 
340 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 the flesh of elk or wild hog, or jungle game, — yet his health and 
 strength seemed to increase, and he had never felt greater vigour. 
 
 There were often changes in the little garrison : new comers 
 brought such spices and condiments as were needed, and among 
 them at last arrived one who spoke a few words of Hindostanee. 
 That he should be able to speak intelligibly with any one was a sub- 
 ject of inexpressible delight to Herbert; but soon a new hope sprung 
 up in his heart, which though slowly admitted, yet was, or might 
 be, practicable — escape. Without a guide it was a useless risk of 
 life to attempt it ; with one who knew the country and the roads, 
 either to the coast or to Madras, it was a matter, he thought, of 
 difficult but not impossible attainment. Long he watched his 
 opportunity to converse with his friend, for the man, he thought, 
 was civil and obliging beyond his fellows ; but he was evidently 
 afraid to speak before them, lest he should at once be suspected 
 and dismissed ; but the time came at length. 
 
 Herbert, as was his wont, lay upon the green sward on the 
 highest point of the Fort, basking in the warm sun, watching the 
 shadows which chased each other over the beauteous and many- 
 hued plain — now sailing over what appeared endless forests — now 
 dimming the sparkle of the Bhowanee for a moment, which again 
 glittered brightly as the shade passed away : again they appeared 
 to creep up the face of some precipitous hill, or hang among its 
 woods, while the sunlight toyed with the green slopes and mossy 
 banks. Sometimes he speculated idly upon the scene below, and 
 tried to make out the forms of villages among the groves which 
 everywhere appeared amidst the cultivated parts. All was quite 
 still, and not even a leaf rustled to disturb the silence ; only the 
 drowsy hum of a bee was heard now and then, as one flew by to 
 its nest ujider a precipice, laden with sweets. Suddenly, as he 
 listened, he thought he heard the roll of musketry : it was very 
 faint, but it came to a soldier's ear with distinctness enough to be 
 heard. He started to his feet, and listened with painful eager- 
 ness, while his eye travelled in the direction of the sound. His 
 whole action was so sudden, and his attitude so wrapt, that his 
 attendant, who had been basking beside him, was thrown com- 
 pletely off his guard. 
 
 'What dost thou hear, Sahib?' he said eagerly in Hindostanee. 
 ' What dost thou see ? ' 
 
 ' Hush ! ' cried Herbert ; ' listen ! there was a gun, and then 
 musketry ; hark — a gun again ! What can that mean ? ' 
 
 ' Alia knows ! ' said the man ; ' but it is even so. Look ! was 
 that smoke ? By Alia, it is ; at Coimbatoor too — thou canst see 
 the minarets of the mosque gleaming brightly.' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 341 
 
 'Thou speakest well in thy new tongue,' said Herbert. ' Why 
 hast thou not spoken to me before ? ' 
 
 • I dared not : even now do not, for the sake of your faith and 
 mine, venture by word or sign to speak to me before the others, 
 or it may cost me my life.' 
 
 • I will be discreet, and risk nothing ; where are they ?' 
 
 ' Some are hunting, some are at the house. Enough — listen !' 
 The sound came again. 'Dost thou not see the smoke?' 
 inquired he. 
 
 ' No, I see none,' said Herbert, straining his eyes. 
 
 ' The Sultaun must be there, and they are firing,' said the 
 man. ' It is wonderful that sound should come thus far.' 
 
 For some time they continued to hear it ; for Ahmed, Herbert's 
 acquaintance, called his associates, and they all listened and 
 speculated, but could come to no conclusion ; and then the 
 wind arose, and they heard no more. But they were evidently 
 perplexed, and continued- to speak of it during the evening. At 
 last one went out, and returned with an expression of wonder 
 upon his countenance : he spoke to his companions, and some 
 got up and followed him. Soon these sent for the rest, and they 
 took Herbert with them. 
 
 It was quite dark. Near them a few objects were distinguish- 
 able when the eye became accustomed to the darkness, but over- 
 head the sky was quite overcast and black ; and though there 
 was no wind, yet the cold air of night was chill and piercing at 
 that height. They advanced to the place where they had been 
 in the morning ; it was within a stone's throw of the brink of the 
 precipice, which descended full four thousand feet before it met 
 even any of the projecting buttresses which appeared to support 
 the mighty fabric. With difficulty they could see to the edge ; 
 beyond that all was black — a vast void, into the depths of which 
 the eye strove to penetrate, as the mind into illimitable space and 
 eternity, and felt as if it were thrust back and checked for its pre- 
 sumption by the awful profundity. It seemed to Herbert as 
 though the ground they trod had no support, and was sinking 
 into the gloomy abyss. There seemed to be no horizon, no sky. 
 Instinctively the group closed together, and seemingly awe- 
 stricken spoke hardly above their breath. 
 
 ' We saw it awhile ago,' said one to another of those who had 
 just arrived with Herbert 
 
 'What did ye see?' 
 
 ' Lights, — sparks in that black darkness. Look carefully, ye 
 may see them again.' 
 
 ' There ! there !' cried several ' Look ! what can they be ? 
 
342 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 Herbert saw where they pointed ; in the direction where he had 
 heard the firing in the morning, and in the middle of the void 
 before him, for an instant or two were several bright flashes ; he 
 rubbed his eyes, which ached from gazing, and from the effect 
 even of those transient flashes. Again he looked and listened ; 
 there was no sound except the sigh of the night breeze in a tree 
 near him ; but again there were flashes in the same place. And 
 now, whUe they gazed, a light arose, soared in a little circle into 
 the air, and descended. Another and another. Herbert knew 
 what they were, and his heart bounded within him with a quick- 
 ness of'pulsation it had not known for years, ij^they should be 
 his countrymen ! 
 
 His guards turned to one another, and spoke rapidly among 
 themselves with eager gestures. At last Ahmed addressed 
 him. 
 
 ' They bid me ask you,' he said, ' what this is j you Europeans 
 know all things. Hath the sky such lights?' 
 
 ' No, it is a siege,' said Herbert, ' and the lights are shells and 
 cannon. Is the Sultaun at war ? ' 
 
 ' 1 know not, but will ask.' And Herbert heard the word 
 Feringhee in the answer. He was sure that his countrymen were 
 near, and his heart yearned to them. 
 
 ' There have been rumours of war,' said Ahmed, ' and we 
 heard that the English were in the Barah Mahal ; but they can- 
 not have got so far, for the Sultaun had marched in person with 
 the whole of the army.' 
 
 Herbert thought otherwise. He could imagine nothing but 
 victory for the arms he had once borne, and for the cause in which 
 he would gladly have died. After watching long they withdrew 
 from the spot chilled and wearied, and all lay down to rest. But 
 Herbert could not sleep ; his thoughts were too engrossing for 
 sleep. Escape was now possible, and long he deliberated 
 whether it was not practicable alone. On the south, east, and 
 north sides of the Droog were huge precipices, as we have 
 already mentioned ; the only access to it was from the west, by 
 which he had come. Even were he to escape from the fort, 
 could he venture to descend any of the passes to the plain ? 
 Narrow paths, which at the bottom branched out into endless 
 ramification, led he knew not whither through dense forests that 
 extended for miles and miles, the abode of pestilence and of wild 
 beasts innumerable. The thought was appalling; and the more 
 he weighed the risk in his mind, the less chance did there 
 appear of success. Could it be that Ahmed would assist him ? 
 the obstacle of language had been broken through; and no 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 343 
 
 sooner did his busy thoughts suggest the idea, than his mind 
 clung to it. Ahmed was poor, he could not refuse money, and 
 he would offer him anything he chose to demand — thousands, for 
 liberty ! He waited till his watch came, and when all were 
 asleep and breathing heavily, he called him by name in a loud 
 whisper. 
 
 • Ahmed ! Ahmed !' 
 
 He was dozing even on his watch, and did not hear at fvst 
 Herbert was in agony lest the others should awake. 
 
 Ahmed answered at last 'What dost thou require?' he 
 said. 
 
 • Come here, I would speak to thee secretly.' He arose and 
 crossed the hut ; it was a good sign. He seated himself close 
 to Herbert \ perhaps he had too been thinking of the escape. 
 
 ' Ahmed,' said the young man, ' thou hast been kind to me : 
 I love thee, for thou hast spoken to me : thou art my friend. Wilt 
 thou then aid me?' 
 
 'They say you English are deceitful and faithless,' replied 
 the man. 
 
 ' They wrong us — ^by thy head, they wrong us. Our enemies 
 alone say so ; we are faithful even to death. Wilt thou trust one, 
 and that one me ? ' 
 
 The man moved, but spoke not. 
 
 'WUt thou aid me?' continued Herberti for he perceived he 
 was listened to. ' Behold, I trust thee in thus speaking to thee, 
 and am utterly in thy power ; if it is thy will, thou canst denounce 
 me to thine associates even now. See how I trust thee^— thou 
 wilt not betray me. For years I have languished in captivity. I 
 have a father, mother, brethren, sisters — one other, too, even 
 dearer than they. They think me dead, and the old have long 
 mourned with bitter grief, even the grief of parents for a first- 
 born and beloved. Hast thou no heart for this to plead for me 
 within thee ?' 
 
 Again the man writhed, but spoke not. 
 
 ' Hast thou no tenderness, that I may appeal to it ? Hast thou 
 no father — mother — ^wife — who, if thou wert dead, would mourn 
 for thee, but who, living, rejoice for thee ? ' 
 
 ' I have all,' was the reply. 
 
 ' I have not the last,' said Herbert sadly, ' that was a pang 
 spared me. Yet there is one who in blighted hope, and crushed 
 and withered affection, mourns me as long since numbered with 
 the dead. Thou canst restore peace where there is sorrow, hope 
 where there is despair,' 
 
 ' I cannot aid thee, Sahib.' 
 
344 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' Thou canst ! thou canst ! My countrymen are yonder ; I 
 feel that they are, — they must be victorious, else they had not 
 penetrated so far. Guide me to them, and thou wilt earn my 
 gratitude, and with it a competence for life. Thou knowest the 
 passes; to me the attempt unaided would be death.' 
 
 ' It would indeed : alone I would not attempt them for a king- 
 dom, even with my knowledge ; but I feel for thee, Feringhee ; 
 thy looks are gentle, thy speech is soft ; thou art not as I have 
 been told the English are : I will believe thou art to be trusted.' 
 
 ' Oh believe it, believe it, Ahmed ! my life will be in thy hands ; 
 thou canst guide me to liberty or to death ; I am ready to trust 
 thee. Can I say more ? ' 
 
 ' Enough, Sahib ; I rely upon thee. I swear by Alia and the 
 Prophet to guide thee safely to Coimbatoor — if it be true that thy 
 countrymen are there : further than that, if they are not there, I 
 should but lead thee into death and fall a sacrifice myself But 
 listen, I risk much ; my parents live — they love me : I have too a 
 wife and a child — they are dependent upon me. If we are de- 
 tected, the vengeance of the Sultaun will fall on them, and that is 
 fearful. Thou seest I have an equal risk with thyself; — now wilt 
 thou trust me ? ' 
 
 ' Thou hast, brave fellow ! and I estimate thy generosity as that 
 of a brother ; but we have spoken of no reward.' 
 
 ' Nor will I,' said the man ; ' you are noble ; your words — ^your 
 appearance, even in those rags, is noble. I trust to you.' 
 
 ' Gallant fellow ! thy confidence shall be well repaid. If I live, 
 thou shalt know no poverty, but wealth to the end of thy life, and 
 honourable service, Lf thou choosest it. But enough — when shall 
 we make the attempt ? ' 
 
 ' The relief is expected to-morrow, or the day after ; the men 
 will bring us news, and upon that we will arrange all.' 
 
 By evening the next day the expected relief came. The news 
 was true : the English besieged Coimbatoor, but with indifferent 
 success ; it was said that the Sultaun was out, and victorious even 
 to the gates of Madras ; the men were exulting over the discom- 
 fiture of the English. 
 
 ' Barest thou now attempt it ? ' asked Ahmed that evening ; 
 ' the news of thy people is bad.' 
 
 ' I will, should I perish in the attempt.' 
 
 'Then I will lead thee out to-morrow, on pretence ol taking 
 thee with me to hunt. I have already said thou shouldst have 
 recreation, and they have agreed to allow it. Enough now ; but 
 gird up thy loins tightly and be ready, for we shall have far to go, 
 and to tarry by the way is death.' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. tM 
 
 The morrow dawned, — ^a doudy and damp day; the mighty 
 mists lay still in the hollows and ravines, obscuring everything. 
 Ahmed was in despair. ' Through those clouds,' he said, ' we 
 can never penetrate, but should be lost among the precipices.' 
 Long before noon, however, the wind arose, and stirring the vast 
 volumes of cloud from their repose, caused them to boil up from 
 the abysses around them, and gradually to melt into air. 
 
 ' Come 1 ' said Ahmed to Herbert, whose heart bounded, and 
 his eye sparkled, as he heard the summons, — ' Come, the men are 
 about to return ; we will see them a little way, and then turn oft 
 ourselves. Come ! they are departing.' 
 
 He obeyed eagerly, and soon the Fort was left behind ; and 
 the narrow neck which connects the place to the main body of 
 the chain — an awful precipice on each hand — was passed in safety. 
 Soon they plunged deeper and deeper into the woods by a narrow 
 path, descending till they reached one branch of the Baraudee, 
 which, foaming and dashing amidst rocks, brawled on its way to 
 the plain. Here they divided; the party ascending the green 
 slope before them, and Herbert and his companion turning up 
 the stream, apparently in search of game. 
 
 ' Lie down ! lie down ! ' cried Ahmed ; ' Shookur Alia ! they 
 are gone, and there is yet day enough for us. Ere evening we 
 must be on the edge of the range, and the morrow will see us far 
 below it. Canst thou bear fatigue ? ' 
 
 ' Any : look at me — I am stronger than thou art.' 
 
 The man regarded him earnestly, and read full well in the 
 clear eye and open brow, ruddy cheek, and firmly knit frame, a 
 defiance of danger. ' I fear not for thee,' he said ; ' Alia Akbar ! 
 the victory will be ours.' 
 
 A while they- lay concealed among the long fern, and then 
 rising up, Ahmed looked carefully around him ; the party was 
 long out of sight, and they proceeded with light hearts and 
 buoyant steps. 
 
 Ahmed had not overrated his knowledge of the mountains ; he 
 led Herbert along the edge of the stream for a while, and as they 
 went along Herbert pulled wild flowers, — the flowers of his own 
 England. Woodbine and wild rose, archis and wild hyacinth, 
 and the graceful cyclamen, and fern and violets ; and the more 
 familiar buttercup and wild anemone. 'They know not that 
 such a paradise exists in this land,' he said, * and these shall be 
 my tokens ; even as the spies brought grapes and figs to the 
 children of Israel in the desert' 
 
 Hardly now he heeded the lovely scenery that was around him 
 everywhere, among which the round top of hts old prison occupied 
 
346 TIPPOO SULTAUN, 
 
 a conspicuous place, clothed with wood to its very summit j and 
 its precipitous sides rising out of the huge chasm tiiat now lay 
 between him and it, at the bottom of which roared the Baraudee, 
 leaping from ledge to ledge in foam, in an endless succession of 
 cataracts. Now and then they would catch glimpses of the blue 
 plain beyond which melted into the horizon ; and the deep and 
 gloomy ravine on their right hand presented an endless variety of 
 views, of such exquisite beauty, that Herbert would often Stop 
 brea,thless to contemplate in admiration of their loveliness, for 
 which his compaiiion appeared to have no eyes. 
 
 They had now travelled for some hours, and the road had been 
 a toilsome one, owing to the constantly recurring deep valleys 
 which broke into the ravine we have mentioned. 
 
 It was now evening ; the sun was sinking into the west amidst 
 clouds of glory, and the huge shadows of the mountains were 
 fast creeping over the plain. The precipices of Hulleekul-droog 
 shone like gold under the red light, which, resting upon the vast 
 forests and hanging woods, caused them to glow with a thousand 
 rich tints; and wherever a small oozing of water spread itself 
 down a naked rock, it glittered so that the eye could hardly 
 behold it, 
 
 'Art thou fatigued, Sahib?' asked Ahmed; 'thou hast borne 
 this well, and like a man. By Alia 1 I had thought thy race were 
 as soft as women.' 
 
 ' No ! I can endure yet a good hour,' said Herbert gaily, 
 
 ' "Tis well ! then we wiU push on. Why hast thou burthened 
 thyself with those flowers? fling them away — thou wilt be the 
 lighter.' 
 
 ' Not so, my friend ; these are the flowers of my own land, and 
 I take them to my comrades; thou, dost not kniw— thou canst 
 not feel how dearly such things are prized in a distant 
 land — bringing with them, as they do, remembrances of past 
 time, and of those who shared it On with thee ! behold I 
 follow.' 
 
 Hardly a mile further, on the very summit of the mountain, 
 ere it declined into the plain, they reached a rock, beside which 
 was a tiny footpath, hardly perceptible. ' This is our resting 
 place for the night,' said Ahmed; 'many a time have I slept here, 
 with a load of tobacco on my shoulders for the mountaineers, 
 who are a curious people.' 
 
 ' Ay, indeed ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, I will tell thee all about them : but lay thyself down 
 beneath this rpck, and it will shelter thee from the cgjd wind. I 
 wiU get s')me sticks, and we will have a fire ; I should lik^ a 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 347 
 
 smoke, tQO, after this travel.' And so saying, he disencumbered 
 himself of his arms, and turned oif to a short distance. 
 
 Herbert lay for a while looking out on the glorious prospect, in 
 a sense of the most delicious security and enjoyment. What 
 exquisite visions were floating before his eyes, as, shutting them, 
 he allowed the ideas to crowd into his soul . — visions of home, of 
 love, of Amy, of his parents ! Suddenly, however, there was a 
 loud roar, the crash of which seemed to paralyse his heart : it 
 was followed by a scream so shrill and piercing, that he never 
 forgot it to his dying day. Hastily snatching up the sword which 
 lay before him, he drew it, and hurried to the spot from whence 
 it had proce^eded — ^but his brave guide was gone for ever 1 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 There are few on earth, who in the chequered track of their 
 earthly pilgrimage — often cheered by the glowing beams of a 
 sunny mind, often obscured by despondency, often hurried on 
 by impatience and querulousness, and yearning with vain desire 
 to penetrate the veil of the hidden future — who do not recall to 
 memory some crisis when the happipess they sought has been 
 apparently within their reach — when the hand,, stretched forth to 
 grasp the cup, has been dashed down by a rude but irresistible 
 force, which taught them in that moment how vain was their 
 power, how little their strivings to attain their end, when com- 
 pared with the Providence which held it in disposal. Providence, 
 fate, destiny, chance — call it what we willTs^there is an over- 
 ruling power, visible in the meanest events of our lives, which, if 
 we follow it up to its source in our own hearts, cannot fail to 
 impress us with awe — ^with a feeling of littleness, often mortifying, 
 and hard for proud minds to bear, — a. feeling that there is a 
 power guiding, and often suddenly and rudely checking us, in 
 the midst of a career which we have marked out for good — cer-r 
 tainly for gratification — but which may not be accordant with the 
 purposes of our being. Happy is the possessor of that temperament 
 who, even in the midst of disappointment — when a murmur at 
 misfortune, blighted hope, prolonged sickness, or blasted am- 
 bition rises to his lips — can say, ' It is for my good— it is the 
 hand of Providence — I bow to its correction in humility.' 
 
34^ TIPPOO StJLtAUif. 
 
 But it was difficult for Herbert Compton to be reasonable 
 under so bitter a disappointment ; wild with excitement, he roamed 
 hither and thither without fear, for in that moment he had no 
 thought of danger. The poor fellow who had perilled his all for 
 him — the safety of his parents, of his wife — who had so trusted 
 him as to commit without hesitation his future destiny into his 
 hands — whose last act was one of careful kindness and solicitude 
 — ^was gone for ever ! The happiness, the exquisite enjo3ntnent 
 of a meeting with his countrymen, which he had tasted in 
 anticipation, had been dashed from his hand in one moment ! 
 
 How often, whUe there was light, did he awake the echoes of 
 the mountains with the name of Ahmed ! He roamed every- 
 where, tried to track the animal who had carried oif his poor friend 
 by the trail of his body through the fern, and succeeded for a 
 short distance, but lost it again irretrievably. He returned to 
 the spot where they had first stopped j the whole was a hideous 
 dream, which in vain he tried to shut out from his thoughts. 
 Vain indeed was the effort ! the tiger's roar and Ahmed's piercing 
 scream rang in his ears, and often he would start, as he thought 
 they were repeated, during the fearful hours which ensued. As 
 the night closed, the wind arose, and with it clouds came up out of 
 the west, filled with cold driving rain ; the ledge he was under 
 afforded but slight protection, and yet it sheltered him enough 
 to allow of a smouldering fire, which after many efforts he 
 kindled. 
 
 The storm increased; dark masses of clouds hurried past, 
 apparently close to his head, and the blast groaned and whistled 
 through the ravines and around the peaks and precipices. Of 
 the mountains he could see nothing, for the same black darkness 
 which had surrounded Hulleekul-droog the night before, now 
 enveloped him ; there was only the little Ught of the fire, as the 
 leaves and dead fern blazed up at times under the effect of an 
 eddy of wind, and then utter darkness fell again. Hour after 
 hour passed in deliberation as to his future conduct. Dare he 
 attempt the passage of those fearful jungles alone ? Encounter 
 wild beasts, thread trackless forests, where there was no path, 
 and which were filled with rank grass and reeds, thorny rattans, 
 matted creepers, dank and noisome swamps, the abode of deadly 
 pestilence ? For the time he was free ; but even if he gained the 
 plain, did not a more terrible captivity await him perhaps in a hot 
 and parching dungeon, where the fresh air and the beauteous face of 
 nature would never be felt or seen? But he was not to be 
 daunted; he thought he knew the direction, — his countrymen 
 were before him, and the path was distinct enough, he supposed, 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 349 
 
 for him to track it : this idea consoled him, and he fell asleep for 
 a while, till the morning broke. 
 
 He awakened only to endure fresh disappointment ; he was 
 surrounded by dense mists, which, though sometimes they would 
 partially clear away, filled the space before him so completely that 
 he could see nought but a thick boiling mass, fearfully agitated 
 by the wind, now rising up as though to overwhelm him, now 
 sinking and displaying for an instant the bluff top of Hulleekul- 
 droog or a part of its precipitous sides, or at an immeasurable and 
 giddy depth the bottom of the chasm, with the Baraudee roaring 
 and flashing among the darkness. 
 
 He was in despair, but he was calmer ; even the utter hopeless- 
 ness of attempting to proceed down a precipitous mountain-side 
 into a trackless forest, enveloped in cloud, caused a revulsion 
 of feeling, and a sense that there was an unseen but sensibly-felt 
 protection afforded him-^-that the very obstacles in his path 
 probably preserved him from following it on to destruction. 
 
 There was no other course left but to return — ^perhaps to 
 captivity, for suspicion might be aroused against him, — to a life of 
 wearisome endurance, but still with beautiful nature for a com- 
 panion, in whose ever-varying and glorious features there was ever 
 something new to contemplate and to adore. 
 
 Ahmed's sword, shield, and matchlock lay on the ground : he 
 took them with him, vowing they should never part from him ; 
 the latter was useless for defence, for the charge was wet, and the 
 powder-horn and bullet-pouches had been around the waist of the 
 dead. The flowers he had gathered too lay beside them : they 
 were faded now — ^fitting types of his withered hope ; that day he 
 was to have rejoiced over them with his countrymen ! Alas ! when 
 would such an event now come ; the future was a dreary blank 
 before him, where so lately all had been bright and sunny ; and 
 with a sad heart, but with feelings subdued from the excitement 
 of the past evening, he began to retrace his steps. This was no 
 easy task, for the rain, which had cleared away for an hour or so 
 after daylight, now began again to pour in torrents, and he was 
 chilled to the heart. But the very difficulties before him caused 
 him to summon all his energies to meet them, and he strove 
 manfully and conquered. His worst suffering was faintness for 
 want of food ; for the cakes they had brought with them Ahmed 
 had tied in a handkerchief about his back, which he had not 
 removed. 
 
 As the night set in gloomily and dark, Herbert Compton, well 
 nigh exhausted by hunger, fatigue, and cold, toiled up the steep 
 and rugged path which led to the Fort from the stream below ; 
 
35° TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 and though often missing the way, which in the darkness caused 
 by the thick wood over his head was almost undiscemible, he at 
 last crossed the narrow neck already mentioned, and soon after 
 saw the welcome lights of the garrison huts twinkling among the 
 trees above him. This lent him fresh energy, and in a few 
 minutes he arrived before them. Hungry, wet and cold, 
 he did not consider for a moment the probable issue of 
 his reception, and entered that habitation where he had used 
 to reside. 
 
 There was a group sitting smoking aroufid a blazing fire, who 
 started to their feet suddenly, as he thus unceremoniously pre- 
 sented himself; and after gazing earnestly at him for a moment, 
 all simultaneously dashed towards him and seized him. Herbert 
 did not struggle in their hands, nor could he answer the rapid 
 and almost unintelligible inquiries for their missing companion 
 which were poured forth in a torrent. In a few moments too they 
 saw Ahmed's sword and shield, and their dark frotvns and menac- 
 ing looks were bent upon him, and the hand of more than one 
 stole to the weapon by his side as if to inflict summary revfenge 
 pn him who they might well suppose had destroyed their absent 
 friend. Gradually, however, Herbert's calm and sorrowful manner 
 impressed them with a sense of his innocence; and as they 
 became more reasonable in their behaviour, he described as well 
 as he was able, and mostly by signs, the event which had hap- 
 pened, and pointed in the direction of the place. 
 
 Sorrow was on all their faces, and many wept, for Ahmed had 
 been a favourite among them ; and while one of them set refresh- 
 ment before the weary Herbert, the rest conversed in groups 
 upon the subject. Although he could understand but little ot 
 what passed, he could see that it was their intention to put his 
 innocence to the proof, by conducting them to the spot where 
 the event had happened. He was right : they allowed him to 
 rest that night without molestation, but by daylight he was 
 awakened, and he found the majority of the little garrison, twelve 
 or fourteen men, equipped for the expedition, each with his 
 match lighted ; after a hasty meal they proceeded. 
 
 The morning was clear and fine, and the air fresh and bracing : 
 the errand upon which he was going was a sad one to Herbert, 
 and yet there was a melancholy satisfaction in finding perhaps 
 the body of the unfortunate Ahmed, and at any rate the cheering 
 excitement of vigorous exercise, in a rapid walk over the beautiful 
 hills. There were no traces of the storm of the day before, ex- 
 cept an increased freshness and odour of the wild flowers : here 
 and there vast masses of white vapour were hanging softly upon 
 
TTPPOO SULTAUN. 351 
 
 the pt^df iBei bi the dtfoog, or resting in the abys§es at its foot. 
 Herbert proceeded at a rapid pace before the rest. 
 
 There was evidently rhueh surprise excited among thetn at 
 the direction which he took, and many significant glances were 
 exchanged from time to time ; nor were these the less decided 
 when they arrived at the rock and little footpath : several ap- 
 peared at once to Conclude that escape had been Ahmed's 
 object, and they pointed significantly to the plain and to the 
 path which kd to it. Here was the place, however, and having 
 explained as well as hfe could their arrival, and Ahmed's inten- 
 tion of lighting a fire, Herbert fed them to the long fem whither 
 he had gone fo* materials for the purpose. 
 
 They were all armed, and every man blew his match, and 
 looked carefully as he proceeded ; it was evident now that they 
 believed him. The chief among them was in advaflce ; he was 
 a capital shot, and Herbert had often seen him hit the smallest 
 marks when they paetised -for their amusement at the Fort. 
 The trail of the body was qui^ly fbund, and these expert 
 hunters at oftce traced it, where Herbert could see no mark, 
 much further than he had any idea the tiger would have gone. 
 Here and there, too, a bit of rag fluttered upon a thorny bush, 
 which was a plaiin indication that they were right. 
 
 At last, as they proceeded more and more carefully, a crow 
 suddenly arftse iBrom among some tall fem witJi a hoarse and 
 startling croak, and, hovering over the spot, aroased many others ; 
 some vultures and kites, tOo, flew up and wheeled around, scream- 
 ing discordantly ; and a jackal skulked off into a near thicket, 
 evidently disturbed from his repast. 
 
 ' He is there ! ' said the leader of the party in a low tone ; and 
 a hasty colloquy took place among them for a moment : all 
 seemed brave fellowsj and again they advanced without hesi- 
 tation. 
 
 They had scarcely gone many steps when some torn apparel 
 met their eye, and a few steps further, lying amcaigst the fern, 
 were the mangled remains of their poor comrade ; his features 
 were all gone, but the powder-horn and bullet-pouches were 
 around his waist, and to his back was fastened the handkerchief, 
 which still contained the cakes he had tied up in it. With a 
 passionate burst of grief most of them darted to the spot, and 
 looked on the sad spectacle — most sad to Herbert, who, over- 
 come by bitter thoughts, gave full vent to emotions he did not 
 seek to repress. 
 
 But they were not long inactive ; a search for the tiger seemed 
 determined on, and they proceeded in a body round and round 
 
35" TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 the place. They had not gone far, however, when they heard a 
 growl, a low harsh growl, which made the blood run cold in 
 Herbert's veins ; they stood for a moment, and it was repeated. 
 It appeared dose to them, and one fired in the direction. ■ It 
 was enough : with a roar which rent the air, the noble brute 
 bounded forth from his lair of fern, his yellow-streaked sides 
 shining in the bright sun : for an instant he regarded them with 
 glaring eyes, — then turned and fled. 
 
 There was a precipice a little beyond : he stopped at the edge 
 and looked over ; it was evidently too high to leap, and as he 
 hesitated on the brink one man fired ; — the shot was well aimed. 
 The tiger turned again, roared most fearfully, but immediately 
 after staggered to the edge of the cliff; his hind quarters appeared 
 paralysed and fell over, but he still held on by his claws, though 
 they slipped every moment The leader saw his opportunity, 
 raised his gun and fired. Herbert heard the ball crash into the 
 skull — saw the grim head quiver for a moment, the paws relax 
 their hold, and the whole frame slip. All darted forward and 
 looked over : it was a fearfully giddy place ; the blue depth was 
 filled with boiling mist — the tiger's body was descending rapidly, 
 turning over and over ; at last it hit a projection and bounded 
 away, till the mist appeared to rise and hide it from their view. 
 
 ' Enough ! ' cried the leader, 'let us depart.' 
 
 They returned to the dead ; it was impossible to remove the 
 remains, they were so mutilated ; but they hastily dug a shallow 
 place with their broad hunting-knives and laid them in it, cover- 
 ing the spot with thorns and large heavy stones. Then all lay 
 down on the brow of the mountain and rested for a while ; and 
 Herbert was glad when they set out on their return homewards, 
 for the spot was filled with too many bitter regrets for the dead, 
 and for the untoward accident that once more had thrown him back 
 into captivity, which now appeared endless ; for as they passed 
 the rock and pathway, they pointed to it and to the plain, and 
 shook their heads — some laughing, others with frowns and threat- 
 ening gestures, which told him plainly that to attempt to escape 
 would be death. Henceforth his Ufe became a blank 
 
 It was not long after Philip Dalton and his wife reached India 
 with their companion young Hayward, that the aggressions of 
 Tippoo Sultaun upon the Rajah of Travancore, and his known 
 detention of prisoners since the peace of 1784, together with 
 many insults upon the frontiers for which no satisfaction was ever 
 obtained, determined Lord Cornwallis to declare war against 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 353 
 
 him ; and once this had been done m a formal manner, every 
 nerve was strained by the Government of India; t& meet the 
 exigency in a decisive and efficient manner. 
 
 It is foreign to our tale to describe every event of the war, 
 which has already been so much more efficiently done in the 
 histories of the period ; besides we have a pleasant licence in 
 such matters, without which it would be impossible for us to 
 conduct our readers to any satisfactory conclusion of our history. 
 We shall therefore only state that, availing himself of the unde- 
 fended state of the passes, and while the Sultaun was occupied 
 with his fruitless negotiations with the French, Lord Cornwallis 
 ascended into Mysore, and, ere he could be opposed by a,ny 
 force, had adva>need considerably towards the strong fort of Ban- 
 galore. There were partial engagements for some days between 
 the Mysore cavalry, led often by the Sultaun in person, and the 
 English ; but they were attended by no decisive result, and did 
 not operate in any way to check the invasion. 
 
 Bangalore fell r the siege and the heroic defence of its brav* 
 governor are themes whitxh: are still sung in the country, and will 
 never pass from the memory of its inhabitants while there remains 
 one of its itinerant bards, who; with two brass: wires, stretched 
 between two gourds at each end of a stick, perambulate the 
 towns and villages for a scanty and hardrearned subsistence. 
 
 The Sultaun retreated upon his capital, and to capture that 
 was the object of the campaign ; but ere the army could advance, 
 it was thought necessary to reduce some small forts in the* neigh- 
 bourhood, and to throw into them garrisons, of such Hindoo 
 inhabitants of the country, who had welcomed the English inva- 
 sion and already assisted it against the SultauMr as would keep 
 them from the occupation of the Suteun's troops. 
 
 From his interest with the higher ranks of the army, and his 
 talent and efficiency, Philip Dalton had,, in the Opening of the 
 campaign, been appointed to the general staff of the army, while 
 Charles Hayward remained with his reginstent ; they contiaued, 
 however, together, both inhabiting the same tent, and as their 
 history was known to many, they were objects of peculiar interest. 
 Indeed poor Herbert's fate was one in which the sympathies of 
 all were powerfially excited, and many were the sincere aspirations 
 that the issue Of the war might restore him and others, both 
 English and native,, to sorrowing aind de^aaring relatives. 
 
 The reduction of the small forts we have alluded to was a 
 service of no gyeat difficulty ; and when the army lay enca/mped 
 near Balapoor — one of them — while arrangements were being 
 made for its occupation, it was conmion for the officers to ex- 
 
3S4 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 amine such places or objects of interest as the neighbourhood 
 of their camp afforded. Pre-eminent among these was the 
 famous rock whence prisoners used to be flung, and of which 
 mention has aheady been made as connected with Herbert 
 Compton. 
 
 No one, whether European or native, could approach this spot 
 without feeUngs of horror ; for the lonely rock stood alone in the 
 plain ; and the fearful use to which it had been devoted, both by 
 Hyder and Tippoo, was fresh in the memory of all. A few in 
 the force had seen and examined it, and Philip Dalton and 
 Charles rode thither accompanied by a few mounted orderlies on 
 the very first opportunity of leisure. 
 
 A silent feeling of sickening apprehension grew upon them as 
 they approached it, and a thought would force itself upon Philip, 
 despite of his hopes and prayers to the contrary, that Herbert's 
 fate might have been the dreadful one experienced by the hun- 
 dreds whose whitened bones and skulls lay around the foot of 
 the rock ; but he did not mention this to his companion, and 
 they rode on in silence. At length they reached the rock, and, 
 leaving their horses below, ascended to the top, where still stood, 
 though somewhat dilapidated, the small hut or house we have 
 once mentioned. But this did not attract their notice at first ; 
 the fatal brink, which had witnessed the frantic death-struggles of 
 so many, was the spot to which they were led by the orderlies, 
 who had a hundred marvellous tales to tell of events that 
 happened there, and of the tremendous strength of those whose 
 business it was to hurl the victims from the precipice. They 
 looked over, too, and saw the bones and skulls scattered at the 
 bottom, and shreds of white calico and red cloth fluttering among 
 the bushes — ^the sad evidence of the fate of brave soldiers who 
 had perished there. There was nothing there to induce them to 
 remain, and Philip and his young friend turned away sickened 
 from the spot. 
 
 ' And this is the place where the unfortunate persons were con- 
 fined,' said an orderly, who, pushing open a rude and half-broken 
 door, ushered them into a mean and dilapidated apartment. 
 
 ' Good God ! it is covered with the names of poor fellows who 
 have died here,' exclaimed Philip ; ' what if his should be here ? 
 we must not leave an inch unexamined, Charles.' 
 
 • Why, do you think he was ever here ? ' asked the young man 
 in an agitated tone. 
 
 ' God forbid ! but it is our duty to look ; we may possibly gain 
 a clue.' 
 
