Peregrine thought it was rather a good thing, that there was no act of the legislative council in force in the Arracan provinces, prohibiting young gentlemen from riding about on elephant-back, and, as he had never done any thing of the kind before, he was much pleased with the novelty of the diversion. Nor was he much less pleased with his dinner at the commissioner's, which was as good as a dinner composed entirely of fowls in six shapes, ducks in three, fish of different kinds, and hermetically sealed salmon can be-flocks and herds being as little able to withstand the devastating effects of the climate, as unhappy volunteer regiments and detached artillery officers.

The Seeva remained three or four days at Akyab, for the purpose of emptying herself of the government and private stores consigned to that place; and during that time, Peregrine Pultuney had contrived to become intimate with every person in the station. An officer in the Arracan Local Battalion very obligingly lent him a horse, so that he had an opportunity of seeing every thing that is to be seen, which, however, amounts to nothing at all.

The only event worthy of being recorded in this place, before we transport our hero to Khyook Phyoo, is one of by no means an uncommon nature, which befel not Peregrine Pultuney himself, but a fellow-passenger of that young gentleman. One of the young ensigns was seized with Arracan fever and died. There is nothing very remarkable

in the circumstance, for death is the only thing that flourishes in the province of Arracan; but as the melancholy event made a deep impression on Peregrine's mind, as faithful historians we are bound to record it.

The young man had gone on board in high health, we cannot add in high spirits, for although there are many wonderful phenomena in the world, nature has never yet permitted such an utter inversion of her laws, as would be manifested, if any person in a sound state of mind were to embark for Arracan in high spirits. He had not been more than seven or eight months in the country, and was a remarkably fine young man, with apparently a frame of iron-muscular and close-knit. He did not seem a person likely to fall an easy victim even to a powerful foe-but what very straws are the robustest frames and the healthiest constitutions in the hands of the gigantic fever-king, when he holds his revels in his favourite banquet-room! This poor youth had gone out with Peregrine and two or three others for a ride, on the morning following the arrival of the Seeva, and, perhaps, it was that they had ridden through some bad jungle or gone too near some stagnant, putrid waters, or perhaps it was that the old fever-king was in want of a victim; but a few hours after the return of the riding party, two of the number were lying prostrate on their bedspoor Travers, and a lieutenant in the Provincial Battalion-the lieutenant recovered after a few weeks

of suffering, but in two days the young ensign was a corpse, and the Seeva continued its voyage to Khyook Phyoo with one passenger less in her

cabins.

Ha! ha! what a merry old fellow is that gauntsided, yellow-cheeked fever-king, and so dainty withal. What a jovial grin puckers up his lank jaws, as he sneaks behind with a bony finger on his blue lips, stretching out with long knee-bent paces to keep up with the light step of youth. Ha! ha! how facetiously he points to the rosy cheek-to the swelling muscles, and how he winks his dull eye, when he catches a word about home-about kindred, or parents, or love. Jolly old fellow! are you quite ready?—there now, you have laid your finger on him how the poor victim shivers all over!-see him now, reeling and staggering to and fro, like a drunken man-dizziness in his brain-a a film over his eyes; it is of no use struggling—he tries to shake it off-he has youth and strength on his side-straws; the fever-king has stretched out both his arms, and what a jovial embrace!

What a merry dog it is, to be sure!-see, he seats himself on the ground and takes his little victim on his lap, as a child of three years nurses a doll—how daintily he streaks down the smooth flesh with his five hot fingers, like so many searing-irons, parching the skin, and boiling the blood, and drying up the fountain of life; how he tosses him about from side to side-no rest for the fever-stricken; how he

plays with his victim's hair; and laid his arid, burning palm upon his victim's brow, till the language of delirium comes forth wildly-disjointedly from the dry lips; and then how the old fellow laughs— ha! ha!--what fun it is for the gaunt old Shakesides his very own music this What? tired of it. Pleasures must pall sometimes-the intensest the most short-lived. You have done with him -well, well-see how the grim monarch tosses his victim over, and how the lean, withered, yellow anatomy, that was once so full of health and strength and beauty, now falls upon its face and dies. The fever-king is off-a fresh plaything awaits him. Ha! ha-he does as he lists.

CHAPTER II.

In which the Reader will find very much what he has expected.

DANTE, who was supposed to have known as much about these things as most people in his generation, has declared that it is written over the gates of a certain unmentionable place, that all people entering therein are to leave hope behind them in the vestibule, as gentlemen do their sticks and umbrellas, when they go to the National Gallery. Not claiming any particular acquaintance with these Tartarean localities, we cannot say whether Dante was right; but we can venture to state, on our own responsibility, that hope is a contraband article on the coast of Arracan, and that no one is ever permitted to land even the smallest portion of it, tied up in the corner of his pocket handkerchief.

Such being the case, it is not surprising that the hero of this story, though young, and by nature buoyant and sanguine, landed on the arid shores of Khyook Phyoo, irremediably hopeless and forlorn.