at the time reflecting on the impossibility of his being aware of my arrival; but I resolved to lose no time in finding him out, as I was most anxious again to see his daughter: my charming cousin Louisa, whom I had not met for such a length of time.

Truly affecting were the several meetings which then ensued, between those who had not perhaps seen each other for years and years!

You, gentlemen and ladies who live at home in ease, enjoying the comforts and security of domestic life, little can you know or appreciate the sufferings, mental and bodily, constantly endured by those poor exiles who daily leave Old England for the distant shores of our wide possessions in the East.

No doubt, as from your comfortable armchairs you hold the daily paper, still damp from the press; before a blazing sea-coal fire; no doubt on such occasions, your eye oft carelessly scans over some such paragraphs as

"The * * * Indiaman, outward bound, embarked yesterday at Gravesend a large detachment of recruits from Chatham, with the usual proportion of women and children. The following is the list of pas

sengers, who are expected to join the vessel on its arrival at Spithead."

And then, unless you may chance to have some friend on board; or unless your eye happen to glance on some titled or well-known name; the paragraph in question is passed over and forgotten, without further thought or comment, whilst the reader turns to a more interesting topic of the day.

What food, however, for sad, melancholy musings, does that single, short paragraph contain! How many a wife is then separated from her husband! how many a mother is thereby severed, perhaps for ever, from a cherished child! how many a youth, buoyed up with hope and expectation, casts his eyes for the last time on his native shores; or only lives to return, after long years of exile, broken down and debilitated by climate or disease, only then, to find that those whom he loved in early life, had long since passed away!

How many a poor soldier parts then from a sorrowing, widowed bride, from the young wife of his affection, from his helpless and now unprotected children! At the time of which I write, his term of exile being perhaps for LIFE; for as a Regiment might then be kept

twenty years, or more, from home, what chance had he, of ever revisiting his native land?

Since then, "Reform" has done much to remedy this state of things; but enough has not yet been done.

The gloomiest winter's day, is however, sometimes enlivened by a genial ray of light; and such rays occasionally beam on some few of those exiles, destined to banishment in that distant land; rays directed by the genius of ambition, of expectation, or of hope; often by the more hallowed sentiments of friendship, affection, or of love.

Many a sanguine youth and many a fair maiden, glad to escape the trammels and discipline of school, hail no doubt, with delight, on such occasions, the prospects opening before them for what prospect looks not both bright and joyous, in the beaming eyes of youth?

:

Many an aspiring young writer and cadet, probably then looks forward to the chance of treading in the footsteps of a Hastings or a Clive; and the fond expectations of many a fair girl are probably kept fully on the stretch, in the hope of meeting with parents, relatives,

and friends, parted with in early childhood, and nearly estranged by the lapse of time.

These separations may truly be said to constitute one of the great drawbacks to which Anglo-Indian society is exposed: husbands are separated from their wives, and parents from their children for an indefinite number of years. The latter, in their childhood, being generally sent to England for the purpose of education, thus lose the advantage of parental care, at a period when such is most required, to direct the bias of their infant minds.

CHAPTER XVIII.

FIRST LANDING AT MADRAS -INDIAN
HOSPITALITY.

"While thus she mused, her pinions fann'd
The air of that sweet Indian land,
Whose air is balm, whose ocean spreads
O'er coral rocks and amber beds."

Lallah Rookh.

THE strange, dusky-looking messenger, who, boarding us in "light marching order," had caused such a sensation on board the Devonshire, was the bearer of instructions for disembarking the troops.

The time appointed for this, was the afternoon; and, during the interim, with the aid of our glasses, we could distinctly see the Massoolah boats destined to carry us ashore, shove off from the beach, where crowds of natives were assembled; and amongst whom, bright scarlet