 And they fell to examining the walls with careful scrutiny. It 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 3SS 
 
 was a painful task ; there were many names ; the hands which 
 had written them were now dry bones bleaching without, or had 
 long ago mouldered into dust ; many were the humble prayers 
 written there, and obscene words and curses mingled with them 
 in strange combination. Many a direction, too, for parents and 
 wives and children, of those who were dead, in case others might 
 visit the spot, and bear them to the far west. 
 
 ' Heavens !' exclaimed young Hayward suddenly; * Come here, 
 Philip ! quick 1 ' 
 
 Dalton darted across the apartment, and Charles pointed to a 
 small writing scratched in the plaster with a pin or nail ; it was 
 plain even to his swimming eyes and sickened heart 
 
 ' Herbert Compton. 
 • May 24, 17 — . Many have been thrown from this abode of 
 death ; I have waited my turn ; it will come to-morrow ; it will 
 deliver me from a life of misery and — ' 
 
 There was no more — a stone flung against the wall had hit the 
 rest and obliterated it. 
 
 Philip sank down and groaned aloud. That there should be 
 such an end to his hopes, which this proved to have had founda- 
 tion, was hard indeed to bear. Awhile Charles strove to comfort 
 him, but both their hearts were sick, and they were poor com- 
 forters one to another. 
 
 ' There may be further trace of him,' said Philip ; ' let us look 
 around.' 
 
 They did so. For a while they found nothing, but at length a 
 joyful cry again broke forth from Charles. ' God be praised ! ' 
 he said, ' come here and read, Philip.' 
 
 The writing on the wall was rough and misshapen, but 
 they were characters of blessed hope to both ; the words were 
 these : — 
 
 'Captin Comtin was taking awey from this horible pleace 
 verry ill, on the day of — 
 
 ' John Simpson.' 
 
 ' God be praised for this ! ' exclaimed Philip, as he fell on his 
 knees and blessed Him aloud ; ' there is yet hope, for assuredly 
 he did not perish here, Charles.' 
 
3S6 TIPPOO SULTAUm 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ' Thesk are too precious to remain here, Charles,' said Philip ; 
 we must remove them.' It was easily done: with their pen- 
 knives they carefully cut round the plaster of each inscription, 
 and then separated it from the wall without difficulty ; they were 
 precious relics, and the young men long gazed on them, with 
 that depth of feeling which such memorials were well calculated 
 to excita ' Ah ! Philip, if we could only trace him further,' said 
 Charles. 
 
 ' We thought not of this when we came hither,' he replied, 
 ' and we should be thankful ; it is just possible that some one in 
 the town may have heard tidings of him if he were really iH, and 
 we will go thither and inquire.' 
 
 They did not tarry on the rock for an instant ; their horses 
 awaited them at the bottom, and the distance between the roek 
 and the small town being quickly traversed, they arrived in the 
 bazaar. Philip directly made for the Chouree, where the former 
 Kotwal and others sat engaged in their functions of superin- 
 tending the market, and directing the issues of grain and forage 
 to the followers of the British army. 
 
 They were received courteously by the functionary, who was 
 all civility to his late conquerors : Philip at once opened the 
 cause of his visit, and expressed his anxiety for intelligence, how- 
 ever vague, of his lost friend. 
 
 The Kotwal racked his brains, or appeared to do so; he could 
 remember nothing about the rock or its victims, being fearful lest 
 he should compromise himself by some unlucky remark or con- 
 fession. ' So many had perished there,' he said ; * it was the 
 Sultaun''s order, and in Balapoor they never knew anything about 
 them.' 
 
 ' But was no one ever brought here ? ' asked Philip. 
 
 'Really he could not remember, so many went and came; 
 how could he, the Kotwal, who saw a thousand new faces every 
 day, retain a recollection of any? Prisoners too in hundreds 
 passed by^ — sometimes remaining there for a day, but he never 
 saw them ; he had no curiosity, he had other business ; he was 
 in fact the Kotwal, upon whom rested all the affairs of the 
 town.' 
 
 Philip was in despair. ■ Can you get me no information ? ' he 
 said ; ' I do not speak the native language, and to me inquiry is 
 useless.' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 357 
 
 ' Of course, if my lord wished it,' he ■would make every inquiry ; 
 and in truth he began in earnest with those about him ; none, 
 however, could remember anything but vague descriptions of 
 prisoners passing and repassing; and Philip, after a long and 
 patient investigation which led to no result, was about to depart, 
 disappointed and vexed, when a man entered who had been 
 absent on some message ; he was one of the labourers, or scouts 
 of the village, and the Kotwal immediately said to Philip, ' If any 
 one can give you the information you seek, it is this man, for it 
 was his business to attend upon the Sultaun's people who came 
 hither with prisoners.' 
 
 He was immediately questioned, and gave ready answers ; he 
 perfectly remembered a Feringhee who was brought ill, and long 
 remained at the Fakeer's Tukea,* beyond the town, lying upon 
 the Chubootra ; t they were told he was an officer, and an order 
 came to him from the Sultaun himself, brought lay Jaffar Sahib 
 Jemadar. 
 
 'Surely, surely!' cried the Kotwal, whose memory appeared 
 wonderfully refreshed ; ' 'tis strange I should have forgotten him, 
 seeing that he was often fed from my house ; women you know. 
 Sahib, have tender hearts, even for those of a different fsdth, and 
 we knew nothing of the brave English then.' 
 
 'Canst thou guide me to this Eakeer? ' said Philip to the man, 
 who could speak indifferent Hindostanee. 
 
 'Certainly,' he replied; "tis but a short distance.' And so 
 saying he took up his long staff. Philip rose to depart. 
 
 ' I will accompany you, sir,' said the Kotwal ; ' the old Sein J 
 is very curious in his behaviour to strangers, and may not be 
 avil ; besides he hath been ill of late.' 
 
 ' I thank you,' returned Philip, ' but I would prefer going alone. 
 I have no doubt the old man will be reasonable, even to a 
 Feringhee. Salaam ! ' 
 
 Guided by the scout, who ran brfore their horses, they were 
 quickly at the garden we have before mentioned. It had been 
 respected by all ; the little mosque was as purely clean, the space 
 around it as neatly swept as ever : the flowers bloomed around 
 the tiny fountain, and the noble trees overshadowed all as closely 
 as when, sick and exhausted, Herbert Compton lay beneath their 
 shade, and blessed God that he had found such a refuge and such 
 a friend as the old Fakeer. 
 
 The venerable old man sat in his usual spot under the tama- 
 rind-tree ; before him was his Koran, which he read in a mono- 
 
 * Lit. Pillow, the abode of a Fakeer. + Elevated seat or terrace. 
 
 { Respectful appellation of a Maitomedan Fakeer. 
 
3S8 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 tonous tone; his face was very thin, and he looked weak and 
 attenuated by sickness. 
 
 'Salaam, Baba!' said Philip advancing, 'we are English 
 officers, who would speak to thee.' 
 
 ' Salaam Aliekoom ! ' returned the old man benignantly, ' ye 
 are welcome ; the turn of destiny hath allowed us to say that to 
 those whom we have called kafirs ; but ye are welcome to the 
 old Fakeer — all are welcome who come in peace and good will. 
 What seek ye ? ' 
 
 ' Father,' said Philip, much touched by the benevolence of his 
 tone and appearance, ' thou art no bigot, and wilt aid us if thou 
 canst. I seek a lost friend, as dear to me as a brother ; I know 
 not if it be the same, but I have heard that one of my race was 
 tended by thee, and remained ill with thee for long ; it may be 
 he ; didst thou know his name ? ' 
 
 ' Holy Alia ! ' cried the old man eagerly, * art thou aught to 
 him who loved me as a son ? ' 
 
 ' Alas ! I know not his name, father.' 
 
 ' His name ! it was — ' and he feU to musing, his forefinger 
 between his teeth. ' I cannot remember it now,' he said, ' though 
 it is daily on my lips. Ka — Ka — ' 
 
 ' Compton ? ' said Philip. 
 
 ' The same ! the same ! ' cried the old man j ' the same — 
 Compton — Captain Compton ; the name is music to me, Sahib ; 
 I loved that youth, for he was gentle, and, often told me of your 
 cool and beautiful land in the distant west, where the sun goes 
 down in glory ; and he taught me to love the race I heard reviled 
 and persecuted.' 
 
 •Alia will reward thee!' said Philip j 'but canst thou tell me 
 anything respecting his fate? ' 
 
 'Alas ! nothing; for a month he was with me, ill, very ill — we 
 thought he would die ; but the prayers of the old Fakeer were 
 heard, and the medicines of his hand were blessed; and once 
 more he spoke with reason and grew calm, and the fever left 
 him ; then, when his strength returned, an order from the Sultaun 
 arrived, and it was a bold bad man that brought it, and he was 
 taken away from me, and never since that have I gained any 
 tidings of him. May his destiny have been good ! my prayers 
 have been night and day for him to that being who is your God 
 and mine.' 
 
 Philip was much touched, and poured out his thanks to the 
 old man most sincerely and with a full heart 'Alas ! I fear all 
 trace of him is lost,' he said. 
 
 'Say not so, my son; I dread — ^but I hope. The Sultaun is 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 3S9 
 
 not always cruel — ^he is just j his death was never intended — his 
 life was too valuable for that; he is most likely at Seringapatam, 
 whither ye are proceeding they say — I would not despair. And 
 now listen : Alia hath sent thee hither, thou who wast his friend ; 
 he gave me a letter, a packet which he wrote here in secret ; I 
 would ere this have delivered it in thy camp, but I am grown 
 very feeble and infirm of late, the effect of illness, and I could 
 not walk so far, wilt thou receive it? to me it has been a 
 memorial of the young man, and I have looked on it often^ and 
 remembered his beautiful features, and his gratitude when I 
 risked this my little possession, which to me is a paradise, in 
 taking it from him.' 
 
 Eagerly, most eagerly Philip implored to see it, and the Fakeer 
 rising attempted to walk to his humble residence, but with diffi- 
 culty. Philip and Charles flew to his aid, and leaning on them, 
 as he glanced from one to the other with evident pleasure, the 
 old man reached the door. ' Remain here,' he said, ' the dwell- 
 ing is low-p- ye are better here. I will return to you.' He did so 
 in a few minutes, bearing the packet. 
 
 Philip took it with a delight he had no words to express, and 
 was well nigh overpowered by his emotion as the familiar hand- 
 writing met his eye. 'There can be no doubt,' he said, 
 'that it was he — I would swear to his handwriting among a 
 thousand.' 
 
 ' Do not open it here,' said the Fakeer ; ' but sit and speak to 
 me of him and his parents, and his beloved, for I heard all,' 
 continued the old man with a sigh, ' and pitied his sad fate.' 
 
 Philip told him all, and they talked for hours over the lost 
 one ; he told him how he had gone to England and married his 
 sister ; how the youth beside them was her brother of whom he 
 had heard ; and then the old man blessed the youth. ' Thou 
 wilt not be the worse that I have done so,' he said ; while a tear 
 filled his eye — rested there for a while — then welling over, 
 trickled down his furrowed cheek and was lost in his white beard. 
 
 Long, long they talked together, and the day was fast declin- 
 ing ere they left him, promising to return whenever they could ; 
 they took away the precious packet with them, to pore over its 
 contents together in Philip's tent. 
 
 They opened it with eager anxiety ; it was addressed ' To ainy 
 English officer.' There were a few lines from Herbert, informing 
 whomsoever should receive it that he was alive, and imploring 
 him to forward it to the Government ; and a few more descriptive 
 of his captivity, of his escape from the rock, and his uncertainty 
 for the future. 
 
36o TJPP^O SULT4UM. 
 
 There were lettos too to be forwarfed, one to his father, one 
 to' Amy; anothfir for Philip himself, whidi he opened im- 
 patiently. It was short — he said he dared not write mmrh. 
 He described his various trials and sufferings, and the kindness 
 of the old Fakeer, without whose aid he must have perished : 
 he besought him not to despair of finding him alive, even though 
 years should intervene between that time and when the letter 
 should reach him. 
 
 ' Nor will I despair, dear Herbert,' cried Philip ; ' never, never ! 
 The hand of Providence is clearly discernible through all this 
 chain of events ; it will lead us, Charles, to the dose. Yet we 
 must be secret: these letters must not' be delivered, nor must 
 our present success be known in England till we can confirm the 
 glad tidings, or for ever despair.' 
 
 There was not a day while the army remained there that the 
 friends did not visit the old Fakeer. They could not prevail 
 on him to accept money ; but there were articles which were of 
 use to him — doth, and blankets, and other trivial things, which 
 he received gladly. They left him with sorrow, and with little 
 hope that they should ever renew their intercourse with him. Yet 
 they met again. 
 
 The progress of the army was slow ; for the forage, except in 
 a few places, had been destroyed, and the draught and carriage 
 bullocks died by hundreds. The Nizam's force, too, had joined 
 the British army, and it presented a most gorgeous Eastern dis- 
 play, far more imposing than any Philip had yet seen. Men of 
 all nations of the East, and tribes of India, the courtly Persian, 
 the reckless Afghan, the wild Beloche, the sturdy Pathan, the 
 more slender and effeminate Dukhanee, the chivabrous Rajpoot 
 and hardy Mahrattas, all were mingled in a wild confusion — ^ 
 men hardly belonging to any corps, and clustered round every 
 leader's standard, appareatly as fancy, or caprice, or hope of 
 plunder dictated. The force was utterly inefficient, however, 
 for the purposes of the war, for the leader had no control 
 over it, nor could he supply it with food ; and his fidelity to the 
 English cause, if not the Nizam's also, was questionable. 
 
 , At every day's march the distress of the army increased 
 Men were upon the lowest rations; the cavalry were almo4 
 inefficient from the starvation and weakness of their horses, and 
 the active and irregular cloud of the Nizam's horse consumed 
 what little forage was left in the country, long ere it could be 
 collected by the English. The leaves of mango and other trees, 
 where they could be procured, were even gladly devoured by die 
 starved cattle in heu of other food. Nevertheless, in spite of 
 
TIFPOO SULTAUN. 361 
 
 these discouraging prospects, the army advanced by slow 
 marches ; and as the heat was moderate—for the height of the 
 table-land of Mysore, from three to four thousand feet, gives it a 
 temperate climate at all seasons <rf the year — ^the teoopsi, long 
 accustomed only to the enervating climate of Coromandel, gained 
 fresh vigour and health as they proceeded. 
 
 Meanvrhile the advance v>i the English, though he often 
 afiected to despise it, was a source of the greatest alann to the 
 Sultaun. In vain had he consulted the stars, in vain tried 
 ma^cal arts. They stiU proceeded, and drew nearer to his 
 captal daily. Nevertheless he heard accounts of the distress 
 and famine prevalent in the English camp ; and could he only 
 gain time, even ty negotiation or by retreat, he mi^ht protract 
 the campaign so that the English would be obliged to retreat, 
 and he would then pour upon them his whole force and annihilate 
 them for ever. Night after night was occupied in discussions 
 with his chief advisers, Meer Sadik, Kishun Rao and Purnea, 
 but their counsel was hardly listened to in the wUd schemes 
 which were revolving in his mind. 
 
 ' Our government is the gift of God ! ' he would cry. * Are 
 kafirs who heap abuse on the name of Mohamed his apostle to 
 subdue it ? Are we not blessed with holy dreams, with visions 
 of conquest, and of possessing the five kiiogdoms of Hind ? Are 
 all these for najight ? I tell ye xiay, but true and holy revelations, 
 even such as were made to Mohamed, whose shadow upon earth 
 we are. Here we have daily written them — records of our 
 thoughts — ^prophecies of our greatness, which as they become 
 fulfilled we will read to ye. Ah, ye sceptics ! Let the kafirs 
 advance — they come into the snare. Ha, ha ! their cattle are 
 dying. How, Jafiar Sahib ? ' — ^he was present — ' thou didst see 
 them.' 
 
 ' Peer-o-Moroshid i they are,' rejdied Jaffar Sahib ; ' they can 
 hardly drag the guns : even the men are harnessed, and work like 
 beasts.' 
 
 ' They wUl get tired of that, perhaps, soon. Let them come 
 on, I say, even to the gates of the town. I fear pot — ^why should 
 I fear ? my destiny is bright.' 
 
 'But why not give up the prisoners, Asylum of the Earth? 
 May your generosity increase ! ' said Meer Sadik, whose dauntless 
 spirit spoke out before the Sultaun. ' Dost thou not break faith 
 in keeping them ? ' 
 
 ' By AUa and the Prophet, thou art bold to say that, Meer 
 Sadik. No ! never shall they be wrested from me : rather would 
 I kill them with my own hand. Have they not broken faith, to 
 
36a TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 make war on us without a cause — to destroy our country, to 
 enter into a league against us ? We swear before ye, sirs, not 
 one shall return alive.' 
 
 Tippoo retained Jaffar always about his person. He was spy, 
 plotter, adviser, executioner, by turns. That night — shortly 
 before the action which followed at Arik^ra — they were alone in 
 the Sultaun's tent. All had left him, and he was uneasy and 
 fretful. No wonder, for his thoughts at night were terrible, and 
 he could not bear to be alone. He had summoned one of his 
 favourite ladies from the city, and sought in her society a respite 
 from his thoughts. AU was in vain : he could not shut out from 
 himself his danger, though he scoffed at it openly. 
 
 ' And thou hast seen him, Jaffar, and spoken with him ? ' 
 
 ' I have : he is a conceited, arrogant Dukhanee — a man to be 
 despised — ^a man whose rapacity is not to be satisfied' 
 
 ' And what said he ? ' 
 
 ' He was haughty at first, and it was hard to hear how he 
 spoke of thee, O Sultaun ! ' 
 
 The monarch gnashed his teeth. ' Ya Alia ! grant me power 
 to chastise those who mock thy favourite,' he cned, looking up 
 devoutly. ' But thou gavest the letter?' 
 
 ' I did.' 
 
 ' And the bills for money?' 
 
 ' Yes ; he said he would forward that to the Prince at Hydera- 
 bad.' 
 
 ' And will he fight against me ? will he not come over at once 
 and desert them ? ' 
 
 ' He dare not ; but he will be neutral, I think. But he is well 
 where he is : his presence is a burthen to the kafir Feringhees ; 
 they wish him — anywhere. His men devour the forage, and 
 they starve. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ' 
 
 ' Good, Jaffar. Now listen ; those prisoners, Jaffar — the boys 
 — the cursed Feringhees know of them and the others.' 
 
 ' Let them not trouble you. Light of the Earth 1 Your poor 
 slave has, Inshalla ! done some service.' 
 
 ' How ! wouldst thou return them ? ' 
 
 ' Return them ! no, by your head and eyes, no ! What, eat so 
 much abomination ! Darest thou trust me ? I am your slave, 
 there can be no fear. I have eaten your salt, I am the child of 
 your house ; command me, and I will do thine orders.' 
 
 ' What dost thou advise ? ' 
 
 ' For the boys ? they are young, they are but women — nay 
 worse. Why shouldst thou hesitate?' 
 
 ' Speak thy mind fully, Jaffar.' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 3^3 
 
 ' Death ! ' said the other in a hollow tone, as if he feared the 
 very echo of the words. 
 
 ' Good,' said the Sultaun, but his lip quivered as he spoke j 
 ' thou wilt require a warrant. Write one, I will seal it' 
 
 ' I cannot write, O Sultaun.' 
 
 ' Pah ! why are men such fools ? Give me the inkstand. 
 There, go now — even now. Let it be done silently, the people 
 must not know of it. One by one — thou knowest, and spill no 
 blood. Enough, begone ! thou must return to-morrow by this 
 time, I have more work for thee.' 
 
 ' On my head and eyes be it,' he said, and departed from the 
 tent 
 
 The Sultaun could not bear to be alone ; he arose and entered 
 the inner apartments. The lady was alone; she was very 
 beautiful and very fair for her country. Her soft melting eye 
 spoke of other love than that of the cold Sultaun's, and its ex- 
 pression was much heightened by the deep black tinge she had 
 given to her eyelids. Her dress was the purest white muslin 
 woven with silver flowers, which she had thrown over her grace- 
 fully, and which partially covered a petticoat of most gorgeous 
 cloth-of-gold. The floor of the tent was covered with fine white 
 calico, and on one side was a low couch, on the other a crimson 
 satin mattress, which formed a dais, furnished with pillows of 
 blue velvet She arose and made a graceful salutation, but did 
 not speak ; for his brow was knit into a frown which she feared, 
 and he was not safe when he looked so. 
 
 He threw himself upon the dais, and buried his face in his 
 hands. He was long silent, but she dared not address him. 
 
 He spoke at last to himself, and she could hear every word in 
 the still silence. 
 
 ' It is my destiny,' he said gloomily — ' the destiny of my house. 
 The Brahmin who warned me — ^he who spoke out against me 
 fearless of death, and now lives in the dungeon yonder, he told 
 me of the Feringhees. Whence is their mighty power ? They 
 roll on, a fierce tide against me. Is there no hope? Ah, for one 
 hour of his presence who was ever victorious over them — my 
 father ! but he is gone for ever, and I am alone — ay, alone.' 
 
 The girl was touched ; she drew nearer to him. 
 
 ' Men of Islam ! ' he resumed, after a pause, ' will ye not fight 
 for me ? Why should I fear ? Alia Akbar ! Assud Ali is false ; 
 he has taken the money and the letter. Pah ! I have humbled 
 myself to that proud Nizam Ali — to him who trampled on me 
 and scorned my alliance. But no matter, we may be even with 
 him yet Assud Ali is false to his cause, and will aid mine. Ya 
 
364 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 M& kureem, that he may! Then the Mahrattas will follow: 
 they are wily — they keep aloof — they will see how the game goes, 
 and join the winners. Why should I fear ? Zeman Shah in the 
 north with the Afghans ; Idien the men of Delhi and the Rohillas, 
 the hill tribes. The French are now wary and cool, but they will 
 rise : one action over, and all is safa Then conquest comes,' 
 and these hateful sons of Satan are driven away for ever.' 
 
 At last he was silent There were visions of gorgeous triumphs 
 passing through his heart, which defied words to express them. 
 
 He looked up, and his eyes met those of the lady. ' Come 
 hithei;,' he said, 'and sit by me. Thine eyes are full of love ; 
 they are not like those of men abroad. When I look into theirs, 
 I read distrust, faithlessness ; I doubt them all, Fureeda. They 
 know of many things which, were they to tell the Feringhees — 
 But no : they dare not. What thinkest thou, child — how goes 
 the game ? ' 
 
 ' I am your slave,' she said, ' but I will tell the truth. Men 
 say thou dost not fight, and they are gloomy. Why are not the 
 troops of the Sircar led on against the kaJirs ? Why are they 
 kept in idleness, retreating day by day ? Where are thy valiant 
 cushoons — all thy artillery — all thy invincible and thundering 
 cavalry ? Arouse thee, O my lord ! Let even a slave's voice aid 
 that of thy mother — thy wife — those who would fain see the 
 glory of the Faith exalted, and the tiger of Mysore rend to pieces 
 the kafir English. Art thou a man and a soldier to bear this ? 
 By Alia ! were I one, and in thy place,' she said, her eye flashing, 
 ' I would mount my horse and cry Bismilla ! as I led my war- 
 riors to victory. Art thou a coward ? ' 
 
 ' Coward ! sayest thou this to me ? ' cried die Sultaun, gnashing 
 his teeth, as his small dagger flashed from its scabbard in his 
 girdle, and was upraised to strike. 
 
 The lady trembled, but bowed low before him. ' Strike ! ' she 
 said ; ' I can die at thy feet. The lonely Fureeda will not be 
 missed upon the earth ; all who loved me are dead, thou well 
 knowest, and my spirit yearns to be with theirs. Strike ! I am 
 ready.' 
 
 ' And dost thou think me a coward, Fureeda?' he exclaimed, 
 as his hand dropped. 
 
 ' Alia and the Prophet forbid ! I know thou art brave, but 
 men complain. They tell thee not of it, but they complain that 
 the old fire is quenched within thee. I, who fear not, tell thee 
 this trutL' 
 
 ' It is not, by Alia ! I will show them it is not. We will see 
 what the morrow brings. The night is gloomy and hot j there 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 365 
 
 may be rain — ^in that they will be helpless ; then we will set on 
 them, and cry Alia Yar ? Now get thee to thy bed The night 
 advances and we would be alone, for visions press on us which 
 we would record for those destined to follow our steps.' 
 
 She left him, and lay down on the bed, but could not sleep. 
 The night was oppressive, and she watched him. He wrote 
 awhile ; then she saw him put aside his paper and lie down — 
 sleep had come to him. She arose, took a light shawl and threw 
 it over him gently. Theft she sat down and watched him. 
 Presently the thunder muttered m. the distance, and flash after 
 flash of blue lightning penetrated through the tent, dimming the 
 light of the lamp' which barned beside him. The thunder came 
 nearer and nearer, and the loud patter of heavy rain upon the 
 canvas of the tent she thought would have awakened him ; but 
 he slept on. She was naturally terrified at thunder, but she did 
 not relinquish her watch, for he was restless and disturbed in his 
 sleep. Now and then he muttered names, and she could hear 
 him when the roar of the thunder ceased for an instant or two. 
 Soon his dreams were more distinct, and she shuddered as she 
 listened. 
 
 ' Jaffar ! ' he said, ' Jaffar ! away with them to the rock — No, 
 not yet ! — do not kilt them yet ; there are two I love — spare 
 them ! do not spill blood — remember I told thee not. Kafirs, 
 sons of defiled mothers, we will set on them to-morrow, Inshalla ! 
 Inshalla ! — Coward ! we are no coward.' Then after awhile his 
 sleep was more uneasy, she saw his brows knit and his hands 
 clench fast. ' Do not approach ! Alia, Alia ! they come. Aid 
 me — holy Prophet, aid me, all ye saints ! — Mathews ! away; old 
 man !■ I did not kill thee — it was not my orders. Away, or by 
 Alia I will strike — Your faces are cold and blue; are the Eng- 
 lish so in death ? ,Go, go, ye are devils from hell. Go ! I will 
 not come J — \yf AHa, I wHF not .' Go f my destiny is yet bright 
 and cleaTr' 
 
 Then he was quiet for a while^ but big drops of sweat stood on 
 his brow. She would have given worlds to wake him ; she won- 
 dered the thunder did not, for peal after peal crashed overhead. 
 
 Once more he spoke : it was very hurried and low, and she 
 could hear a word only now and then. ' Again, Mathews ? kafir 
 Feringhee ! I tell thee it was not my order — ^the poison was not 
 for theei I will not come — there are devils with thee — hundreds ! 
 Why didst thou bring them from the rock ? Why do ye look on 
 me with your dead eyes ? Away — I will strike ! — old man, come 
 no nearer ! Ha ! thy Kps move, thou^ — * 
 
 There was a crash of thunder which seemed to rend the earth 
 
366 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 — a flash of lightning which almost blinded her. Fureeda 
 cowered to the ground as the Sultaun started up, his eyes glaring, 
 and his hands clenched and thrust out before him, as he looked 
 wildly around. 
 
 ' They are gone,' he said. ' Holy Alia, what thunder ! that is 
 better than their voices. What! thou here, Fureeda? Did I 
 speak, girl ?' 
 
 ' My lord was restless in his sleep, but I heard no words.' She 
 dared not tell the truth. 
 
 ' Enough — ^it is welL Alia aids us with this rain and storm ; 
 they will be in confusion, and we will set on them early. As the 
 day dawns thou shalt see, girl, that we are no coward.' 
 
 CHAPTER XLl 
 
 It was truly an awful night ; the wind howled in fierce blasts over 
 the plain, driving with it cold and piercing rain, which benumbed 
 men who had only been accustomed to the heat of the Carnatic 
 and the coast ; the buUocks and horses of the cavalry, exhausted 
 by dearth of food, could no longer struggle through the mud, 
 and fell in great numbers to rise no more. Then men applied 
 their shoulders to the wheels, and laid hold of the drag-ropes of 
 the guns with wild energy, and urged them on with loud shouts 
 and cries. Everywhere the most appalling confusion existed, for 
 the enemy was in front, at a short distance, and, with their know- 
 ledge of the ground and of the country, what might not be 
 effected during such a night? 
 
 But it was too wild even for the enemy to venture forth to an 
 attack, which might after all be doubtful. The thunder roared 
 and crashed overhead in stunning peals ; men shouted, but were 
 not heard; there was no road to be discovered, and infantry 
 and cavalry, often mingled together, floundered on in the inky 
 darkness. 
 
 Amongst the rest the commander vainly strove to track the 
 road, but soon lost it, and with his staff wandered they knew not 
 whither, while parties of the enemies' horse were everywhere 
 abroad. It was a fearful risk for one on whom so much depended. 
 They halted, at length, upon a rising ground, but could dis- 
 tinguish only wild groups of struggling figures, as the vivid 
 lightning disclosed them for instants only at a time everywhere 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 367 
 
 around them. Sometimes it appeared as if the enemy were 
 surrounding them, for the deep booming sound of their kettle- 
 drums and the wild shrill neighing of horses came clearly upon 
 the blast at intervals; and in the distance they often thought 
 they could see masses of troops marshalled in array, and the 
 lightning flashing from the points of spears and bayonets. 
 
 Their situation was very precarious, and Philip and some 
 others essayed to find the way back to the point from which they 
 had set out, and after much difficulty they succeeded. Plunging 
 through a ploughed field alone, he found a road beyond, and 
 venturing slowly and cautiously, heard, through the din of thunder 
 and roar of the wind, the welcome sound of English voices. It 
 was enough, he retraced his steps to the place where he had left 
 his general, by the glare of the lightning, and gave him the 
 welcome news; he was eagerly followed, and once more the 
 commander was placed in safety. 
 
 The wind and the rain ceased; gradually the storm passed 
 onwards, and a few stars shone out here and there, gradually 
 heralding the brilliant dawn. It broke at length to the expectant 
 eyes of that wearied army, and in a short time the confusion of 
 the night before was restored; men repaired to their proper 
 standards, and discipline was once more restored. 
 
 With the earliest dawn the Sultaun had been astir, and, calling 
 to him the leaders upon whom he most depended, he gave orders 
 for an assault upon the exhausted English. ' They will be our 
 prey,' he said ; ' let them come on, let them fall into the trap which 
 destiny has marked out for them. Shookr Alia ! they have come 
 so far that to retreat is impossible — ^they must advance into our 
 hands. Go, in the name of the Most Mighty, go and conquer ! 
 your destiny is bright ; this day will be a fair one for the honour 
 of Islam, a day which men shall record in history, and the nations 
 of the West tremble at when they hear it' 
 
 The leaders wondered what had so suddenly changed his 
 resolution of not giving battle, for the day before he had been 
 obstinately bent upon retreat into the city ; but they were glad, 
 for the troops were loud in their murmurs, and retreat day after day 
 before a weakened enemy was fast undermining any notions of 
 discipline or subordination which still remained. They obeyed 
 his various orders with alacrity ; and as the light became broader 
 and clearer, and the English army could be descried, a shower of 
 rockets was directed against it, which, although annoying, was of 
 little effect. 
 
 The Sultaun looked on from a rising ground ; before him the 
 two armies were spread out, bis own cushoons in large masses, 
 
3<58 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 for the whik inactive, with the long lines and columns of the 
 English opposed to them, and the artilleiy vainly endeavouring 
 to get the guns into position; the cattle were exhausted, and 
 couM hardly move. He saw the annoyance the rockets caused, 
 and exulted. 
 
 ' Shabash ! Shabash ! give them more j ride, Khan Sahib,' he 
 said to an officer near him, 'and tell them not to spare the 
 rackets and the shot Mashalla ! they fall into the midst of the 
 kafirs and kill many ; tell them they shall be rewarded well. Ha f 
 they are about to charge. Holy Alia! look at the miserable 
 horses, tottering as they move j th^ think to overwhelm the true 
 believers — Ha ! ha ! ha ! See, they advance — Dogs, kafirs, come 
 on, ye defiled, to your destruction 1 Now, Rhyman Khan, upon 
 them and annihilate them ! Oh for Kasim Ali Pat^l ! he would 
 have led the chaise. Ha I there is no need — they turn ! they 
 turn ! the cowards — the less than men — ^the faint-hearted ! ' 
 
 But his exultation was soon cheeied, for when the lines of red- 
 coats advanced he saw his own cushoons retire^ and one fell into 
 confusion. Assud Ali and his cloud of cavalry were dose upon 
 them — ^the Sultaun was in agony.. ' If he is true to me he will 
 not charge,' he cried. 'Alia! Alia! turn his heart] holy saints; 
 and martyrs, let him not destroy them ! I vow coverings to your 
 tombs and offerings. He will charge now — ^he moves; Alia 
 Kereen, I cannot look at it' 
 
 ' He is steady,' exclaimed one near him ; ' he stirs not' 
 
 ' Enough, enough ! the bait has taken, and we are safe. Ha,, 
 ha, ha I Inshalla ! there is no mind like ours, for, with the 
 blessing of Alia, it is all-powerful over our enemies. Assud Ali 
 will earn this day a hopeflil reputation — may Alia give him ai 
 good digestion of it ! Amd now, since the crisis is past, give 
 orders to retire. We have checked the Feringhees,, we have 
 turned their boasted cavaby;. Ye saw, sirs, they (kred not attack; 
 Alia Akbar \ we will retire into the city ; let them come on, we 
 shall be ready to meet them.' 
 
 And he retreated that day to his fortified position under the 
 guns of the fort ; the EngUsh took up his late position upon the 
 field, and advanced even beyond it ; but the distress in the army 
 was frightful, and there was no prospect of relief. Abercromby, 
 who, it had been hoped, would have Joined it, was not to be 
 heard of, nor were the Mahrattas ; there was no forage — every 
 blade of graHSj. even the trees, had been destroyed ; most of the 
 wells and tanks were poisoned by branches of Euphorbium 
 thrown into them ; the cattle grew weaker and weaker, and died 
 by hundreds. No man had hope that, before the effieient army 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUJSn 369 
 
 of the Sultaun, and against a strong fort, there could beany 
 possible hope of victory, and all looked anxiously for the de- 
 cision of him who led them on. 
 
 It was on the evening of that day that Philip Dalton and 
 Charles Hayward ascended a small hill near the camp, and 
 looked forth over the glorious view which was spread out before 
 them. A few miles distant was the city, the tall minarets of the 
 mosque in the fort, and here and there a small dome, with 
 clusters of white-terraced houses, sparkling among the thick 
 groves which surrounded them ; the long lines of the regular 
 walls of the fort, and their tall cavaliers, could be seen ; and in 
 the plain before them redoubts were everywhere thrown up, 
 between which the gay tents of the huge army glittered in the 
 evening sun ; for a flood of golden light poured upon the city 
 and the camp from the declining sun ; and as the light evening 
 clouds saUed slowly on, the view was chequered by soft 
 shadows, which added to the beauty of the scene. The broad 
 Cavery glittered where waters stood deep in pools, and its broad 
 and rocky bed could be seen around the fort and town, and 
 stretching far away to the western hills; there was no bridge 
 across the river, but with his telescope Philip could make out 
 the ruins of that which had been destroyed. In all directions 
 columns of white smoke were ascending, straight into the air, 
 from the burning villages, which had been fired, lest they should 
 afford protection or shelter to the enemy. 
 
 Both were long silent, as they sat looking upon the prospect, 
 for their thoughts were sad ; and the hope which had filled their 
 hearts when they had left Bangalore victorious, trusting soon to 
 be before Seringapatam and to see the Sultaun humbled, and the 
 captives of years brought forth in triumph, had now given place 
 to despair ; for the delay even of a day was perilous to the whole 
 army, and already the determination had been made of destroying 
 the battering train, and retreating until a better system of supply 
 for the army could be organised, and the strength of the ex- 
 hausted cattle restored. 
 
 ' Poor fellow ! ' said Philip — he was thinking of Herbert 
 Compton as the city lay before him ; ' if he be immured in a 
 dungeon yonder, he will have heard our firing, he will have 
 known of our advance, and we cannot conceive the state of 
 anxiety and suspense he must be in, and how dreadful will be his 
 disappointment.' 
 
