de Chalabre entered the room, unannounced
and breathless:

"My friends, give me joy!" he said. "The
Bourbons"—he could not go on; his features,
nay his very fingers, worked with agitation,
but he could not speak. My father hastened
to relieve him:

"We have heard the good news (you see,
girls, it is quite true this time). I do
congratulate you, my dear friend. I am glad."
And he seized M. de Chalabre's hand in his
own hearty gripe, and brought the nervous
agitation of the latter to a close by unconsciously
administering a pretty severe dose of
wholesome pain.

"I go to London. I go straight this afternoon
to see my sovereign. My sovereign
holds a court to-morrow at Grillon's Hotel;
I go to pay him my devoirs. I put on my
uniform of Gardes du Corps, which have laid
by these many years; a little old, a little
worm-eaten; but never mind; they have
been seen by Marie Antoinette, which gives
them a grace for ever." He walked about
the room in a nervous, hurried way. There
was something on his mind, and we signed to
my father to be silent for a moment or two,
and let it come out. "No!" said M. de Ohalabre,
after a moment's pause. " I cannot
say adieu; for I shall return to say, dear
friends, my adieux. I did come a poor
emigrant; noble Englishmen took me for their
friend, and welcomed me to their houses.
Chalabre is one large mansion, and my
English friends will not forsake me; they
will come and see me in my own country;
and, for their sakes, not an English beggar
shall pass the doors of Chalabre without
being warmed, and clothed, and fed. I will
not say adieu. I go now but for two days."

BY DAWK TO DELHI.

Business summoned me recently from
the modern to the ancient capital of India.
From Calcutta to Delhi runs the Grand
Trunk Road, nine hundred miles long; one
of the few good, though late, results of the
East India Company's rule. This journey I
was to get over by Dawk travelling, and my
purpose now is to explain what manner of
travelling that is.

Dawk travelling is no more like railway
travelling, than a donkey race is like the
Newmarket St. Leger. It is more suggestive
of the progress of Indian railways. They
have a line at Bombay something longer than
its own name when it is printed in large
capitals; Bengal can show a very few miles
of embankment that have for the last
two or three years been nearly finished,
and some cuttings which sanguine people
say will be available in about a year;
Madras talks languidly about railways, and
the North-West Provinces have got as far as
thinking of them. India has not yet even
come up to the advancement of our old pair-
horse or four-horse coach. Of Indian roads
in their customary badness I say nothing:
of the Grand Trunk Road between Calcutta
and Delhi, and of the improved system of
travelling thereupon—the best kind of
travelling to which India has attained, and that
but very recently—I shall say much, if I
may be allowed to say it in my own leisurely
way. I am an old Indian; and we old
Indians like to do things quietly—we are not to
be hurried.

A contract was first entered into between
myself, on the one hand, and the North-
Western Dawk Company, on the other;
whereby, for the sum of one hundred and
thirty-eight rupees (equivalent to thirteen
pounds, sixteen shillings), the said Company
agreed to convey me from Calcutta to Delhi.
In consequence of this contract, a Dawk was
driven to my door one evening, that it might
be packed by me and my household overnight,
ready for starting early in the morning.
A Dawk may be described roughly as
a large palanquin running on four high
wheels, and drawn by a single horse. It is
strong but not elegant; and is not decorated
in accordance with the highest principles of
art; being painted light green above and
black below. To appear publicly in such a
vehicle in England, would occasion the
conviction that the occupant had gone into the
travelling show line, and was on his way to
the next country fair. The wheels of the
Dawk are stout, for they have heavy work to
do, and the body is hung high between
them; for the Dawk has streams to ford.
Round the roof a railing runs, for the more
secure accommodation of such heavy luggage
as can be packed outside. The carriage has
a sliding door on each side, and windows like
port-holes. The roomy interior is lined with
a strong woollen stuff of green and black; it
is of considerable length, and there is space
in it for a great many odds and ends. There
is a handy little shelf in front, there are two
ample pockets, there are straps by which a
hat or two may be slung, and there is a
strong net suspended from the roof by its
four corners. Level with the door-sill is a
flooring of reasonably elastic cushion,
covered to match the lining of the carriage; this
extends over the whole length and breadth
of the Dawk. The cushion is in four parts,
one serving as lid to a well in which the
traveller may put some of his luggage, or, if
he should wish to sit, may put his legs. In
short, the Dawk is a snug little house upon
wheels.

In family council, we agreed that, as my
luggage was not very heavy, it might all be
packed next morning, and next morning
many hands and sundry little fingers were at
work about the vehicle; which swallowed up
my luggage as though it were but a mouthful,
much as it had seemed to be when we
were putting it together. We made but a