the paralizing influence of a supernatural visitation.

The old Captain was the first to recover himself, and turning on the seconds he angrily said,

"It is to you we owe this piece of buffoonery, gentlemen, but by heaven you shall both answer for it on the spot."

"Excuse me, Benham," said the Colonel, who had just ascended from the cabin, followed by a group of merry faces. "The ladies have had enough of gunpowder, and must not be again frightened in this way. From what I have just ascertained, from the real authors of the joke, I can fully exonerate these gentlemen from the charge you have brought against them. Nevertheless, I shall feel it my duty to place you all under arrest, unless you give me your parole that we shall not have a repetition of this discreditable scene."

"I shall give you no such thing, sir,” furiously replied the Captain. "I will not be

made the butt and the play-thing of a parcel of

silly boys."

66

Then, if such be your determination, sir,” said the Colonel sternly. "I shall instantly place you under arrest, and bring you to a Court Martial as soon as we arrive in India. Recollect that you are the party most to blame. in this affair. I will not allude more specifically to the error you have committed, but a moment's reflection will suffice to convince you that, the less that is said or known about it the better."

"You are right, Colonel W," said the old officer, restored to himself by this hint. "I will do all that you require.”

Thus ended this most extraordinary scene. Although it may well be supposed that the Captain did not feel extremely comfortable under the sly inuendoes with which he was constantly assailed on the one side, and the taunts and reproaches which greeted him on the other; he bore them all with more philo

sophical resignation than might be expected from his temperament, and on our arrival in India rid himself both of one and the other, by sending his mistress adrift, and exchanging into the infantry.

CHAPTER IV.

"Des singes empaillés, des serpens en bouteilles,
On me tarirait pas sur toutes ces merveilles."

We arrived within sight of the light-house of Bombay, about the middle of November, and those who have been pent up for months in a small and crowded vessel, can well understand the feelings of joy with which we hailed the prospect of our approaching deliverance.

Some few there were, however, who looked upon our release with very different feelings. Friendships and attachments had been formed

and cemented during the progress of the passage that were destined to be interrupted or broken up by this event; and those who had abandoned themselves to the delightful intercourse which so soon springs up between kindred feelings and tastes, could not help manifesting their regret at its speedy termination. There were others, too, who felt a sad consciousness that they were approaching the European's grave, and painful memories crowded upon, and depressed them; their pale and dejected countenances reflecting but too faithfully the character of their thoughts, and forming a sad contrast with the joyous faces around them.

There is little in the appearance of Bombay to impress the stranger at first sight, though a careful examination of its position shows that it possesses advantages that few other ports can boast of. The town is situated on the S.E. extremity of a small island, separated from the main land by an arm of the sea, and with the contiguous islands of Colabah, Salsette,