camp-they have more fatigue 'tis true, but they have less guardduty, more rations, and get an extra allowance of grog. The change of scene keeps up the spirits. Several of the men were never in camp before, (for our Cutch men are nearly all extinct,) and yet they are as sharp and alert at little contrivances for their comfort, as if they had been as many years as they have been days in camp. Some few of the veterans who had been in the Peninsula, declared the steeps and passes in the Pyrenees to have been mere nothings compared with what they had seen in that morning's march. Several of the officers who had a great quantity of baggage with them, underwent much trouble in having it carried up. Not being myself burdened with this world's goods, I escaped the inconvenience they occasion on removes from one station to another. In India every officer, in my humble opinion, possesses too much baggage, at least, more than absolutely requisite. My baggage consists of a tent, a camp bed, table and chair, and two boxes. Men are apt to become sluggish in this tropical climate, and need some excitement: this is found in camp life; and it is notorious, that men are never so healthy in India, as when living in tents, and marching every day. It gave me great pleasure to find the change effected in some of our officers from melancholy to good spirits, by the change of air and scene. Camp also brings us more together than quarters, managed as they are in this country. I can only see evil in the system of officers having private bungalows distant from each other: it produces selfishness, sometimes a traffic-tendency, and always leads officers to relish seclusion more than the free intercourse of their fellow-soldiers. Every step taken in a march is a remove from this evil; and this alone, in the absence of other reasons, is enough to make me like camp. The distance we came on the 12th was only five miles; but most of the road being up-hill work, we had orders, on leaving Bombay, not to make a longer march.

On Friday the 11th, we marched from Candalla to Carlee, a distance of only eight miles, on as good a road as any in old Ireland. At about half distance we passed a small village called Walwan, near to which there is a tank longer than the village itself: the scenery was less beautiful than hitherto, but not tame or uninteresting. The baggage animals requiring a day's rest, we remained on this ground till the morning of the 15th. A party was made on both the 13th and 14th, to visit the caves of Carlee, which were distant only three miles from our camp; Maj,or A Captain E, and three more, with myself, composed a party. We rode to the foot of the mountain in which are the caves, alighted, and climbed up a very difficult path along the side of the hill, till we came to some thick and high trees, round which we took a sharp turn, and came unexpectedly on the entrance to the caves-magnificent indeed! more than eighty feet high, cut out of the hardest rock, leaving massy pillars to support the mountain above: numerous carved figures adorn the sides; not a square foot of the whole, even the floor, that has not been ornamented by the chisel. In the interior of

The

the cave, the vista of pillars is sublime and beautiful-the capitals are formed of leaning pillars, exquisitely worked, and ingeniously contrived. The roof is a wondrous work-part of it has chipped away, and to save the rest, about 100 years ago, the Brahmins erected a wooden frame, rib-wise; this has certainly saved the roof much, but taken away from the appearance, wood looks so like weakness in this work of giants-for such is the tradition of its excavation. At the farthest extremity is a round temple, left in cutting the rock away, over the dome of which is the chutree: here the divinity is supposed to reside. There were some figures that might rival the Grecian models, all indeed were admirable; but I regret that they have been mutilated: two large elephants on each side of the entrance, have lost their trunks and legs. In front of the cave is a small tomb, erected over a celebrated devotee, who caused himself to be buried alive, in consequence of a vow he made, that if he lived to visit Carlee, being ninety when he undertook the pilgrimage from Shapoor, he would sacrifice himself to the god of the cave. Besides this magnificent cave, there are a vast number of small ones communicating with each other, excavated in every direction. mountain is half hollow. We fired a pistol, as directed by a Brahmin who came up with me; and a feu-de-joie ensued that astonished and petrified us; for it was to our ears as if twentyfour pounders had taken up the fire. These smaller caves were intended for the abode of pilgrims, and worshippers of the temple: even now, occasional pilgrimages are made. On the left hand side of the cave is a very deep well, the water from which made my teeth ache with the cold, and it certainly was the best water I have tasted in India. An old Brahmin came up to me as we were going away, and entreated of me to give him some medicine, not for himself, but that he might distribute it. I promised him, that if he would come into camp, I would procure him some from our doctor. The old man came in the evening, and I sent him away as happy as he could be, with a bottle of tincture of bark-an inestimable medicine to natives of this countrywell known to cure the fevers to which they are liable. This poor old man gave me his blessing, and I received it as a mark of gratitude and joy. We enjoyed the change of climate here greatly there was a delicious coolness and freshness that we never felt on Calabah or in the Concan; the dews at night were showers, wetting our tents quite through; the cold in the morning, before sun-rise, was rather more than we liked, and from the heat we lately endured, were less prepared to bear it; colds were nearly as common in camp as in Ireland. It is much to be regretted that government do not see the propriety of moving regiments yearly. Health and a march go hand in hand. We left Bombay with ninety-five sick men; we had only fifty-six in the hospital when at Carlee. I never saw men in higher order and spirits than since they left that vile, dull spot, Calabah. Some of our officers, who are sportsmen, take out their guns and dogs, and the mess-table is every day an evidence of their sport

