or any claim on any one for either. I now regretted that I had not taken the letters which my friends in Delhi offered me to their friends in Umbala. My perplexity was fortunately relieved by the arrival of Mr. Vauquelin, the assistant agent of the dâk company, in the carriages of which I had come from Calcutta. As soon as he saw my condition, he at once offered me the use of the bungalow belonging to Mr. Powell, the dâk agent, who had gone to Rawul Pindee-Mr. Vauquelin, who invited me, having charge of the business.

I had very comfortable quarters at Mr. Powell's, whither I was carried in a dhoolee. The bed had sheets, between a pair of which I had not slept since leaving Calcutta ; a mattrass, even, being a stray luxury in dâk-bungalows and Mofus. sil hotels, the beds of which generally have bottoms of cane, or of plaited cotton listing, like those used by the natives. Such a couch, with a sheet spread over it, makes much the best bed in hot weather. In cold weather of course a mattrass is used; and travellers generally carry one with them, and find it useful in the dâk-gárrhee, and almost necessary in the dhoolee. Indian travelling has this peculiarity: the more baggage you have the more comfortable you are. Your baggage is no trouble to you, being all taken care of by your ser. vants, and if you do not carry your own comforts with you, you will not find them on the way. Many men take even their wash-basins with them. I shall know better if I ever go to India again, but on this occasion, being inexperienced, I took with me neither sheets nor mattrass. On this part of my trip I was even worse provided than during the rest of my journey, for, having left my servant and luggage in Delhi, in expectation of travelling by dâk-cart, and having with me only the few indispensable articles that could be contained in a very small carpet-bag, I was of course quite unprepared for a month's sickness and detention, which was my lot at Umbala.

Mr. Vauquelin provided me with a physician, a young assistant-surgeon, who, on first seeing me was forcibly struck, as he afterwards confessed, with the impression that he would have the pleasure of attending my funeral. The disease with which I was affected is very dangerous in India, and I had it

in an aggravated form, so that the doctor's apprehensions were not without foundation, particularly as several soldiers, who were taken down at the same time, and whose symptoms were not so bad as mine, died within a week.

I was waited on, or rather ought to have been waited on, by a young and dandified Moosulman servant, to whom I promised abundant bucksees if he would take good care of me. But seeing that I could not get out of bed to chastise him and enforce obedience, he used to absent himself nearly all day, so that I was quite alone except two visits a day from the doctor, and one from Mr. Vauquelin. For this treatment on the part of my servant I kept nursing up feelings of revenge, and at length I had an opportunity of paying him off. For the first few days the doctor would not let me eat anything, but on the third day he told me that I might have a little arrow-root in the evening. The method of preparing this article of food was fully explained to the "bearer," and he faithfully promised to have it ready at eight o'clock. Accordingly I kept awake past my usual hour of going to sleep, but eight o'clock came, and no bearer; another hour passedit was nine, and still no signs of the servant. Yet another hour I lay there, almost frantic with the mingled emotions of hunger, sleepiness, hope deferred, and impotent rage. At length at ten o'clock my dandy made his appearance. He brought me my supper. At the sight of it all my anger vanished. I seized the bowl with eagerness, and beheld—not the rich gelatinous mass, upon the expectation of which my fancy had been gloating for twelve hours, but a pint of tepid water upon which floated some lumps of undissolved arrow-root. This was too much for a sick man's endurance. I knew the fellow would not have dared to treat me so if he had supposed that I was well enough to get out of bed and chastise him for his carelessness and inattention. I felt as if my life depended on that bowl of arrow-root, and having tasted one spoonful of the nauseous mixture, and spit it all back again into the bowl, my long pent up exasperation found vent, and I threw the whole thing at the fellow's head. It did not hurt him much, but it deprived him of caste. The food which I had tasted

had touched his lips. "Oh! Representative of God, oh! Releaser of Slaves, oh! Provider for the Poor," he cried, "I am dead! my caste is gone!" I told him that he ought to take more care of a sick man, and the lesson had a good effect, as he was pretty attentive after this occurrence. The next day the other Moosulman servants held a Panchayut, or Council of Five, over him, and read him out of caste-a thing they do on the least pretext, as the person so ejected has to give them a feast to procure his readmission. All the rest of the time that I remained at Umbala this servant kept wearying me with entreaties for three rupees to give the above-mentioned feast. Sometimes he would put his head under my feet, and after my recovery, whenever I went out, I was sure to find him on my way ready to prefer his prayers. But, although wearied with his importunities, I never gave him anything for the purpose, as I considered it a very just punishment, and besides, the wages which I paid him, and which were far more than he had earned, were amply sufficient to defray these expenses, and leave something over for his trouble.