 ' Are we then to retreat, Philip ? ' 
 
 •I believe it is so determined,' he replied. 'For the public 
 cause it is good, for we shall have gained experience j bui we 
 
 2 A 
 
370 TIPPOO SULTAVN. 
 
 shall return soon, I trust, Charles. I hope and trust in a short 
 time, when forage is more plentiful; and for you, proud Sultaun,' 
 he said, looking towards the city, ' there is a severe reckoning in 
 store. Oh, my poor Herbert ! if thou art there, may God preserve 
 you to a deliverance at our hands ! ' 
 
 But now the evening was fast closing in, and the fires of the 
 Sultaun's army were sparkling in the dusky plain ; gradually but 
 quickly the city was fading before their sight, and the quiet pools 
 of the Cavery, wherein the deep yellow and orange of the sky was 
 reflected, shone more brightly amidst the gloom around them : 
 there was no use in staying longer, and they arose and returned 
 to the camp. In a few days, having destroyed the noble batter- 
 ing-train, the army retreated towards Bangalore. 
 
 The Sultaun sat on the high cavalier which stands at the south- 
 east angle of the fort, surrounded by his officers ; the busy camp 
 of the English was within sight, in which it was plain that there 
 was a movement ; he was gloomy and dispirited, in spite of the 
 force around him, which was ostentatiously displayed ; there was 
 a secret misgiving in his heart, a dread of private treachery, of 
 the unfaithfulness of the army, though one and all had sworn to 
 defend their trust; the men around him hardly spoke but in 
 whispers. 
 
 ' They will be upon us soon,' said the Khan to Kasim, who 
 stood by him, ' and the thunder of the English cannon will be 
 heard for the first time at Seringapatam. Ya Alia avert it ! for 
 their destiny is great.' 
 
 ' Shame on thee. Khan ! ' cried the young man ; ' let them 
 come — I for one will welcome a stroke against the kafirs : I have 
 not drawn a sword for months, and am tired of this inactivity.' 
 
 ' Thou art not strong yet, Kasim.' 
 
 ' As I ever was, Khan ; feel my arm, its sinews are as firmly 
 knit as ever ; let them come, I say, and Alia defend the right ! 
 are we not the children of the faith, and they are infidels ? ' 
 
 ' Kasim Ali ! where is Kasim Ali ? ' aied the voice of the 
 Sultaun. He answered and stepped forward. 
 
 ' Look through this,' continued the monarch, handing his tele- 
 scope to the young man ; ' tell me what thou seest, for by Alia, 
 I cannot believe mine own eyes.' 
 
 ' Cowards ! ' cried the young man after a moment ; ' they re- 
 treat ; their backs are towards us.' 
 
 • Alia Hu Akbar ! Ya Alia kureem ! ' cried the Sultaun ; ' then 
 our prayers have been listened to. Ha ! ha ! ha ! they turn — the 
 cowards — ^the kafir dogs ! They are gone — away, after them, 
 my friends — dog their steps to the very gates of Madras. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 371 
 
 Inshalla! our hunt will be Cornwallis ! A jaghire to him who 
 brings us his head ! Now are our dreams come true ; our visions 
 wherein we have trusted. Be not deceived, my friends ; behold 
 the proofs that I am the favoured of the Prophet, and that though 
 sometimes the power of prophecy is withdrawn from us, yet the 
 light which is within us bums still and will never be extinguished. 
 Away, ye of the household cavalry ! Kasim Ali, Rhyman Khan, 
 away after them ! — yet stay — go not too far ; prudence and 
 wariness have won us this victory ; we must not abuse it. Ye 
 must return in three days, when we will determine upon future 
 operations. Begone !' 
 
 But as they prepared hastily for the service, the movement 
 was countermanded, to the bitter disappointment of Kasim Ali ; 
 for the Sultaun feared risking his best horse against the combined 
 forces of the English and the Nizam's cavalry, and ordered them 
 to remain ; nor was there for a considerable period any movement 
 of interest. Strange it was that he made no attack upon the 
 retiring English, nor any effort to retake Bangalore, his once 
 favourite fortress ; but the danger for the moment had passed 
 away, and, though the thunder growled and the lightning flashed 
 in the far distance, there appeared no immediate risk of the 
 approach of the tempest. 
 
 The campaign had been an arduous one for poor Ameena, who 
 had far overrated her strength ; indeed the rapid marches made 
 by the Sultaun, whose personal activity was wonderful, had sorely 
 tried the Khan himself; and he had been selected for the duty 
 of escorting the ladies of the harem from Bangalore to the 
 capital. He had therefore had no part in the late movements of 
 the campaign, but remained at his post without the city, accom- 
 panied by the young Patdl, who was sufficiently recovered to 
 bear once more his active share in the command of the body of 
 horse to which he had been appointed. 
 
 But as soon as the immediate alarm of the British advance 
 and siege of the fort was over, they returned to their old ways of 
 life ; the Khan to the enjoyment of the repose of his zenana, and 
 to the society of Ameena, whose health, owing to fatigue and 
 over-exertion, had been indifferent; and Kasim to his daily 
 attendance at the Sultaun's Durbar, where he soon grew to 
 be familiar with the strange and perplexing character he served. 
 
 So long as the hurry and bustle of the arriving and departing 
 troops, the preparations for siege, and the constant alarms of the 
 English continued, the minds of all were filled with speculations 
 as to the issue of the war — some swayed by hope, some by fear. 
 Kummoo was like the rest, and because the objects of her hate 
 
372 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 were absent, she was powerless; but when once more all was 
 fairly tranquil, her thoughts returned rapidly into their old 
 channels ; and as the Khan never now visited her, but, contented 
 with Ameena, merely sent cold inquiries as to the state of her 
 health, she detested her sister-wife more than ever, and per- 
 haps with better cause than at first, since the effect was more 
 lasting. 
 
 From time to time she had turged her mother and her old 
 servant to aid her in preparing the charms and spells which were 
 to work Ameena's ruin ; and after long delays, caused partly by 
 the timidity of the old woman to begin, her deferred selection 
 of lucky and unlucky days, and often by her scruples of con- 
 science — for she believed firmly in her own power — a night 
 was determined on when they were to attend and assist in the 
 ceremony. 
 
 Meanwhile, and especially as the day drew near, the attention 
 of the two wives was more and more turned upon Ameena. 
 Gradually they had removed from her the thought that they were 
 inimical to her, and at the time we speak of she could not have 
 supposed that they, whose professions of friendship and acts of 
 kindness were constant, harboured any thought of ill towards 
 her. If the old woman herself had seen the innocent and 
 beautiful being against whom she was plotting, it is probable her 
 heart would have relented towards one whose thoughts were 
 purity and innocence, and whose only sin was often an indul- 
 gence in thoughts of one — more tender than befitted her con- 
 dition — whom she had loved from the first. And yet there was 
 every excuse for her; the Khan was old, and weak in many 
 points; and, though a brave soldier, so superstitious that the 
 merest trifles affected him powerfully, and much of his time was 
 spent in averting by ceremonies (for which he had to pay heavily) 
 glances of the evil eye which he fancied had been cast on him 
 when any pain or ache affected a frame already shaken by the 
 wars of years. 
 
 Ameena could not love him, though he was kind and indulgent 
 to her ; she honoured, tended, respected him, as a child would 
 do a father ; but love, such as the young feel for each other in 
 that clime, she felt not for him, and she had much ado to repress 
 the feelings which her own heart, aided by her fond old nurse 
 Meeran, constantly prompted for Kasim. Poor Ameena ! she 
 tried to be happy and cheerful ; but she was Uke a fair bird in a 
 gilded cage, which, though it often pours forth its songs in seem- 
 ing joyousness still pines for liberty and the free company of its 
 mates. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 373 
 
 ■ It was with mingled feelings of awe and superstitious terror 
 that the Khan's two wives betook themselves to the house of 
 Kummoo's mother, on the day assigned for the incantation. As 
 their food had been cooked by their own women in their own 
 private apartments, they had been able to practise the requisite 
 abstinence from the various spices, condiments, and parti- 
 cular descriptions of food which had been interdicted by the 
 old woman. They had bathed as often as had been directed, 
 and observed all the injunctions to perfect purity of body that 
 had been laid upon them. The night was dark and gloomy, and 
 was well suited for their walk to and from the house unob- 
 served. They hardly spoke, as, closely veiled, and under the 
 guidance of Sozun, they entered the house and at once passed on 
 to the inner apartments. 
 
 ' Do not delay,' said Kummoo's mother; •! am unclean; ye 
 will be defiled tf ye stay here ; she is within, in the chamber.' 
 They obeyed her, and entered it. It was a small square room ; 
 the floor was of beaten clay, and had been most carefully swept; 
 the walls and roof were quite bare, and there was nothing what- 
 ever in the apartment. The old woman sat at the head of a 
 square figure, divided into many compartments, traced on the 
 floor, in which were written many Arabic characters and ciphers ; 
 the figure was a rude imitation of a man, in square lines and 
 crosses ; and the silence, the dim light of a miserable lamp," and 
 the crouching figure of the old crone, who was mumbling some 
 words as her beads passed rapidly through her fingers, inspired 
 them with dread. 
 
 ' Soh ! ye are come at last, children,' she said, in answer to 
 their benediction ; ' are ye pure from all taint ? In the name of 
 Soleeman ! of Pharoon ! of Shudad ! of Israeel ! of UUeekun and 
 Mulleeckun ! I conjure ye to say the truth. If ye are not, be- 
 ware 1 for the evil of this will fall upon ye.' 
 
 ' We are pure, O mother ! we have eaten only what thou hast 
 directed, and bathed as it was necessary.' 
 
 ' Good ! Now attend : here is a knife, and I have here a white 
 fowl ; one of you must behead it and scatter the blood over the 
 charm.' 
 
 Both hesitated and trembled. 
 
 ' Shame on ye, cowards ! ' cried the crone. ' Shame 1 without 
 this the charm is vain — ^the offering is vain ! Without this, do 
 ye think they will attend to hear yotn: commands ? ' 
 
 'Who, mother?' 
 
 ' Who ? — Muleeka, Hamoos, Mublut, Yoosuf, the deputies of 
 the Shitan, MuUik Yeitshan, Shekh Suddoo, the Father of Mis- 
 
374 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 chief. Obey ! I tell ye the time passes, and your livers will dry 
 up instead of hers, if ye refuse to do this.' 
 
 Both again hesitated, but Kummoo was daring j she at last 
 seized the knife and the fowl, and, in very desperation, at one 
 stroke severed the head from the body. 
 
 ' Hold it fast ! hold it fast ! ' cried the crone, for it? convulsive 
 motions could hardly be restrained; 'it bleeds well — that is a 
 good sign ; so now hold it there : let the blood sprinkle over all. 
 They are present npw; I feel they drink the blood' And she 
 eOBtinuied her incantation in a low tone, while her hearers were 
 paralysed with fear. 
 
 At length she broke out aloud, and desired them to repeat the 
 words, ' Ai Boodboo ! Ai Shekh Suddoo ! Ai Nursoo ! Ai Num- 
 rood ! Ai Murdood ! and ye who are present, having drunk 
 blood, enter into her — into Ameena — and possess her ! Let her 
 have no rest by night or by day \ As in each of your names I 
 pierce this lime with five needles, so may your sharp stings pierce 
 her heart ! as they rot by the acid, so may her liver consume 
 within her ! Ameen ! Ameen ! Ameen ! Ameen ! Ameen \ ' 
 And as she pronounced each Ameen ! she stuck a needle through 
 the green lime she held in her hand. • Enough ! ' she cried ; ' it 
 is done ! Leave this at her door, or at her bedside, that she 
 may see it when she rises in the morning. You will soon hear 
 of her, Inshalla ! ' 
 
 They were glad to escape from the place, for guilt was in their 
 hearts, and terror of the demons whom they believed to have 
 been present. They did not even stay with the old lady, but 
 hurried home as fast as was possible in the darkness. When all 
 were asleep, Kummoo stole softly into the outer apartment of 
 that where Ameena was, and deposited the charmed lime at the 
 threshold of the door, surrounding it with a circle of red powder, 
 as she had been directed : the door opened inwards, so there was 
 no fear that it would be displaced. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 We fear we can hardly convey to our readers any adequate sense 
 of the terror with which, as she arose in the morning, and open- 
 ing the door, essayed to go forth to her ablutions for morning 
 prayer, Ameena regarded the fatal sign which lay before her; 
 
TIPPOO SULTAVir. 375 
 
 a faint cry which she had uttered roused the Khan, who darting 
 to her side, beheld with equal or indeed greater dismay than hers, 
 the dreadful sight. 
 
 A matter so trifling and absurd would even, to the most unedu- 
 cated person in this enlightened land, only furnish matter for 
 ridicule ; but to Ameena and her husband, who with their 
 countrymen generally were deeply imbued with the belief of jins, 
 fairies, spirits of the air, and other supernatural agents and devils, 
 supposed to be at the command of any who choose by study or 
 penance to qualify themselves for the exercise of power over 
 them, the sight was one of horror: the thought that their 
 deaths were desired, the death of both, or certainly of one, first 
 struck upon their hearts ; a dull but a deadly blow it was to 
 Ameena, to whom the first sight of the awful spectacle gave a 
 terrible earnest that she was the person for whom it was intended. 
 
 The Khan could give her no comfort She had no friend but 
 her old nurse Meeran, who, even more superstitious than Ameena, 
 and herself mistress as she thought of many potent charms, well 
 knew the power which had directed such an one as that before 
 them. 
 
 I would not assert that men of station, respectability, and edu^ 
 cation in India, among the Mahomedans, are not many of them 
 free fi-om the debasing belief in charms and witchcraft, even 
 though their existence is allowed by the Koran ; but no one will 
 be hardy enough to deny that by far the greater part dare not 
 disbelieve it ; that many practise it in secret, if not themselves, 
 at least by aid of Fakeers and old women ; and that in their 
 harems, among their ladies, to doubt the existence of it would be 
 as sinful as to doubt that of the Prophet himself. But it must 
 be remembered that the Khan was a man bom in the lower 
 grade of society, that he had been a reckless soldier of fortune, 
 was ignorant, and, though he had risen to high rank and wealth, 
 was far from having shaken off the superstitions with which he 
 had begun life. 
 
 All that day dismay was in the household ,* all seemed equally 
 struck with consternation ; and the authors of the evil gave to 
 Ameena their most hearty sympathy, while they exulted over the 
 deed, and saw that the arrow drove home to her very heart. In 
 the general consultation which ensued, they gave it as their opinion 
 that it could have been intended for no other than Ameena, and 
 that her evil destiny had led her to look upon it. 
 
 Kasim Ali was sent for by the Khan, and with better sense 
 than the rest, tried to argue him out of a belief that there was any 
 danger, to assure him that no one could have ill-will to one so 
 
37S TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 pure, so ihnoceiit, and so unknown as his wife. But his heart 
 misgave him as to the author of the evil ; he dared not, however, 
 mention this, and there was no cause for suspicion except in his 
 own thoughts. 
 
 Devoted to the Khan, and more than ever anxious for Ameena, 
 of whose declining health, under the horrible ideas that she was 
 possessed by devils, which preyed on her, he constantly heard 
 thirough the faithful Zoolfoo from Meeran, Kasim Ali spared no 
 pains to give such ease as he could impart by the performance 
 and directions of those ceremonies which were prescribed to be 
 used in such cases. The most holy Fakeers were consulted; 
 they made expeditions and offered Fateehas * at all the saints' 
 and martyrs' tombs within reach, in her name. Puleetas or 
 lamp-charms were burned in her name, and she was fumigated 
 with the smoke. Charmed words were written by holy Fakeers 
 and Moolas, which she sometimes ate among her food ; at 
 others ■ they were washed off the paper into water which she 
 drank. 
 
 ! Many of these ceremonies were so curious that we are almost 
 tempted to describe them minutely ; but as they would occupy 
 much space (and, alas ! we are restricted to pages and lines), we 
 are compelled to abandon them to imagination ; in truth they are 
 so ridiculous and puerile, that perhaps they might only provoke 
 risibiUty, especially in our fair readers, if we should relate them 
 very gravely, and almost insist on their belief in their efficacy. 
 , But all these efforts brought no relief to poor Ameena ; some- 
 times she would rally awhile, and might be seen tending her few 
 flowers, feeding her birds or her pigeons ; and though with wasted 
 and pallid features, and a hollow short cough, from which she 
 could obtain no respite, she tried to throw off the dreadful 
 weight at her heart, and would sometimes partially, succeed, it 
 would again return with redoubled force, and prostrating her 
 strength reduce her, by the slow fever which came with it, to a 
 state of weakness which prevented all motion. The poor girl 
 would lie for hours in her open verandah, gazing up into the 
 depths of the clear sky above her, in no pain, but with an intense 
 yearning to be at rest for ever, to join the society of the angels 
 and Peris, whom she fancied hovered there ready to receive her. 
 How often she pined for home — to lie on her honoured mother's 
 breast, and breathe away her life in happy repose ; and often she 
 implored the Khan to send her thither. 
 
 'It is impossible,' he said, 'to travel; the English hold the 
 frontiers, the fierce marauding Mahrattas and the Nizam's forces 
 *' * Offerings for the remission of sins and favour of Heavea 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 377 
 
 occupy the roads, and it would be madness to attempt so 
 hazardous an undertaking.' 
 
 No ! she was to hope ; such illnesses were long, but, Inshalia ! 
 there was hope, InshaUa ! the charms, the spells, the exorcisms 
 would take effect, and she would rise again to be his own Ameena. 
 
 But, alas ! we grieve to write it, that in one who possessed so 
 many noble qualities, courage, frankness, honesty, sincerity, there 
 should be one terrible failing — a vice rather — which, though not 
 openly discernible, lurked at his heart, and ere long broke forth 
 to the peril of poor Ameena. 
 
 Her wasted cheek, the hollow dull eye, though sometimes the 
 large and expressive orbs flashed with a light almost painful to 
 look on, and which to those around her was an earnest that the 
 malignant spirits lurked still within her, caused gradually in the 
 Khan an absence of affection, of solicitude — nay, of that love 
 which he had once delighted to show. He was a sensualist; 
 and in Ameena's faded beauty — for like a withered flower there 
 were only the lineaments traceable of what existed in the full 
 vigour of health; and in her wasted and enfeebled form, there 
 was no enjoyment, no attraction. His change to her was gradual, 
 very gradual, but it was perceptible. It would have been merci- 
 ful, perhaps, had it come at once ; it would have prevented days 
 and nights of wretchedness which had no power of alleviation ; 
 and with the horrible thoughts and ideas which haunted her, the 
 miserable one of being gradually deserted came upon her slowly, 
 but too surely. 
 
 While she lay burned by consuming fever, pallid, exhausted, 
 reduced almost to a skeleton, with parched lips and mouth, there 
 moved around her bedside, ministering to her trifling wants with 
 a mock gratification and assiduity, the work of a fiend glutting 
 over the ruin she had caused, the noble form of Kummoo, her 
 features full of beauty, her eyes flashing with love, her every 
 motion one of grace and dignity. She always dressed with the 
 most scrupulous care, generally in the purest white muslin, which, 
 transparent as it was, when she wound it about the upper part of 
 her perfect form, disclosed enough to attract notice, if not desire. 
 She would study the times when the Khan was likely to arrive in 
 his zenana, and, always contriving to be there before him, would 
 rise to depart when he entered. 
 
 For a long time he permitted this, only returning the distant 
 salutation she gave him ; but gradually he spoke to her, asked 
 after her health, then bade her remain, and so it continued from 
 time to time, until they conversed gaily together. 
 
 And at first poor Ameena was glad that they were friends, and 
 
378 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 that there was a chance that the harmony of intercourse might be 
 restored which once must have existed between them ; but she 
 never heard that he visited Kummoo in her own apartments, or 
 that they met elsewhere than before her; she could not have 
 objected had he done so, for Kummoo was his wife as well as 
 she ; but she often sighed for the past, and that her lot had not 
 been cast with one, who with her and her alone would have gone 
 through the pilgrimage allotted them upon earth, and in whose 
 love she could have been blest. 
 
 Her trial came at last ; she heard from Meeran, who had long 
 discerned the approaching intimacy, and detected its gradual 
 development, than the Khan had visited Kummoo in her apart- 
 ments, that he had dined with her, and spent the evening in her 
 company. She was glad at first, a feeling she had been trying to 
 reason herself into by degrees ; but Meeran in her zeal and love 
 was indignant, and sought, but happily with no effect, to inflame 
 her mistress's jealousy. Poor Ameena ! jealousy she never felt — 
 that pang was in mercy spared her ; she smiled at her nurse's 
 fears, told her that she looked to greater happiness from this — to 
 sweeter intercourse with her sister-wife, and to a friendship which 
 the Khan would share with both. Alas ! these were dreams 
 which cheated her pure and sunny mind, where no evil thought 
 ever intruded — which was full of love and innocence. 
 
 But when neglect came — when a day passed and the Khan 
 did not visit her — when she heard that he was constantly in 
 Kummoo's society — when messages came from the lady to in- 
 quire after her health, and stated that because the Khan was with 
 her she could not attend her ; when day after day elapsed and 
 she saw him not — and when he came his stay was short, his 
 questions hurried and abrupt; and though in her meek and 
 gentle nature she never complained, yet his demeanour would 
 show that he was conscious of having wronged her, and he would 
 be formal, and she fancied even cold — then the arrow which had 
 been shot to her very heart of hearts rankled deeply, and, in the 
 utter prostration of her intellect before the misery she suffered, 
 she prayed earnestly for death, in the hope that ere many weeks 
 or days she would be numbered with the dead, and her place 
 among the children of earth become vacant for ever ! 
 
 How Kummoo exulted in the success of her scheme ! she 
 heaped presents upon the old woman by whose aid she had 
 effected it ; she gave her jewels from her own stores, clothes of 
 costly price, which the hag treasured up, though the grave was 
 yawning to receive her, and which she vowed to expend in distri- 
 butions to Fakeers and holy saints for the repose of Kummoo's 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 379 
 
 soul, and her acceptation with Alia. Day after day brought 
 confirmations of the evil work : the bolt had struck — ^the barb 
 rankled, and could not be withdrawn : Ameena was ill — she 
 wasted away — she burned with fever. 
 
 ' Ha ! lia ! ' cried the hag, ' did I not say, when your hand 
 trembled at the sacrifice (ft was well ye did it and the blood 
 poured forth freely), that it was accepted — that they drank it ? 
 Ha ! ye slaves to my will, Iblees and his legions, ye Musoo and 
 Shekh Suddoo, and ye legions of Chooraeel ! and ye nine sons 
 of Satan ! I thank ye all : abide within her ; ye are not to come 
 forth till the exorcism of a more powerful than I am is performed 
 — and where will they find that one, my pearl and my ruby ? ' 
 
 And then by her counsel Kummoo had put herself in the way 
 of the Khan ; and as she bade her to wait patiently the working 
 of the spell, so did she ; not taking offence at fancied slights, but 
 adorning herself with jewels, and disclosing her beauteous face to 
 him from time to time. And when there was appearance that 
 he relented, the old woman bade her prepare a feast for him, and 
 gave her a powder to mingle with his food — a charm which should 
 turn his heart, were it of stone, and cause it to become as wax in 
 the hand of the moulder. A spell she had prepared in secret, 
 the ingredients of which were only known to those students of 
 her mystic art who had devoted years to its accomplishment. 
 
 She was' successful : all went right. The Khan partook of her 
 food ; she sang and played to him, and displayed the witchery of 
 her charms. He had never thought her so lovely ; she was his 
 wife, his own Kummoo, once more such as she. had been when 
 he took her from her home to his ; and a bright field of enjoy- 
 ment was spread out before them, wherein were flowers blooming, 
 and no shadow to dim their brilliancy. Then came new clothes 
 and jewels, and money and rich gifts, and the old woman partook 
 of all, and laughed in her heart that she,, and she alone, knew the 
 depths of the human mind, whose own passions and not her 
 demons were working the issue which she contemplated. 
 
 When is it, however, that guilt is satisfied by one step to gain 
 an end desired? The very progress, the watching the slow pro- 
 cess of the machinery of the plot, only causes insatiate desires 
 to accelerate its motion, endless yearnings after the end ; fears 
 and doubts Of success alternate with guilty terrors, which turn 
 back again and meet the desires for completion. Now that 
 Kummoo had gained her purpose, that the Khan was her daily 
 companion, that Ameena, sick to death, neglected and thrown 
 aside, mourned over her lost, happiness, and was regarded as one 
 in whom even devils abode, one whose fate it was to linger for 
 
38o TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 a while, and then to pass away from the memories of men, even 
 now Kummoo longed for her death, and looked to it impatiently. 
 Once the devil within her had suggested poison, but she put that 
 back with a strenuous effort. ' It cannot last long,' she thought ; 
 but it did, for Ameena lingered. 
 
 The thought constantly arose that Ameena would recover, that 
 again she would see her in her hated beauty : the power she had 
 gained over the Khan would then melt away, and her former 
 state of degradation would be renewed. She held long conver- 
 sations with Sozun, who, bad as she was, dared not even follow 
 her mistress's thoughts of crime. Hoormut had gained nothing 
 by the spell, for she was still neglected, and the wretched state of 
 Ameena stung her conscience bitterly : often she longed to dis- 
 close all ; but the dread of the shame and punishment which 
 would have followed, and the vengeance of the reckless woman 
 who had led her on, deterred her. It was enough for her that 
 the mischief which was fast progressing had been done; she 
 would aid its fulfilment no further. 
 
 . Kasim All had been unavoidably absent for some time ; the 
 Sultaun's possessions in the Barah Mahal had gradually fallen 
 before the forces of the English under Maxwell and Floyd, and 
 one by one the strongholds had been reduced. Kistna Gherry 
 still held out, and had earnestly applied for succours of money 
 and men. The young and daring Kasim was the man on whom 
 the Sultaun's eye rested for the performance of this feat — for it 
 was one — to conduct a large force through the ground occupied 
 by a powerfiil enemy. Kasim burned for distinction, and he 
 fulfilled his trust manfully; for though pursued hard both by 
 Maxwell and Floyd, at the head of the English cavalry, he eluded 
 them, and, having attained his object, returned into Mysore with 
 but little loss. 
 
 It was during his absence that the Khan's change towards 
 Ameena had become visible ; and on his return, in reply to his 
 anxious queries as to whether she lived, he was told of her still 
 precarious state, and her fresh cause for misery. Alas ! Kasim 
 Ali could not aid her, except by constant messages of kindness 
 through Zoolficar, and proffers of service, even to death, should 
 she require or command them. How often did he long to re- 
 monstrate with the Khan upon his behaviour, to implore him to 
 allow her to depart to her own home, but he dared not ; that 
 would have been impossible. 
 
 Months had passed : the English army, recruited and invigor- 
 
TIPPOO SXTLTAUN. 381 
 
 ated by the fine climate and the luxurious forage of Mysore, and, 
 joined by the Nizam's troops under a new and more honest com- 
 mander, and also by the Mahrattas, once more advanced upon 
 the capital, in a far different condition to that in which they had 
 before essayed its capture, and fought a battle within sight of their 
 destination. As they proceeded, fort after fort fell before them. 
 The impregnable Nundidroog, commanded by as brave an officer 
 as the Sultaun possessed, Lutf Ali Beg, fell, and few of the garri- 
 son escaped. It would have taken the Sultaun months to reduce 
 it with his whole army — which a single detachment of the English 
 effected. Savundroog — ' the abode of death '-^where the Sultaun 
 exulted that the English went, for he knew its impregnable 
 strength and the deadly jungles by which it was surrounded, — 
 that too fell by a coup de main. He could not credit it ; he raved 
 like a wild beast when the news was, brought ; but that did not 
 alter the loss, and it was followed'' by oSier reverses day after 
 day. It was true that the success of his son Futteh Hyder 
 against Gurrumcoondah, which had been taken by the Nizam's 
 troops, and which contained the family of his relation, Meer 
 Sahib, revived him for a while ; but the resolute and rapid 
 approach of the English army upon his capital was not to be dis- 
 guised, and their unvaried success smote hard at his heart, and 
 daunted his army. But there were other causes for dismay on 
 both sides. 
 
 Men had begun to ask among themselves, soon after the battle 
 of Arikh&a, as day after day they attended the Durbar, and the. 
 band of beautiful English boys, upon whose dancing their eyes 
 had rested in admiration, and to whose delicious voices they had 
 used to listen, did not appear — what had become of them ? The 
 many others, too, who had long languished in confinement, and 
 whom they had used to mock and deride — ^where were they? 
 And then speculation and conjecture arose, and would not be 
 still, for there went suspicion abroad that they had been de- 
 stroyed, and it was right. Despite of the Sultaun's care, there 
 were those who told openly in their drunkenness that they had 
 strangled them, and that Jaffar Sahib Jemadar had looked on, 
 and while he mocked their cries, had encouraged their destroyers: 
 many others too had been secretly murdered in the lonely hill- 
 forts, where they were confined, and even in the secret prisons 
 and apartments of the palace. 
 
 Men openly talked of the butchery; ^d though they hated 
 the English, yet they were men and soldiers, and abhorred the 
 secret murders and the concealment ; and all pitied and mourned 
 over the fate of the poor boys, dreading the vengeance of the 
 
383 TIPPOO SULTAUJSr. 
 
 English when the reckoning should come, and there should be 
 few to meet it Discontent openly showed itself eveiywhere : 
 there was a feverish excitement among the troops, a restless 
 desire that the English should arrive, and their suspense be 
 dispelled either by victory or defeat. 
 
 The twenty-fifth day of January 1792 was one long remem- 
 bered by those who witnessed it The English army, led by its 
 noble commander, now more like a triumphal procession than a 
 slow invasion, had arrived on the distant heights, and were 
 rapidly pouring from them upon the plain which led to the city ; 
 and the Sultaun, dreading an immediate attack, had ordered out 
 the whole of his force, which- in gUtteiing array lined the fort-walls, 
 the esplanade before it, the banks of the river, and the redoubts 
 and batteries beyond. It was a gorgeous spectacle : that EngUsh 
 host in long narrow and compact columns, their bayonets 
 glancing in the sun, as they moved with measured tread to the 
 sound of their martial music. Evarywhere around in wild dis- 
 order were crowds of the Nizam's and the Mahratta horse, 
 accompanied by numbers of elephants, many of the men in 
 bright armour, with gay scarfs wound round their steel caps; 
 others in coats-of-mail, or thickly-quilted satin tunics; many in 
 gorgeous cloth of gold or silver, their horses' trappings of velvet 
 or fine cloth ; most in white, with gay scarfs and turbans — ^the 
 whole everywhere restless, clamorous — thousands careering 
 about, firing matchlocks as they advanced ; now dashing out to 
 the front and brandishing their spears, without any order, 
 discipline or command, jmd crying shouts of abuse, or the 
 various war cries of their respective faiths. 
 
 Under the walls was the Sultaun's army — a vast concourse, 
 arrayed in their regiments, and in fair order at their various 
 posts. Everywhere among them moved richly caparisoned 
 elephants and horses, whose riders were as gaily dressed as those 
 of the advancing army. The walls of the fort, the minarets of 
 the mosque, the terraced houses, the trees, every rising ground, 
 were covered with the inhabitants of the fort and the city, 
 looking at the advancing stream of their enemies, which appeared 
 to flow on without resistance. Above all glowed a sun dazzlingly 
 bright, but now declining fast, whose slanting beains lighted up 
 the scene, catching the various objects, and causing them to 
 glitter even more than if they had come from above. The 
 waters of the river — the plain covered with burning villages — 
 whereon one army was in motion, the other waiting to receive 
 them— -the fort, the batteries, the mosque and temples, glowed 
 with a biilliance and exciting effect, which the circumstaaces of 
 
TIPPOO SVLTAUN. 383 
 
 the thousands present were not likely to efface from their remem- 
 brance. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 After witnessing the gradual wasting and feverish excitement ol 
 her young mistress for some weeks, the faithful Meetan could no 
 longer bear to see her wretched condition. She knew how 
 devotedly Kasim Ali loved her, and she determined, as her last 
 resource, to make an appeal to his generosity, if not to his love, 
 to implore him to rescue her from the condition she was in, and 
 to assist her to escape, or at once take her under his roof. 
 
 It was late in the evening before that on which the English 
 arrived before the fort, that ^ betook herself to Kasim's abode. 
 She had openly declared her intention to Ameena j indeed she 
 had spoken to her of it for days before, and endeavoured gradu- 
 ally to prepare her to abandon the Khan and fly to her home — 
 distant though it was — or to seek at once the protection of the 
 Patel. His mother too, whose village, though many days' journey 
 distant, she thought it possible she might be able to reach, and 
 she felt assured would receive her, after resting there for a while, 
 she could pursue her journey to Hyderabad; and Ameena 
 timidly, distrustfiiUy, and yet anxiously, had at last given per- 
 mission to her to go and ascertain if it were possible. 
 
 Meeran had placed Zoolikar upon the watch to note the 
 return of the young Patd from his tour of duty to rest for the 
 night ; and when she was apprised of that, she bade her young 
 mistress farewell for the while, and telling her to be of good 
 cheer, that she would soon return with joyful news, she departed. 
 
 Zoolfoo awaited her without, and in a few minutes they had 
 arrived at the Patdl's abode. Anxiously they looked around, lest 
 any one should observe them, but there was only one woman at 
 some distance, whom they hardly heeded ; they opened the door 
 of the court-yard, which they found unfastened, and leaving it in 
 the same state (for they knew not why it was opened), they 
 passed on to the Patdl. He was wearied with his da/s attend- 
 ance on the Sultaun, and lay reclining on his carpet, reading as 
 usual, which was a solace to him, after the empty compliment, 
 the lies, the inflated vanity of the Sultaun's words, and more 
 frequently of late his querulous remarks and violent bursts of 
 
384 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 passion. They hesitated for a minute ; but he had heard the 
 noise in the verandah, and, supposing it to be his servants, de- 
 sired them to enter. 
 
 ' It is I, Khodawund,' said Zoolfoo, 'and I have brought my 
 sister — she would speak with thee.' 
 
 ' Holy Prophet ! what hath happened ? ' cried the young man, 
 starting up in great agitation ; ' she is not worse ? ' 
 
 'No, my lord; she is, praise be to Allal better,' answered 
 Meeran ; • I think her more cheerful than she hath been for 
 many days. She arose to the evening prayer and walked 
 about the court-yard; the wind was cool, and refreshed her. 
 But ah ! Patdl, she is not what she was;' and Meeran burst into 
 tears. 
 
 ' I know, nurse ; I know she is not ; thy brother here hath daily 
 brought me word of her — news which Alia, who sees my heart, 
 knows that -I think on day and night; in my dreams she is before 
 me, in my waking thoughts I see her, sometimes lovely as 
 when I first beheld her, and now dim-eyed and wasted. Alas ! 
 that such should be her destiny ; alas ! that so fair a flower should 
 wither under the blighting chill of neglect Would to Alia 
 I could aid her ! my life, my heart's blood should be hers if 
 she—' 
 
 ' I knew it ! I knew it ! ' cried the nurse, in an ecstasy of 
 delight, as she had listened to the young man, and now suddenly 
 interrupted him ; ' I knew it ! Thou canst aid her, Pat^l Sahib 
 — ^thou canst save her, O Jemadar, and thou wilt ! thou wilt ! ' 
 And she cast herself at his feet and sobbed aloud. 
 
 ' Rise, Meeran, this is unseemly,' said Kasim gently ; ' again 
 I swear to thee, if I can aid her, even by peril of my life, I will 
 doit' 
 
 ' Listen then, Meer Sahib,' she continued, rising and wiping 
 her eyes; 'I have gained her consent — I have spoken to her 
 already — I have told her thou art willing, that thou wilt aid her 
 in flight — and assist her beyond the city, from whence she can 
 escape to thy mother's, and wait there till thou canst be freed 
 from hence, or that she can rest there till she has strength to go 
 on. Wilt thou not aid her? By the head of thy mother, by thy 
 hopes of paradise, I conjure thee to do it, O Pat^l ! ' 
 
 'But the Khan,' said Kasim, 'will he not let her go? — 
 the enemy is in the path, but were it Satan I would face him for 
 her.' 
 