and skill; some few mount themselves on the country poneys, and make their way over the jungly ground to such places of interest as may be found in the vicinity of the camp. Old forts, pagodas, tanks, or villages, are objects of interest here, as they are all historical. As I sat at my tent-door, the immediate scene about me served to amuse. In one direction I saw the men in groups, some sitting, enjoying each others jokes and tales, others dressing, washing, standing, sleeping, leaping, running, wrestling, bartering with the natives for fruit, &c. &c. In the other direction lay the native bazaar; the camels placed in rows in front; in rear of them the bullocks ranged in order, and the carts are drawn up in rear of the whole; the scene is a busy one, servants bustling about their master's tents, watermen with their bullocks loaded with water are to be seen dealing out with as much care, that inestimable article, as if it cost a rupee a drop. The constant tinkle of the small bells hung round every animal in camp, (except man) and the Babel hum of voices, combine to make such a confusion of sound, as few can imagine. In camp, there is at all hours much to interest, much to look, muse on, and improve, if the soldier lend himself to be impressed.

On Sunday, the 15th, we marched from Carlee to Wargaum, about eleven miles. Above the village of Kurkulla, we crossed the river Indrance-rather deep for the advanced season of the year-the stream was not rapid, as I was informed, and we waded it with no more inconvenience than being wet to our ribs: the water was exceedingly cold, as the sun was just rising over the hills. The morning marches in India are disagreeable to many, from the deadly chill and dew, and the darkness at first starting; for regiments in general march two hours before sun-rise; the general beats between two and three o'clock, and one hour only is given to strike tents, pack baggage, and fall in. The scene during this busy hour is wild; hay and straw, with such materials, are heaped up, and set on fire by the poor, cold, half-starved followers of the camp; round these they crouch, and seem to snatch at the heat with open hands. The glare sent from these fires on the groups, through the half-dark assemblage of men, horses, camels, bullocks, and the infinite variety of baggage-carts, &c. &c. presents in a lurid view, a scene that I would like you could once see. During this time, a multitudinous hum is heard: as I have passed on duty through the lines, several languages struck on my ears, Hindoostanee, Guzeratee, Portuguese, Marhatta, and English. The cold was very great for two or three mornings, and our men were glad to be permitted to wear their grey cloth trowsers: I got hold of my cloak, and enjoyed as much as I would in a sharp March day at home. We marched at the rate of four miles an hour, as the road was good, and the morning cold. I saw nothing at Wargaum worth notice. There are no buildings or forts, or, in short, any thing to enliven the scene. The ground was not under cultivation, and only a few straggling natives came into camp to sell their goods. Over this desert land the wind came heated during the day, and from the cold of the

morning was rendered more distressing it was the first time we had felt the hot wind of the Decan, which all agree in naming as the eighth plague. We had no divine service on that Sunday, and it was least like a day of rest of all that I have hitherto spent in India.

