time, and I will, with your permission, bid
you good morning."

I thanked him very much for his information,
and suffered him to depart; and then,
alone, I wandered about that well-tilled
piece of ground. I have always had a melancholy
pleasure in strolling from tombstone to
tombstone, and reading the various epitaphs;
and on that morning, after all that I had
heard from the old pensioner, I was just in
the humour for gratifying this morbid
desire.

Some miles to the northward of Meerut is
the station of Burnampore. No troops are
quartered here; it is what is called in India
a purely civil station, containing only a
magistrate (who is also the collector of the
revenue), an assistant (a covenanted civilian),
the establishment of the office, and a small
police force. To these two gentlemen and
their few subordinates were entrusted the
care and the collections of a district as large
as Lancashire or Yorkshire, and containing,
possibly, as many inhabitants. The idea of
two gentlemen keeping in order a district of
such dimensions was simply absurd; but they
did their best, and that was all that could be
expected of them. I remained four days and
nights at Burnampore, and during that time
was a guest of the assistant magistrate,
whose acquaintance I had made at Meerut.
Anything more monotonous and dreary than
the existence of a gentleman stationed at such
a place, it would be very difficult to imagine.
My host assured me that if it were not for an
occasional visit paid by some traveller on his
way up or down the country, both himself
and his superior officer would have died of
ennui. " If it were not for the shooting,
which is very good in this district," he added,
"I would rather be a permanent passenger
on board ship, or the inmate of a debtors'
prison in London or any other part of
England; in either case, one would have something
like company, and one would have, at all
events, a somewhat cooler and more
congenial climate."

In the district of Burnampore there are a
great number of wolves; and during my
short stay even, two were brought in, and
the government reward (two rupees a head)
claimed upon them. These ferocious creatures
often carry off the young children of
poor people and devour them. It was in
this district that " a wolf-child," as the
natives of India express it, was found some
years ago, and taken to Meerut, where it was
exhibited as a curiosity.* "There can be
no question," said my friend and host, when
I spoke to him one morning on this subject,
"that the male wolf, in all these cases, seizes
and runs off with the infant, and that when
he has carried it alive to the den, the female,
especially if she happens to have cubs at the
time, instead of killing and devouring, suckles
and fosters the little human being. So, after
all, the story of Romulus and Remus may
not be a mere fable."

"No," said I. " But what is that Greek
epigram from the Anthology of Bland and
Merivale? The she-goat that suckled the
whelp of a wolf, which wolf when she had
no more milk to give it, killed her and eat her.
Something about—

' Be kind, be gentle, and do what you will,
A stubborn nature will be nature still.'"

"Yes," replied my host. " I do remember
something about it; and by-and-by we will
talk the matter over, and refer to the volume,
which I have amongst my books; but at
present you must excuse me, for I have a
duty to perform. You may come with me
and witness the operation, if you like; but,
understand me, I shall not be offended if you
decline to do so."

"What operation?"

"That of hanging."

"What? Hanging! Hanging what ?"

"A man—a culprit—a murderer. It is a
part of my duty to see this operation
performed. Come! " he added energetically,
and slapping me on the shoulder, " Come!
Be a sort of Selwyn for once in your life."

Whilst I was hesitating, the magistrate
approached in his buggy. He had been
taking his morning drive, and had dropt in
upon his assistant to have some friendly
conversation. He had forgotten all about the
forthcoming execution; and, on hearing that
we were just about to start for the spot, he
very kindly offered to take us there: an offer
which was accepted by his assistant with
many thanks. So, off we drove—three in a
gig— like so many men going to witness a
pugilistic encounter in England during the
beginning of the present century.

When we had arrived at the place of
execution—a field some distance from the
gaol, in which had been erected a temporary
gallows—I was surprised at not finding a
mob. There was no one there but the culprit
(who was eating as much rice as he could,
and as fast as he could); a couple of native
policemen with drawn swords guarding him;
the gaoler, who was a Mahommedan; and a
Bengalee writer (clerk), who stood with pen,
ink, and paper, in hand, ready to dot down
the official particulars of the scene, preparatory
to their being forwarded to government,
according to a certain regulation.

"Is everything ready ? " said the assistant
magistrate to the gaoler.

"Yes, Sahib," he replied, " but he has not
yet finished his breakfast."

"In one minute; Sahib," cried the culprit,
who overheard the conversation; and
hastily taking into his stomach the few
grains of rice that remained upon the dish,
and drinking the remainder of his half-gallon
of milk, he sprang up, and called out the
word "Tyear!" signifying," I am ready."

* Vide Household Words, Volume the Sixth, page 502.