 ' The Khan ? ' cried the nurse, — ' thooh ! I spit on him for a 
 man ; his days are wasted in dalliance with her who, as sure as 
 Alia rules above us, is the author of this calamity. Speak to 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 385 
 
 him? No, by the Prophet! — ^she hath asked faim a thousand 
 times, and I have too. " The enemy is out," saith he, " the 
 English kafirs, who would make a captive of her j it would be 
 madness." Bah I they do not war agaiast women as he does. 
 No ! there is no hope from him ? ' 
 
 ' But will he not relent towards her?' 
 
 ' Alia is my witness, no ! for a week he hath not seen her, 
 and the poor soul is cut to the heart by the neglect; she is 
 an angel or a peri, Meer Sahib, or she could not bear this 
 indignity.' 
 
 Kasim sighed. ' Has she strength?' he said after a while. 
 
 ' Ay, enough for that ; her body is weak but her spirit is stout ; 
 if once she was bent on escape, it would turn her mind from tibe 
 thought of the curse, and she would recover as soon as she had 
 escaped from these accursed walls.' 
 
 ' Alas ! ' sighed Kasim, ' how dare I leave my post at sudi 
 a moment, when the English are upon us, and every man must 
 be true to his salt ? Why was not this said a week sooner ? ' 
 
 • Thou wert long absent, Meer Sahib, and since thou hast re- 
 turned there has not been a day, hardly an hour, when I have 
 not spoken to her of this.' 
 
 ' Stay ! ' he cried, a sudden thought seeming to strike him ; ' her 
 father lives, does he not ? ' 
 
 ' Inshalla ! Meer Sahib, who does not know Roostum All Beg 
 at Hyderabad — ^the bravest amongst its warriors ? ' 
 
 ' Then he will be among the advancing army, surely,' cried the 
 young man ; ' and what matter if he is not ? they wiU receive his 
 daughter, and I will conduct her to them.' 
 
 ' To whom, Meer Sahib, to whom?' she asked eagerly. 
 
 • To the troops of Nizam Ali Khan, who attend the En^ish,— 
 they will be before the city to-morrow.' 
 
 • Shookr Alia ! ' cried the woman, lifting up her hands and eyes 
 in ecstasy, 'Shookr Alia! Oh, how I bless thee, Meer Sahib, 
 for the news; that will lend her courage, that will make her 
 beauteous eye flash again and her cheek glow ; even should her 
 father not be there, there will be a hundred others to whom the 
 daughter of Koostum Ali Beg will be as a daughter. Ya Alia 
 kureem ! there is hope, there is hope at last ; the day hath long 
 been gloomy, but the evening is bright.' 
 
 ' Rather say the night, sister,' said the cook j ' let this pass as 
 a hideous dream which hath occupied our senses ; let us awake 
 to a bright morning, to share days of happiness with the 
 Khanum, and to pray AUa that his devout Syud may soon be 
 joined to her.' 
 
 3 B 
 
386 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' Aiueeii ! ' said the nurse : but Kasim could not speak, his 
 thoughts were too busy. 
 
 ' I will prepare all,' he said, after a while, ' a dooly and bearers 
 shall he ready here ; she must go at night Dare she come here ? 
 will she, nurse ? — ^will she speak one word to me ere she leaves 
 us ? wilt thou conduct her hither ? ' 
 
 ' On my head and eyes be it ! ' said Meeran ; ' on my head and 
 eyes ! ' 
 
 ' Then remember when I send to thee, come quickly ; all will 
 be prepared, and I will myself give her over to the leader of the 
 Dakhan troops ; if she will go to my mother's, she will become 
 a daughter to her j and I — but no matter, let that be as it is 
 written in our destiny. Go now, ye have tarried long.' 
 
 Ere they arose to depart, a female figure, which had been 
 seated at the door, drinking in every word of their discourse with 
 greedy ears, arose rapidly, and gliding away to the edge of the 
 verandah, stepped from it into the court-yard, and squatted be- 
 hind a thick bush of M^hndee which grew there. The joyful 
 pair passed on, and, after allowing a few moments to elapse, she 
 arose and followed them. That woman was Sozun. 
 
 A few nights after, in a small chamber in the house of Kum- 
 moo's mother, adjoining the one which we have before mentioned, 
 sat Kummoo and the wretched old woman her accomplice ; they 
 spoke in low tones and whispers, and in dread, for the cannon of 
 the English roared without, and was answered in loud peals from 
 the walls of the Fort. The siege had begun now two days ; the 
 issue of the night-attack of the 6th of February, and its effect 
 upon the Sultaun's army, causing nearly one-half of its number to 
 desert and fly from a service they had long detested, is well known. 
 On the following morning twenty-three thousand were missing, 
 and among them hundreds of the Europeans, upon whom he had 
 placed such reliance ; they preferred surrendering themselves into 
 the hands of a generous enemy, to the service of a blood-stained 
 and capricious monster. The rest of the army had retired within 
 the walls, and, faithful to their cause, had determined to defend 
 them to the last 
 
 There was an awful din without ; the roar of cannon, the in- 
 cessant rattle of musketry, the hissing sound of shells as they 
 descended and burst, came full on the ears of the guilty pair, and 
 the old woman cowered to the ground in fright 
 
 'Knoweth Hoormut-bee of this? why is she not here?' she 
 ^sked, after a long silence, 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 387 
 
 ' She knoweth it, mother,* said Kummoo, ' but she is a coward, 
 a pitiful coward, and dared not venture forth when shot is flying ; 
 but it is late — come — ^why dost thou delay ? thou saidst all was 
 ready.' 
 
 'But the canncMi, daughter — the noise — my heart is ap- 
 palled.' 
 
 'Ay, who is the coward now? once thou didst call me a 
 coward, Kureena; behold I am now ready. What are the 
 cannon to us ? arise and come, I say ; I see thou hast prepared 
 the figure — come, time passes, and the Khan expects me; he 
 will be returned ere this from the Durbar.' 
 
 ' She will die without it, daughter. Munoo and Shekh Suddoo 
 came to me in my dreams last night,' said the hag, 'and they 
 told me she would die ; this new ceremony is useless.' 
 
 ' I will not beUeve it By Alia ! thou liest, nurse ; she was 
 better, and I— I hate her. Come, here is gold for thee — ^thou 
 lovest it — come ! ' And she disengaged a gold ring from her 
 wrist, and forced it upon the other's, while she seized her arm 
 and dragged her along. 
 
 ' My blessings on thee, Khanum — the blessings of the old 
 woman who is nigh death ! ' she said ; ' this will feed a hundred 
 Fakeers, this will purchase a hundred readings of the Koran for 
 me when I am dead ; my blessings on thee, daughter ! ' 
 
 ' Come quickly ! ' cried Kummoo, ' come quickly ! why tarriest 
 thou — the materials have been ready these many days. Enter 
 now — I follow thee.' 
 
 She did so, and closed the door. 
 
 The room was the one we have before mentioned; a magic 
 figure, of a different form to the first, was drawn on the clay 
 floor — a square, divided into compartments, with figures in each, 
 or marks intended to represent them. The old hag as she 
 entered made three low obeisances to each side of the figure, and, 
 placing herself at the head, began a low monotonous chant, 
 which was intended to be a chapter of the Koran read backwards, 
 rocking the while to and fro ; it was, in truth, mere unintelligible 
 gibberish. After awhile she untied some earth and ashes from 
 the comer of her doputta, and pouring water upon them, gradu- 
 ally increased her tone, kneading the mixture into a stiff clay. 
 Soon she changed the incantation into the names of the many 
 demons she had invoked before, and her tones became wilder 
 and wilder as she formed the clay into the rude image of a 
 human being. This done, she rested awhile, mumbling to her- 
 self with her eyes shut ; and at length, taking from her cloth a 
 number of small pegs of wood, she drove them into the head, the 
 
388 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 arms, the body, the legs and feet of the image, accompartying 
 each with curses at which even Kummoo shuddered. 
 
 ' Hast thou the shroud, daughter ? ' she said as she finished ; 
 ' behold the image is ready ; a bonny image it is — the ashes of a 
 kafir Hindoo, burned at the full moofl, the earth of the grave of 
 a woman who died in child-birth — I had much ado to find one — 
 kneaded together. Hast thou the shroud ? ' 
 
 ' Here it is, mother.' 
 
 ' Ay, that will do, 'tis like a ptetty corpse now. Take it away 
 with thee, fair one, to thy home, to the embraces of thy lord. 
 Mark ! in three days there will be a young corpse in thy house, 
 and remember to call me to the washing— 'tis an old woman's 
 business, and I love to look on such. Ha ! ha ! away ! delay not 
 — place it at her door, its head to the east, that she may see it in 
 the morning ere the sun rises — away ! ' 
 
 Kummoo's brain was in a whirl, and she obeyed almost without 
 speaking in reply ; she hurried home through the thronged streets, 
 little heeding any one— not even the shot which whistled above — 
 and she reached her abode undiscovered. 
 
 For many nights Ameena had not slept so soundly or so 
 refreshingly as on that when the plot intended to cause her death 
 was proceeding to its completion. What if the cannon thundered 
 without — she heard it not, she was secure in Kasim's faith ; a 
 day more-^nay, the next night — she was to leave that roof, she 
 hoped for ever ! Meeran had been busily occupied in removing 
 her mistress's jewels to Kasim's house, where a comfortable dooly 
 was already prepared for her, and two stout ponies for herself 
 and her brother; a few articles of clothing too, and some 
 of the rich garments which the Khan had presented to Ameena 
 in the days of their pleasant intercourse; there were many 
 that she abandoned with a sigh, but it was impossible to take 
 all. 
 
 The dreams of the sleeper were fresh and balmy visions ; now 
 she thought she wandered through groves, where the rich scent 
 of tube-roses perfumed the air, and the song of birds was sweet 
 to the charmed ear — by fountains, whose murmuring plash 
 mingled with the sighs of the soft wind among the trees above 
 them. . Kasim Ali was beside her, pouring forth a tale of love, of 
 devotion, to which she listened with delight and rapture. Again 
 she ^^as with her mother, her dear mother ; and as she lay in her 
 arms and wept tears of joy after their long separation, which were 
 kissed from her cheeks as fast as they trickled over them — she 
 felt a joy, a sense of security in her soul, which was delicious 
 
TIPPOO SULTAVN. 389 
 
 beyond expression. She fancied her mother spoke to her, and 
 she awoke. 
 
 'Alia and the twelve holy Imaums keep thee this day! my 
 rose of beauty ! ' said old Meeran, advancing ; and kissing her 
 forehead, she passed her hands over Ameena's head to take the 
 evil from it ; 'my blessing, and the blessing of holy angels and 
 saints be on thee ! how brightly thou didst smile in thy sleep ! 
 Alia bless thee, and the lady Muriam, the mother of Jesus ! there 
 is no sadness in thy face now.' 
 
 ' None, dear nurse, none. I had such happy dreams, even 
 when you awoke me. I thought, but no matter — ' And she hid 
 her face in the pillow. 
 
 ' Ay, thou wert smiling in thy sleep, fairest, and my heart was 
 glad ; art thou strong to-day ? remember it is to-night we go.' 
 
 Ameena blushed deeply. ' I remember,' she said ; ' I am 
 strong, I will meet him.' 
 
 • Bless thee, my daughter, he is noble, and worthy of thee j 
 now listen and lie here for a while, it will rest thee; thou shalt 
 rise towards afternoon. I have prepared all yonder, I and my 
 good Zoolfoo. Ya Alia kureem ! Ya Moula Ali ! Ya Boorhanee 
 Sahib ! grant that the issue of this be favourable ,• now turn thee, 
 fairest, and sleep again : may sweet visions be present to thee, 
 for there is no longer aught to fear.' 
 
 Meeran left her : she had arisen early, and as she approached 
 the door of her mistress's room, her eye caught the fatally in- 
 tended image, which had been laid there ; for a moment she was 
 staggered, and her heart failed her, as she remembered its fearful 
 import, but instantly she rallied. ' I bless thee, O gracious Alia ! 
 that she hath not seen this, she said ; ' to me it will do no hurt, 
 nor to her, for I will remove it." But at first she hesitated to 
 touch so foul a thing as that which in its corpse^clothes lay before 
 her. ' Bismilla hir-ruh man-ir-ruhcem ! in the name of the most 
 clement and merciful ! ' she cried, in very desperation, as seizing 
 the figure at last, and hiding it under her doputta, she hurried 
 forth into the open air. ' It would be well to lay it at her own 
 door,' she thought, as she passed near that of Kummoo-bee ; ' but 
 no, better to destroy it.' 
 
 She passed out into the street, the fresh grey dawn was break- 
 ing, and only an occasional firing disturbed the silence, except 
 the howling of the dogs, which was dreadful. She looked for a 
 dunghill ; there was one not far off, occupied by a dozen dogs 
 snarling at each other, and quarrelling for soft places amoug the 
 ashes. With a volley of abuse and a few stones they fled, and 
 Meeran proceeded to do her errand. ' May all the curses which 
 
390 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 were said over this image,' she cried aloud, ' descend upon the 
 authors of it ! may they dwell in their bones, their livers, their 
 blood, and their flesh, Ameen ! Ameen ! Ameen ! ' She then 
 spat on the face, of the image, and throwing it on the ground with 
 volleys of abuse, not of the most decent character, she trampled 
 it to atoms under her feet, and pounded them with a stone tiU 
 not a fragment remained entire ; then taking up the dust, she 
 threw it to the four quarters of the heavens ; and then, and then 
 only, felt satisfied that the spell was broken. Her return to her 
 happy smiling mistress was the dearest proof she could have 
 obtained that she was right 
 
 'Art thou sure, Sozun? — this is no lie of thine? — thou dost 
 not dream ? ' 
 
 ' As I told thee, Jaifar, I heard it with my own ears ; as I 
 passed along they entered his house. I had before suspected, 
 and followed them, for I knew the place, and that ha would be 
 at home, and then he said as I have told thee.' 
 
 ' And they have arranged for to-night ? ' 
 
 ' Ay ! at eight she will be there in his embrace.' 
 
 ' Oh rare ! rare ! ' cried Jafiar, ' the virtuous Kasim ! the virtu- 
 ous Syud ! on whom the dancers cast their glances in vain. Oh 
 rare ! rare t ' and he laughed heartily, and with a triumphant 
 sound. ' What fortune ! ' he continued, ' both at once ! both ! 
 who have wronged me of money, of credit, of rank Ya Alia 
 Mousoof ! I shall be even with them. At eight, Sozun ? ' 
 
 ' At eight I heard it from Meeran, whom I have dogged 
 these three days. I heard her say it to her brother.' 
 
 ' Good ! I will prevent it ; now go, fair one, for to me thou art 
 ever fair, Sozun, and beloved — come hither at ten, I shall be 
 alone till morning; there will be confusion in the house, and 
 thou wilt not be missed.' And thus saying, he took up his 
 sword and passed forth on his errand. 
 
 The Khan was at his post, in a cavalier near the rampart ; 
 Jaffar ascended it : the men were working two heavy guns, and 
 some French officers directed them from time to time; as he 
 mounted the steps a shot was fired. 
 
 ' Shabash Monseer ! ' cried the Khan, ' well aimed, by Alia ! 
 it hit a man yonder — I saw him go down. Ha, Jaffar Sahib, 
 welcome ; come and see the sport ; stand here ; so now, they are 
 preparing another.' 
 
 ' I would speak to thee privately, Khan ; descend a few steps, 
 there, we shall be unheard' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 39i 
 
 ' Ha ! a message from the Sultaun. Well, I attend thee,' and 
 he descended, ' Now speak ; what is it ? ' 
 
 Jaffar regarded him for an instant, and chuckled ; it was the 
 laugh of the devil within him. ' Pardon the question,' he said, 
 ' I would ask after thy house ; thy wife is sick, I have heard ? ' 
 
 ' Ay, truly ; but by my beard I understand thee not, Jaifar ; 
 dost thou mock me ? ' 
 
 'No, by AUa! Hath she been really ill? At the point of 
 death ? ' 
 
 He laughed again — ^but slightly. ' They say ^asim Ali Pat^l 
 saved her life once, Khan Sahib.' 
 
 ' Why dost thou ask ? away with thy ribald jokes, Jaffar — I like 
 it not. Thou knowest I will not brook insnlt, least of all from 
 thee.' 
 
 * Pah ! ' said the other, ' I mean no insult ; I mean well to thee.' 
 
 ' Well ? ' 
 
 ' Ay, well ! Art thou sure thy wife was ill ? was there no pre- 
 tence ? no deception of thee, to gain her own ends ? ' 
 
 ' Pretence ! deception ! ' 
 
 ' Ay — ^why dost thou repeat my words ? Did Kasim Ali ever 
 perform ceremonies for her — for her, thy wife, Ameena ? ' 
 
 ' Kasim Ali — ^for Ameena ? Dog ! how darest thou name her 
 before me ? ' 
 
 ' Dog in thy teeth ! ' cried the other fiercely ; ' I tell thee, old 
 man, I am thy friend, else I would have blood for that word. 
 Klian Sahib, listen : thou art old — ^thou hast untarnished fame — 
 men love thee — I, whom thou hast sneered at and reviled, love 
 thee — I would not see thee wronged.' 
 
 ' Wronged ! ' 
 
 ' Ay, wronged ! cannot such things be ? — Old men have young 
 wives — what is the consequence ? Old man, I say, look to thine 
 house to-night, for one will leave it to return no more.' 
 
 The Khan gasped for breath, and tottered to the wall of the 
 cavalier, which prevented his falling ; he rallied after an instant, 
 and with his sword uplifted rushed upon Jaffar. 
 
 ' Strike ! ' said the latter, as he drew himself up proudly, ' if 
 thou canst strike one who speaks only for thy good ! ' 
 
 ' For my good — O AUa ! ' groaned the Khan, droppifig the 
 point of his sword; ' messenger of evil ! say that thou hast lied, 
 and I will forgive thee — I will bless thee ! ' 
 
 ' I cannot ; by the holy Kaaba of Mecca, I swear it is too 
 true.' 
 
 ' True ! blessed Prophet ! give me patience ; what ! of Kasim 
 Ali ? — of my son ? ' 
 
393 TIPFOO SULTAUN. 
 
 •Ay, and Amecnaj thou hast been a dupe, Kha.i Sahib, as 
 many another. Ha ! ha ! ' 
 
 ' Do not laugh,' said the miserable Khan, ' do not laugh — it is 
 mockery to laugh ; how didst thou hear this ? tell me — I am 
 calm, I can listen.' 
 
 'No matter how; wilt thou abide the proof? I will accom- 
 pany thee at the hour.' 
 
 'Whither?' 
 
 ' To the Pat^I's house ; darest thou come ? ' 
 
 ' Now ! now ! ' shouted the Khan in frenzy, ' let me have im- 
 mediate proof.' 
 
 ' No, no 1 there has been no harm done yet— tber^ may not be 
 any meant. Wilt thou come with me at night ? ' ' 
 
 ' I will.' 
 
 • Till then be calm. I may be wrong— I pray Alia I may be, 
 for I honour the Pat^l ; if we are wrong, we will say it is a visit ; 
 dost thou agree ? ' 
 
 The Khan was stupefied. ' What didst thou say ? ' he asked, 
 ' I did not hear thee.' 
 
 Ja£far repeated his question. 
 
 'I will comej thou wilt find me here, Jaffar — here, at my 
 post, like a soldier; if indeed by that time I am-— But no 
 matter — ^if I am alive I will accompany thee.' 
 
 ' Farewell then, Alia keep thee 1 ' 
 
 The Khan remained leaning against the cavaUer ; the shot was 
 whistling around him, but he heard it not ; there was no sound 
 in his ears but one, the low but distinct ' Ay, and Ameena ! ' 
 which Jaffar had uttered ; he would have given worlds could they 
 have been recalled. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV, 
 
 ' Come, my child ! my sweet one, my rose ! Now, come ! What 
 fear is there? Thou art closely veiled : all are in consternation, 
 and men and women run hither and thither abroad, making vows 
 and vain prayers that this firing may cease. Come ! no one sees 
 us. ZoolfoQ waits without to protect thee ; he is armed, in case 
 of insult by the way — but of that there is no fear. Come ! he 
 expects thee. Even now his heart is burning for thee ! why dost 
 thou fear? thou art now strong.' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. • 393 
 
 So spoke Meeran, as, when the evening fell, with passionate 
 entreaty she implored her mistress at once to summon courage 
 and accompany her. But the poor girl was greatly agitated ; she 
 had several times essayed to move, but had sunk down again 
 upon the low bed on which she sat, closely muffled in a long 
 white sheet. 
 
 ' Alia help me ! I cannot, nurse — it is impossible. Go — say 
 to him I shall die here — I am content to die ! ' and she pressed 
 her hand on her heart, in a vain attempt to still its throbbings. 
 ' I have no strength to walk ; my knees tremble ; my heart fails 
 me \ there is no hope.' And she burst into tears. 
 
 ' They will do her good,' thought Meeran; ' her heart is too full.' 
 Awhile she waited ; then recollecting that there was cool sherbet 
 without, she ran for it. ' Drink ! ' she said, ' drink ! — no, that is 
 not enough.' For Ameena had but moistened her lips with it — 
 she could not swallow. ' Drink ! and thou wilt be better. 
 Drink all, and thy heart will cool. So, now, Shabash ! art thou 
 not better, fairest ? ' 
 
 ' I am, dear nurse,' said Ameena — ' more composed perhaps 
 than before; but it is useless — I cannot go. Hark! the din 
 without is terrible.' 
 
 ' This is folly, my child — folly. Where is thy courage ? Art 
 thou not a Moghul ? Many a woman among them has wielded 
 weapons ere now. What would thy father say if he saw thee ? 
 Come — fie on this coward heart of thine ! Dost thou not re - 
 member when the Mahrattas were upon ye ? thou hast often told 
 me thou hadst no fear.' 
 
 Ameena was much agitated: it was not with fear — she was 
 ' brave and fearless — but it was shame, an overwhelming sense of 
 modesty, which she imagined she was about to outrage. What 
 if he loved her ? — he was a stranger to her, or should have been 
 so ; his home was not hers : her fair and precious fame was 
 blasted for ever, should she be seen with him, or be known to 
 have gone to his abode. But Meeran's taunts had roused her a 
 little, for, with all her meekness and gentleness, there was as 
 proud a spirit within her as ever roused to trumpet-call. She 
 arose and made a step : the action was nothing — the effort of her 
 mind was immense. 
 
 ' Shookr Khoda ! Bismilla — ir-ruhman — ir-ruheem ! ' said 
 Meeran, seizing her arm, and supporting her tottering frame; 
 'come on — quick! quick! — so now lean on me. Holy Alia! how 
 thou tremblest ! Remember the curse ! — Away 'from this spot, 
 and thou art free. Think of that in thy heart, and be firm. 'Tis 
 well — see, the moon even is propitious — she hath veiled her light 
 
394 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 for an instant. Bismilla! thy destiny has opened brightly; now 
 dost thou fear ? ' 
 
 ' Not so much — my heart is stiller ; but, O nurse, what will he 
 say?' 
 
 ' He will adore thee, he will love thee, he will pity thee ! 
 Come, canst thou not think he burns to meet thee ? — that his 
 spirit is with thine now — even now? ' As she spoke they passed 
 out through one little court after another which belonged to the 
 zenana. They went on to a small door which led into the street. 
 Meeran coughed slightly — the signal was answered. They 
 opened the door and went out Zoolfoo was there, armed with 
 sword and buckler ; only that he was rather too stout, he would 
 have looked quite martiaL 
 
 ' Keep close behind us ! ' said Meeran ; ' close — ^we will lead. 
 When we have entered the Patdl's door, go thou round to the 
 other, where the ponies are. All is prepared — ^is it not ? ' 
 
 ' They are there even now,' said Zoolfoo, ' and the Pat^ waits. 
 Bismilla ! walk fast — I pray for ye as I go.' 
 
 They hurried on : the open fresh cool air had revived Ameena, 
 and though she still trembled exceedingly, and her heart was in 
 a tumult of conflicting feelings, she suffered herself to be led 
 rather than walked, at as rapid a pace as Meeran thought it 
 possible for one so weak to maintain. Ameena knew the house 
 was near, but moments seemed like hours as they proceeded. 
 There were many people in the streets, hurrying about con- 
 fusedly, and many forms of shrouded women, like her own, some 
 alone, others in company, walking very fast — soldiers, horsemen 
 and artillery, proceeding to their destinations on and near the 
 walls. Cries, oaths, the rattle and creaking of the artillery- 
 wheels, and, above all, the roar of the cannon, resounded in 
 Ameena's ears, and the din and confusion almost stunned her; 
 but Meeran cheered her on, and she felt stronger as she pro- 
 ceeded. 
 
 Two persons were watching for her whom she Uttle thought of j 
 they were her husband and Jaffar. 
 
 ' There ! — dost thou see. Khan ? dost thou see ? They come, 
 by Alia ! ' the latter whispered. 
 
 ' Where, Jaffar ? where ? I see them not' 
 
 ' No, I was cheated ! they turned off; they cannot be yonder 
 — they would go to the door at once.' 
 
 The Khan breathed again. He was standing with Jaffar at 
 the comer of a street, nearly opposite Kasim's abode; they 
 were in the deep shadow of a high wall, and could not well be 
 observed. The poor Khan panted and gasped for breath; his 
 
rrrPPOO SULTAVN. 39S 
 
 soul was on fire ; revenge burned there, and suspicion of wrong. 
 Sometimes during the day he thought he would fly to Ameena 
 and implore her forgiveness — ^implore her to remain — throw 
 himself at her feet and kiss them. Then again his passion arose 
 at the thought that she should have been false — so false to have 
 used so long a deception, as to have estranged him from her — 
 driven him to another. Above all his revenge binned against 
 Kasim Ali; his son he had fondly called hint — his adopted — ^who 
 would have inherited his wealth — he for whom he had been ever 
 anxious. It was a base return to make, to seduce from him the 
 tender being whom he had so long loved. But his thoughts were 
 incoherent — a chaos of wild passion; he could not reason — ^he 
 did not attempt it Proof of their guilt was all he looked for, 
 and often he prayed to Alia that it might not come. There was 
 one spot on which his gaze was steadfast — the angle of the street 
 which led into that where was Kasim's abode. He looked 
 neither right nor left, nor up to the glorious planet that sailed on 
 in her sea of deep azure, but straight on, sometimes clearly, 
 sometimes dimly; and then he would fiercely dash away the 
 tears which arose unconsciously to his eyes. 
 
 ' Look ! look ! Khan,' said JafFar in a hoarse whisper ; ' again 
 two -figures ! and now a man ! see ! he's fat — 'tis her brother ! 
 And one leads the other on. Oh the vile one, thus to pander to 
 a man — ^her nose should be cut off ! She hesitates, by Alia ! the 
 other drags her in — no — she stops — the cook passes on — 
 shall I cut him down ? ' 
 
 ' Ameena !' gasped the Kban in a low husky voice, stretching 
 his arms out to her ; ' Ameena, enter not ! — away, home ! — pass 
 on ! — anything — 'tis his door — 'tis the Pat^l's — ^thou hast no 
 business there ! thou hast — She hears not — ^Ya Alia kureem ; she 
 hath gone in of her own accord, and firmly.' 
 
 He had only spoken in a hoarse whisper, but he thought he 
 had shouted those broken sentences. 
 
 ' Art thou satisfied. Khan ? am I thy friend now? ' said Jaifar 
 in a tone of triumph. ' Wilt thou see more ? — follow, the door 
 is open ; softly, thou shalt see all ; thou knowest the place ; they 
 will be in the inner room. Come, come ! thou mayest yet pre- 
 vent it' 
 
 'Prevent what?' said the Khan abstractedly. He was be- 
 wildered ; he could hardly speak, his mouth was so parched. 
 
 ' Come and see ! come ! we may be late.' And Jaffar seized 
 his arm and dragged him across the road ; the door was ajar ; 
 they entered. 
 
 How slowly had sped the dull hours to Kasim Ali that even- 
 
396 TIPPQO SULTAUN. 
 
 ing ! he had prepared all for the reception of Ameena, and had 
 secured one of the posterns which led towards the river, by some 
 of the men of his own risala, who he knew were faithful ; they 
 awaited his coming; there was personal danger, but it was 
 nothing in comparison with her safety. There was no firing on 
 that side, for there was no attack ; but few men were there, and 
 he would not be noticed in the confusion. His heart yearned to 
 the poor invalid. Ameena his — under his roof— driven from the 
 Khan by unkindness ! he dared not think of what bliss .might be 
 hidden from them behind the veil of the future, but which could 
 not follow now. Yet he should see her, should welcome her— speak 
 to her. Oh ! it was more than he had ever dared to hope. He 
 was restless and impatient ! now he paced his small chamber,— 
 examined a hundred times the dooly which was there, arranged 
 the pillows, and smoothed the soft bedding, 
 
 Again he tried to read — ^absurd ! his ear was alive to every 
 sound. At last the door of the court opened gently j he hardly 
 breathed; something white entered — another form — and it was 
 closed carefully. Both advanced towards him; he dared not 
 show himself, lest they should retreat ; the figures swam before 
 his eyes. One lingered, but the other urged her on, and spoke 
 cheerily. Still nearer they came — nearer — the foot of one was 
 on the step ; she appeared to totter — the woman behind caught 
 her, and called his name; he darted to her, and, raising the 
 slight form she supported in his nervous grasp, bore it into the 
 inner apartment, and laid it upon his own soft cushions. 
 
 ' Ameena ! Ameena ! speak to me,' he murmured in her ear ; 
 ' mine own, now and for ever ! Ameena ! look on me. Holy 
 Alia ! how thou art changed ! ' 
 
 Her veil had fallen from her face, and her palhd features and 
 hollow eyes met his view ; they were shut, and she dared not open 
 them ; but his voice was music in her ears, and she sought by no 
 word or gesture to restrain his speech. 
 
 ' Holy Alia ! how thou art changed ! — so sunken, so pale ! but 
 never heed, thou art safe now, — safe for ever. Now thou wilt 
 know no pain or care, for I am to thee even as the tree of the 
 forest to the creeper. Art thou well, fairest? strong enough 
 to proceed ? if not, rest here ; thou wilt not be missed. I will 
 tend thee — ^love thee : my whole soul is in thine, fairest ! Oh, 
 thou knowest not, Ameena, how I love thee, and have loved thee 
 for years ! Alia bless thee ! thou art mine own confiding one, 
 and I pray Alia bless thee for having trusted me ! ' 
 
 ' Dost thou hear that, Khan ? ' whispered Jaflfar ; for they had 
 stolen into the apartment. ' Dost thou see?' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 397 
 
 The Khan panted hard and quick— so quick that his breath 
 hardly came at times : it was marvellous they heard him not. 
 His hand grasped his sword ; he looked through a chink in the 
 door with eyes that glared like a tiger's and were starting from 
 their sockets. 
 
 ' Dost thou believe now? ' said Jaffar again, in a low devilish 
 whisper. ' Ha 1 was I true ? Look ! he takes her hand — he 
 fondles her ! canst thou bear that ? art thou a man ? The woman 
 is present too — ^Toba ! toba * ! ' 
 
 * This is no time for dalliance,' said Meeran. * Arise, Beebee ! 
 the dooly is ready. Come, we lose time ; thou wilt follow, Pat6l 
 Sahib?' 
 
 'I will. Arise, beloved!' and he raised her to her feet. 
 » Behold I attend ^ee ; yet ere thou goest, one look, I implore 
 thee— one kiss — ^the first — the last, perhaps, Kasim Ali will ever 
 press on thy beauteous lips ; one kind look, to say this presump- 
 tion is forgiven.' 
 
 It was granted : the gentle being, as he supported her to the 
 conveyance with his arm around her, turned on him a look so 
 full of love from those glorious eyes glistening in lustrous beauty 
 — a look of joy, of love, of gratitude, of passion, blended — that a 
 delicious thrill shot through his frame ; he clasped her to his 
 heart ; his lips were fastened to hers in a kiss which for the time 
 gave them but one breath, one being ; their souls mingled together 
 in that sweet communion. 
 
 ' Dost thou hear him. Khan ? ' whispered Jaffar, ' Ya Alia ! 
 that look of love ! and now — ' 
 
 The demon had done his work. In a frenzy, like a mad- 
 dened beast, the Khan dashed through the door, which opened 
 inwards. His sword was naked, and flashed as it was high up- 
 raised in his nervous and passionate grasp. A wild shriek burst 
 from Meeran, and she fled. 
 
 ' Devils ! ' he shouted in a voice of fury, ' Devils ! Dog of a 
 Patfl ! Rhyman Khan hath seen ye ! ' 
 
 The sword was quivering above his head, and it descended 
 blindly, to annihilate, he thought, both at a blow. Kasim Ali 
 stretched forth his arm to stay it ; he was too late : the blood of 
 Ameena, who was senseless, gushed forth over him, and her head 
 fell back upon his bosom. Kasim tried to get at his sword, 
 while he held the lifeless form on his arm ; he tore it desperately 
 down from the nail on which it hung above him, expecting 
 another blow momentarily ; it came not. His sword was tied 
 to the scabbard, and the knot of the cord would not open j all 
 * Shame I shame I 
 
398 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 was the work of an instant j he turned, ready to ward oiF another 
 blow, and beheld a sight in which horror and pity struggled with 
 revenge for mastery. 
 
 The Khan's sword was on the ground, his hands were clasped, 
 his eyes staring and fixed upon Ameena; the sight of blood had 
 calmed his fury. 
 
 ' Miserable man, what hast thou done ? ' said Kasim hurriedly. 
 
 The Khan could not reply. He rolled his blood-shoot eyes 
 upon Kasim, and waving his hand turned and fled. 
 
 ' Ha ! ha ! ha ! ' laughed a voice he knew to be Jaffar's. He 
 laid Ameena down, and looked at her with dim eyes — she seemed 
 dead. 
 
 ' I will revenge thee ! ' he cried, and darted after them. 
 
 He saw them pass the small door, close it violently ; and when 
 he had opened it, and dashed on into the open street, he saw 
 them not, but taking the way opposite to theirs, he fled down it 
 at his utmost speed. 
 
 A moment after him a woman with breathless haste entered by 
 the same door. ' O Alia ! grant,' she exclaimed, ' thou who 
 didst soften my heart, grant I may not be too late. I vow offer- 
 ings to thee, O holy saint of Sdrah ! O MuUik Rhyan ! if I be 
 in time. Something hath happened ; Jaffar and the Khan fled 
 past me. Alia, Alia ! how he looked ! ' 
 
 She hurried through the courts, traversed the little verandah, 
 and darted into the room ; her sight for an instant failed her ; 
 there was a pool of blood on the white musnud, and the lady lay 
 there — ^her white sheet and long hair dabbled in it For an 
 instant her heart was sick, but she rallied herself. ' If there is 
 only life! Meeran, Meeran, where art thou? Holy Prophet! 
 ?/■ there be only life, I vow to be her slave for ever ! Lady, dear 
 lady, dost thou hear ? Meeran, Meeran, where art thou ? ' 
 
 ' Who calls ? ' said Meeran, advancing terror-stricken from the 
 other door in the court before them. 
 
 ' It is I, Sozun ; haste hither I we may yet save her. Quick ! 
 is thy heart so cowardly ? ' 
 
 ' How camest thou here, Sozun ? ' 
 
 ' No matter, I will tell thee — so raise her up.* 
 
 'Ya Mousoof Alia! Ya Beebee Muriam! what a gash!' 
 exclaimed both, turning their heads away from the horrid sight 
 for an instant. ' But she is warm,' said Meeran. ' Apostle of 
 Alia ! there may be life. Hold her, while I run for my brother 
 — he is without.' 
 
 He came quickly ; for a long time they doubted if she would 
 revive, and her first breath was hailed with a burst of joy. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 399 
 
 ' I know a secure place,' said Sozun ; ' she is not safe here. 
 She vsrill be discovered by the Khan, and he will kill her.' 
 
 ' Art thou to be trusted, Sozun ? ' said Meeran ; ' it was thou 
 who didst cause this murder, and I mistrust thee.' 
 
 ' Alia who sees my heart knows how true it is,' said the woman, 
 'and how bitter is my repentance. Ye may leave this poor 
 flower if ye will ; but never while^ Sozun hath life will she depart 
 from her, come weal, come woe.' And as she said it she looked 
 up fervently ; and when Meeran saw that her eyes glistened with 
 tears which fell over on her cheeks — that her features were quiver- 
 ing, and her lips moved in silent prayer, then she believed her, 
 and yielded to the necessity of the moment. 
 