Monday, 16th-We marched from Wargaum to Panowlee, about eleven miles, over an excellent road. Panowlee is a sweetly situated village on the bank of the River Powna. Trees grow in the little street of the village, and give the houses a cool and comfortable appearance. We passed that morning, on our left, the town of Tullygaum, rendered infamous from the murder of the two Vaughans, at the breaking out of the war with the Peshwa. It was dark when we passed it. Had it been light, I would have got leave to go over to it, as I hear there are some ruins to be seen near the town. At Ponowlee cultivation seemed to have been as much attended to as it was neglected at Wargaum. Several grains, with the names of which I am unacquainted, were growing round the camp, and we planted a chain of sentries to secure the crops from depredation. The scenery here was rather that of a gentleman's park, than of the Indian farmer's tenure. We employed the evening of that day in making our arrangements for entering Poonah in good style on the 17th.

Tuesday 17th-We marched very early, and crossed the Moota Moola River a little above the Sangum, at sunrise. When about a mile from Poonah we were met by several of the officers and men of the Queen's and 20th regiment, The Queen's had sent the night before to our camp, an invitation to us to breakfast and dine with them the day of our arrival.

THE DEATH OF A DEVOTEE.

I will long remember the 14th of January, in the year 18-, as one on which a train of serious reflection was awakened in my mind. I had that day dined with the Priest of our parish, who was, at the period spoken of, an old man, in an infirm state of health. Indeed, he considered this warning in its proper light, and held himself prepared for that great tribunal, before which, sooner or later, we shall all appear. Father Moyle was a proof that we must carry our charity into every state of human condition; and that it is possible for a man, under the most difficult circumstances, to raise himself above their disadvantages. He had been educated, and resided for some time, abroad, where he encountered many vicissitudes, strongly and painfully contrasted. These trials, im posed on him when his heart, as he himself strongly expressed it, was rank and fertile in iniquity, he did not endure to the end. More he never intimated; but, from the emotion he usually betrayed, whenever he alluded to this mysterious topic, I thought it was evident that some secret grief-perhaps the remembrance of some bitter fall, lay coiled round his heart. He was a venerable looking man, much bent with his years being then 76;

He

his face had been good, and was still interesting, from the expression of habitual sorrow which settled upon it; his hair was as white as snow. His case, indeed, was a peculiar one. certainly appeared to have been gifted with a good understanding, joined to much simplicity of character. That he entertained Scriptural views of religion, there is no doubt; and it would seem as if he had been coerced into them by the chastening hand of affliction, or goaded onward to Calvary by the inward lashings of remorse. He had tried, it was evident, to build his peace and his security upon sand,-had addressed himself to the miserable fragments of guilty mortality;-but the connexion of every thing human with so corrupt and diseased a thing as his own heart, rose up in painful reality before him, and he felt that this unholy affinity-this community of sin and frailty between himself and his mediators, not only rendered an application to the broken cisterns of human intercession or dead works, unprofitable; but added to his guilt, and increased his affliction. He was, however, a man, even in his old age, of many weaknesses, and capable of being much influenced, in consequence of his easiness of disposition, by the force of erroneous opinions long wrought into his duties and habits. Whether the abstraction produced by that seriousness which is inseparable from remembered guilt or sorrow, might not have rendered him less capable of going out of himself, and entering into the spiritual circumstances of others, I cannot determine; certain it is that he was engrossed altogether by himself-that his views of Gospel truth, though correct, were not urged upon others so strongly as they might have been, and that be discharged the duties of his sacred calling, like a man who felt that the greatness of his own danger prevented him from assisting others. There is some allowance, however, to be made for his years, and the natural decay which time and affliction bring upon the mind as well as the constitution; but another and juster motive may appear by and bye.

On the 14th of December, 18-, as I have said, I dined with him and his Curate. After dinner, we amused ourselves by discussing several common topics of conversation, and sometimes by dipping into the classics, until it was after nine o'clock. A little before that time the wind, accompanied by heavy rain, began to blow with unusual force. "You are storm-staid," said he to me, "for this night; so I will go to bed, and leave Father John and you to settle that passage between you; it has become a severe night, but you are under a friendly roof, and your family know that you are safe." He then retired to his chamber, which was a small closet off the room where we sat, and Father John and I, after sitting up until past eleven o'clock, withdrew to our respective apartments for the night. In the course of an hour, however, or upwards, we were awakened by the violence of the storm, which had encreased with great fury.

The Priest's house was situated in a hollow, somewhat resembling an old excavation, scooped out of the south side of a hill; it had