good

was thus thrown on my protection by an untoward event, over which I appeared to have had no control.

How was I, under such circumstances, to act, after rescuing the poor girl from a cruel death? could I turn her adrift upon the wide world, in which she would now be considered an outcast for the remainder of her life?

Such an idea was not for a moment to be entertained; and being now the only person to whom she could look for assistance and support, I resolved—whilst offering to become her protector-conscientiously and scrupulously to perform a duty enforced on me-as a Mahomedan fatalist would have said-by my "Nusseeb," or fate.

Sitayah was amiable, gentle, and handsome; she was endeared to me by the very helplessness of her situation, which called for every sentiment of kindness and sympathy on my part; whilst she felt grateful for what I had effected in her behalf.

Poor Sitayah! to the present day-although years and years have since rolled by, carrying with them in their train far different circumstances, I cannot even now, recall thy memory without a sigh!

I cannot retrace thy slight symmetry of form; thy mild and placid features, without reviewing thy endearing qualities in my mind-without recalling, what-without thee -must have proved a long and dreary time of solitude in that wilderness; but which thy kind and cheering companionship, always helped so lightly to pass away!

How often, during sickness, have I been indebted to thy gentle care?

How often hast thou with unequalled tenderness, with a solicitude and patience beyond all praise, how often hast thou then, wakefully watched for nights and nights, beside my restless and fevered couch?

How often when the fiery blast of the desert wind swept witheringly over the "Meidan; how often, during the dreary monsoon, when the flood-gates of Heaven poured forth the full vial of their wrath, and torrents of continuous rain fell on our saturated tent; how often, during the burning stillness of noon, when encamped on some arid and sun-burnt plain; how often, during the dreary hours of some stormy night, when encamped amidst the solitude of the wild jungle-far distant from any haunts of man-its savage denizens:

fierce beasts of prey, yelling forth in dismal chorus their plaintive or threatening cries! how often, at such times as these, would my sweet young friend while away the tedious hours, with the soft prattle of her clear and silvery voice! Often, in such solitudes, would Sitayah endeavour to initiate me into the depths of Sanscrit lore, and teach me the mysteries of that incomprehensible idol-creed, in which she had been born and bred, and in which she placed the utmost faith.

She would tell me of mighty Brahma: the Great Creator; of Vishnu the Preserver; and of Seva the Destroyer: constituting the Trinity of the Hindoos. On the sacred Purānahs and Védahs would she also learnedly descant; and strenuously endeavour to convert, whilst initiating me into the mysteries of her most incomprehensible of all incomprehensible creeds!

My amiable young priestess soon, however, made me a willing convert to at least some of the multifarious divinities of her faith. I readily, under her tuition, acknowledged the sway of

* Although the generality of females in the East are brought up in extreme ignorance, Brahmin women, as well as the nautch girls of the pagodas, are frequent exceptions to this rule.

Kamdeo (the Indian god of Love); I owned that I objected not to consider my Sitayah, as the incarnation of Luchmee-the gentle goddess of Beauty-and most devoutly worshipped at her shrine, as at that of one those beneficent Glendoveers, who, from my previous dreary solitude, had transported me into the "Swerga," or Paradise of the Hindoos!

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE ENCAMPMENT UNDER A BANYAN-TREE.

66

'Such as

In Malabar or Deccan spreads her arms

Branching so broad and long, that in the ground
The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow
About the mother tree, a pillared shade
High over-arched, and echoing walks between."

MILTON.

ANOTHER hot season, and another monsoon had passed away, and found me still leading the same wild and roving kind of life.

I was again about to take the field, when I received a letter from my old friend Bradford, containing the welcome intelligence, that having been promoted to the Medical charge of a regiment stationed in Bengal; he was about to join it overland; that Staunton had offered to accompany him part of the way, and that they hoped I should be able to be of the