"I think it is,"-returned Julian Jenks, "I think, at least, that an apology from you, at this crisis, will do him more good than all the calomel and tartar-emetic in the dawah-khana (medicine-chest). It will remove the grand cause of his present irritability, and if I am not much mistaken, restore him to comparative composure. This being done, there will be some chance for him; his fever may, perhaps, then be reduced."

"Who attends him?" asked Peregrine Pultu

ney.

"Why," returned Julian, "the doctor of the Wellesley; and if he is not much better than the doctor of the Hastings, I do not think Drawlincourt is in very good hands; but we can easily settle that matter your apology is the main thing."

"Then, Doctor Jenks," rejoined Peregrine, "you may make yourself quite sure of that. I will apologize to him, and with all my heart, if you think that it will do him any good; and what is more, and, as I think, will be more serviceable, I will ask Dr. Martingale to go and see him; and all that human skill and human care can do, will, I am sure, be done. We must wait, however, for a good opportunity to tender this said apology—it will be no use to do it whilst he is delirious, for he will not understand what I say, and my presence will do nothing but aggravate him. I only hope that he will take it, as it is meant; and not when he recovers

from his illness, boast that he extorted an apology from me, and declare that I made it under the influence of fear. But I do not think that he will do this. I do not think that he can-do you?"

"I think that he both can and will," replied Julian; "but we need not mind about that, for if he gives us any trouble afterwards, we can but horsewhip him again. I do not now bid you apologize to Drawlincourt, but to the sick man in No. 27, or rather not the man but his fever. When the fever is gone, if he conducts himself properly, we will let him escape altogether; but, if not, it is my turn next, and I will polish him off for his ingratitude."

Comforting himself and his friend with these and similar assurances of the extreme facility of squaring accounts, at some future day, to their own entire satisfaction, Julian Jenks finished the bottle of beer that was before him, and then proposed to go up stairs again to Drawlincourt's room, to ascertain, as he said, how the land was lying.

This he did; and two or three minutes afterwards he returned to tell Peregrine, that the long cornet was still awake, and considerably more composed, and, to all appearance, more easy than he had been;-" I have spoken to him," continued Julian, "and he is more rational. At first he seemed inclined to burst out into his old ravings; but I re

monstrated with him, told him that you were very sorry he was ill, ready to beg his pardon, and all that sort of thing. In short, I thoroughly humbugged him, and now, I think, we may go up together."

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Very good," said Peregrine, emptying his tumbler; and, passing his arm through Julian's, he left the coffee-room with his friend.

CHAPTER XVI.

In which the Sick Lion shows more Valour than the Sound One.

We hope that none of our readers will object to our work, as being too full of fevers and sick-rooms; for life in India is really nothing but a long fever, and India itself but a large sick-room. How can any picture of Indian life be correct, if the grim fever-king is not painted in the foreground?

We have already described a sick-chamber in India; but, as faithful historians, it becomes us to assert that Cornet Drawlincourt was somewhat more comfortably located than the unfortunate Ensign Appleby had been; for the apartment, which Peregrine Pultuney and Julian Jenks now found themselves entering, though not very tidy, was, at all events clean; and there was nothing disgusting in its aspect. It was a tolerably commodious chamber, on the third floor, and sufficiently cool and airy; but it had that peculiarly confused look, which is best described by the very un-Johnsonian, but expressive adjective, higgledy-piggledy, and

which a room is always sure to have, when its tenant has just arrived in harbour, after a long voyage, and has not had time to get his traps in order; for there was a sea-couch against the wall, somewhat fractured during its transportation from ship to shore, and there was a table-washing-stand, minus a leg in one corner of the room, whilst a great number of leather bullock-trunks, deal packingcases and miscellanies, blocked up the area of the apartment. The fact is, that not only had Cornet Drawlincourt's goods and chattels just arrived from the ship Wellesley, but that another influx of useful articles had lately found its way thither from the agents of the ship Hastings, who, having heard of Mr. Drawlincourt's arrival, had lost no time in forwarding to him the whole of the property, which, owing to the lengthy gentleman's personal defalcation, had been landed in Calcutta without him.

When the two young officers opened the door of the long cornet's apartments, they saw, to their great astonishment, Cornet Drawlincourt sitting upright in his bed, sleeking his moustaches with a brush of lilliputian proportions, and grinning at himself in a glass, which a servant was holding before him, with every symptom of personal enjoyment depicted on his pale face. The friends entered and made their way towards the bed over sundry ridges. of trunks and packing-cases, somewhat as a person walks over a shallow stream by the assistance of a few large stones, which he treads upon in that pe