 Zoolficar, with their assistance, bound up the wound, which 
 had cut deeply into the shoulder and neck, and had bled much, 
 and they now laid the lady in the dooly. Only that she sighed 
 now and then, she would have been thought to-be dead; but 
 there was life, and while life was in the nostrils there was hope. 
 The bearers, who had been ready without from the first, were 
 now called; and preceded by Sozun, they went on till they 
 stopped at an obscure house behind the principal bazaar, in an 
 unfrequented part of the Fort. The lady still lived, when they 
 lifted her out of the dooly and laid here upon as soft and easy a 
 bed as the house afforded. 
 
 Kasim Ali passed a wild and restless night — in comparison of 
 which, that upon the battle-field, when the jackal and hyena had 
 howled around him, was remembered with pleasure. He searched 
 every corner of the Fort, every ravelin, every bastipn, the most 
 miserable purlieus of the bazaar, which rung with wild shouts of 
 revelry, of drunkenness and debauchery. He went into the 
 thickest and hottest of the fire, where shot and shells and the 
 deadly grape whistled around him. He examined every group of 
 men, but saw neither the Khan nor Jaffar. Twice he returned to 
 his house — once ere he had been long absent, dreading to behold 
 again that beauteous form lying in its blood and disfigured by 
 the gaping wound. It was not there — that misery, he thought, 
 was spared him by the kind Meeran and her brother. ' They 
 have taken it away to bury,' he thought ; but where he knew not 
 
 the morning would reveal. Her blood lay there, clotted upon 
 
 the white muslin, a horrible evidence of the crime that had been 
 committed. He sought not to remove it ; but it reminded him 
 of the state of his own garments, which were saturated. He 
 changed them, and again sallied out 
 
4O0 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 He returned towards morning, and wrote a few lines to the 
 only other friend he possessed, a Moolah of the mosque in the 
 Fort, to whom he had willed that his little property should be 
 given, in case of his death and the Khan's, in trust for his 
 mother ; they were a few lines only, to tell of his fate ; and for 
 the second time he went forth, to seek death in the hot battle. 
 
 He found it not, however, all that night ; and sick at heart, as 
 the morning broke over the beleaguered city, he entered the 
 court of the mosque, from the tall minarets of which the Muezzin 
 was proclaiming the morning prayer. ' It will^calm me,' he said, 
 ' to join in it' 
 
 As he entered he met his friend the Moolah. He could not 
 resist the impulse, his spirit was oppressed, and he again re- 
 quested the Moolah's kind administration of his property in case 
 of his death, and the remission of its proceeds to his mother. 
 Such requests were not uncommon at that period, and death was 
 too busy in the Fort for every man not to prepare for his own 
 end. The Sultaun arrived soon after from his early circuit of the 
 walls, attended by his chief officers, and the morning prayer 
 commenced. 
 
 It was finished, and men arose and were preparing to depart. 
 'Stay ! ' cried the Sultaun, 'we would speak to all.' And as he 
 cast his eye around, ' Ye all here love me,' he said, in so melan- 
 choly a tone that most were touched by it ' Ye, Kummur-ud- 
 deen, Sjrud Sahib, Syud Ghuffoor, Bakir Sahib, and thou Kasim 
 Ali, who once saved me, ye are all here. Alas ! there are but 
 few remaining like you. How many have been faithless, who 
 have eaten rhy salt for years! Listen — our glory is gone — the 
 light of the earth, the star of Islam is quenched. No more 
 triumphs to the Faith — ^all is dark before us. Hear ye what we 
 have come to ; we asked for peace at the hands of the infidels — 
 we asked the cause of this unjustifiable attack — ^why we were 
 insulted and bearded in our very capital; but no answer is 
 returned The insatiate thirst of power and conquest is apparent 
 in the reply of the kafir Cornwallis. Listen.' 
 
 There was perfect silence : every man felt that the Sultaun's 
 spirit was broken, and melancholy was upon every face, as he un- 
 folded a letter, and, mounting a step of the pulpit, began to read. 
 It was short, and there were few ceremonious expressions: to 
 resign half his territories, to pay the cost of the war, and to sur- 
 render his sons as hostages, were the humiliating terms proposed; 
 and as they heard it, a burst of indignation arose from the 
 assembly, which rung through the lofty arches and fretted roof of 
 the mosque. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 401 
 
 ' I thank you, friends and brothers,' he said ; ' ye feel 
 for me — I bless ye, that ye have hearts for the unfortunate. 
 But will you bear this? Will ye, whose victorious arms have 
 ere now vanquished the kafirs, will ye submit to these in- 
 sults ? ' 
 
 ' If all in this fort were as true as we are,' cried Syud Ghuffoor, 
 ' there would be no fear ; but, alas ! the faint-hearted tremble for 
 their lives, as every English shot strikes the wall, and there are 
 thousands such.' 
 
 ' Alia be merciful to me ! ' said the Sultaun, bowing his head ; 
 ' are they so faithless ? What say ye, sirs ? ' 
 
 Many replied, but only a few could answer for the men, and 
 then many wept passionately. The grief of those strong warriors 
 was moving to look on. 
 
 ' And are we to die here — to die like dogs, like wild beasts in 
 a cage?' broke out the Sultaun frantically, and throwing his 
 turban on the ground j ' to have our children torn from us, our 
 wives defiled before our eyes ? to be plundered of our kingdom 
 — ^tom from our throne — humbled in the dust ? Are we to bear 
 this from kafirs, from hogs too ? Holy Alia, and Mahomed the 
 Apostle, are we to suffer this indignity ? are we to be so beaten 
 down? Sirs, have ye no hearts? Where is your vaunted 
 bravery ? Ye have eaten my salt, ye have grown rich where ye 
 were poor — have ye no gratitude ? have ye no faith ? ' 
 
 ' We have ! we have ! ' cried one and all of that assembly. 
 'We will die at your feet; our lives are in your hand.' 
 
 ' The infidels are before ye — ^they for whose presence ye have 
 often longed, to prove your prowess. Will ye swear before Alia, 
 and here in his house, to be faithful to me his servant, to your 
 Sultaun?' 
 
 Then arose the oaths of all, in hoarse tones, as they waved 
 their arms on high, and swore to be faithful till death. 
 
 ' 'Tis well ! ' he said, ' else ye had been kafirs, fit only to herd 
 with the vile. I bless ye, O my friends. Alia, who sees my 
 aching heart, knows that I believe you true — true to the last — 
 true in prosperity, true now in adversity ; while I — I have often 
 deceived ye, often been capricious. Will ye forgive me ? I am 
 no Sultaun now, but a poor worm before Alia, meaner than your- 
 selves. Will ye forgive me ? ' 
 
 Then the passionate gestures and exclamations of devotion to 
 him by the enthusiasts knew no bounds; and their wild and 
 frantic cries and expressions of service unto death — to the 
 shedding of their hearts' blood — broke forth without control. 
 Those without, and the soldiery, caught up the wild excitement, 
 
 2 c 
 
402 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 thronged into the mosque, and filled the steps and the court, 
 uttering violent exclamations. 
 
 ' Blessed be Alia ! your old fire is still within you,' cried 
 Tippoo ; ' an^ were I but rid of Cornwallis, that host yonder 
 would disperse like smoke before the sun: we might pursue them 
 to annihilation. Will no one rid me of him ? Will no one lead 
 a sortie from the fort, and dashing at his tent, ere he be sus- 
 pected, bear him or his head hither ? I vow a reward, such as it 
 hath not entered into any one's thoughts to conceive, to him who 
 doeth this : and those who fall ye well know are martyrs, and 
 when they taste of death are translated into paradise, to the 
 seventy virgins and undying youth.' 
 
 Unknown to each other, and from opposite sides, two men 
 dashed forward eagerly to claim that service of danger. The one 
 was Kasim Ali, the other a man from whose blood-shot eyes and 
 haggard features — upon which anguish and despair were fear- 
 fully written — ^all shrank back as he passed them : it was Rhyman 
 Khaa 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 ' Kasim I Kasim Ali 1 thou art not fit for this service ; thou art 
 weak — thy cheek is pale. Go, youth ! ' cried the Sultaun, ' there 
 are a hundred others ready.' 
 
 ' Not so, Light of Islam ! ' replied the young man. ' I was the 
 first — it is my destiny — I claim the service ; if it be written that 
 I am to fall this day, the shot would reach me even in thy palace. 
 I am not weak, but strong as ever I was; behold my arm.' And 
 he bared it to the elbow ; the muscles stood out in bold projec- 
 tions as he clenched his hand. ' Behold I am strong — I am full 
 of power, therefore let it be so ; Inshalla ! your slave will be 
 fortunate ; there is no fear.' 
 
 * It is my right,' cried Rhyman Khan. The hollow tone of his 
 voice as it fell on the Sultaun's ear caused even him to start. ' I 
 was before him, bid me go instead ; he is young and should be 
 spared j the old soldier is ripe for death.' 
 
 ' Prophet of Alia ! what ails thee ? ' said the Sultaun to him. 
 ^ Why dost thou stare so, and roll thine eyes, Rhyman Khan? 
 art thou ill?' 
 
 'I am wdl,' he answered, 'quite well. Ha! ha! quite well; 
 ibut as I am thy slave, and have eaten thy salt for years, could I 
 
TlPfOO SULTAVN, 493 
 
 hear thy words unmoved ? By AUft, no ! therefore let me go, it 
 is my right, for I am his elder.' 
 
 ' Go, both of ye,' continued Tippoo ; ' you have been friends, 
 nay mor^, father and son ; take whom ye will with ye. Go^r- 
 may Alia shield ye both from danger ! Go-^if ye fall, your 
 places will be iadeed vacant, but your jaemories will dwell in the 
 hearts of those who love brave deeds, and ye will die as martyrs 
 in the cause pf the faith 5 and tiiis is a death that all covet ; but 
 we will pray for your success. Inshalla ! victory awaits you, and 
 honour and my gratitude wheo ye return. Go-! ye have my 
 prayers, and those of «very true believer who will behold ye.' 
 
 Both saluted him profoundly, and then turning, their eyes met. 
 ' Come ! ' said the K-han, ' we delay.' There was a burst of 
 admiration from the assembly — a shout which rose and spread 
 abroad to those without. ' Who will follow Rhyman Khan ? ' he 
 cried aloud % * whoever will, let him meet me at the southern 
 gate in half-an-hoiur ; ' and so saying, he hurried rapidly in the 
 direction of his home. 
 
 All was confusion there, for the lady Ameena, wiUi Sozun and 
 Meeran, were missing ; he ordered his best horse to be prepared 
 for action, and. without speatog, he passed into the apartments 
 oi Ameena ajod fastened the doer. 
 
 They were as she had left them-^-nothing had been disturbed ; 
 her larks were singing chgerilyj her looree, which knew him well, 
 fluttered its bright wings, and screaming tried to fly to him ; her 
 gazelle ran up with a merry frisk, and rubbed its nose against his 
 hand, and butted gently with its forehead, gazing at him with its 
 large soft eyes. Her flowers were fresh and bright, and their 
 odour was sweet in the cool morning air. His eye wandered 
 around : every well-remembered object was there ', but she whose 
 joyojis smile and sweet tones had made a heaven of the place, 
 where was she ? dead and cold he thought, dis%ured in deaith 
 by his own hand. He cast himself frantically on the bed, which 
 remained jn disorder even as she had left it, and groaned aloud. 
 
 How long he lay there he knew not : he had no thought ot 
 present time, only of the past, the blissful past, which floated 
 before his meaOl vision, a bitter mockery. Some one knocked ; 
 it recalled him tP his senses.. 
 
 ' They. wait,' said Paood, 'the Patfl and a hundred others : he 
 has sent for thee.' 
 
 ' I come,' cried the Khan, ' I come: it was well he remembered 
 me ; he seeks death as I dp/ he added mentally. 
 
 ' The lady Kummoo would speak to thee,' said a slave, as he 
 passed out^ 
 
404 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' Tell her I go to death ! ' he replied sternly; ' tell her I follow 
 Ameena — away ! ' The girl stared at him as though the words 
 had stunned her, gazed after him as he passed on, saw him spring 
 quickly into his saddle, and dashir^ his heels into his noble 
 diarger, bound onwards at a desperate speed. 
 
 ' 'Tis well thou art come, Khan,' said Kasim Ali, ' we have 
 waited for thee.' 
 
 'Hush! whyseekest thou death? thou art not fitted to die, 
 Kasim.' 
 
 ' More fit than thou, old man,' was his reply. ' Come, they 
 wait — ^they remark thee ; when we are before the judgment thou 
 wilt know all. Come ! ' 
 
 The Khan laughed scornfully, for he remembered the kiss. 
 ' Come, my friends,' he cried ; ' follow Rhyman Khan for the 
 faith and for Islam : Bismilla ! open the gate.' 
 
 ' For the faith ! for Islam ! ' cried the devoted band as the 
 heavy door opened, and emerging from the shadow of the gate 
 and wall, the sunlight glanced upon their naked weapons, gay 
 apparel, and excited horses, and they dashed in a fearful race 
 toward the camp. 
 
 ' Show us the tent of the great commander ! ' cried Kasim to 
 a sentinel who stared at them as they passed, evidently taking 
 them to be a body of the Nizam's horse. 
 
 ' Yonder ! ' said the man, pointing to one at some distance. 
 
 ' Follow Kasim Ali ! Follow Rhyman Khan ! ' were the cries 
 of the leaders, both urging their horses to full speed in reckless 
 emulation. They had been observed, however : a staff-officer 
 had watched them from the first, and suspected their intention ; 
 now he could not be mistaken ; he flew to a picquet of native 
 soldiers, and drew them up across the very path of the rapidly- 
 advancing horsemen. Kasim marked the action, as the muskets 
 obeyed the word of command ; he saw the bright sun glance on 
 a line of levelled barrels, and heard the sharp rattle which 
 followed : his horse stumbled ; as it fell, he saw the Khan toss 
 his arms wildly into the air and reel in his seat, and the next 
 moment his affrighted charger was flying riderless through the 
 camp ! He saw no more, he felt stunned for an instant, and his 
 dead horse lay on his leg — causing exquisite pain ; he extricated 
 himself and tried to rise — his leg failed him, and he fell again to 
 the ground — it was brokeii. Again he looked around, a number 
 of men and horses lay confusedly together. Some writhing in 
 pain and crying out for mercy, while the rest of the band were 
 flying confusedly to the Fort. 
 
 The Sepoys who had fired ran up, headed by an English 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 405 
 
 officer. Kasim had lost his sword; it lay at a little distance, and 
 he could not recover it. One_ of the men, seeing that he lived, 
 raised his bayonet as he approached to kill him. He shut his 
 eyes, and repeated the Kulma. 
 
 ' Hold ! ' cried a voice, ' do not kill him — he is an officer ; 
 raise him up and disarm him.' 
 
 'Thou art a prisoner,' said the officer to Kasim; 'do not 
 resist — ^art thou wounded ? ' 
 
 ' My leg is broken,' said Kasim; ' kill me, I am not fit to live, 
 I have no desire for life.' 
 
 ' Poor fellow ! ' said the officer, ' he is in great pain. Lift him 
 up, some of ye, and take him to my tent ; he is evidently an 
 officer, by his dress, and the rich caparisons of his horse.' 
 
 'Yonder lies my leader !' said Kasim, pointing to the Khan; 
 ' raise me, and let me look upon him once more. We were friends 
 in life until yesterday — ^in death we should not have been 
 divided.' 
 
 They were touched by his words, and obeyed him. The Khan 
 lay on his face, quite dead. They turned the body: Kasim 
 looked upon the familiar features — they were already sharp and 
 livid ; there was ii small hole in the forehead, from which a few 
 drops of black blood had oozed ; his death had been instant as 
 thought Kasim heeded not the pain he suffered, he felt as 
 though his heart were bursting ; and throwing himself beside the 
 body, wept passionately. 
 
 After a while he tried to rise, and they assisted him. ' That 
 was a gallant soldier ! ' he said to the officer ; ' let him be buried 
 as one, by men of my faith.' 
 
 ' I will answer for it,' said a native officer, stepping forward ; 
 ' thou shalt hear this evening that the rites of our faith have been 
 performed over him. If he was an enemy, yet he was a brother 
 in the faith of Islam.' 
 
 ' Enough ! I thank thee, friend,' replied Kasim. ' Now lead 
 on — I care not whether I live or die, since those I lived for are 
 gone from the earth.' 
 
 But the officer's curiosity had been excited by his words and 
 his appearance, which was eminently prepossessing. He was 
 removed gently to his tent, and a bedding laid on the ground. 
 A surgeon, a friend of the officer, was sent for, ; Kasim's leg was 
 examined ; the thigh was badly fractured above the knee, but 
 the operation was skilfully performed, and in a manner which 
 surprised Kasim. It was bound up, and he was soon in com- 
 parative ease. How little he had expected such kindness ! And 
 when he contrasted it with what would have been an Englishman's 
 
4o6 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 fate within the Fort, his heart was softened frotn the bigotry it 
 had previously entertained. 
 
 The offieer was Philip Dalton. He had long thought on the 
 possibility of saving some captive, that he might gain information 
 of the English prisoners, and he tended Kasim kindly. In a few 
 days they were better friends ; the cold reserve Of Kasim had worn 
 off before the frank manner of the Englishman, and they how 
 conversed freely of the war, of their own vicissitudes and adven- 
 tures, and of the present chances of success. Kasim soon per- 
 ceived that all hope for the Sultaun was at an end, from the 
 vigour of the attack and the efficiency of the army, and he knew 
 that within the Fort existed dread and discontent. After a while 
 Philip asked him of the prisoners' — ^at first warilyj and only hint- 
 ing at their existence. But Kasim was faithfiil to his Sultaun, 
 though he could have told him of the fearful murders which had 
 been openly mentioned among the army, to avenge which they 
 supposed the English thirsted. Yet he did not reveal them, even 
 though he knew from Philip's own lips that the English had been 
 informed of them by the hundreds who had deserted on the 
 night of the first attack. Often Philip would ask him whether 
 he had ever known any of the prisoners ; whether he had_ ever 
 spoken with them when on guard over them, or perchance 
 escorting them from station to station : for he knew that the 
 captives were frequently removed, lest they should attack those 
 who attended them. 
 
 And when Kasim related to him his interference in behalf of 
 an English prisoner at Bangalore, and his attempt to protect him 
 in the Sultaun's Durbar, risking his life for him ere yet he was 
 himself in service, Philip's cheek glowed) and his heart throbbed, 
 in a silent conviction that it was Herbert himself. 
 
 ' Was he tall, and brown-haired ? and had he very large blue 
 eyes ? ' he asked anxiously. 
 
 Kasim recollected himself: it was a long time ago, and his 
 memory appeared to have been impaired by the late events ; he 
 had only seen him in times of great excitement. But after a long 
 reflection, he thought it was the same ; however, the prisoner's 
 features had made little impression upon him. 
 
 ' Poor youth ! ' added Kasim, ' I saw him no more.' 
 
 ' How ! what became of him ? ' 
 
 ' He was doomed to die. While I was held back by men — 
 for I was excited — I saw him dragged away. I heard the Sul- 
 taun give the fatal mandate to Jaffar, — a man whose heart is 
 blacker than that of Satan.' 
 
 ' He of whom thou hast told me so much of late ? ' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 407 
 
 ' Ay, the same. I heard mention made of the fatal rock, and 
 the young Englishman was dragged forth, spat upon and insulted. 
 Yet even then he spoke to me, and said that my action would be 
 remembered in the judgment. Alas ! I had no power to rescue 
 him, and he must have died.' 
 
 ' Gallant fellow ! ' cried Philip, ' the pain of that thought I can 
 save thee ; he died not there.' 
 
 ' How dost thou know? what was he to thee, Sahib?' 
 
 ' He was dear as a brother to me — ^he was my friend. I 
 married his sister, after years of absence from my native land. 
 When we took Balapoor, I went to the rock thou knowest of— 
 it was in curiosity only. His name was written there, and that 
 renewed the hope which had never been dead within our hearts : 
 for one of the miserable victims had written that he had been 
 taken away ill; and by a chance, sent by Providence, we 
 traced him to a worthy Fakeer's Tukea, — ^thou mayest remember 
 it?' 
 
 • I do ; a cool shady place, where the wearied wayfarer is ever 
 welcomed.' 
 
 •The kind old man tended him, administered medicine to 
 him. He recovered, and we heard that he was taken away by 
 that same Jaifar whom thou hast mentioned — whither, he could 
 not tell.' 
 
 ' Alas I then I fear there is no hope of his life. Jaffar is a 
 devil, yet in such a matter he dare not act without the Sultaun's 
 order. I remember,' he added after a pause, ' a conversation 
 between them about an Englishman — it was before the siege ; 
 there was no one else present. Tippoo spoke of one who was 
 skilled in fortification, in tljfe arts of war and of gunnery, fat above 
 the French adventurers ih his service, who after all are but pre- 
 tenders to science. Could this be thy brother? 
 
 • It is ! it is!' cried Philip, catching at the idea in desperation; 
 ' it must be, he was eminently skilled in all. Your last words 
 determine the idea that it was he. By your sOUl, tell me if you 
 know aught of him.' 
 
 ' Alas ! no,' said the young man. ' Yet they concealed nothing : 
 Jaffar said it was useless ; that he had sent trusty messengers to 
 him to the fort, through the jungles, at the peril of their lives, 
 with offers of mercy, pardon, wealth, if he would take service in 
 the army. He had spurned all; and then the Sultaun grew 
 furious, and swore he might die there.' 
 
 ' Did he mention the fort, the place where it was, in what 
 direction ? ' asked Philip eagerly. 
 
 ' No, and I know not, Sahib ; it is not in this district. If he 
 
4o8 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 be still alive, he is in one of those lonely posts away to the west 
 — in Coorg, or on the frontiers of Malabar, a little spot on the 
 top of some lonely peak, piercing the sky, which is ever wrapped 
 in clouds and mists, with its base surrounded by jungles, to tra- 
 verse which days and weeks are required — ^garrisoned by.the rude 
 and barbarous infidels of the mountains, whose speech and ap- 
 pearance are hardly human. It is a horrible fate to think on. 
 Sahib,' he said, shuddering ; ' better that he should have died 
 long ago. But, after all, it may not be your friend. 
 
 ' Perhaps not,' said Philip, sighing ; ' and yet I have hope ; 
 and when the Fort is stormed, and yon proud Sultaun brought to 
 the reckoning he deserves, it will be hard if we gain not news of 
 him we seek.' 
 
 ' May Alia grant it. Sahib ! Thou hast bound me to thee by 
 the kindness thou hast shown a stranger and an enemy, and I 
 will rejoice, even as thou dost, that thy friend and brother 
 should be saved. But, alas ! I have little hope. Yef when I 
 recover, and this war is over, if I live I will search for thee and 
 rescue him.' 
 
 ' God bless thee ! ' cried Philip ; ' I,believe thee. Thou hast 
 now known that we are not the miscreants which the bigots of 
 the faith would represent us to be ; and if thou canst bring me 
 even news of his death, it will be a melancholy satisfaction, and 
 will still the restless hopes which have so long gnawed at our 
 hearts and excited us, only to be cast down into utter despair.' 
 
 Days passed of constant success on the part of the English : their 
 cannon played night and day upon the breaches, till they were 
 almost practicable. Those in the Fort looked on in sullen 
 despair, and abandoned themselves to a blind reliance on their 
 destiny. It was in vain that Tippoo made the most passionate 
 appeals to them to sally out and cut the English army to pieces ; 
 it was in vain he read to them the humiliating demands of the 
 allies ; in vain he raved, as he saw the groves of his favourite and 
 beautiful gardens levelled with the earth, and transported to con- 
 struct fascines and gabions for new parallels aiid trenches. The 
 sorties were weak, and driven back with loss, and with the re- 
 membrance of the fatal issue of that led by Rhyman Khan and 
 Kasim Ali, no one dared to hazard a similar attempt, though 
 rewards beyond thought were offered by the frantic monarch. 
 The murmurs within gradually increased, as the breaches widened 
 daily, and men looked to the issue of the storm in fearful dread. 
 Women shrieked in the streets, and men were everywhere seen 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 409 
 
 offering vain sacrifices of sheep and fowls to the senseless idols 
 of the temple, that the firing might cease. 
 
 At length it did ; the Sultaun in despair yielding to terms of 
 which he could not then estimate the leniency. The firing 
 ceased, and though the maddened English could hardly be 
 restrained from rushing into the Fort and searching its most 
 secret apartments and hiding-places for their unhappy coimtry- 
 men, they were kept back, and the negotiations proceeded. 
 
 The event is already matter of history, and we are not his- 
 torians. Although even his children had gone from him as 
 hostages into the British camp, in a paroxysm of passion the 
 Sultaun desperately refused the cession of Coorg to its rightful 
 owner, whom he had dispossessed — one of the terms of the treaty, 
 but which he well knew, if yielded, would open a road into the 
 heart of his dominions at any time. The stem resolution of the 
 English commander — the presence of his victorious army, the 
 threats of which were openly stated to him by his officers — the 
 general discontent and dread which pervaded all, in spite of his 
 appeals to their pride,' their bigotry, and their courage — the repair 
 of the breach while the English cannon ceased — all conspired 
 to check their spirit. He sullenly yielded to a destiny he could 
 not avert, and accepting the conditions, he delivered up those 
 captives who were known to be in the Fort and province. 
 
 With what agonising apprehension did Philip Dalton and 
 Charles Hayward fly from body to body of these men — some 
 grown aged and careworn from misery and long confinement, while 
 others, having been forcibly converted to the faith of Islam, now 
 openly abjured its tenets, and flung away their turbans and other 
 emblems of their degraded condition. Alas ! Herbert Compton 
 was not among them, nor could any one tell of his fate, though 
 his name was remembered vividly; and it was known among 
 them from Bolton, who was dead, that he had not perished at the 
 rock of Hyder. 
 
 Now therefore, for the Sultaun again and again protested that 
 he had given up all, and that Herbert had died soon after his 
 escape from the rock, Philip and young Hayward abandoned all 
 hope. True, for a while they thought that one of the strongholds 
 of Coorg niight contain their poor friend; but there too they 
 were disappointed ; and there was no longer a straw floating upon 
 the waters of expectation at which they could catch in despera- 
 tion ; and hope, which had been for years buoyant, sank within 
 them for ever. 
 
 The news of the victory reached England ; the nation rejoiced 
 at the triumph, that their bitterest enemy in the East had been 
 
4io TTPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 humbled and despoiled of his fkir provinces, and that the political 
 horizon of their already increasing possessions was once more 
 clear. But there were two families among the many who 
 mourned for those who had met a soldier's death, which, though 
 the bereavement was not a present one, yet felt it as acutely as if 
 it had been recent ; nay more so, since their hopes had been so 
 long excited They knew not that Amy had ever thought there 
 was hope of Herbert's life j but long ere letters came, when it 
 was known that the army was in Mysore, they saw her look for 
 every succeeding dispatch with more and more impatience, and a 
 feverish anxiety she could not conceal. And when the end 
 came, they knew, from her agonised burst of bitter grief, that she 
 too had lingered in hope even as they had. 
 
 But Amy's Was a strong mind, and one which her affliction, 
 though deep and heavy to bear, had never driven into repining. 
 She looked with earnest hope to the future J and in reliance on 
 the Divine power and wisdom, which she had early practised, 
 and which never failed her in her need, she drew from that pure 
 source consolation, which those who loved her most dearly could 
 not impart ; she had lived on a life of meek and cheerful piety, 
 almost adored by the neighbourhood, and in sweet intercourse 
 with those around her, whose constant care for her was amply 
 repaid by her devoted affection. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVL 
 
 The Sultaun was not humbled by the issue of the campaign, 
 though for a time his resources were straitened. On the con- 
 trary, he burned with revenge for the indignity, which he had 
 suffered, superadded to the fierce hate for the English which he 
 had ever retained, and which rose now to a degree of ferocity 
 he could hardly restrain. The demand of three millions and a 
 half sterling made for the expenses of the war — for which, and 
 the relinquishment of the territory he had agreed to resign, his 
 children were held as hostages — he met partly by a payment 
 from his own treasury, partly by a demand upon his army and 
 his civil officers, and the residue was directed to be raised in the 
 provinces, where means were employed for the purpose at which 
 humanity shudders. Mild as had been his civil administration 
 previously, and flourishing as was the cultivation of his whole 
 country under the admirable administration of Pumeah, his 
 
TtPPOO SULTAUN. 4" 
 
 finance minister— often in marked contrast to the desolation 
 of the English provinces, where the rule of Englishmen was 
 not understood, nor their information as yet equal to the 
 complexity of revenue affairs — there now ensued a remarkable 
 contrast As the oppression and forced contribution proceeded 
 with horrible rigour, thousands fled into the English possessions, 
 where they were received and protected j and this, while it did 
 not check the infatuated persecution of many of his people, in 
 whose welfare lay his own safety, added fresh cause for his hatred 
 of those from whose protecting sway he could not withdraw them. 
 
 Meanwhile his restless mind embraced every subject which 
 came, or which he fancied could come, within his grasp; 
 astrology and magic, with all their absurd and debasing rites, 
 were studied with greater avidity and attention than ever under 
 the guidance of Some who had pretensions to those sciences, 
 both Brahmins and Mahomedans. From them he drew the 
 most magnificent auguries of his future brilliant destiny; the 
 past, he said, was but a cloud which, as he had ascertained from 
 the stars, had hung over him from his birth; it was now dis- 
 sipated, melted into thin air before the bright beailis of the rising 
 sun of his destiny. Physic, tOo, absorbed his attention ; to per- 
 fection in which he made vast pretensions by aid of a ther- 
 mometer, the true use Of which he declared he had discovered 
 by a revelation from the angel Gabriel, with whom he seemed to 
 have established ' in his dreams a perfect confidence. It is only 
 necessary, he would say, for a sick man to hold the bulb in his ■ 
 hand, and then, as the mercury rose or fell, so was the disease 
 hot or cold ; and according to its scale of progression, so should 
 the remedies, differing in potency, be appliedi Often he would, 
 in his caprice, remark upon the altered look of any one present 
 in his court ; and in spite of their protestations of perfect health, 
 apply the test, and administer a remedy upon the spot, which it 
 would have been death almost to refuse. 
 
 The news of the revolutionary movement of 1789-90 in France, 
 also, for which he had been gradually prepared by the adventurers 
 in his service, infected him with a restless desire of imitation, 
 which ran into the most ludicrous and often mischievous 
 channels. As the French names of years and months were 
 altered, so were his. A new era was instituted ; and this being 
 in direct opposition to the precepts of the Koran, which direct 
 an implicit observance of them, he had recourse to his dreams 
 and visions once more, by which it was for the while established, 
 
 In all departments of finance, of the army, of agriculture, of 
 justice, there were perpetual alterations, sometimes undoubtedly 
 
4" TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 with good effect, at others the most puerile and absurd. Words 
 of command, invented from the Persian language, were given 
 to his army, and new orders for their regulation and discipline 
 constantly promulgated. He contemplated a fleet to extermin- 
 ate the English one ; which, having before defeated the French, 
 had prevented them from sending such succour to his aid as he had 
 expected. One hundred ships of immense force was to be the 
 complement ; of these, forty were directed to be commenced at 
 Tellicherry, Mangalore, and his other ports on the western coast ; 
 and officers were appointed to them, commanders and admirals, 
 who had never even seen the sea, had no conception what a 
 ship was, save from the descriptions of others. Some of these 
 men were sent to superintend their completion, others retained 
 at court for instruction in the science of navigation and naval 
 warfare; in which, as in his mihtary pretensions, his dreams, 
 visions, and assumed revelations, alone assisted him. 
 
 He was merchant and money-lender by turns ; and huge ware- 
 houses, which still exist in the Fort of Seringapatam, long open 
 rooms in the palace, capable of containing vast quantities of 
 merchandise, were filled with every description of goods, which 
 in time he forgot entirely, and so they remained till his death. 
 By his system of banking, and of regulating, as he imagined, in 
 his own person the exchanges of his dominions, he put a stop to 
 the operations of the bankers of his capital, by whose assistance 
 alone he was able to administer his affairs ; nor would they 
 resume their business until he agreed to abandon this one of the 
 thousand schemes which were on foot for fame and aggrandise- 
 ment. 
 
 New and perplexing laws were for ever being coined in the 
 fertile mint of his own brain ; new interpretations of the Koran, 
 which he pretended to receive by inspiration, when in reality he 
 understood not a word of its language, and very indifferently 
 Persian, in which the commentaries upon it were written. The 
 penal enactments against the lower classes of his Hindoo sub- 
 jects were horrible ; the meanest offences, the wearing of any 
 scrap of green, the sacred colour of Mahomed, about their per- 
 sons, or the transgression of any one of his arbitrary rules, was 
 punished with death, or obscene mutilations, to which death 
 would have been far preferable. These were often done in his 
 own presence; and with Jaffar Sahib, Madar (who had once 
 been his servant, but who had risen in rank), and many others, 
 he was at no loss for instruments to carry them into execution. 
 He would call himself the Tiger of the Faith — the beloved friend 
 of Mahomed ; and while he arrogated to himself the last title, 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 413 
 
 the impiety of which shocked the religious among his officers, he 
 acted up to the first not only in words, but in deeds, such as we 
 have alluded to cursorily, by dressing his infantry in cotton 
 jackets printed in tiger's stripes, — by sitting on the effigy of one 
 for a throne, and by having two large ones chained in the court- 
 yard of his palace, who were often made the executioners of his 
 terrible will. 
 
 Many are the tales, too, even now very current in the country, 
 of the ludicrous effects of his inspirations regarding particular 
 people, whom, for some fancied lucky termination or commence- 
 ment of their name, or some meaning he chose to attach to it, a 
 fortunate horoscope, or even from lucky personal marks, he 
 would select from the meanest ranks, to fill offices for which 
 they were alike unfitted by education, talents, or acquirements, 
 and who, when their incapacity was detected, were mercilessly 
 disgraced. It has been said of him by an eminent historian,* 
 whose account orthe period is a vivid romance from first to last, 
 that ' his were the pranks of a monkey, with the abominations of 
 a monster ' ; and indeed it is impossible to give an idea of his 
 character in juster terms. 
 
 Kasim Ali was again with him, and, rewarded, for his exer- 
 tions on the day we have mentioned, had risen to a high rank 
 among his officers. Unable to walk when the army broke up 
 from before Seringapatam, Philip Dalton had persuaded him to 
 travel by the easy stages at which the army proceeded, as well 
 for the change which his weakened condition required, as for the 
 continued attendance of the English surgeon under whose care 
 he was placed. To this he had agreed, for in truth the repre- 
 sentations of the noble-hearted Englishman had set many matters 
 before him in a new light, and he now looked upon acts of the 
 Sultaun with abhorrence which he had before considered as jus- 
 tifiable, nay, meritorious, when exercised upon infidels, whether 
 Hindoos or English ; and having accompanied PhUip to Banga- 
 lore, he parted from him there with regret, and with a strong 
 sense of his kind and generous behaviour, promising that should 
 he ever discover any clue to the fate of poor Herbert, he would 
 write ; for the nations being now on good terms, the communi- 
 cations were open, and he could do so with safety. 
 
 For a long while, however, he was unfit to move ; he made a 
 report of his escape to the Sultaun, and receiving in return an 
 honorary dress for his gallant behaviour, he was assured that his 
 rank remained to him — nay, was increased ; and having solicited 
 leave of absence, he returned to his village to regain, in its quiet 
 
 • Wilks. 
 
414 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 seclusion, the strength and peace of mind he had lost. Of 
 Ameena he never thought but as one dead ; for though he had 
 written to his friend the Moola to endeavour to trace her fate, 
 and to discover where she had been buried, in order that he 
 might have the melancholy satisfaction of erecting a tomb over 
 her remains, yet she could not be traced, nor her attendants, who 
 were supposed to have escaped to the Nizam's army in the con- 
 fusion which ensued after the siege, and her body to have been 
 buried in some obscure place during the night on which she had 
 been cut down. The Moola wrote word that the matter was not 
 known, except perhaps to a few of the Khan's servants, who had 
 not divulged it. 
 
