lemnade-Belattee pani-hurra bemar-very sickDoctor sahib say go home-my master go in ship; he not walk-be carried-I put master in cot. He say to me, 'Peer Khan, what do without nuokur?'— I say, 'master, I leave wife-babalogue-take care of master'-I go in ship-sirdar, mehter, every thing-my business khitmudgar-master get more ill-Doctor sahib poggle, gudder-fool master say in England—he make my master more sick-more sick every day. One morning I go to master— bring tea-say sahib-master not give juwab-I look in cot-sahib murghya-master quite dead." "Dead!" ejaculated Peregrine.

"Ah! sahib-dead like stone. I see him put in long box-mistry come and nail down. I see feringee-logue throw master into the sea-and I sit down and cry like baba."

"Well," said Peregrine, much affected by the grateful fidelity of the black man," and what became of you then?"

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Nothing come of me, sar, then-I lie down by master's door and take care of master's thingI very much grieve-get little sick-other sahibs call me sustewallah-I not suste but sad-other sahibs not kind-call bad names-My sahib never do that."

"And what," asked Peregrine, "are you going to do now; you don't like England, I suppose?" "No, sahib-Europe place not like-white men

make point, look as though never see black man before-very cold-never see sun-I want go back to my country-see babalogue again."

"Will you come with me?" asked Peregrine. "Where master go?" returned the Mussulman, eagerly.

"To Bengal,” replied Peregrine.

The eyes of Peer Khan brightened, and his dark countenance became radiant with delight. He made a profound salaam-then another-and then a third-then pressed the palms of his hands together, looked up and uttered a few strange words, amongst which Peregrine thought he heard the name of Allah.

"You will come with me then," said Peregrine. "Yes-sahib-I very happy-I very glad go with master-master be kind to stranger-I go with master in ship-I serve master in my country-I never leave master, if master good to meSahib logue say Bengallee men bad-good master, good nuokur-bad master, bad nuokur-master beat poor servant, then make wonder servant not love master for beating."

"Well then," said Peregrine, " you understand me; you shall go back to your own country in my service and wait on me on board ship—you are just the fellow I want. You may go-but stay, call on me here this day week at eleven, and I will make inquiries, if I can, about you in the mean time."

"Master like to see chit?" asked the Mussulman,

fumbling about in the folds of an acre of long cloth which was twisted around his waist.

"What do you call a chit ?" asked Peregrine. "Character, sahib-English name, character, this, sar, from captain of ship," and he put into Peregrine's hand a slip of paper, containing a testimonial of character written by the captain of the very ship in which Peregrine had taken his passage.

"Very good," said Peregrine, "that will do,

go

I in that ship myself; come here in a week, and I will give you directions. You may go."

Thus addressed, the Mussulman made a low salaam and walked out of the room. Peregrine then rejoined his nervous friend, and they walked together to their respective homes. We need scarcely add, that Peer Khan became the servant of Peregrine Pultuney—and a very good servant he made too, as the sequel of this story will show.

CHAPTER VII.

In which Peregrine Pultuney makes a trial of a life on Board ship.

WE shall pass over, without much ado, the leavetakings of Peregrine Pultuney. There were the usual number of maternal sobs, benedictions, kisses and exhortations to "write often," lavished upon this interesting occasion. Mr. Pultuney, as fathers generally do in such cases, went down to Portsmouth with his son, to perform that last paternal rite, which is commonly called seeing one off; having done which he returned to the George Hotel, made a very tolerable dinner "considering;" had a little talk with Mrs. Guy, and then set off for London, in the night-coach, with three other insides, who, strange to say, were every one of them on their way home after performing the same valedictory duties that had taken Mr. Pultuney to Portsmouth.

Peregrine Pultuney, after parting with his father, which, truth to tell, he bore like a hero,

found himself in a small apartment on the lower deck of the Hastings, about nine feet by eight and a quarter in area, and in altitude six and a half. It looked very much like a moderately-sized dogkennel, and was, when Peregrine Pultuney entered it, not much more inviting, as a domicile, than the canine abode to which we allude. It was very dark, being only illuminated by a thing called a bull's eye, and another bearing the mystic title of a scuttle, and even these were rendered almost wholly non-effective by Peregrine Pultuney's "traps," which having all been crammed promiscuous-like into his cabin, when the ship was in the West India docks, now stood about in most admired confusion, and looked as though no human ingenuity could ever reduce them into practicable order. There was box No. 1, and cases No. 2, and No. 3, to be stowed away in the hold; and No. 4, marked cabin; and No. 5, a case of saddlery; and No. 6, military uniform in tin, consisting, as a cadet's uniform always does, of small specimens of every species of regimental accoutrements, cavalry, infantry, artillery, and marine. Then there was a box of books, very heavy; and a box of jams packed in saw-dust; and a miscellaneous box containing brown Windsor soap, wax-candles, seidlitz powders, and tobacco to give to the sailors. Besides these, there was a great swing-cot, which kept blocking up the door; and a leather case, containing blacking brushes; and an ingenious piece of furniture, contrived to serve as a washing-stand and