in an earnest and impressive tone. "She used to cook her food with her own hands."
Question. What she used to take?
Foster. She used to take only rice with milk.
Question. What about the water she used to drink?
Foster. She would invariably get it herself from the Ganges.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
"What is that?" inquired the Nawab in surprise. "Alas, it is the cannon's roar," replied Mahammad Irfan, in a mournful voice. "The English have attacked our camp."
Forthwith, people within the Nawab's tent began to rush out, in wild disorder. The firing grew heavier and oftener and the roaring cannons were heard nearer and nearer, as if, they were approaching by leaps and bounds—the blood exciting note of battle was struck by the military bands, and the air all around was filled with war's rattle. The noise of the hoofs of galloping steeds, the metallic jingle of the combatants' arms and armours and the shouts and war-cries of the fighting soldiers, all mixed together,
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