 Kasim found, too, that he had been declared heir to most of 
 the Khan's wealth, which was large ; there was a handsome pro- 
 vision made for his two wives, besides their dower upon marriage, 
 and it was said their families were satisfied with the will, which, 
 regularly drawn up, had been depositfld long before his death 
 with responsible executors. In it a large sum was assigned to 
 Ameena ; but as she did not appear, it was kept in trust for her 
 should it ever be claimed. Hoormut, the elder wife, had gone 
 to her relations, at some distance from the city ; and it was said 
 that Kummoo, whose beauty was much spoken of, had been 
 transferred to the Sultaun's zenana, the laxity of the morality of 
 which would, Kasim thought, exactly suit her. 
 
 Kasim was thus raised to a handsome independence of station, 
 and he spared no pains to make his mother's declining years as 
 happy as was possible. A new and handsome abode was erected 
 for her ; his village walls were rebuilt, and strengthened against 
 perhaps troublous times to come. A new mosque was built; 
 and a neat serai, near the soldiers' tomb, marked the spot in 
 which he had rescued Ameena. This was his favourite resort, 
 where of an evening, spreading a carpet beneath the trees, be 
 would remain, in conversation with those he loved and respected, 
 the elders of his village, both Hindoo and Mahomedan, or else 
 in silent and sad thought on the past,— on the happiness which 
 had been so rudely dashed from his lips. His health continued 
 very indifferent, and from time to time his leave of absence was 
 renewed ; however, at length he could delay no longer, and he 
 once more resumed his attendance at the court of the Sultaum. 
 
 It was not, however, with the same feelings of indifference that 
 he now regarded the monstrous acts of the Sultaun ; his mind 
 had been purged from the dross of bigotry by his residence in 
 the English caisp, where, besides Philip Dalton's society, there 
 were many others who, either put of curiosity or to while away a 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 415 
 
 tedious hour of ennui, would come to the pallet-side of the 
 Jemadar, and listen to his conversation ; relating in turn tales of 
 their o\m green land, which to Kasim's senses appeared a para- 
 dise. Jafifar Sahib was an offence in his sight ; and his increased 
 favour with the Sultaun, his constant attendance on his person 
 and at the Durbar, his now fearful reputation, and the memory 
 of the past (for Kasim felt sure he was connected with that fatal 
 night and Ameena's death), as well as the fate of the young 
 Englishmen,— all caused a total revulsion of feeling towards the 
 monarch, and he felt his situation becoming daily more distaste- 
 ful to him, in spite of the splendid prospects wWch were un- 
 doubtedly in the distajice. Kasim, too, was a good Mussulman ; 
 he was regular in his prayers, and hated innovations; and the 
 endless capricious changes, the blasphemous condu<:t pf the 
 Sultaun, and his pretensions to supernatural power— -his devotion 
 to unholy and magical riteP, which were openly mentioned, 
 and, above aU, his acts of cruelty and tyranny-^determined him, 
 and some others of his own charact^, to atwdoQ a service in 
 which their high notions of justice, decency, and piety were daily 
 outraged. ■ 
 
 By the partitjou treaty, also, the territory jn which were 
 situated the villages of Kasim Ali had been transferred to the 
 Nizam, and be at last found it injpogsible to serv*? two masters. 
 As long as he remained at home, the ai^horitjes dreaded him, 
 and were quiet ; but after a time a system of annoyance com- 
 menced, of which he had such frequent accounts, that he was 
 soon left no resource between selling his patrimony and deaving 
 for ever to the ruler of Mysore, or abandoning hi? service and 
 retiring into seclusion. Had the Sultaun's conduct not shocked 
 him by its levity and brutality, he might have sold his villages, 
 and withdrawn his family into Mysore ; but he shrank from that, 
 and, having converted his property into bills on Hyderabad, 
 Adoni, or other towns which were readily negotiable in the 
 district he belonged to, he prepared himself for a journey, and 
 formally tendered his resigpatiop to the Sultaun in open Durbar. 
 
 There were many of his friends who had advised him to ask 
 for leave, and write his intention of not returning from his own 
 home J but he thoit^ht . this a cowardly manner of proceeding, 
 and determined that his memory should not be reproached with 
 cowardice, and that it should remain as it stoo^i. high among 
 those who were honoured in the army. At an evening Durbar, 
 therefore, when all were present, and many eyes fixed on him 
 (for his resolution was known), he arose, stepped forward, and 
 having made the tusleemat, said to the Sultaun, — 
 
4i6 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' Your slave would make a petition, if he is permitted ? ' 
 
 ' Surely,' said the Sultaun ; ' what did Kasim Ali ever say that 
 was not welcome ? ' 
 
 ' My lord,' he began, ' it is hard for one who hath received 
 benefits at thy hands, and who in a bright prospect before him — 
 the glorious career of the lion of the faith — seeth no end but 
 advancement, to shut it out from his sight, and to deny himself 
 the pleasure of seeing day by day the light of Islam — the Lion 
 of the Faith. O Sultaun ! be merciful to thy servant, and for- 
 give the request he makes, that he may retire from thy service 
 into the obscurity and quiet he has long coveted. It is well 
 known to all this assembly, that thy slave is one to whom the 
 stirring events of life have no charm — the intrigues, the factions, 
 the wavering politics of a court, no attraction. If I have hitherto 
 preserved my place here, it has been by kindness and forbear- 
 ance, not by merit. Another far more fitted than I am will 
 succeed me, and I shall be content in the administration of my 
 property, which, distant as it is, requires my constant attention 
 and care.' 
 
 Tippoo stared at him, and Kasim felt uncomfortable; he could 
 not remember that any one had ever made such a request before, 
 and he could not foresee the result. Yet the Sultaun had been 
 in good humour all the day* and he hoped for the best. 
 
 ' What do I hear, Kasim Ali — that thou wouldst leave my 
 service ? ' 
 
 ' Even so, Huzrut ! When thou wast in peril of thy life, mine 
 was risked freely, though others hung back. I, and he that is 
 gone — may his memory live in honour ! — led those into the 
 English camp who might have ended the war, had Alia so willed 
 it. In adversity I stood by thee, and I have not quitted thee 
 since, for these six years. Thou art now prosperous : the French 
 are thy friends ; thou art courted by the nations of Hind ; thou 
 art at peace with the English — long may this continue — thou art 
 prosperous everywhere ; and now when all is fair and bright 
 around thee, I would in the season of joy take my leave, grateful ■ 
 for a thousand benefactions from the liberal hand of him who 
 has not ceased to uphold me since I was a youth.' 
 
 ' Thou art joking, Kasim Ali,' said Tippoo ; ' and. yet thou 
 hast a serious face. By your soul, say this is not meant 1 ' 
 
 ' It is in very truth, O Prince ! I have long meditated it., I 
 waited only till my lord's mind was happy and free from care to 
 announce it, for I would not have my memory Hnked with pain- 
 ful recollections, but with pleasant thoughts.' 
 The Sultaun's brow darkened. ' Thou art considerate, young 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 417 
 
 man ! ' he said bitterly. ' When I was happy and meiiy in my 
 heart, thou must needs mar all by this news. By Alia ! I would 
 rather thou hadst told it when the storm within me was at the 
 highest ; but no matter ; thou hast served us well and faithfully 
 — we shall long remember it; nor would we detain any one 
 against his will. We have (blessed be the Prophet !) hundreds 
 in our valiant army to fill vacant places. Therefore go — thou 
 hast thy leave. Yet thou shalt not have it to say I was churlish 
 in this; thou art dismissed with honour. Bring hither two 
 shawls, a turban, and an ornament for the head — also a noble 
 horse from my stables, and a sword and shield from the private 
 armoury,', he cried to an attendant. ' Ye shall see, sirs,' how 
 Tippoo estimates greatness, and how he rewards it' 
 
 Kasim was much moved : he had expected a stormy scene, an 
 absolute refusal ; he had prepared himself for it, and for flight if 
 necessary; now he could have cried hke a child; all the Sultaun's 
 caprice, cruelty, and impiety were forgotten. There sate before 
 him the benefactor and the steady friend of years. He continued 
 gazing on him, and often he felt the tears rush to his eyes, as 
 -though they would have had vent. The attendant entered 
 with a tray; upon it were a pair of magnificent shawls of 
 Cashmere, a superb mundeel, and a jewel of great value for the 
 forehead. The Sultaun examined them with the air of a mer- 
 chant. ' They are a handsome pair, and worthy of him,' he said; 
 ' and this too is rich, and the diamonds of . good water. 
 Approach, Kasim Ali ! ' 
 
 He obeyed : the Sultaun arose, cast over his shoulders the 
 rich shawls, took the turban and jewel from the tray, and pre- 
 sented him with them. ' Embrace me,' he said, — 'I love thee : 
 I shall ever remember thee gratefully, Kasim Ali ; and thou wilt 
 not forget the poor servant of Alia, Tippoo Sultaun : should his 
 enemies revile him, there will be one whose tongue will speak his 
 praise. Shouldst thou ever feel disposed to return, thy place is 
 open to thee ; or if as a guest,, thou art ever welcome. Go — may 
 Alia keep thee ! ' 
 
 ' Never will I forget thee, O benefactor ! ' cried Kasim, com- 
 pletely overcome ; ' never will I allow a word to be said against 
 thee ; and in my home — ^in the wide world — wherever I go, men 
 shall know of the generosity of the lion of Mysore. I go — my 
 prayers are for thee and thy prosperity night and day.' 
 
 Kasim made low obeisances as he passed out of the audience- 
 hall; he cast a last look round the well-known place; what 
 scenes he had witnessed there, of joy and misery, frantic en- 
 thusiasm and fierce bigotry, torture, and even death ! Dreams, 
 
 3 D 
 
4i8 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 visions, lewd and vile torrents of abuse against the English; 
 poems, letters of war, of intrigue, of policy, of every conceivable 
 kind. Enough ! they were gone for ever,- and he was glad that 
 the feverish existence was at an end ; henceforth before him was 
 the peaceful and quiet existence he had so long coveted. 
 
 The horse, richly caparisoned, stood at the palace-gate, and 
 men bearing the sword and shield. Kasim bounded into the 
 saddle, and before the admiring spectators, many of them his 
 kind friends, caused him to curvet and bound to show how per- 
 fectly the animal was trained ; and then saluting them he rode 
 on. Next morning he was on his way beyond the Fort 
 
 That night Jaffar was alone with the Sultaun ; they had con- 
 versed long on various matters. At last Jaffar exclaimed, ' May 
 I be your sacrifice ! it was wrong to let Kasim Ali go.' 
 
 'Why?' saidTippoo. 
 
 ' He knows too much,' was the reply. 
 
 ' But he is faithful, Jaffar? ' 
 
 The fellow laughed. ' He is a good friend to the English.' 
 
 'To the English?' 
 
 • Ay ! remember how often he has spoken in their favour, how 
 often he has bearded others who reviled them. May I be your 
 sacrifice ! he is unfaithful, or why should he leave thee ? ' 
 
 The Sultaun was struck by the remark. ' If I thought so,' he 
 said quickly. 
 
 ' V\^y should he for months have been collecting his money ? ' 
 continued Jaffar; 'every rupee he could collect has gone to 
 Hyderabad, bills, hoondees, gold, all except what he has with 
 him ; he has ground the uttermost couree from those who owed 
 him anything.' 
 
 ' Is this true ? ' 
 
 'Ay, by your head! shall I bring the Sahoukars who gave 
 them?' 
 
 'Ya Alia!' cried the Sultaun, 'what a serpent have I been 
 nourishing ! Thou saidst to Hyderabad ? ' 
 
 ■Ay, he will go to Sikundur Jah, and fill his ears with tales of 
 thee for the English, and give them a plan of this fort. Was he 
 not always with the engineers ? ' 
 
 ' Enough, good fellow,' said the Sultaun sternly ; ' he must not 
 reach the city — dost thou understand ? ' 
 
 ' I will not lose a moment ; the men will have to travel fast, 
 but they can overtake him.' 
 
 ' Will they dare attack him ? methinks there are few who 
 would attempt that, even among thy devils.' 
 
 ' There are some of them who would attack hell itself and its 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 419 
 
 king Satan,' said the man with a grin, 'when they have had 
 bhang enough; trast me, it shall be done. He escaped me 
 once,' said Jafifar, as he went out ; ' he will be hicky if he does so 
 again ; we shall be even at last.' 
 
 Kasim Ali rode on gaily ; with him were a number of men 
 who had previously obtained leave of absence, and had stayed for 
 the advantage of his society and safe conduct, for he was re- 
 spected by all. They were proceeding, some on horseback, 
 others on ponies, to various parts, of the north of Mysore ; some 
 to his own district, some to Hyderabad. The road was light 
 under their horses' feet, and coss after coss passed almost without 
 their knowledge, as they conversed freely and merrily together. 
 At the point where the 'river Madoor crosses the road to Banga- 
 lore there is a good deal of thick jungle, but they heeded not the 
 pass, though it was noted fbr robbers ; they were too formidable 
 a party to be attacked. As they proceeded carelessly, a shot 
 whistled from among some bushes to the left— it went harmless ; 
 another, and Kasim felt a sting in his left arm, and he saw a man 
 fall. 
 
 ' Upon them ! ' he cried, drawing his sword ; ' upon the sons 
 of defiled mothers ! ' and he dashed into the jungle, followed by 
 the best mounted ; ten or twelve men were flpng at their utmost 
 speed — but they had a poor chance before those determined 
 horsemen. Kasim cut at two as he passed- them ; they were not 
 killed but badly wounded ; three others were despatched. 
 
 ' I know that rascal's face,' said one of his companions, as the 
 prisoners were brought up ; 'it is one of Jaffar's devils.' 
 
 'Ay, and this is another,' said Kasim; 'he was in the Durbar 
 yesterday morning.' 
 
 ' Tell us why thou hast done this ? ' he said ; ' why didst thou 
 attack me ? what have I ever done to harm thee? ' 
 
 'Nothing,' said one sullenly; 'it was. the Sultaun's order.' 
 
 'Thou hest ! ' cried Kasim, striking him. 
 
 ' Do not beat me,' he repUed ; ' but behold, here is the order 
 to give us horses to overtake thee, shouldst thou have gone on. 
 We knew not that thou hadst tarried in the city last night ; we 
 arose and came on to the last village ; they told us there thou 
 hadst not passed, and we waited for thee. Behold ! this is the 
 Sultaun's seal' 
 
 It was truly so — his private seal: Kasim well knew it; he 
 shuddered as he looked on it 'Why should there have been 
 such black treachery?' 
 
420 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' Go ! ' said he to the man, recollecting himself, ' thou are but 
 the instrument of others ; go — may Alia give thee a better heart ! 
 Tell thy master I recognise his work ; and bid him say to the 
 Sultaun, or say it thyself— the love that was between us is broken 
 for ever. Go ! ' 
 
 ' Let us press on, my friends,' said Kasim, ' not by the road, 
 but by bye-paths. Though I know not what vengeance I have 
 provoked, ye see I am not safe.' 
 
 They did so, and it was well that they travelled fast, for the 
 baffled tiger raved at the loss of his prey, and many men pursued 
 Kasim and his companions, but in vain. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 The mommg of the twenty-sixth of April 1798 was a scene of 
 universal excitement in the fort of Seringapatam. As the day 
 advanced, crowds of men collected in the great square before the 
 palace \ soldiers in their gayest costumes, horsemen, and capari- 
 soned elephants, which always waited upon the Sultaun and his 
 officers. The roofs of the houses around, those of the palace 
 particularly, the old temples, and the flat terraces of its courts 
 and dhurrumsalas, even the trees were crowded with human 
 beings, on the gay colours of whose dresses a brighter sun had 
 never shone. There arose from the mighty mass of garrulous 
 beings a vast hubbub of sounds, increased by the Sultaun's loud 
 kettle-drums, the martial music of the band of a French regiment, 
 the shrill blasts of the coUery horns, neighings of horses and 
 trumpetings of elephants, as they were urged hither and thither. 
 
 No one in this soberly-dressed land can have an idea of the 
 gorgeous appearance of these spectacles ; for an eastern crowd, 
 from the endless variety of its bright colours, and the picturesque- 
 ness and grace of its costumes, — its gaily caparisoned horses, 
 elephants, and camels, — is of all others ~ in the world the most 
 beautiful and impressive. 
 
 In the centre of the square was an open space, kept by French 
 soldiers ; in the middle of this stood a small tree, which had 
 been uprooted and planted there; but already its leaves had 
 faded and drooped. It was covered with gay ribbons of all 
 colours and of gold and silver tissue, which fluttered in the fresh 
 breeze and glittered in the sun : this was surmounted by a spear, 
 
TIPPOO SULTaUN. 421 
 
 on which was the red cap of liberty, the fearful emblem of the 
 French revolution. 
 
 Around it were many French officers, some dressed fantasti- 
 cally and crowned with wreaths of green leaves, others in brilliant 
 uniforms, their plumes and feathers waving. Many of them 
 spoke with excited gestures from time to time, and swore round 
 oaths at the Sultaun's delay ; for the sun had climbed high into 
 the heaven, and no shade was there to save them from its now 
 scorching beams. 
 
 The amicable issue of the embassy to Paris, sent by Tippoo in 
 1788, had been exaggerated by the envoys to enhance their con- 
 sequence ; and the French officers in his service had by every 
 possible means in their power kept this feeling alive. When the 
 revolution broke out, the roar of which faintly reached the Sul- 
 taun of Mysore, it was represented to him by those of the French 
 nation who were there, in such terms of extravagant eulogium, 
 while its bloody cruelties were concealed, or, if mentioned, de- 
 clared to be acts of retributive justice, that the Sultaun's mind, 
 itself a restless chaos of crude ideas of perpetual changes and 
 progression, eagerly caught at the frenzied notions of liberty 
 which the Frenchmen preached. At the same time it is almost 
 impossible to conceive how an Asiatic monarch born to despotism 
 could have endured such an anomaly as his position presents — 
 one who with the most petty jealousy and suspicion resisted any 
 restriction of, or interference with, his absolute will and direction 
 of all affairs, even to the most minute and unimportant of his 
 government, whether civil or military. 
 
 From time to time, allured by the certainty of good pay in his 
 army, many needy adventurers came to him from the Isle of 
 France, who were entertained at once, and assumed, if they did 
 not possess it, a knowledge of military affairs. These kept up a 
 constant correspondence with their parent country ; and willing 
 to humour the Sultaun, while indulging their own spleen, they 
 poured into his ready ear the most virulent abuse of the English, 
 and constant false statements of their losses by sea and land ; 
 while the accounts of French superiority and French victory were 
 related in tones of exaggerated triumph. 
 
 Ripaud, an adventurer with more pretension and address than 
 others, having arived at Mangalore, and discerning the bent of 
 the court from Tippoo's authorities there, represented himself to 
 be an envoy from the French republic, and was invited at once 
 to the capital. It may well be supposed that he did not under- 
 rate his own assumed influence, nor the immense advantages of 
 an embassy in return i and one was sent by Tippoo, which, 
 
422 ' TIJPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 meeting with various adventures by the way, returned at last, not 
 with the mighty force he had been led to expect, but with a few 
 needy officers, the chief of whom was Chapuis, men who deter- 
 mined to raise for themselves at his court a power equal to that 
 of Perron at the court of Sindia, and of Raymond at that of the 
 Nizam. 
 
 This was a feverish period for India, when those two mighty 
 nations, England and France, were striving for supremacy. True, 
 the power of the English was immeasurably more -concentrated 
 and effective, and their resolute and steady valour more highly 
 appreciated than the brilliant but eccentric character of the 
 French. Still, however, the latter power had increased extraor- 
 dinarily since the last war with Tippoo ; and 45,000 men at 
 Sindia's court, over whom Perron held absolute sway, and 14,000 
 under Raymond at Hyderabad, were pledged by their leaders to 
 aggrandize the power of their nation, and to disseminate the 
 principles of the revolution. 
 
 Chapuis had laboured hard to effect his object j a man of 
 talent and quick-witted, he had at once assumed a mental supe- 
 riority over the Sultaun, which he maintained. He had flattered, 
 cajoled, and threatened by turns ; he had written to the French 
 Government in his behalf — ^he had promised unlimited suppUes 
 of men and ammunition — ^he had bewildered the Sultaun's mind 
 with the sophistries of the revolution, with vague notions of 
 liberty, equality, and the happiness which was to follow upon the 
 earth from the adoption of these principles by all ranks — he had 
 told him of the rapid rise of Buonaparte, of his magnificent vic- 
 tories, and inflamed him with visions of conquest even more 
 vast than those of the French general 
 
 The French expedition to Egypt became known, their successes 
 and their subjugation of the country. That seemed but the 
 stepping-stone to greater achievements. Alexander with a few 
 Greeks had penetrated into India and had subdued all in his 
 path. Buonaparte, with his victorious armies, far outnumbering 
 the Greeks, was at a point from whence he could make an imme- 
 diate descent upon Bombay; then would Perron lead Sindia 
 into his alliance — Raymond, the Nizam. The Mahrattas, a 
 wavering power, would side with the strongest Zeman Shah 
 and his hardy Afghans had already promised co-operation, so 
 had the Rajpoots, and the men of Delhi and those of Nipal ; 
 last of all Tippoo himself, who had single-handed already met and 
 defeated the English in the field. All were to join in one crusade 
 against the infidel, the detested EngUsh, and expel them for ever 
 from India. It is no wonder that the wild and restless ambition 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 423 
 
 of the Sultaun was excited, his intrigues more and more frequent, 
 and, as success seemingly lay within his grasp, that he himself 
 was more open and unguarded. 
 
 ' Join but our society,' Chapuis would say to him, * you league 
 yourself with us, — ^you identify yourself with the French republic, 
 — its interests become yours, — your welfare its most anxious care. 
 You become the friend, the- brother of Buonaparte, and at once 
 attach him to you by a bond which no vicissitudes can dissever.' 
 
 And he yielded, though with dread, for he knew not the mean- 
 ing of the wild ceremony they proposed, of destroying the symbols 
 of royalty, and reducing himself to a level with the meanest of 
 his subjects ; it was a thing abhorrent to his nature, one which 
 he dared not disclose even to his intimates, but to which he 
 yielded, drawn on by the blindest ambition that ever urged a 
 human being to destruction. 
 
 The Frenchmen had long waited; at length there arose a 
 shout, and the kettle-drums and loud nagaras from the palace 
 proclaimed that the Sultaun was advancing. He approached 
 slowly, dressed in the plainest clothes ; no jewel was in his 
 turban, only his rosary around his neck, a string of pearls without 
 a price, for each bead had been exchanged for another when one 
 more valuable could be purchased. A lane was formed through 
 the crowd, and his slaves, headed by Jaffar, his confidential 
 officer, preceded him, forcing the people back by rude blows of 
 their sheathed sabres, and shouting his titles in extravagant 
 terms. 
 
 All hailed the spectacle as one to exult in, though they could 
 not understand it ; but to the Sultaun it was one of bitter humilia- 
 tion, his feelings at which he could hardly repress. He passed 
 on, the crowd making reverence to him as he moved ; he did 
 not return their salutation, his eyes were downcast, and he bit 
 his lips almost till the blood came. Before him was the place 
 where he was going to a moral death— to abjure his power over 
 men —to allow himself to be on equality with the meanest, to 
 hold authority over them, not of inherent right, but by their 
 sufferance. Had any one known his intention, and spoken one 
 word to him in remonstrance, he would have turned ; but the 
 men were before him to whom he had sworn obedience, and he 
 proceeded. Chapuis advanced, he saw his agitation, and in a 
 few hurried words implored him to be firm, reminding him of 
 the issue at stake, and this rallied him. 
 
 He led him to the tree ; there was an altar beneath, as if for 
 sacrifice ; a small fire burned on it, and its thin blue smoke rose 
 among the branches, and melted away into air j a perfume was 
 
424 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 thrown from time to time into the flame, which spread itself abroad 
 as the smoke was dissipated. 
 
 Chapuis and some others officiated as priests of the mysteries, 
 and they knelt before the altar, while one made a passionate in- 
 vocation to Uberty, which another tried in vain to explain to the 
 Sultaun. It was finished : they arose, and Chapuis advanced 
 toward him. ' Hast thou the emblems ? ' he said. 
 
 The Sultaun took them from an attendant, the feather of gold 
 tinsel he always wore in his turban, and an ornament of trifling 
 value for the head. 
 
 ' These are all,' he said ; ' be quick.' 
 
 ' They will be nothing without your Highness's own turban,' 
 replied Chapuis ; ' placed in that, your people will understand the 
 ceremony ; otherwise it is vain. Your Highness remembers your 
 promise and mine. I have performed mine ; see that thou, O 
 Sultaun, dost not fail ! ' 
 
 The others echoed his words, and urged the Sultaun to 
 obey. 
 
 Hesitating and almost trembling, he did so. 
 
 ' They will not understand,' he said to himself, ' they cannot 
 comprehend this mummery ; they cannot hear what the French- 
 men say, much less understand their broken language.' 
 
 He took the turban from his brows, and gave it into Chapuis' 
 hand. The officer placed in it the tinsel feather, and threw it 
 contemptuously into the fire. An attendant raised and unfurled 
 a scarlet chuttree, or umbrella, over the monarch's head : that too 
 was remarked. 
 
 ' It must follow,' said Chapuis to him ; ' that is a regal emblem, 
 — ^there must be none left of the abomination.' He caught it 
 from the attendant and flung it on the fire. 
 
 There arose a deep murmur of indignation from the multitude 
 to see their monarch's turban taken from his head and burned ; 
 to see his chuttree forcibly taken and destroyed was more than 
 they could bear without an expression of excitement, and cries of 
 indignation rent the air. 
 
 ' To hell with the Feringhees ! — cut them down ! — what im- 
 piety is this ? What insult to the Sultaun ? ' And many drew 
 their swords and raised them on high to strike. The Frenchmen 
 were in imminent peril, but they were firm. 
 
 It was a grand and striking scene — ^that excited crowd — those 
 fierce gestures — ^gleaming weapons — and those hoarse shouts and 
 threats. In the centre, the group on which all eyes were fixed, 
 the bare-headed Sultaun, and those few needy adventurers,, 
 reckless and unprincipled, who had gained a mastery over one 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 4^5 
 
 whose smallest gesture would have caused their instant annihila- 
 tion. 
 
 ' Peace ! ' he cried, raising his arm ; ' if is our will — it is de- 
 creed.' The multitude was hushed, but many a muttered threat 
 was spoken, many a prayer for the dira omen to be averted, many 
 an expression of pity for the position of one whom all feared and 
 many even venerated. 
 
 And truly, to see that degradation done to one who knew riot 
 its meaning, who, bareheaded before his people, and under a 
 fierce sun, stood and looked on at the destruction of the emblems 
 of his power — might have caused pity for his condition ; but it 
 did not in those who stood around him ; the act sealed their own 
 power — they had no thought of pity. 
 
 As the last fragments burned to ashes in the blaze of the fire, 
 Chapiiis lowered the spear on which was the cap, and presented 
 it to the monarch. ' Wear it ! ' he said, ' consecrated as it is in 
 the smoke of those emblems which are destroyed for ever j wear 
 it — an earnest of the victories thou wilt gain.' 
 
 The Sultaun put it on. Chapuis seized a tri-coloured flag 
 which an ofiicer bore near him, and waved it above his head. It 
 was the signal agreed on; the artillerymen were at their posts on the 
 ramparts, and the roar of two thousand and three hundred cannon 
 proclaimed that Tippoo, the Light of the Faith, the Lion of Islam, 
 the Sultaun of Mysore, was now citizen Tippoo of the French 
 Republic, one and indivisible. 
 
 Then followed the coarse salutations of the French soldiery, 
 who, excited by liquor and by the event, rushed around the Sul- 
 taun, and seized his hand, shaking it in rude familiarity ; his cup 
 of humiliation was full, and he returned to his palace in bitter 
 mortification and anger. There were many of his officers who, 
 deeply touched by the mockery of the exhibition, remonstrated 
 with him, and advised him to revoke the act by a solemn scene 
 in the mosque, attended by all his army and the high religious 
 functionaries. But it was impossible to arouse him to the act — 
 to shake ofif the domination to which he had subjected himself; 
 and while it was whispered abroad that the Sultaun had become 
 a Feringhee, those who wished well to his cause saw that he had 
 with his own hands struck a vital blow at its interests. 
 
 It was happy for the British cause in India that a nobleman 
 was appointed to the responsible station of Governor-General, 
 who, from the moment he undertook the office, and during his 
 passage out to India, bent his whole mind to the complete inves- 
 tigation of the politics of the country he came to govern. He 
 was happy in having those with him who could afford him an 
 
426 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 insight into the designs and wishes of the native princes, and 
 there is no doubt that Lord Mornington resolved to act upon 
 many suggestions he received even before he arrived. To the 
 intrigues of the Sultaun his notice had been particularly attracted, 
 and the designs of the French were too obvious to be unnoticed 
 for a moment. By a chain of events, which are points of history, 
 the Sultaun's intrigues with the French Government of the 
 Mauritius became known ; the proclamations Of its governor were 
 received at Calcutta, and though doubted at first, fironi the con- 
 tinued expressions of friendship made by the Sultaun, yet their 
 authenticity was established beyond a doubt by subsequent in- 
 quiries. 
 
 After the scene in the fort which we have mentioned, Tippoo 
 abandoned himself to the councils of his French officers. He 
 was admitted by them, as a proof of brotherhood, to a participa- 
 tion in the secrets of the correspondence held between Chapuis, 
 Raymond, and Perron. Buonaparte was successful in Egypt, 
 and it was debated only when the time should be fixed for 
 the army of Tippoo to be set in motion and to overwhelm 
 Madras.' The army itself was full of confidence, and great 
 attention had been paid to its discipline by the French; all 
 branches were more perfectly efficient than they had ever been. 
 The Sultaun had now no apprehension about the fort, for he had 
 been surrounding it with another wall and ditch, and the gates 
 had been strengthened by outworks. There never was a time 
 when all his prospects were so bright, when the political con- 
 dition of India suggested movement — ^when all the native princes, 
 by one exertion on his part, might be incited to make common 
 cause against the English, and when, by the proposed expedition 
 against Manilla, the British forces would be much reduced, both 
 at Madras and in Bengal. It was at this hazardous moment that 
 the genius of Lord Mornington, guided by the sound views of 
 the political agents at the various courts, decided upon the line 
 of action to be pursued. The French interest in India was to be 
 annihilated at all hazards ; therefore, after a preparatory- treaty 
 with the Nizam, an English force, by rapid marches, arrived at 
 Hyderabad, and joining the subsidiary force there, surrounded the 
 French camp, which was found to be in a state of previous 
 mutiny against its officers. The whole submitted ; and a blow, 
 moral as well as physical, was struck against the French influ- 
 ence, from which it never recovered. 
 
 The effect of this news at Seringaptam may be imagined ; and 
 when it was followed up by that of the glorious victory of Nelson 
 at the mouth of the Nile, the Sultaun's spirit fell. It was in 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 427 
 
 vain that he wrote apparently sincere letters to the Governor- 
 General, and at the same moment dispatched camel-loads of 
 treasure to Sindia to urge him to move southwards; the one 
 estimated the true worth of the correspondence, and the wily 
 Mahratta, though he took the money, yet stirred not a foot ; he 
 had too much at stake to be led into a quarrel of which he could 
 not see any probable termination. Tippoo's ambassadors iat the 
 courts of Sindia and Holkar, of the Peshwa, of the Rajah of 
 Berar, a.11 wrote word that these potentates would join the cause ; 
 but their letters were cold and Wary, and the Sultaun discovered 
 too late that he must abide the brunt of the blow himself. 
 
 His dread of the Enghsh was vented daily in his Durbar, in 
 compositions the most abominable that his fertile brain could 
 invent Besides his pretended supernatural revelations, letters 
 were read, purporting to be from Delhi, from Calcutta, from 
 Lucknow, describing the atrocious conduct of the Enghsh, the 
 forced conversion of Mahommedans to Christianity, the violation 
 of females of rank by the soldiery, the plunder and sack of towns 
 given up to rapine ; and after reading them, Tippoo would give 
 vent to frantic prayers that judgment might come upon them. 
 In this, however, as in many other instances, he overreached the 
 mark he aimed at. A few of the flatterers around him, at every 
 succeeding story, swore to spread it abroad; and while they 
 applauded, pretended to feel excitement ; but they ridiculed them 
 in secret, and they were soon listened to, except by the most 
 bigoted, with contempt. 
 
 Thus passed the whole of 1798, a year of anxious suspense to 
 the British in India, when their power rested in a balance which 
 a hair might have turned. During this period the mind of 
 Tippoo presents a humiliating spectacle ; now raving for conquest, 
 now sunk in despair and dread at the slow but certain prepara- 
 tions of the Enghsh — at times prosecuting, with all the bigotry 
 and savageness of his nature, conversions of the Hindoos in 
 various parts of his dominions, and at others bowing down in 
 slavish obedience to the dictates of the Brahmins, and offering 
 up in the temples of the fort sacrifices in secret for the dis- 
 comfiture of his enemies ; while in the retired apartments of the 
 palace magical rites were held — abominable orgies, at which he 
 himself assisted, to relate which as we have heard them told, 
 would be to defile our pages with obscenities too gross to be 
 repeated. 
 
 In the midst of this mental darkness there would break out 
 gleams of kindly feeling towards his sons, his officers, oftentimes 
 to a sick servant ; and upon the lady Fureeda he lavished such 
 
428 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 love as his heart, cold by nature, possessed, and whom his secret 
 sufferings, absolute prostration of intellect at times when fresh 
 disastrous news reached him, would inspire with a compasion she 
 would fain have expressed in words, in those consoUngs which to 
 a fond and wounded spirit are acceptable and bearable only from 
 a woman. 
 
 There was another on whom his memory rested, and whom he 
 besought, now by threats, now by immense rewards, to join his 
 cause — it was Herbert Compton. His existence was known 
 only to Jaffar and the Sultaun ; the latter had, during the lapse of 
 years and while the repairs of his fort proceeded, offered him 
 rank, power, women, aU that his imagination could suggest to 
 dazzle a young man, but in vain] he had threatened him with 
 death, but this was equally vain. Herbert had looked on death 
 too long to fear it ; and despite of the dimate, the weary life he 
 led had grown almost insupportable, and he saw no relief from 
 it ; death would have been welcome to him, but he was suffered 
 to live on. Even the visits of Jaffar were events which, however 
 trying .to him at the time, and exciting to one so secluded, were 
 yet looked back upon with pleasure from the very thought they 
 created. Sometimes the Sultaun would relent towards him, and 
 seem on the point of releasing him and others ; but the shame of 
 the act, the indignant remonstrance that he dreaded from the 
 British, and the advice of Jaffar himself, deterred him. Thus 
 the poor fellow lingered on almost without hope or fear, and im 
 the end, amidst other more stirring and anxious matters, his 
 existence was almost forgotten. 
 
 How often too would Tippoo's thoughts revert to Kasim Ali, 
 his conduct to whom, in spite of the treachery denounced by 
 Jaffar, would sometimes rise up in judgment against his con- 
 science. To do him justice, however, it should be mentioned 
 that, when the emissaries of Jaffar returned foiled and with 
 Kasim's message, he did make inquiries in the bazaars relative to 
 the money which Jaffar had told him Kasim Ali had remitted to 
 Hyderabad; and he found all his statements so completely 
 established, that they confirmed in his mind at the time the con- 
 viction that Kasim had been false to him, and that his falsehood 
 had been long meditated, and at last successfully executed. 
 But this wore off at length ; and for one so esteemed, nay loved, 
 there remained a painful impression that injustice had been done ; 
 to say the truth, when all around him were suspected, the 
 flatterers and courtiers from their habitual subserviency, and his 
 elder and more trusted officers from their blunt advice and open 
 condemnation of many of his schemes and proceedings, he often 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 429 
 
 longed for the presence of the young Patdl, who would in his 
 own person have united the qualities he most needed — sincere 
 affection, joined to a mild demeanour and an honest heart. 
 