My days passed rather wearily. I was awakened before dawn by the morning gun, and bugles sounding the reveillé. From that time sleep was impossible. The thunder of artillery and the rattle of small arms lasted until eight. From that time there were no events, except the visit of the Doctor and Mr. Vauquelin. I used to lie in bed and calculate the probability of dying from the length of the Doctor's face. I even began writing a letter, to be sent home in case of my demise.

After a week's starvation, we got rid of the fever, and I began rapidly to mend. As soon as I could get out of bed, I went in a dhoolee to the station hotel, as Mr. Powell, whose room and bed I had been occupying, was expected back soon.

The hotel was very pleasant and comfortable. I remained there over ten days, and gained rapidly in strength and weight, both of which had been much reduced during my short illness. In one week I had lost twenty pounds of flesh.

Umbala was a very large station, and a band from some one of the native regiments used to play every evening on the

parade-ground, where all the fashion of the station congregated. I frequently went there to hear the music, which was quite good. There is never any difficulty in forming a band of natives. Almost every man has the requisite ear and skill, and they learn the European notation with wonderful facility; but they never could be made to play with any spirit. It seemed as if they never entered into the meaning of occidental music. However, it is much the most fashionable among the natives. At their great weddings and feasts they always engage, if possible, the services of musicians who play English tunes; and it is said that a few days before Lucknow was captured this spring, the bands of fifty-three regiments had united in a monster concert, while the leaders of the mutineers were celebrating a great banquet.

During my stay at Umbala, and after my return to Delhi, I saw a good deal of the sepoys, in their every day life. Their dwellings, like those of other natives, are mere mud huts, which the soldiers of each regiment generally build for themselves. When off duty, the sepoys wore a dhotee of coarse cotton wound around the loins, and forming below a loose trowser, which reached as far as the knee, and was open at the back of the leg. They were usually beautifully formed men, very tall, and rather thin. The upper part of the body was commonly clothed in a short white jacket, with tight sleeves; and on the head they wore a white cotton skull-cap, jauntily set on one side. Being of high-caste, warriors by birth and profession, and also, as they expressed it, "servants of the warrior company," they felt a pride in themselves and contempt for the ordinary natives, which they showed very clearly in every motion, as well as in their intercourse with the common people. Whenever they met a European they always gave the military salute, by stopping, facing about, drawing up the body to its full height, and then extending the arm and bringing it round with a sweep, on a level with the shoulder, until the thumb of the right hand rested on the forehead. I have read recently an article in an English periodical, blaming the English residents for not having foreseen the late mutiny. Among other things, the author says that the "officers re

ceived daily, the respectful salutes of the men; they replied to them as a matter of course, and drove on regardless of the flashing eye, which gave the lie to the outward respect of the act," these are not the exact words, but they convey the meaning, and I only quote them because I wish distinctly to assert that I do not believe the writer, or any one else, ever saw any flashing eyes, unless he returned the sepoy's salute with his left hand, which is, with them, a great insult.

The native commissioned officers, although they took rank with the English captains and lieutenants, and were paid many times as much as the common sepoys, did not seem to be at all above them, in social position. They lived in the same mud huts, and might be seen squatted naked on the ground, cooking their food in a mud furnace. After the late rebellion, they rejected their native titles, and became colonels, captains, and lieutenants of the revolted regiments. In fact, one of the most remarkable features of the rebellion is the way in which all the revolted troops preserved the organization given them by the English. They always made a point of carrying off the regimental colours. This is perhaps not so wonderful, as they were in the habit of worshipping them as gods; but it is strange, that they should continue as they did to wear the uncomfortable English uniform, and that they should even impose this dress upon the new levies which they raised during the revolt.

There are a number of shawl dealers in Umbala, who used to bring their wares to the hotel for me to see. The shawls nearly all come from the Punjab, only a few from Cashmeer. All shawls that come to this country from India are called "Cashmere," or "Camel's Hair," but really, there are scarcely any true Cashmeeree shawls in America-and none anywhere of "Camel's Hair." The Cashmeeree shawl is made of the inner wool of the Thibet goat, which is brought from Ladak in Thibet, and woven into a fabric called pushmeena, which forms the basis and centre of the Cashmeeree shawl. The embroidery of the shawls is sometimes woven, sometimes worked with the needle, in either case the work is done by men, and requires an incredible amount of time. The Ma