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“ Can you see him ?” asked Peregrine Pultuney, as he put the pistol into his friend's hand. “ Now take it—God preserve you.” Then in a louder voice

" Are you both ready?"

“Yes.” The signal was given, and the two pistols went off as in a salvo—two flashes were visible through the fog, but only_only one sound was heard.

And then there was a groan-a deep groan. Drawlincourt had fallen to the ground with his face frightfully distorted. Jenks's ball had shattered the cornet's jaw and passed out at his mouth. It was a frightful sight to witness; but the wound was not mortal, though the beauty of the long cornet was spoilt for ever and ever.

CHAPTER THE LAST.

In which this History is brought to a Conclusion.

LITTLE more remains to be said. In less than a month after the memorable morning, which witnessed the entire destruction of the long cornet's personal attractions, Peregrine Pultuney was married to Augusta Sweetenham, in the cathedral church of Calcutta. We are happy to say that the latest accounts we have received of the young couple were favourable in the extreme, but we have no intention, at all events in the present work, of saying any thing about “ Pultuney married.”

Mrs. Peregrine Pultuney (we cannot refrain from writing the name just once) had very nearly half a lac of rupees of her own; for she was the only child of a lieutenant-colonel, who had married somewhat late in life and died not long after he had married. It need not be mentioned that this money was a highly acceptable addition to the ways and means of a second-lieutenant of artillery, nor that with this accession to their income the money being well invested) they contrived to live in a condition, which, though very far indeed below affluence, ought to have been very decent and comfortable, and when it is stated that Mr. and Mrs. Sweetenham, who were sincerely attached to the young couple, furnished their house for them at starting, and gave them an equipage, our readers will entertain very reasonable hopes that the youthful house-keepers managed very well. Whether they did or not is a question, which may perhaps be answered in a future work, but will certainly not be in this present one.

As for Julian Jenks, he is still a bachelor, and we have little more of him to say than that he stood godfather to a little Pultuney, who, in the natural course of events, was born a month or two before the expiration of Peregrine's first year of married life. Rumour says, that Mr. Jenks is going to be married; but we are not very well convinced of it ourselves.

The long cornet's beauty, as we have said more than once, was irremediably damaged by the pistol ball, which so untowardly came in contact with his jaw. After enduring a vast deal of pain, he was reported to be as well as he ever could be again—but one side of his face is wretchedly distorted, especially when he ventures to speak. He has gone to England and sold out of his regiment, but we are not quite competent to say what has become of him since his retirement. Perhaps he is a reformed character -We hope so.

Mrs. Drawlincourt did not accompany her husband, but where and how she is living is not to be lightly told in one of these brief concluding sentences of our history.

Mr. and Mrs. Dillon, and Mrs. Poggleton, a few days after landing in Calcutta, began to make active preparations for a trip to the Upper Provinces; the reverend gentleman having been appointed chaplain to a large Mofussil military station. Poor Julia, if she is not happy, is at peace—for she has drank of the waters of consolation at the only fountain whence they are to be drawn; and if in life she be not destined to much beatitude, her end, which they say is not very remote, will be truly and perfectly blessed. We have heard that she is in a consumption, and we fear that there is too much truth in the report.

And thus much for the principal characters in our work—of the minor personages it may be sufficient to say, that some have married and some have died—some have gone to England, and some are still sweltering on beneath the tropics. The great world is full of changes, but thc Calcutta world far more changeable than any of the lesser ones, which it contains in its vast cycle. Society, in these parts, is a sort of ever moving procession, and the same

characters are seldom to be seen upon the stage many months together. If our work has been somewhat desultory this must be our excuse-Life in India is always desultory.

THE END.

C. WHITING, BEAUFORT HOUSE, STRAND.

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