 Early in 1799 it was impossible to disguise from himself that 
 the time had come when he should either make resistance 
 against the English invasion — for his attack upon Madras had 
 long been abandoned as impracticable even by the French — or 
 he should march forth at the head of his army and oppose them. 
 He determined on the latter course; and leaving his trusty 
 commanders, Syud Sahib and Poornea, in charge of the Fort, he 
 marched, on a day when his astrologers and his own calculations 
 of lucky and unlucky days promised an uninterrupted career of 
 prosperity and victory, to meet the Bombay army, which was 
 approacMng through Coorg, at the head of fifty thousand men, 
 the flower of his troops. Once in the field, his ancient vigour 
 and courage revived ; his army was in the highest efficiency ; the 
 Bombay force he knew could not be a fifth of his own ; and by 
 selecting his own ground, which he should be enabled to do, he 
 might practise the same manoeuvre as he had done at Peram- 
 baukum with Baillie, and, by drawing them into an ambuscade, 
 destroy them. His low estimation, however, of the English, was 
 fated to be corrected ; and though at Sedaseer, where he met the 
 Bombay army, he led in person several desperate charges upon 
 the British, and though under his eye his troops fought well, and 
 were driven back with loss, only to advance again and again in a 
 series of desperate onsets for five hours, yet he was defeated. 
 Losing all presence of mind and confidence in his army, although 
 there was every chance of success had he persevered in his 
 attacks on Lieut-General Stuart's corps, he retreated from the 
 scene of action upon the capital, to draw from thence fresh troops 
 with which he might oppose the march of the grand army from 
 the East. 
 
 And now began that gloomy thought for the future, that utter 
 despair of his life which continued to the last, chequered only 
 by fits of the wildest excitement, by blind reliance at times upon 
 vain rites and ceremonies, and forced hilarity, which, the effect 
 of despair, was even more fearful to behold. The great drama 
 of his fate was rapidly drawing to a close — a gorgeous spectacle, 
 with mighty men and armies for actors, and the people of India 
 for spectators. 
 
430 TJFPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIIL 
 
 The morning of the twenty-seventh of March broke with un- 
 clouded splendour; the army of the Sultaun were expecting 
 their enemies with impatience, and the result was looked to with 
 coniidence. Tippoo had been urged by Chapuis to take up a 
 position upon the Madoor, in the same pass as that where Kasim 
 AH had been attacked ; but the Frenchmen had lost very ton- 
 siderably the influence they possessed since the news of their 
 defeat in Egypt, and the discomfiture of Raymond at Hyderabad^ 
 and he determined to pursue the bent of his own inclination, 
 both as to the ground he should select and the disposition of his 
 troops. Since daylight he had been on horseback, indefatigable 
 in marshalling his army. The ground he had selected was com- 
 manding, and covered the road. Malvilly, he knew, was the 
 destination of the English on that day ; and as it was one marked 
 by a particularly auspicious conjunction of the planets, he deter- 
 mined on tr5dng the result of a general action. When a few 
 attempted to dissuade him that morning from opposing the 
 English, lest by a defeat he should dispirit his troops and unfit 
 them for the siege which all felt sure must follow, he flew into a 
 violent passion. 
 
 ' Are we cowards,' he said, ' that we should retire before the 
 kafirs and cowardly English? No! let them come on — the base- 
 born rascals ! let them come on and taste of death ! if our 
 father — may his name be ever honoured ! — could overwhelm the 
 English in the field, should we not follow so exalted an example? 
 No, by the Prophet ! we will not retire ; the day is fortunate— 
 the planets are in good conjunction. If ye are cowards, and like 
 not the English shot — go ! your absence is better than your 
 presence.' 
 
 But all swore to fight to the last drop of blood, and the Sul- 
 taun's disposition was made. Soon after sunrise all were at 
 their posts — the heavy guns in the centre, the infantry behind. 
 Two corps, one of them the favourite Kureem Cushoon, were 
 pushed forward upon the flanks, and hundreds of rocket-men 
 were interspersed with the line. It was a gallant and inspiring 
 sight to see that huge force drawn up in steady array, determined 
 upon retrieving their fame that day, and fighting for Islam and 
 for their Sultaun. 
 
 They had waited long : the Sultaun had heard from scouts 
 that the English had left their camp long before dawn, and their 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 431 
 
 coming was loeked for with eagerness. ' They will fly,' he cried, 
 ' when they see the array ; the sons of dogs and swine will not 
 dare to face the true believers.' 
 
 'Yes,' said Nedeem Khan and Nusrut Ali, favourites who 
 were always near him, ' it will be as my lord says, we shall have 
 no fighting. Will they dare to advance against these cannon, 
 and the various divisions which are drawn up in such wonderful 
 ord^r that not even a rat could get between ? ' 
 
 ' Infatuation ! ' said Meer Ghuffoor to Abdool Wahab ; ' for all 
 the boastings of those young coxcombs, thou wilt see them turn 
 and fly. I haye served the English, and know them well. 
 Ere an hour elapses after the first shot, we shall be in full 
 retreat.' 
 
 * I trust not, Meer Sahib," said the other ; ' but what is that 
 yonder?' 
 
 ' 'Tis they ! 'tis they ! ' cried the Sultaun. ' Now upon them, 
 my sons ! upon them, and let us see ye do brave deeds. Your 
 Sultaun is beholding you ! ' 
 
 It was indeed a beautiful sight to behold. The Sultaun was 
 on a high ground, and could see all. A few English red-coats 
 were first seen — then more ; the sun glanced from their bright 
 bayonets and musket - barrels as they proceeded. Gradu- 
 ally column after column came on; though they were still at 
 some distance, there was a halt perceived, and considerable 
 bustle. 
 
 ' They retreat ! they retreat ! ' cried the Sultaun, in an ecstasy 
 of joy, clapping his hands and laughing in his excitement. It 
 was changed in an instant, when, after a short disposition of tlie 
 troops, the Enghsh army advanced ; but it appeared such a mere 
 handful of men, when compared with his own force, that his 
 derision grew even louder. ' Ha ! ha ! ' he cried, ' they have left 
 half their army to keep their baggage. They hold me cheap 
 indeed to attempt to attack me with the few that are yonder ! 
 But it is well : Inshalla ! ye will see, sirs, ye will see ! What 
 troops are those on the left ? ' he asked after a while, as he ex- 
 amined them with a telescope; 'what green standard is that? 
 Dare the infidels to use the sacred colour ? ' 
 
 Just then the breeze unfurled the standard to its full width, 
 and, as all descried the white crescent and ball beneath it, a cry 
 of exultation burst from the Sultaun. 
 
 ' 'Tis the standard of Sikundur Jah ! 'Tis they-r-the effeminate 
 Dekhanees ! — men who are no better than eunuchs. Advancing 
 upon my own Cutcherie too — upon the Kureem Cushoon ! In- 
 shalla ! Inshalla ! let them come. - The renegades from the 
 
43a TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 faith, advancing against the favoured of the Prophet ! Holy 
 Mohamed confound them ! ' 
 
 The English army halted: its long columns deployed into 
 lines steadily and gracefully; it was a beautiful sight in that 
 bright sun. There was a large opening in the line, and Tippoo 
 rode forward, urging his cavalry to break through and attack the 
 general, who with his staff was beyond. ' Ah ! had I Kasim Ali 
 and my brave old Rhyman Khan now, they would shame ye ! ' 
 he cried to those who he fancied were tardy in movement ; but 
 they did their duty — they charged. 
 
 ' Steady, men ! ' cried the officer at the head of the regiment 
 nearest the point of danger — it was Philip Dalton; 'let them 
 come near.' 
 
 The cavalry thundered on — a grand picturesque mass — shout- 
 ing their cries of ' Deen ! deen ! ' and ' Alia Yar ! ' The English 
 were not to be daunted ; they were steady as rocks, and awaited 
 the word, ' Present — ^fire ! ' The effect was deadly. As the 
 smoke cleared away, the flying mass was seen in wild confusion, 
 and before the line a heap of men and horses struggling. A few 
 daring fellows had, however, dashed through the interval, and 
 fell gallantly fighting in the rear. 
 
 Meanwhile the Sultaun's infantry advanced steadily and firmly; 
 he cheered them on, putting himself at their head even within 
 shot, and then he turned to watch his favourite division. It was 
 composed of picked men : their arms, dress, discipline, were all 
 superior to the rest of the army ; they were advancing against 
 the Nizam's troops, and were confident of victory. The Sultaun 
 was in an ecstasy of delight. Little imagined he then to whom 
 he was opposed ; that one led the troops, which he expected 
 would fly like dust before the whirlwind, to whom fear was un- 
 known — ^who bore within him the germ of that renown which 
 has raised him to the proudest, the most glorious pinnacle of 
 heroic fame — ^Wellesley ! Wellington ! What heart so callous 
 that does not bound at those illustrious names, recalling with 
 them victories upon victories to his remembrance — not the result 
 of fortuitous circumstances, but of devoted bravery, of admirable 
 foresight, of consummate skill, of patience and fortitude under 
 every privation through a long series of years — the most splendid 
 array of- triumph that ever the world beheld, which, already so 
 glorious, will yet increase in after times to a renown more brilliant 
 than we can at present estimate. 
 
 ' Now ye will see them run ! — now they will fly ! Forward, 
 my brave fellows ! forward to victory ! I vow every man a 
 month's pay, and a jaghire to their commander. Look ! they 
 
TIPPOO SVLTAVN. 433 
 
 halt — not a man wavering ! it is a gallant sight. They will fire ! 
 '—then upon them with the steel. Shookr Alia ! how many have 
 fallen ! ' he exclaimed, as the division fired, and many of those 
 opposed to it fell. ' Now charge ! — charge, for the love of Alia ! 
 — why do ye wait ? ye lose time. Alia, ! Alia ! the enemy fire in 
 turn ! Merciful Prophet ! how many have tasted of death ! 
 Never heed, however — now is the time ! — while they are loading, 
 upon them ! — upon them ! Ya Kubeer ! Ya Hyder ! ' 
 
 It was fearful to look on him : his hands were clasped together, 
 his eyes strained, his features quivering with excitement and 
 anxiety. On the issue of a moment was victory or ruin. 
 
 ' Curse them ! ' he cried ; ' curse them ! they waver. Holy 
 Prophet ! why dost thou not turn them? Alia ! Alia ! why dost 
 thou not blast the infidels ? They waver ! the Feringhees are 
 upon them ! — they fly ! — now there is no hope — Prophet of Alia, 
 spare them ! ' 
 
 It was a sight which curdled his blood : his favourite corps 
 turned — they dared not abide the charge of the British and 
 Nizam's division, led by the gallant Wellesley ; and the cavalry, 
 headed by his old enemy Floyd, dashed out upon them. Hun- 
 dreds went down before that terrible charge : the Cushoon, 
 which had so lately inspired confidence, turned as one man, and 
 in an instant became a confused rabble, flying for their lives ; in 
 the midst of whom were the English cavalry, riding down the 
 fugitives, while they cut at them with their long swords. 
 
 The Sultaun gazed breathless and stupefied for a few moments : 
 no one dared to speak. At last he turned, his face wore a 
 ghastly expression of horror, at which his attendants shuddered. 
 For an instant he looked back; the cavalry thundered on — 
 other portions of his troops were giving way before them. He 
 could look no more, but dashing his heels into the flanks of 
 his charger, fled from the field. 
 
 ' Shabash ! Shabash ! well done, gallant fellow ! ' cried many 
 English officers, surrounding a richly-dressed native, apparently ■ 
 of rank, who, clad in a magnificent suit of chain-armour over a 
 cloth-of-gold vest, with a bright steel cap on his head, and upon 
 a noble chesnut horse, now rode up at full gallop, accompanied 
 by many of his risala, as martial in appearance as himself, and 
 equally well mounted. Their swords were red with blood, and 
 their faces flushed and excited with conquest. ' Well done ! 
 well done ! ye have earned the good-will of the General, and ye 
 will be rewarded.' 
 
 ' I thank you,' he said ; ' you are kind, and flatter our poor 
 services ; but can you tell me where Colonel Dalton is ? ' 
 
 2 £ 
 
434 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' He is yonder,' said an officer; ' come, I will lead you to him.' 
 
 The action was now over. Philip had borne an honourable 
 part, and was attending to his wounded men when Kasim rode 
 up to him. 
 
 'Behold!' he said, showing his sword, 'I have fulfilled my pro- 
 mise ; I am faithful to the salt I eat ; thou wilt testify to that ? ' 
 
 ' Noble fellow ! I will indeed ; thou hast distinguished thyself 
 before the army. Come, I wiU lead thee to the General, — he 
 will love to look on one so brave and devoted.' 
 
 ' They were my old companions,' said Kasim, ' but I knew 
 them not ; my heart was steeled against them ; had I wavered, I 
 was disgraced for ever. Ye suspected me, but now I am free of 
 taint.' 
 
 ' Thou art indeed, and thou wilt see how grateful an English 
 commander can be. Come ! ' 
 
 That night Kasim, Philip Dalton, and many others were in 
 the General's tent ; they had been asking him about the road. 
 He seemed to think a while. 
 
 ' Will ye take my advice ? ' he asked, ' the advice of one who 
 is not worthy to give it ? ' 
 
 ' Say on,' replied the General. 
 
 ' Abandon this road, then,' said Kasim ; ' there is a ford at 
 Sosillay, two easy marches from hence ; it is deep, but the water 
 is now low and it will be practicable. I will guide you to it, if 
 you will trust me. You will cross the river there — ^forage is 
 plentiful, the other bank is clear of troops, and ye can hurry on 
 and surprise the city.' 
 
 ' Is this true ? ' said the General. 
 
 ' By your head and eyes — by your salt, it is ! ' 
 
 ' Will any one answer for you ? it is a fearful risk.* 
 
 Kasim looked round ; his eyes met Philip's. ' Come,' he said, 
 ' if thou art for a ride, come this night and I will show it thee : I 
 and my men will escort thee : Wilt thou trust me ? ' 
 
 ' To the death ! ' said Philip. 
 
 ' I believe him,' said the General ; ' and he will see that this 
 great service shall be rewarded. Nevertheless I should like to 
 know more about the ford, and if it can be reconnoitered. 
 Will you make the report, colonel ? you can take an escort of 
 cavalry.' 
 
 ' With pleasure ; you shall know early to-morrow.' 
 
 ' And I will accompany you,' said another officer ; ' it will be a 
 pleasant ride.' 
 
 ' Come, gentlemen,' said Kasim, ' we lose time, and we have a 
 long ride before us.' 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 435 
 
 The Sultaun, plunged into despair, had retired westward. 
 The army had collected, but thousands were missing, killed, or 
 had deserted from his standard. Still there was hope: his 
 officers were yet faithful ; the forage of the north bank of the 
 Cavery was utterly destroyed ; and the active Poornea, ^at the 
 head of the irregular cavalry, was out burning villages and setting 
 fire to the grass of the wide plains. If the English should 
 advance, they would be drawn on to defeat as before. There 
 was still hope : his plans of defence were being matured : troops 
 poured into the Fort from all sides, and provisions for a year. 
 He had treasure too, and there was no fear. What could the 
 English, with their small amount of artillery, effect against the 
 hundreds of cannon in the Fort and the new fortifications? 
 ' Let them come on ! ' he would say ; ' with that fort before, and 
 a bare country behind them, let us see how long they will stay ! ' 
 "And his words were echoed by his sycophants ; but it was easy to 
 see, for all that, how dread gnawed at his heart. 
 
 On the evening of the fourth day after the action, he was in 
 his tent of audience. He was confident, for no news had been 
 heard of the English army, and it had not advanced upon the 
 road as he had expected. He hoped it had retreated, or was 
 stationary for want of forage ; and he was even asserting broadly 
 that it had. 
 
 Suddenly a messenger entered with dismay upon his face. 
 Tippoo knew not what to think. All. his officers were present, 
 and every one trembled, though they knew not what to expect. 
 
 'Speak, Madur-bukhta!' cried Tippoo fiercely; 'what hast 
 thou to say ? ' 
 
 ' May I be your sacrifice ! May I be pardoned,' stammered 
 the man ; ' the English — the kafirs — have crossed the river ! ' 
 
 ' Crossed the river ? ' echoed all ; ' how ? where ? ' 
 
 ' Dog ! ' cried the Sultaun, ' if thou liest, I will have thee torn 
 asunder. Where did they cross ? ' 
 
 'AtSosillay.' 
 
 ' At Sosillay ! Who has been the traitor ? Is any one missing? ' 
 
 ' May I be your sacrifice ! ' said an officer, ' it must be Kasim Ali 
 Patdl. He was seen hewing down the true believers at Malvilly.' 
 
 ' Kasim Ali ! ' gasped the Sultaun ; ' Alia help me ! then all is 
 lost.' And he sank down on his musnud in stupor. 
 
 Long he remained so, only at times repeating ' Kasim Ali ' 
 and ' Sosillay !' 
 
 Hardly any one spoke except in whispers. After some delay, 
 
436 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 sherbet was brought to him, and he seemed to revive. He sat 
 up, passed his hand across his forehead, as though his brain was 
 bewildered ; then he arose, and looked around him ; his face was 
 wan and careworn ; those few minutes appeared to have done the 
 work of years. Many burst into tears. 
 
 • Ye weep,' he said, ' ye weep ; why should ye weep for oiie 
 abandoned of Alia ? I have no hope now. Why stay ye with a 
 man who is doomed ? why link yoiir fate to a drowning wretch, 
 who hath not even a straw upon the whirlpool of his fate to 
 clutch at ? Go ! ye have served me well — ye have fought for me, 
 bled for me. Go — may Alia keep ye ! Ye have been my friends, 
 my companions. I have been harsh, often cruel. Will ye 
 pardon me ? will ye pardon a poor slave of Alia ? Go ! I — I — 
 have ever loved ye, and now — * 
 
 He was interrupted : an officer, with streaming eyes, rushed 
 from a side of the tent, and throwing himself at the Sultaun's feet, 
 clasped his knees and sobbed passionately aloud. 
 
 Tippoo could endure no more. He who had been by turns 
 bitter in sarcasm, brutal in mirth, cruel, proud, exacting, unfeeling, 
 tyrannical, overbearing among his subjects, was now humbled. 
 He appeared to struggle for a moment ; but, unable to quell the 
 wild tumult within him, he burst into tears — the first he had ever 
 been seen to shed. 
 
 Then ensued a scene which words cannot paint— a scene of 
 passionate raving, of tears, of oaths, of fidelity to death. Men 
 embraced one another, and swore to die side by side. Those 
 who had cherished animosities for years, cast themselves on each 
 other's breasts, and forgot enmity in the bond of general affliction. 
 All swore before Alia and the Prophet, by the Sultaun's head and 
 the salt they ate, that they would die as martyrs ; they deter- 
 mined to retreat upon the city, and to fight under its walls to 
 death. 
 
 The army retired, and awaited the onset, but they were disap- 
 pointed; the English army passed three miles to the left, in 
 glittering array, and encamped at the opposite side of the Fort to 
 that on which the former attack had been made, and for the time 
 the Sultaun exulted in his safety. 
 
 Days passed : the thunder of cannon ceased not night or day, 
 and the hearts of all were appalled. No mercy was expected 
 from the British. Death would have been ^'eleome at first ; but 
 its gradual approach, and the stern progreg^on of the English to 
 victory, could not be shut out from meij^s eyes. All the redoubts 
 beyond the Fort had been carried long ago ; even the French, 
 upon whom the eye of the Sultaun rested in hope, were beaten 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 437 
 
 back by the native troops of his enemies, though they fought 
 bravely. Then he felt how he had been cajoled, deceived, 
 betrayed into destruction. To all his letters to the English 
 commander there was but one reply — send the money and the 
 hostages, and the cannon shall cease, but not before. At this 
 his proud heart rebelled ; there were those around him who still 
 ridiculed the idea of danger, but he well knew its reality. Day 
 by day the mosque resounded with his frantic prayers; the 
 Moolas to this day tell how impious they were — how he raved, 
 prayed, cursed by turns, till those who heard believed that a 
 judgment would follow them. 
 
 He held no communication with his family, for his presence 
 in the zenana was ever a signal for an outburst of grief. He 
 lived in his hall of audience, or in a small room off it, where most 
 part of the day and night was passed in vain astrological calcula- 
 tions, or those horrible magical rites we have before alluded to ; 
 at other times he was upon the walls, directing cannon, and firing 
 with his own hand. 
 
 The breach became practicable ; the guns on both sides of it 
 had long been silenced, and men looked on at the work of 
 destruction, and heard the storm of shot, shells, and grape which 
 poured through it, in sullen despair. The brave Meer Ghuifoor, 
 who was devoted to the Sultaun, saw that it could not be 
 defended much longer ; when the day dawned he went to the 
 monarch, to try to rouse him to a sense of his danger : it was 
 vain. 
 
 'There is nothing between thee and thine enemies, O my 
 Sultaun ! ' said the Syud ; ' nothing to prevent the storm. Their 
 men are ready in the trenches, and have been there since it was 
 light ; I have watched them. The walls are gone. If your slave 
 is permitted, he will commence a wall and a ditch across the 
 inside that cannot be breached, and it will stop them.' 
 
 ' Go, Syud, we fear not,' said the Sultaun ; we have hope in 
 other things; events will happen which thou knowest not of. 
 The English will be blasted this day— -withered from the face ot 
 the earth. Already we have ordered Fateehas for to-morrow. Go, 
 old man ! we feel for thy zeal, but there is no fear ; Mars is yet 
 in the circle of planets.' 
 
 ' Thou wilt never see to-morrow,' said the Syud prophetically, 
 •unless what I advise is done. I will do it; I have sought 
 death these many days, but it comes not — I may find it there.' 
 
 ' Go then, in the name of the Shitan, go ! ' cried the Sultaun 
 hastily ; * trouble me no more. Do as thou wilt, but trouble me 
 not. — So, Runga Swamee ! what news ? hast thou prepared all ? ' 
 
438 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' Alas ! ' said the Syud as he went out, ' I shudder at his com- 
 munion with those Brahmin infidels. I would to Alia I were 
 with my old brethren in arms ; but that is now impossible, and 
 death alone will be honourable to the old soldier.' 
 
 ' All is prepared, O Sultaun,' replied the Brahmin ; ' we wait 
 for the men — thou hast them ready ? ' 
 
 ' Ay, there are twelve dogs, sons of unchaste mothers, swine ! 
 — take them.' 
 
 ' The goddess will be pleased, O Sultaun — she will drink their 
 blood. To-night, to-night she will put fear into their hearts ; she 
 will send rain — the river will fill — they will be cut off.' 
 
 ' Ha ! ha ! ha ! ' laughed the Sultaun, ' and twelve base-bom 
 Feringhees will go to hell. Who is without — Jaffar ? ' 
 
 'Refuge of the world ! I am here.' 
 
 ' Hast thou obeyed the orders I gave thee yesterday ? ' 
 
 ' Protector of the poor ! I have ; not one lives now — Ferin- 
 ghee, Moslim, or Hindoo ; the prisoners died in the night. It 
 was hard work, there were so many, but it was done,' and he 
 chuckled. ' There were twelve spared — the last twelve.' 
 
 ' Good : if the Fort is taken, the kafirs will look in vain for 
 their brethren. Now go thou to the prison, take the twelve sons 
 of perdition who were captured in the sortie, bind them hand 
 and foot, and convey them to the temple. Thou art ready, 
 Runga Swamee ? As the sun rises, their blood must flow, one 
 by one. The men are ready, the priests wait, the swords 
 are shatp — what more ? Enough — go 1 thou understandest, 
 Jaffar ?' 
 
 ' Ay, my lord* 
 
 ' Hast thou sent for him — for Compton?' 
 
 ' The men go to-morrow.' 
 
 ' Good : when he comes he shall be the next offering, if thou 
 wantest more. Pundit' 
 
 ' I am thankful,' replied the man : ' thou wilt gain much favour 
 for this and thy gifts to Brahmins — ^thirty thousand years of pro- 
 tection for every offering.' 
 
 ' Inshalla ! ' said the Sultaun ; 'go ! time flies.' 
 
 It was noon, the day was bright and hot, and a strong mirage 
 flickered upon the white tents of the English camp, the parched 
 ground around them, and the black and rocky bed of the river. 
 In the camp many men were moving about, and marching to 
 and fro. The Sultaun was looking at them with his telescope, 
 but saw nothing to excite alarm. He was gayer than usual, for 
 he had seen his face in a jar of oil, and the reflection had been 
 fortunate. 
 
TIPPOO SVLTAUN. 439 
 
 ' Rain will fall to-night in the hills,' he said to a favourite near 
 him, Rajah Khan, as he observed some heavy masses of white 
 fleecy clouds in the west, which hung over the nearer hills and 
 shrouded the distant peaks. ' The Brahmins are right, the sacri- 
 fice has done good ; after all, only a few Feringhees have gone 
 to hell before their time — ha ! ha ! ' 
 
 ' May your prosperity increase ! ' said the officer ; ' they have 
 deserved their death.' 
 
 As he spoke a man rushed up the steps of the cavalier. " Tears 
 were in his eyes, and his manner was wild. 
 
 ' What has happened, O fool ? ' said the Sultaun ; ' hast thou 
 seen the devil ? ' 
 
 ' Khodawund ! ' said the soldier, speaking with difficulty, ' the 
 Syud, the holy Meer- Ghuifoor-is dead.' 
 
 ' Merciful Alia !' cried Tippoo, 'art thou sure of this?' 
 
 ' Alas ! quite sure. Light of the World ! I carried him away : 
 behold his blood.' 
 
 ' It was his destiny,' said the Sultaun gloomily ; ' it was once 
 said his fate was linked with mine, — ^let it come. His death was 
 that of a soldier, may mine be the same ! Go ! let him be buried 
 with honour. We will dine here,' he added to an attendant; 
 ' we feel hot within, and this air from the water is cool.' 
 
 His light repast was soon finished, and again he sat looking 
 towards the trenches. He thought there were many men in 
 them ; as if by mutual consent, the firing had ceased on both 
 sides, and no sound arose except the busy hum of the city : in 
 the English camp all was still as death. He speculated for a 
 while idly upon the unusual quietness, and looked again. On a 
 sudden a man climbed upon the mound of the trench ; he was 
 tall and noble in appearance ; his height was exaggerated by his 
 position — he looked a giant. The Sultaun's heart sank within 
 him ; he could not be mistaken in those features — ^it was Baird, 
 whom he had so often reviled. ' He comes to revenge the old 
 man,' he muttered — ' to revenge Mathews ! ' 
 
 It was a noble sight to see that one man stand thus alone in 
 front of both armies : he appeared to look at the Fort for an in- 
 stant, then drew his sword from its scabbard, and as it came 
 forth it flashed in the sunlight. He waved it high in the air. 
 Another leaped to his side : he was a native, and wore a steel 
 cap and gUttering chain-armour ; a shield hung on his arm, and 
 he waved a broad sabre. They leaped together from the mound, 
 followed by hundreds, who with loud cheers dashed on in regu- 
 lar order. 
 
 ' Prophet of Alia ! ' cried the Sultaun, ' they come — Baird and 
 
440 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 Kasim Ali ! Look to the breach! every man to the breach! 
 defend it with your lives ! ' 
 
 He was hurrying away, when a thought appeared to strike 
 him. ' Stay ! he cried, ' bring water ; we have eaten, and are 
 unclean ; we would not die like a kafir, but one for whom the 
 Apostle waits ere he enters Paradise. I come, O Mohamed ! 
 I come quickly now.' 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 ' To the breach ! to the breach ! ' was now the cry far and wide ; 
 those who loved the Sultaun hurried there to die, to stop 
 with their bodies the ascent of the devoted EngUsh — a living 
 wall in place of that which had been torn down. 
 
 It was a sight on which men looked with throbbing hearts and 
 aching eyes from both sides — those in the English camp, and 
 those in the Fort. There were but few cannon to stop the Eng- 
 lish; all upon the breach had been dismounted, and no one 
 dared show himself upon the dismantled defences to plant others. 
 But as the British advanced, a storm of shot and rockets met 
 them, which was enough to have turned more daring men. Many 
 went down before it, many writhed and struggled ; the column 
 was like a march of ants where a human foot has just trodden, 
 some hurrying on, a few turning to carry away a wounded and 
 disabled comrade. 
 
 ' They are drunk ! ' cried the Sultaun ; ' the hogs — the kafirs 
 — they have been plied with wine. Be firm, brothers, and fear 
 not, though they are desperate. Be firm, ye with the long spears, 
 and do ye of the Kureem Kutcheree regain your lost fame! 
 Remember, we are present, — a hundred rupees for every Ferin- 
 ghee ! Look to your aim — ^they cannot pass the ditch.' 
 
 Such broken sentences escaped him from time to time, as he 
 fired upon the enemy with his own hand, often with deadly aim ; 
 but though the resistance made was desperate, what was able to 
 withstand the hot ardour of this assault ? Man after man went 
 down before the strong arm of Baird, who toiled like a knight of 
 old in the breach, cheering on his men with loud cries of revenge 
 for the murdered. Kasim fought beside him, and equalled the 
 deeds of the British leader. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 441 
 
 ' They bear charmed lives ! ' cried the Sultaun, dashing to the 
 ground the gun he had just fired ; ' twice have I struck down the 
 men close to them, but the balls harmed them not' 
 
 ' Retire, I beseech you, O Prince ! ' cried Rajah Khan and a 
 hundred others around him ; ' this is no place for you ; on our 
 lives be it we drive them back.' 
 
 ' No ; I will die here,' said Tippoo doggedly ; ' they shall pass 
 into the Fort over my body j but the ditch is yet before them — 
 they cannot pass it unless it is filled as it was at — Bah ! why 
 should I have thought of that scene ? * 
 
 This passed in a moment : the struggle on the breach was over 
 — the defenders and their enemies lay there in heaps ; still there 
 was the ditch to cross, which was wide and deep ; for an instant 
 even Baird was staggered, and his men ran right and left seeking 
 for a passage. Kasim Ali and he were close together ; there was 
 a scaffolding, and a plank over it leading to the rampart on the 
 other side : it was enough, the way was found, and hundreds 
 poured over it quicker than thought. . 
 
 It was the last sight the Sultaun saw — everything else swam 
 before his eyes ; he looked stupefied, and] said, hurriedly and 
 gloomily, ' It is finished— where are my bearers ? take me to the 
 palace — the women must die — every one : we would not have 
 them defiled by the kafirs. Come ! haste ! or we are too late.' 
 
 They led him to his palankeen, mingling with the fugitives, 
 who in the passage between the two walls were rushing on to the 
 small postern where it had been left ; men had been sent for it, 
 but what bearers could struggle against that frantic crowd ? As 
 they hurried on, Rajah Khan vainly endeavoured to persuade 
 him to fly by the river-gate; Poomea and his son were out, he 
 said, and they might yet escape to the fastnesses of the west. 
 
 ' Peace \ ' cried the Sultaun ; ' the women are sacred — they 
 must die first ; then we will throw ourselves upon the kafirs, cry 
 Alia Yar, and die. May hell be their portion ! ' he exclaimed 
 suddenly, as he stumbled and fell. They raised him-^a shot had 
 struck him ; he was sick to death, but they were strong men, and 
 they urged him on, supporting him. Another cry he uttered — 
 they saw blood pour from his back — he was wounded once more; 
 but the gate was close at hand, and they strained every nerve to 
 reach it. Hundreds were struggling there : the fierce English 
 were behind, advancing with loud oaths and cheers, maddened 
 by excited revenge, slaughter, lust, and hope of plunder. A 
 fearful thing is a strife like that, when men become monsters, 
 thirsting for blood. 
 
 They reached the palankeen, and laid the Sultaun in it. 
 
442 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' Water ! water ! ' he gasped ; ' air ! I am choking ! take me out, 
 take me out, I shall die here ! Water ! for the love of Alia, 
 water ! one drop ! one drop ! ' 
 
 ' Remember the murdered, give no quarter,' cried many whose 
 bayonets were already reeking with blood. ' Here is a gate, we 
 shall be inside directly---hurrah ! ' 
 
 ' They come, Huzrut,' said Rajah Khan, trying to rouse the 
 dying man ; ' they come, they are near, let us tell them who thou 
 art, they wUl spare thee.' 
 
 ' Spare me ! ' he cried, rousing himself at the last words. ' No! 
 they burn for revenge, and I should be hung like a dog ; no ! I 
 will die here.' He was very faint, and spoke feebly. 
 
 ' Here is a prince — I'll be the first ! ' cried a soldier, dashing 
 into the gateway and snatching rudely at the rosary which was 
 around the Sultaun's neck. 
 
 It rallied the expiring lamp of life. * Dog of a kafir I son of 
 an unchaste mother ! ' cried the Sultaun, gnashing his teeth as he 
 seized a sword which lay by him, ' get thee to hell ! ' and he 
 struck at him with all his might ; it was the last effort of life, but 
 it was not fatal. 
 
 ' Damnation ! ' muttered the man, setting his teeth with the 
 pain of the wound, as he raised his musket 
 
 He fired, the ball pierced the skull, the Sultaun's eyes glared 
 for an instant, quivered in their sockets, then his head fell, and 
 he was dead. The lion of the faith, the refuge of the world, had 
 gone to his account ! 
 
 ' Well met, noble Kasim,' cried Philip Dalton, as heading his 
 party he dashed down the cavalier which had first been gained, 
 and was now in the body of the place j ' keep with me ; thou 
 knowest the prisons ? ' 
 
 ' Every one, colonel ; but haste ! they may even now be de- 
 stroying them.' 
 
 Philip shuddered, there was no time for thought. Many men 
 were around him, and they rushed on, led by Kasim Ali, whose 
 reddened sword, and armour sprinkled with blood, showed how 
 he had been employed. 
 
 Eagerly, and with excitement which hardly admitted thought, 
 so engrossing was it, did those two and Charles Hayward search 
 every part of the Fort, and every place where it was possible that 
 prisoners could have been concealed : they found none. And 
 when the palace was opened they rushed into its most secret 
 prisons and burst them open; they found traces of recent 
 habitation by Englishmen ; and while their fears were horribly 
 confirmed, their last hopes for Herbert Compton departed. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 443 
 
 '^Ah! could I but meet the villain Jaffar!' cried Kasim, as 
 they gave up further search, for it was now dark ; ' if indeed he 
 be alive, then would we wring from him the fate of your poor 
 friend. Inshalla ! he may be found : I know his haunts, and 
 will watch them all night ; I will come to thee in the morning.' 
 
 • I shall be here with my regiment,' Dalton said sadly ; ' but I 
 have no hope, for that cowardly villain will have fled long ere 
 now with his ill-gotten wealth.' 
 
 The morning broke gloomily after that fearful day and night ; 
 for during the latter there had been appalling alarms, shots, 
 screams from terrified, plundered, and often violated women; 
 there were many dreadful excesses, but they were checked. As 
 the day advanced, order was restored once more, and the 
 moderation of the English in their victory, their justice, and 
 protection of all, is yet sung and said through the country by 
 wandering minstrels. 
 
 The Sultaun's body had been discovered where he had fallen ; 
 his faithful attendant lay beside him, with others who had fought 
 with him to the last. They were brought into the palace, and 
 recognised by the women with unfeigned and bitter grief. Of all 
 that host of secluded women, two only truly mourned his fate. 
 The one was his mother, the other Fureeda, who Qould with 
 difficulty be torn from his body, as they took it away for burial. 
 Her love had grown with misfortune ; for in her society he had 
 found rest from care and from his own restless mind; of late he 
 had visited no other, and, despite of his vices, she had felt 
 security with him, whom no one else looked on without fear; and 
 as his fate approached, she foresaw it, pitied, and loved him. 
 
 The last rites of the faith had been performed upon the body. 
 The grave clothes, which, brought from Mekha, had been for 
 years in his possession, were put on with the requisite cere- 
 monies, ablutions, and fumigations; the sheet, filled with flowers, 
 was laid over the body; the attendant Moolas chanted thrice 
 those parts of the Koran, the ' Soora e fateeha,' and the ' Qool 
 hoo Alia ! ' They were about to raise it, to place it in the coffin, 
 when two women again rushed in ; the one was old, wrinkled, 
 and grey — ^it was his nurse; she beat her bare and withered 
 breasts, and, kneeling beside the corpse, showed them to it with 
 passionate exclamations. ' Thou hast sucked them,' she cried, 
 ' when I was young, and they were full of milk ! Alas ! alas ! 
 that I should have lived to say I bestow it on thee.' 
 
 The other was Fureeda ; she speke not, but sobbed bitterly, as 
 she looked on the pinched and sharpened features, and livid face 
 of him who had till the last clung to her with affection. 
 
