From the opposite shore, Barrackpore, with its pretty park and embowered vice-regal palace, bursts on the sight with a splendid view. Upwards of a century and a half ago, its rural precincts formed the Tusculum of that old Anglo-Indian patriarch, Mr Job Charnock, the founder of Calcutta. He used to come hither not so much to avoid the dust and bother of his bustling capital, as to be near that grave where there rested one with whom his heart still beat in sympathy. This alludes to his wife-a Hindoo woman, whom he had espoused after rescuing her from burning on the funeral pile of her deceased husband.

As a specimen of architecture, the Barrackpore palace has scarcely any claims to excellence. The Marquis of Wellesley had originally commenced this building with the intention of making it a suitable abode for one who had subverted the throne of Tippoo, humbled the gigantic power of the Mahrattas, and numbered among his protégés the Great Mogul of Delhi. But the work was stopped by a dictum of Leadenhallstreet economy, the views of which have often proved a bed of Procrustes to many a noble undertaking. In the great hall, one may feel an unusual dilatation of spirit, and grow for the moment a most politic wiseacre, with big ideas, and state-views, and legislative this-and-that, filling the crannies of his head; but he has scarcely to witness any display of vice-regal grandeur, or engage his attention with anything in the shape of curiosity. The only sights with which one might beguile himself awhile, are a small but diversified collection of portraits

of different Indian characters. There are the representations of some Pindaree chieftains, in whose rugged features may be read the history of their lives. The picture of a young Rajah of Cuttack has all the truth of an Ooriya likeness.

The park, with its green slopes, and shady clumps of trees, and open lawns, and gay flower-beds-and the ménagerie, with its giraffes, tigers, rhinoceri, and bears, are very good for purposes of holiday recreation. The parade-ground is memorable for the execution of a Sepoy regiment, which refused, in 1824, to go across the kalapane to Burmah: they were surrounded here, and a discharge of grape poured into them. Here, too, did Mungul Pandy play the part of reading the prologue to the great drama of the Sepoy Rebellion, and got his name made memorable in Anglo-Indian slang.

From Buddibati to Shawrafully-thence to Nemytirtha's ghaut, which is sacred to the memory of Choitunya for his having halted and bathed here in the course of his wanderings. The heath of Champdani is notorious for piracies and murders in days gone by. Then comes Ghiretti-the country seat of the Governors of Chandernagore, and the scene of their opulence and splendour. There was a time when hundreds of carriages rolled over its beautiful lawn, now overgrown with wood and jungle. The Governor's house, described to have been one of the finest buildings in India, in whose lofty halls were assembled the beauty and fashion of the neighbouring European settlements, and where Clive, Hastings, and Sir William Jones had been enter

tained, has become levelled with the dust and disappeared. Until a few years back, there could be seen a portion of this building, standing in an awfully dismantled state, through the long array of gloomy trees facing the river.

The French flag hoisted over Chandernagore meets the eye from a long way off. The place became a French settlement in 1673, but did not rise to importance till the time of Dupleix-the man who had the ambition, but not the resources, for playing the Napoleon of the East. It is said of him, that he was seen in the streets of Chandernagore with a fiddle in his hand and an umbrella over his head, running naked with some other young fellows, and playing tricks at every door.' During his administration, however, more than two thousand brick-houses were erected, and fifteen vessels, bearing French colours, traded to different ports from Mocha to the Manillas. But all this grandeur has passed away, and deserted houses, and silent streets, and neglected ghauts, and the absence of bustle and activity, give to Chandernagore the appearance of being devoid of life. The old fort, battered by the English fleet in 1757, is seen in ruins.

During the French Revolution, Chandernagore was all uproar and confusion. The banks of the Hoogbly then exhibited the scene of that feud and ferment, and resounded with that cry of Liberty and Equality, which were in active operation on the shores of the Loire and Garonne. There was a band of two hundred cast-away seamen, who, headed by a bankrupt merchant and brief

less lawyer, were foremost to kindle the flame of the revolution. Plunder only was their object, and riot their sole idea of reform. Goaded on by these motives, they committed every excess, and strove to outdo Robespierre. Their proceedings scared away the Governor, who fled to take refuge at Ghiretti. But he was dragged from this retreat, and thrown into a dungeon. Hitherto, Lord Cornwallis had offered no interference, but when he heard of the imprisonment of the French Governor, he sent to demand his release. The infuriated mob disregarded his request, and, in spite of it, prepared to send the Governor to the Isle of France. Happily, the vessel carrying him was seized by Lord Cornwallis, and all on board similarly destined were set with him at liberty. Chandernagore was now left to all the horrors of anarchy. One freak of caprice led the raving populace to elect a President, whom they drest in a little. brief authority'—another prompted them to turn him out with insult and disgrace. Many a governor was thus made and unmade, till war broke out in Europe, and the English came and took quiet possession of the town in 1794. Twenty-two years afterwards, when everything had subsided into the calm of peace, it was restored to the French, since which it has remained in their possession.

Chandernagore is finely situated upon an elevated bank. The road along the river has been justly called by Jacquemont, a delicious promenade.' Now that the rail has shortened the journey to Chandernagore, it has produced a revolution in private habits, and men toiling

and transacting their business in the metropolis repair hither to recruit themselves in the country air. Under this reaction, Chandernagore is improving and abounding in country-seats and residences, and recovering a portion of its former splendour.

February 12.-Off Chinsurah this morning. The first streaks of sunlight resting upon the beautiful edifices, many of them abutting on the river, the town wore a brilliant appearance. Perhaps Chinsurah is now neater and prettier than when described by Rennel, some eighty years ago. The noblest building is the college-originally the residence of Monsieur Perron, the French General and Deputy of Scindia in the Doab. Chinsurah is a trim little town, quite free from the dirt and dust which drive a man almost mad in Calcutta. It is perfectly void of noise; no rattling of carriages to disturb the continuity of auricular repose, and no stench to offend the olfactory nerve. The place is excellent for a weekly dip into retirement from the eternal bustle of Cockneyism. No air of gloom that hangs over Chandernagore. There is more 'flow of the tide of human existence in its streets,' and more life and activity in its society.

The Dutch established themselves at Chinsurah in 1675. So long as they adhered to a steady prosecution of commerce, they were uniformly prosperous and successful. But at last they got tired of calculations and counting-house drudgery; power and politics became their pets, and they hoped for another Plassey-affair for themselves. This set Mynheer and John Bull by the