the provider on both occasions, it was the same boat that, a year and a half before, had taken him to join the Seeva, when he was on his voyage to Arracan. Peer Khan had taken care to have a basket of provisions stowed beneath one of the seats in the cabin, and when he pointed it out to Peregrine triumphantly, with a self-approving smile at his own carefulness, our hero smiled too, and told his servant that he was a very good man indeed, that he should increase his wages next month, and put him at the head of his married establishment.

The good Mussulman made a low salaam, and looked exceedingly pleased. Peregrine was pleased too, and tears of kindly benevolence once again glistened in his eyes. Peer Khan was looking very smart indeed; he had mounted a new cloth overdress for the cold weather, and certainly cut a very distinguished figure. Peregrine told him that it was very handsome; Peer Khan was flattered by the compliment, and they once again stood in their old relation to one another-the kind master and the faithful servant. The fidelity had never been shaken, but the kindliness had been somewhat on the wane.

Having told the syces to take his horse to Dr. Fitz-simon's (he had been on the point of order. ing it to the Sweetenhams', but a sudden impulse had checked him), he went into the cabin of the boleau, and told the rowers to push off. This they did, and in a minute the boat was in motion, stream

and tide being both in their favour; and Peregrine, having given directions to Peer Khan to be on the look out for every large ship, stretched himself at full length on one of the cabin seats, and gave himself up to his thoughts.

It would have been a very good thing for him, if he could have ridden all the way to the Hastings, for now he missed his horse sadly. He was in motion, it is true, but it was not active motion, and being inside the boat, he scarcely knew that he was making progress. Besides, there was a reality about his present position, which filled him with nervous apprehension. When riding between DumDum and Calcutta, his meeting with Julia seemed something vague and distant, the reality of which he could scarcely imagine; but now that he was, as it were, striking off the last link of the chain of separation—no intermediate stage between him and Julia-expecting every hour, nay, indeed, every minute, to come alongside of the vessel, which contained his betrothed, he felt uneasy—uncertain— fearful-anxious--and once again his old doubts and misgivings returned upon him in full force.

Feeling chilly, he emerged from the cabin of the boat and basked for a while in the sun. There was something cheerful and animating in the aspect of the bright, sparkling river, and the numerous boats that glided along it, and this refreshed him a little; but still he was not very hopeful—not as he had been when feeling his bounding Arab beneath him.

Fresh fears came upon him thickly-his thoughts recurred to the passenger-list that he had read in the morning, and he wondered whether it were possible that his cousin could have died on the way out. He turned this over in his mind, and was surprised to find himself thinking so coolly about it. And then came back the image of Augusta Sweetenham, and he asked himself, whether he had not wronged her by thinking that she would not make a good wife. How greatly had she improved of late-how much of her wild vanity, her reckless eccentricity, her love of admiration had she cast off during the last year -and all this too, on his account-how could he help loving her after this? He had, indeed, remodelled her-made her into something, oh! so different from what she had been, and to think that he had done all this for another-that he had cultured, and sown, and tended for another's reaping was maddening-very maddening indeed. A corpse was floating down the stream not far from the boat, and Peregrine almost wished to be himself as cold, soul-forsaken thing of clay, as he gazed at the mass of corruption, on which the carrion birds were perched, and thought of the misery in store for him.

About noon he applied himself to the basket of provisions which Peer Khan had taken on board, but, although he had eaten no breakfast, he found that he had not the least inclination for any thing more solid than a glass of wine. This he took

and a second a third-a fourth, and felt invigorated thereby. He wanted something by way of a stimulant and found that this succeeded very well. Then he lay down, slept for a little while, and, when he awoke, looked in a glass, which Peer Khan had stowed in the boat, together with some clean clothes. The survey was not very satisfactory, for Peregrine had rarely looked more unprepossessing. His hair was sadly disarranged, his cheeks were sallow, and his eyes bloodshot. "I am altered," he said, "much altered, and no wonder-perhaps Julia is altered too; but, oh! for a different reason-she may have grown old and haggard during her absence-yet, nonsense-she is scarcely nineteen-" and as he muttered this to himself, he began combing and parting his hair, re-arranging his neckcloth, and brushing his surtout. There was a large ship a little ahead of the boat.

However, it was not the Hastings-nor did Peregrine come up with that vessel, until about five o'clock that evening. She was at anchor, or rather just getting under weigh again, when Peregrine fell in with her some miles above (we do not mean beyond) Diamond Harbour-Peregrine thought that he recognised her, and ordered the boatmen instantly to pull alongside. The tide was just on the turn, and the boatmen at all events thought themselves fortunate in having reached the Hastings in such good time. As for Peregrine, it is difficult to say what he thought, such a whirlpool of conflicting feelings was eddying in his breast.

They were not long in pulling alongside of the ship, and the cry of "What ship's that?" was answered by the word Hastings. Peregrine looked up, and saw that there were a number of people on the poop. He recognised the pilot and the officer of the watch, but could not see any ladies. The gentlemen had been reading newspapers, and looking through telescopes, but when they saw a boat coming alongside, a new excitement was produced -the papers and telescopes were laid down; and our hero wished them at the devil, for not attending to their own business.

Peregrine heard the well-known command to cast them a painter, and in a minute he was bumped against the side of the ship amidst an infinite deal of shouting, jabbering, and confusion. His hat was knocked off by the rope, and he himself nearly flung into the water by the concussion. Before he had time to recover himself, he heard a voice from the poop shouting out " to hand the man ropes," and in a minute Peregrine had caught hold of the portable balusters and was pulling himself, with considerable muscular exertion, up the stairless sides of the Hastings.

He stumbled over the gangway, and there he stood once again upon the deck of his old ship. For a few moments he remained there still and statue-like, but his self-possession was speedily renewed and he walked aft, looking round to see if there was any one at hand to whom he could ad