444 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 They were removed with difficulty, and the procession passed 
 out slowly, the Moolas chanting the funeral service with slow 
 and melancholy cadences. The conquerers of the dead awaited 
 his coming, and, in silent homage to their illustrious enemy, 
 lifted their plumed hats from their brows, as the body passed on 
 to its last resting-place beside the noble Hyder. The troops, 
 which had the day before been arrayed in arms against him, now 
 paid the last honours to his death; and through a street of 
 British soldiers, resting upon their firearms reversed, while their 
 bands played the dead march in Saul, the procession wound its 
 way. Without in the street were thousands of men, who, frantic 
 in their grief, cried aloud to Alia ; and women, who beat their 
 breasts, and wailed, or else uttered piercing shrieks of woe, flung 
 dust into the air, and, casting loose their hair, strove to prostrate 
 themselves before the body of the dead. The solemn chant 
 •proceeded ; each verse sung by the Moolas, who in their flowing 
 robes preceded the coflin, was repeated by all around. The body 
 was surrounded by all the officers of Tippoo's late army who had 
 survived, and those of the Nizam's force, on foot ; and there was 
 one of his sons on horseback, who sat in a kind of stupor at the 
 overwhelming affliction. 
 
 The day had been gloomy, and was close and hot; not a 
 breath of wind stirred the trees, and heavy lurid masses of clouds 
 hung over the city, from whence at times a low muttering growl 
 of thunder would break, and seemingly rattle all over the heavens. 
 Men felt heavily the weight of the atmosphere, and every now 
 and then looked up at the threatening mass which hung above 
 them. 
 
 Through the plain, which extends to the mausoleum of Hyder, 
 the multitude poured ; and as the procession gradually approached 
 its goal, the frantic cries of the people increased, almost drown- 
 ing the melancholy dead march and the chant which arose, now 
 one, now the other, and sometimes both blended into a wild har- 
 mony upon the still air. Then there was a momentary silence, 
 only to be succeeded by bursts of grief even more violent than 
 before. The thunder appeared to increase in loudness every 
 moment, while flashes of lightning darted across the heavens from 
 side to side.' 
 
 The procession reached the burial-place ; the grenadiers formed 
 a street, rested upon their firearms reversed, and the body passed 
 on. The band now ceased, and the bier being laid down, the 
 body was taken from it, preparatory to being laid in the grave. 
 The Moola (for one alone now officiated) raised his voice in the 
 chant of the first creed ; it was a powerful one, but now sounded 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 445 
 
 thin and small among that vast assembly j he had said only a 
 few words, when a flash of lightning burst from above, nearly 
 blinding them, and a peal of thunder followed, so crashing, so 
 stunning, that the stoutest hearts quailed under it. It died away, 
 and as it receded far into the east, the melancholy tone of the 
 Moola's voice, which had been drowned in it, again arose clear 
 and distinct, like the distant wail of a trumpet. 
 
 The heavens were still for a while ; but as the body was laid 
 in its last narrow resting-place, its face to the west, and as 
 the Moolas chanted out ' Salaam wo Aliekoom wo Ruhmut 
 UUaah!'* again a crashing peal burst forth, and their words 
 were lost in the deafening roar. Now peal after peal rolled from 
 the clouds. As yet there was no rain nor wind, and the black 
 mass appeared almost to descend upon the tall palm-trees which 
 waved above, and flashes of lightning so vivid that the heavens 
 blazed under the light, darted from it, and played fearfully 
 around. Men looked at each other in awe and wonder, and 
 felt their own littleness, when the mighty lay cold in death before 
 them, and the thunder of his Creator roared, seemingly as in 
 deprecation of the deeds of his life. 
 
 The companies formed on each side of the grave to pay their 
 last tribute of respect to a soldier's memory, and the word was 
 given — ' Fire ! ' The rattle which followed seemed to be taken 
 up by the sky ; away rolled the awful echoes into the far west, 
 and, lost for a moment among the huge crags and mountains of 
 the Ghats, seemed to return with double force to meet the peals 
 of artillery and volleys of musketry which broke from the Fort 
 and the British army. The bands struck up again, but they 
 were dimly heard; and, as all returned to the sound of their 
 merry music, it seemed a mockery amidst the din and turmoil of 
 that tempest. 
 
 But we must carry our readers back to Herbert Compton, over 
 whom years had passed, chequered by no events save the visits 
 of Jaffar Sahib, to urge upon him compliance with the Sultaun's 
 demands for assistance, plans of fortifications, or military instruc- 
 tions. The Sultaun had from the first taken it into his head that 
 Herbert was a man of education and skill beyond his fellows ; 
 and as every idea was esteemed a revelation from Providence, he 
 had clung to this one with all the obstinacy of his nature, for he 
 had a necessity for the aid Herbert might have given. Often he 
 would forget him for months. Once or twice, provoked by his 
 
 * Feace and the grace of God be with you. 
 
446 TIPPOO SULTAUN, 
 
 obstinate refusals, he had issued orders for his death, and revoked 
 as fast as he had written them. Herbert had lingered on upon 
 those mountains, the cold and mists of which, exaggerated to the 
 SultauHj made him suppose that the place was the one where hard- 
 ship would be the greatest, and life the most difficult to bear. But 
 he knew not of that glorious climate, of its cool, fresh, elastic, in- 
 vigorating breezes ; of its exquisite scenery j of the thousands of 
 wild flowers, and green hills and hanging woods ; deep wooded 
 glens, in which brawled clear and sparkling rivers, now chafing over 
 a pebbly bed, now creepiiig still under some golden mossy bank, 
 covered with wild thyme and violets, from among which peered 
 the modest primrose, the graceful cyclamen and tall fern, which 
 nodded over the sparkling water. He knew not what ecstasy it 
 was' to Herbert to lie at length upon the soft sward, and to listen 
 to the melody of the blackbird, which in the joy of its heart trilled 
 its liquid song, and was answered joyously by its mate — or to see 
 the lark, high in air, wheeling around in wide circles, till it was 
 lost to sight, the same as he had used to listen to with Amy in 
 the groves of Beechwood. Herbert's thoughts were often carried 
 back to the past, remembering with the minutest exactitude every 
 tone, every word of their sweet converse. 
 
 It was an unreal life, with none of the world's occurrences 
 before him ; from his high prison he looked forth over a wide 
 country, but he could only speculate idly upon what was passing 
 in the world. He had no hope of deliverance, — for ever since 
 the first siege of the city, of which he heard after the English had 
 departed, he had ceased to think of liberty except in death. He 
 had no hope that his life, his intellect, which he felt to be strong 
 and vigorous, would ever be called into the action they were 
 fitted for ; — nor his kind heart, his affectionate sympathies find 
 again objects on which to fix. He had no companion but nature, 
 upon whose varying face he could always look with delight, while 
 he listened to the brawling streams, the murmurs of the waving 
 woods — those sweet voices with which she peoples her solitudes. 
 
 Yet latterly he had found a companion. One of the guards 
 brought a dog ; Herbert attached it to himself, and the man gave 
 it him when he went away. He could speak to it — he could 
 speak English to it ; and as they would sit upon a sunny bank 
 together, he listening idly to the murmuring plash of waters, the 
 hum of bees, watching the bright flies, as they sported in the 
 sunbeams, or the butterflies flying from flower to flower — drink- 
 ing in the loveliness of the prospects, whether over the vast blue 
 plains and endless ranges of mountains, or inwards, among the 
 quiet peaceful valleys and swelling hills— he would, after musing 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 447 
 
 a while, speak to his favourite of her he loved, of his home, of 
 his mother ; and often, when tears started to his eyes, and his 
 voice faltered, the dog would look at him wistfully, and whine 
 gently as he scratched him with his paw ; he seemed to know 
 there was something wrong, and he thus expressed his sympathy ; 
 and when Herbert arose to go, he would run in wide circles 
 upon the mountain-side, chasing the larks from their nests, tearing 
 the grass with his teeth, and barking so joyfully that Herbert's 
 spirit would be gladdened too. 
 
 But who can tell his yearnings for home — for the sight of a 
 face beside those of his guards — for one word from a countryman? 
 If ever he should escape, what tidings might be in store for him 
 — of the changes, the events of years ? Escape ! alas that was 
 impossible. Everywhere the same rugged sides presented them- 
 selves, everywhere the same vast forests below, to enter which 
 was death, and beyond them the . territory of the Sultaun. He 
 often longed to make a second attempt to be free, but his better 
 thoughts proved its utter impracticability. 
 
 One day a few showers had fallen, and the air was soft and 
 balmy; the dry winds of May had already abated, and the 
 summer was beginning to burst forth. Herbert was lying upon 
 the spot which we have once mentioned in HuUeekul Droog ; 
 his little garden was freshened by the late rain, and the odour of 
 the flowers came to him gratefully, as he looked over the wide 
 prospect, now so familiar, yet, for all that, presenting in colour, 
 in effect, perpetually new features. 
 
 The Naik of his guard came to him. ' Arise ! ' he said, ' I 
 have news for thee.' 
 
 ' Speak ! ' said Herbert — ' what news ? is Jaffar coming again ? 
 is he arrived ? ' 
 
 '-Not so,' said the man, ' thou art to travel' 
 
 Herbert's heart sank within him. 
 
 ' To travel ! ' he said anxiously ; * has the Sultaun sent for me ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said the man, ' he has not — he is dead. The English 
 have taken the city, and the Sultaun is no more.' 
 
 ' Merciful Providence ! ' cried Herbert aloud in his own tongue ; 
 ' is this true, tr is it a dream ? killed, didst thou say ? ' 
 
 ' Ay, Sat ib,' said the man, dashing a tear from his eye ; ' he 
 was a great man, and has died like a soldier ! Wilt thou come ? 
 thy countrymen will look for thee now, and perhaps the act of 
 taking thee to them will give me favour in their eyes. As to this 
 post, it will be abandoned — ^no one will need it; and if we 
 remain here, no one will remember us. What dost thou think ? ' 
 
 But he spoke to one who heeded not his words — they hatdly 
 
448 TIPPOQ SULTAUN. . 
 
 fell upon his ear. Herbert had knelt down, and on the spot 
 where his first vision of escape had come to him, where he now 
 heard he was free, he poured forth thoughts that were too big for 
 words— incoherently, perhaps — what matter ? they rose out of a 
 grateful, glowing heart, and ascended to the throne of Him who 
 looked into it and saw the feelings there, while the words that 
 expressed them passed away upon the sighihg wind unheeded. 
 
 Herbert arose. ' Art thou ready ? ' he said. 
 
 ' To-morrow morning. Sahib ; ere the dawn breaks — there is a 
 moon — we will set out. In four days, if we travel fast, we shall 
 be at the city.' 
 
 ' Have you seen the poor fellow who has been just brought into 
 camp upon a cot, Dalton ? ' said an officer of the staff, who 
 lounged into Philip's tent, about noon, some days after the above. 
 ' It seems he was confined in a hill-fort, and the garrison have 
 brought him in. Poor fellow ! he is in a high fever ; for they 
 
 rested by the way in the jungles, and there he took it. But 
 
 is looking after him ; they have taken him into the hospital.' 
 
 ' Some native, I suppose,' said Philip, looking up ; he was 
 writing to his wife. 
 
 ' No — an Englishman ; it was supposed there were none left, 
 but—' 
 
 ' Good heavens ! ' cried Philip, seizing his cap, and rushing 
 precipitately from the tent ' If it should be he ! — merciful Pro- 
 vidence ! — if—^ 
 
 He flew across the camp; the officer looked after him in 
 wonder. ' What can he mean ? ' he said aloud. He saw Philip 
 run at full speed to the hospital tent, and he followed him there 
 more leisurely and looked in. Philip was kneeling beside the 
 bed of the sufferer, whose hands were clasped in his ; the tears 
 were streaming down his cheeks, and he was striving to speak. 
 The other's eyes were upraised, while his lips moved as if in 
 prayer, and a look of silent thankfulness, of joy, of perfect peace 
 and happiness was upon his handsome features, which he could 
 hardly have conceived expressible by any emotions. He looked 
 for a few minutes, and then hurried away to hide his own. ' It 
 must be Captain Compton,' he said, ' so long missing ; I will not 
 disturb them.' 
 
 It was indeed. In that silent grasp of the hand, — in the long, 
 earnest, loving embrace which had preceded it, — in the recogni- 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 449 
 
 tion at once of the friend, and even brother, of his early yeai-s, 
 Herbert had aheady forgotten all his sufferings. He had caught 
 a branch upon the shore he had so long floated past, and leaped 
 upon it J and now secure, could even in that moment follow the 
 frail raft which had so long borne his sad fortunes, and gradually 
 lose sight of it in the visions which opened before him. 
 
 Not long did he remain on that humble pallet ; removed to 
 Philip's tent, and in his company and that of Charles Hajrward, 
 he felt, as they told him of the events of the past, that it was like 
 one of those blissful fancies which had cheated him so often. 
 He fell asleep, and dreamed of joy and peace, vaguely and 
 indefinitely, and awoke refreshed by rest, and the prescriptions of 
 the surgeon who attended him ; he gazed around, and his eyes 
 met the happy faces and joyful looks of his friends, — then, then 
 only, did he feel it all to be true. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 DAYby day Herbert made progress towards recovery, and with 
 peace of mind returned strength and vigour. He had been ill 
 for nearly a fortnight before the time we speak of, and had been 
 tended with that constant and unremitting solicitude by his dear 
 friends and brothers, which can easily be imagined, but not easily 
 described. There was another too, the brave Kasim Ali, who 
 had been quickly summoned to Philip's tent after the arrival of 
 the lost one, and who had rejoiced in his recovery with joy as. 
 genuine as the others. 
 
 * How often'I told you to hope, Sahib,' he would exclaim, as 
 he looked on the joy of the friends, and their love for each other. 
 ' How often I said he was not dead ; that the Sultaun (may his 
 sepulchre be honoured !) would not destroy him.' 
 
 And then they would shake their heads, and think that if the 
 Sultaun had been aHve, how little would have been the chance of 
 their ever meeting again upon earth. 
 
 'You appear to cling to his memory with fondness,' said 
 Dalton, in reply to a burst of praise which Kasim had uttered ; 
 ' yet he used you ill, and would have killed you.' 
 
 2 F 
 
45° TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' I do,' he replied ; ' he was a great man — such an one as Hind 
 will never see again. He had great ambition, wonderful ability, 
 perseverance, and the art of leading men's hearts more than they 
 were aware of, or cared to acknowledge ; he had patient applica- 
 tion, and nothing was done without his sanction, even to the 
 meanest affairs, and the business of his dominions was vast. You 
 will allow he was brave, and died like a soldier. He was kind 
 and considerate to his servants, and a steady friend to those he 
 loved. Mashalla ! he was a great man.' 
 
 ' Yet he was treacherous to you, Meer Sahib,' said Philip. 
 
 ' Ay, and had he not been so, ye might now have been far 
 from hence. Ye see, sirs, the power of destiny, which, working 
 even by such mean instruments as myself and Jaffar, has wrought 
 great ends.' 
 
 ' What treachery ? ' said Herbert. ' I have wondered to see 
 thee here in the English camp, but thought thou mightest 
 have been admitted to protection like the rest of the Sultaun's 
 officers.' 
 
 ' It is a long tale,' said Kasira, 'iut your brother, the colonel, 
 knows much of it already, and he will tell it to you.' 
 
 ' Not so,' said Philip, ' tell it yourself, I should only blunder 
 in the narration ; ' and he added, ' since we have been together, 
 I have never asked after the lady you loved, Meer Sahib; 
 it is a painful question, perhaps, and may awaken thoughts and 
 feelings long since dead. You smile — I rejoice to see it.' 
 
 ' You know. Sahib, we Moslems are not given to speaking of 
 our wives or families,' said Kasim, ' and therefore I have never 
 mentioned her; but she lives, I rejoice to say, and is as beautiful 
 to my eyes as ever.' 
 
 ' Come ! ' said Herbert, ' if it be a tale of love, let me hear it ; 
 I have talked long enough, and can listen patiently.' 
 
 Kasim then related his adventures, from the time he had ap- 
 peared a youth in Tippoo's Durbar, to that in which, wearied by 
 his cruelties and uneven temper, he had left him, and had so 
 narrowly escaped assassination. 
 
 ' I reached my village,' he continued, ' and long remained in 
 secrecy, enjoying the quiet of my own home. I read my favourite 
 poets, wrote verses, and a history of my own adventures, to pass 
 the time ; but in truth, after so much excitement, I at length 
 grew tired of the dull life, and looked around me for emplo5Tnent. 
 The administration of the affairs and collection of the revenue of 
 my district happened then to be vacated by the person who had 
 held the offices, and, as I understood the duties perfectiy, I 
 solicited and obtained the situation by help of a douceur to the 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 451 
 
 minister : in its duties, and in the suppression of the disorders of 
 the country, I found ample employment. Still I had never 
 visited the city of Hyderabad, and as I had need to go there to 
 arrange some matters with the minister regarding the revenue 
 collections, I determined upon a short visit, and was courteously 
 received both by him and by the Prince, who spoke much to me 
 of the Sultaun's character, and the wild schemes of conquest 
 which he meditated. 
 
 'I was delighted with the city, and the polite and courtly 
 character of its nobles, and I remained longer than I had in- 
 tended. One day I was riding towards the minister's house, in 
 order to take my leave of him, previously to my departure, when 
 a woman, rather old, but decently dressed as a servant, whose 
 features at first sight appeared familiar to me, ran towards me in 
 the open street, and catching hold of the rein of my horse uttered 
 a loud cry of joy. The horse was a spirited one, and began to 
 curvet and bound, and she dared not approach me. I saw her 
 speak to my groom ; and when she had learned where I lived, 
 she told him she would come in the evening, waved her hand to 
 me, and darted down a narrow street. All that day I wondered 
 much who she could be ; I could not by any effort recall her 
 name to my memory, and though I had an engagement with a 
 friend, I waited at home till late. 
 
 ' About dark a woman came, closely veiled, leading another. 
 Both, as they entered, threw themselves at my feet, and kissed 
 them repeatedly, uttering expressions- of joy; they could not 
 speak intelligibly for some time, nor would they unveil, though I 
 could hear from their voices that they were aged. At length one 
 playfully pulled the veil from the other's head, and to my joy and 
 surprise I beheld Meeran. I recognised her instantly, and, 
 raising her up, embraced her cordially. Sahib, the other was 
 Sozun. 
 
 ' I was, as you may suppose, breathless to know Ameena's fate. 
 Was she alive ? or did that hated place I remembered hold her 
 mortal remains? "Speak, I conjure you," I cried, " for I burn 
 with impatience." 
 
 ' " She lives, Meer Sahib," said Meeran ; " she lives, blessed 
 be Alia and Moula Ali, and the Apostle and the Lady Muriam ! 
 to whom we have offered up Fateehas for her recovery on 
 every anniversary of that event. Ah, Meer Sahib, it is before me 
 
 now 
 
 I" 
 
 ' " Alive !-" I cried ; " but perhaps she is another's ; some noble- 
 man hath heard of her beauty, and hath sought her in second 
 marriage ? " 
 
452 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' " No, by your soul ! " cried Sozun ; " she lives, and thinks but 
 of you. She is as beautiful as a houri ; the years that have passed 
 now seem but as hours ; her skin is as fair, her eye as bright, her 
 form as round and perfect as ever." 
 
 ' " And the wound ? " I asked. 
 
 ' " Ah ! it was a horrible gash," said Meeran, shuddering, ' and 
 it was long before it healed ; she will show you the place if — 
 if—" 
 
 ' " Come," said I, " come ! I burn to see her. I am not 
 married; I never should have married, perhaps. Come! it 
 is my destiny. Ya Alia kureem, how it hath been worked 
 out ! " 
 
 ' They led the way joyfully : her mother had been advised of 
 my presence in the city by Meeran in the morning, and, closely 
 veiled, she sat in her private apartment, awaiting me. Her hus- 
 band was absent on some military duty, so I had to arrange all 
 with her. 
 
 ' How my heart beat as I entered the house ! To be once 
 more under the same roof with her who had loved me so long 
 and so truly — to be there in the hope that ere many hours should 
 elapse she would be mine — mine for ever ! Sahib, I had fought 
 and bled on a battle-field, yet I never felt so agitated as I did- at 
 that moment. 
 
 'A cry of joy from the old lady welcomed me. " Blessed be 
 Alia ! " she said, as she embraced me like a son ; " blessed be his 
 name, that thou art here ! Oh that my lord were here, to 
 welcome thee, and greet thee as a son ! " 
 
 ' '' And Aroeena," I said, " tell me, by your soul, how is she ? 
 Doth she still remember Kasim Ali ? I am rich, I am high in 
 rank ; I have left the Sultaun's service, and am now in that of 
 your own Government. What delay need there be ? Let me, I 
 beseech you, speak to her, and send for the Moola to read the 
 Nika." 
 
 ' " Fie ! " said the old lady, " that would be indecent haste." 
 
 ' " What, after years of absence, mother ? nay, say not so, but 
 tell her I am here." 
 
 ' " Wait," she saidj " I will return immediately." 
 
 ' I arose and walked about, burning with love, with hope, with 
 joy. The passion which for years had been smothered within 
 me broke out as freshly, as strongly as when I had first seen her. 
 The memory of that kiss was as if it still lingered on my lips. I 
 heard a movement, a sort of hesitation at the door; I thought 
 the old lady would come in. A figure entered, veiled from head 
 to foot; it was a useless precaution — my heart told me that it was 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN, 453 
 
 Ameefta. I rushed towards her, caught her tottering form in my 
 arms, removed the veil from her lovely features, and in a 
 moment more strained her to my heart in an embrace which she 
 did not resist ; and in a kiss which united our souls once more, I 
 pledged to her my faith and love for ever. 
 
 'Yes, she was as fair as ever; even more beautiful in the 
 mature charms of womanhood, than had been the girl' I bore 
 from the dreadful waters, or preserved from the maddened 
 elephant There was more fulness in her form, more fire in the 
 large and soft eye, which, filled with tears, rested on me. She 
 clung to me as though I should never part from her again, and 
 her hand trembled in mine. 
 
 ' I understood her. " I will not go from thee, fairest ! most 
 beloved ! " I cried ; " more even than the bulbul to the rose ! 
 more than Mejnoon to Leila will I be to thee ! " 
 
 ' Her mother entered soon after ; she saw Ameena unveiled 
 and in my arms. She gently chid her, but she did so no longer 
 when the fair and gentle creature bent on her an imploring look, 
 and nestled closer to my bosom. 
 
 ' The next evening the Moola came : all had been prepared in 
 the meanwhile, and such a marriage as mine wanted no long 
 ceremony — it was that only of the Koran. Some friends were 
 sent for : in their presence I wrote a settlement upon Ameena, 
 and received an assignment of all her property; it was little 
 needed, for henceforth our lot was to be together for good or 
 for evil. There was a screen put up in the apartment; the 
 ladies came behind it ; I heard the rustle of their garments, and 
 the tinkling of their anklet.s— it was like delicious music. The 
 few prayers were quickly read, the witnesses signed and sealed 
 the papers, and they left me. I heard the old lady bless her 
 daughter, and the servants join in a fervent Ameen ! In a few 
 moments the screen was withdrawn, and I was alone with 
 Ameena. Sirs, the true believer when he enters Paradise, and 
 is welcomed by the beauteous houris that await his coming, is 
 not more blessed than I was then. Hours flew, and still we 
 talked over the past, and the miseries and sufferings of that 
 dreadful time. 
 
 ' " Tell me," I said, " how you escaped, and show me the 
 place— *the wound." 
 
 ' She bared her beauteous neck, modestly and shrinkingly. T ■ 
 looked on the wound and kissed it ; it was on her shoulder, and 
 had reached the back of her neck. A heavy gold necklace and 
 chain, she said, had saved her life : but for that she must have 
 been killed. 
 
4S4 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 ' " But," she continued, " I knew nothing until I found myself 
 in a small hut ; Sozun was there, and Meeran. I shrank from 
 Sozun, for I knew her to have been an evil woman ; but she was 
 vehement in her protestations of affection, and I believed her. 
 I knew not till long after how nearly she had been connected 
 with my fate ; but she has been faithful, and that is long since 
 forgiven and forgotten in her constancy. The house belonged 
 to her daughter, and her husband was a foot-soldier in the army; 
 they were kind and good to me, and the faithful Zoolfoo bound 
 up my wound ; indeed he sewed it up, which gave me great 
 pain ; but I was soon strong again, and I inquired for the Khan 
 and for you ; they said you had both fallen, and I mourned you 
 as dead. Afterwards when the Sultaun capitulated, and there 
 was peace, I followed my protector as a humble woman, and 
 attended lay Meeran and Sozun, under pretence of making 
 offerings at a shrine, we escaped from the Fort, and entered that 
 of the troops of the Dekhan : although my father had not 
 accompanied them, yet I found his intimate friend Sikundur 
 Beg, with whose daughters I had been a playmate. He was a 
 father to me, gave me his palankeen to travel hither, and in my 
 own home I speedily recovered." 
 
 ' I should weary you, sirs,' continued Kasim after a pause, 
 ' were I to tell you of her daily increasing love, and the joy I 
 felt in her society. I wrote word to my mother that I had met 
 her and was married ; and the old lady, transported with joy, 
 actually travelled up to the city to greet her daughter. I was 
 fortunate in meeting with a good deputy in the person of my 
 excellent uncle, and I remained at the city with Ameena's family. 
 Her father arrived in due time from his post, and there never 
 was a happier circle united on this earth than ours. I became 
 known in the city : there was talk of a war with the Sultaun, and 
 I was offered the command of a risala of horse, and received a 
 title from the Government; they are common, but I was 
 honoured. " Distinguish thyself," said the minister, " thou shalt 
 have a jaghire* for life." Sirs, ye know the rest. He has given 
 me two villages near my own, the revenue of which, with my 
 patrimony, and the command of five hundred horse, most of 
 which are my own, makes me easy for life. My mother (she 
 has old-fashioned notions) sometimes hints that the marriage 
 was not regular, that I should even now ask the young daughter 
 of a nobleman of high rank, and go through all the forms 
 with her ; but I am content, sirs, with one wife, and I wish to 
 Alia that all my countrymen were so too; for I am well as- 
 
 * Estate. 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 455 
 
 sured that to one alone can a man give all his love, and that 
 where more than one is, there ensue those jealousies, envies, 
 wild passions, evil, and sin, which were well-nigh fatal to my 
 Ameena.' 
 
 ' Thou art a noble fellow ! ' exclaimed both ; and Charles 
 Hayward too — for he also had been a listener — added his praise; 
 ' and believe me,' added Dalton, * thou wilt often be remem- 
 bered, and thy wife too, when we are far away in our own land. 
 If it be not beyond the bounds of politeness, carry her our 
 affections and warmest wishes for years of happiness with 
 thee. I would that my wife could have known her ! she must 
 have loved one so sorely tried, yet so pure in heart. Thou 
 wilt see her at Bangalore, Meer Sahib, and will tell thy wife 
 of her.' 
 
 The tears started to Kasim All's eyes : he brushed them away 
 hastily. ' I am a fool,' said he ; ' but if any one, when I served 
 him who ruled yonder, had told me that I should have loved 
 Englishmen, I would have quarrelled with him even to blood- 
 shed ; and now I should be unhappy indeed if I carried not 
 away your esteem. I thank you for your interest in Ameena. I 
 will tell her much of you and your fortunes ; and when you are 
 in your own green and beautiful land, and you wander beneath 
 cool shady groves and beside murmuring rivers, or when you are 
 in the peaceful society of your own homes, something will 
 whisper in your hearts that Kasim Ali and Ameena speak of you 
 with love. I pray you then remember us kindly, and now bid 
 me depart to-day,' he said — ^but his voice trembled. ' I have 
 spoken long, and the Captain is weary.' 
 
 Dalton's regiment moved soon after, and Kasim and his risala 
 accompanied it; they marched by easy stages, and soon the 
 invalid was able once more to mount a horse, and to enjoy a 
 gallop with .the dashing Risaldar, whose horsemanship was 
 beyond all praise. At Bangalore they halted some time, it was 
 to be a station for the Mysore field-force, and Dd,lton's regiment 
 was to belong to it. His wife had arrived from Madras, and the 
 deeply attached brother and sister were once more united after 
 so long and painful an absence. Kasim saw her there ; and 
 though he thought it profanation to gaze on one so fair, yet he 
 often paid his respectful homage to her while he stayed, and told 
 the wondering Ameena, and in after days his children, of the 
 fair skin, golden hair, and deep blue eyes of the English lady ; 
 and as he would dwell in rapture upon the theme, they thought 
 that the angels of Paradise could not be fairer. 
 
 When Kasim Ali could stay no longer, he came to take his 
 
4S6 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 leave. 'I shall pass the old Fakeer,' he said; 'have you 
 any message for him? the old man still lives, and prays for 
 you.' 
 
 'We will go to him,' said Philip; "tls but a day's ride.' 
 Herbert agreed readily, and they set out that day. 
 
 The old man's joy at seeing them cannot be told ; the certainty 
 that his poor efforts were estimated with gratitude, were to him 
 more than gold or precious stones ; but his declining years were 
 made happy by an annuity, which was regularly paid, and he 
 wanted no more the casual charity of passing travellers. 
 
 And there, beneath those beauteous trees, which even now 
 remain, and which no one can pass without admiration, the friends 
 parted, with sincere regret, and a regard which never diminished, 
 though they never met again. The martial and picturesque 
 companions of the Risaldar awaited him ; Philip and Herbert 
 watched him as he bounded into his saddle, and soon the 
 gay and glittering group was lost behind the trees at a little 
 distance. 
 
 About three weeks after the Fort had fallen, two men, one 
 driving a heavily-laden pony, passed out of the gate of the Fort, 
 and took their way towards the river ; the rain had fallen much 
 during that and the previous day, but there was as yet no more 
 water than usual in the river. 
 
 ' Come on, Madar ! ' said one whom our readers will easily 
 recognise ; ' that beast goes as slow as if he had an elephant's 
 load ; come on ! we are lucky to get across, for there is no water 
 in the river.' 
 
 ' I tell thee the brute will never travel, Jaffar ; the load is too 
 heavy. Why wouldst thou not buy the other ? ' 
 
 ' I could not afford it,' he said ; ' one is enough ; come on ! ' 
 
 The pony was laden with gold and silver bars and heavy stuffs, 
 cloth of gold and silver, the plunder of years, and more especially, 
 of that night when the Sultaun was killed, for Jaffar knew the 
 places where the silver and gold utensils were kept, and he had 
 laden himself with the spoil. 
 
 ' He ! he ! he ! ' said he chuckling, ' we will go to Madras and 
 live with the kafir Feringhees ; no one will know us there, and 
 we can trade with this money.' 
 
 ' Good !' said Madar, ' it is a wise thought; may your prosperity 
 increase ! ' 
 
 They were now on the edge of the" river. Opposite the Fort 
 it is broad, and the bed, one sheet of rock, has been worn 
 into thousands of deep holes and gulleys by the impetuous 
 stream. It was no easy matter to get the over-laden beast 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 457 
 
 across these, and he oiiten stumbled and fell against the sharp 
 rocks. 
 
 ' The curses of the Shitan light on thee ! ' cried Jaffar to the 
 animal, as it lay down at last, groaning heavily, and he screwed 
 its tail desperately to urge it on. * Wilt thou not get up ? Help 
 me, Madar, to raise it.' 
 
 They did so by their united strength, but ere it had gone 
 a few paces it fell again. Jaffar was in despair. There was no 
 resource but to unload it, and carry the burden piece by 
 piece to the bank. They were doing this when a loud roaring 
 was heard. 
 
 ' What was that ? ' said Madar. 
 
 ' Nothing, fool,' said the other ; ' the wind, I dare say.' 
 
 It was not — it was the roaring of the mighty river, as it poured 
 down beyond the sharp turn above the Fort — a wall of water 
 three feet high — foaming, boiling, roaring, dashing high into. the 
 air — a vast brown, thick, muddy mass, overwhelming everything 
 in its course. Madar fled at once to the bank. 
 
 Jaffar cursed aloud; the bundles had been tied up with 
 scrupulous care, lest the money should fall out, and it was hard 
 to lose all after years of toil. He tugged desperately at the 
 knots — they would not come untied ; he drew his sword and cut 
 fiercely at them, bars of gold fell out ; he seized as much as he 
 could hold in his hands, and turned to fly. Some men were on 
 the shore with Madar hallooing to him ; he could not hear their 
 words, but he thought they pointed to a rock higher than the 
 rest; he got upon it, or in another instant the roaring flood 
 would have overwhelmed him. He was safe for a minute ; the 
 waters were rising gradually but fearfully fast ; he clutched the 
 rock, he screamed, he prayed wildly; the rush of the boiling 
 waters appeared to increase ; his brain grew dizzy ; then he tried 
 to scramble up higher — to stand upright In attempting this his 
 foot slipped ; those on the bank saw him toss his arms wildly 
 into the air, and the next instant he was gone ! The fearful tide 
 rolled on in its majesty, but there was no sign of a living thing 
 upon its turbid waters. 
 
 Herbert did not long wait at Bangalore. Letters to England 
 had now preceded him more than a month ; they had gone in a 
 ship of war, which was some guarantee for their safe arrival. 
 There was danger on the seas, but he thought not of that. 
 Home — Amy was before him, more vividly than it is possible 
 for us to paint ; the days seemed to pass as weeks, as the gallant 
 fleet sailed along, for home bounded their prospect; ere five 
 
4S8 TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 months had passed they anchored at the Nore. Philip Dalton 
 and Charles were soon to follow. 
 
 It was on a bright warm day, early in December, that a travel- 
 ling carriage, with four horses, was seen driving at desperate speed 
 into the town of ; it stopped at the inn. 
 
 'Horses on to my father's — to Alston,' cried a gentleman 
 within; 'quick, quick!' The landlord looked at him for a 
 moment ; it was not Mr. Compton's son, the clergyman ; no, this 
 was a darker, taller, handsomer person than him ; he looked 
 again, and then exclaimed, ' It cannot be ! — surely it cannot be 
 Captain Compton ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I am he,' was the reply ; ' but pray be quick ! ' 
 
 ' Hurrah ! ' cried the jolly landlord, throwing up his cap into 
 the air ; ' hurrah for the Captain ! three cheers for Captain 
 Compton, and God bless him ! You shall have a barrel of ale, 
 my lads, to-day, for this joy. I little thought to have ever seen 
 you alive again, sir.' 
 
 ' Thank you, thank you,' said Herbert ; ' I will come soon and 
 see you; now drive on, boys, at full speed;' and away they 
 dashed. 
 
 An anxious party was assembled that day at the old Rec- 
 tory; in trembling expectation of the sound of wheels, all 
 felt nervous and agitated, and some laughed and cried by 
 turns. 
 
 Poor Amy ! it is difficult to describe her feelings of joy, of 
 silent thankfulness. Her beauty was more radiant than ever; 
 the purity of her complexion, with the exquisite expression of her 
 eyes, was more striking, far more, than that of the lively and 
 joyous girl of six years ago. 
 
 There was one who heard the sound of wheels long before the 
 rest — it was Amy ; the others watched her ; her face, which had 
 been flushed and deadly pale by turns, was lighted up on a sudden 
 with a joy so intense that they almost feared for the conse- 
 quences. On a sudden she appeared to listen more earnestly, 
 then she arose, but no one followed her ; she went to the door, 
 passed into the hall, seemed to gaze vacantly around, returned, 
 sank into a chair, and pressing her hand to her heart, panted 
 for breath. Soon after a carriage at full speed dashed past 
 the house ; a man opened the door — ^jumped out almost ere 
 it had stopped — hurried with breathless haste into the hall — 
 passed a crowd of servants who were sobbing with joy, and 
 in another instant he was in the room. Amy sprang to meet 
 him with outstretched arms, and uttering a low cry of joy 
 
TIPPOO SULTAUN. 459 
 
 threw herself into' his embrace, and was strained to his heart 
 in silent rapture. Others hung round him, sobbing too, but 
 their tears were those of joy and gratitude; the past was even 
 then- forgotten, for they beheld their long-lost Herbert safe, 
 and knew, as he pressed to his the faithful heart which had 
 so long loved him, that their past sorrow would soon be turned 
 into'T'ejoicing, 
 
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