for amusement, at an hour when darkness favours immorality of every description. Why do they not divide our hours better, and let us amuse ourselves in the full daylight?"

"Because," replied Julian Jenks, answering this last question, "it would very materially interfere with the professors' hours of dining."

"Be it so," said Peregrine Pultuney. "If it were light, I should go and play at foot-ball, as it is dark, I shall go and lush."

"Very good," cried Julian Jenks, "come along, I'm your man," and the two gentlemen-cadets started off for the Shirley Arms.

They must have been two uncommonly stupid boys, to talk in such a manner as this; but nevertheless they were not thought so either by themselves or their companions. Let it not be thought that we advocate such opinions; for indeed we regard them with unmitigated horror, and see no reason in the world why young gentlemen from fifteen to twenty years of age should not employ themselves between the hours of five and seven on a winter evening, in reading, "The Whole Duty of Man," or "Cœlebs in Search of a Wife;" or should they have a mechanical, turn they might employ themselves, very profitably, in making pincushions to take home to their sisters, or in default of them to their maiden-aunts.

But at length Peregrine Pultuney, having spent all his pocket-money, to the great benefit of the

excise-having smoked all his cigars, and been twice reported for playing at cards, was driven into such extremes, that after waivering for some time, between suicide and poetry, he betook himself in despair to the latter.

A rational being, before he is driven to poetry, must doubtless be in a desperate extremity. Peregrine Pultuney was, it is very certain, or he would never have perpetrated three hundred lines of a satirical poem, entitled "The Devil's Walk through Addiscombe," Yet, in spite of all this, Peregrine Pultuney got through Addiscombe in a creditable manner. He had very few extra drills, he was the best fugleman, the best cricketer, the best classic in the seminary, and popular opinion went far enough to say that he was the best fellow to boot. No one, from the lieutenant-governor down to the small abortion of a boy who played on a thing called a triangle, or the worthy with one eye, and a particular manner of doing the right and left close, who acted as an extra-purveyor to the cadets, ever doubted that Peregrine was "a gentleman." He took things very coolly, made a multitude of friends, worked for any body rather than himself, had a small love affair in the neighbourhood of Croydon, made drawings for the albums of the professors' wives, went up to London on Saturdays, visited the theatres and cider cellars in the vacations, grew up into a very fine young man, with the most winning

VOL. I.

F

face in the world, and finally gained three or four prizes, and a commission in the Artillery of Bengal.

Peregrine left Addiscombe, scarcely knowing whether he was sorry or glad to quit it. He was sorry to lose his friends, whom he loved, but he was glad to be emancipated from the institution, which he hated, "cursed glad to cut the concern," as Julian Jenks expressed himself on the occasion; "cursed glad to get out of such a confounded hole.”

CHAPTER V.

In which Peregrine Pultuney is first introduced to a specimen of Anglo-Indian humanity.

For the next few months Peregrine Pultuney, as most young men are upon leaving Addiscombe, was occupied in procuring his outfit, which is a generic name for six dozen calico shirts, six pounds of brown Windsor, and a sword. This latter article Peregrine clutched, when it was first presented to him, with certain feelings of heroic aspiration; but upon reflecting that it was a most unserviceable article, and evidently not designed either for cutting or thrusting, or any thing in the world more warlike than saluting, he laid it down with an observation to the effect, that he supposed it had been made by a benevolent individual, who could not bear the thoughts of constructing an instrument to hurt any thing bigger than a fly.

A young gentleman before going out to India, has several interesting little ceremonies to go through. He has to be sworn in at the India

House, which he generally accomplishes after kicking his heels about an ante-room for several hours, in a mixed state of excitement, cold, impatience, and philosophy. Peregrine Pultuney, was one of the most philosophical young gentleman in the United Kingdom; but even he waxed somewhat impatient after having trodden the floor of the waiting-room -most properly so called-for about three quarters of an hour; looked at a picture over the chimneypiece, illustrative of somebody presenting something to some volunteer corps or other, in bag-wigs and gaiters; found likenesses to half his friends in the ranks of the said corps; counted the number of times that an elderly gentleman in a plumb-coloured uniform, turned up with scarlet, had passed and repassed through the ante-room; read through a Morning Chronicle, advertisement-sheet and all; and wondered at least a dozen times, whether it would be very indecorous to light a cigar.

At length he was marched into a room, where some half dozen old gentlemen were sitting at a long table, covered with books and papers, and looking as solemn and dignified as such people can possibly be. There a book was put into his hand, and he was told to repeat a few sentences beginning with "I, Peregrine Pultuney," and ending with something or other about the East India Company and the Articles of war, having done which he received an exhortation from a little man with a cream-coloured