sorrow — the object on which he fixes his regards in his happiness.' His letters to her abound with allusions to the blessings of his own happy house, to the greetings with which his family acclaim him on his return from camp, to the pealing of their laughter in the shady grove. As he is about to quit the district for a higher post he writes, 'Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah, for old Azamgarh!'
Leaving Azamgarh for Agra, he is accompanied by his wife and children, or their little flock, as she calls them. Though their journey is, according to her account, managed with every comfort or luxury, yet fever and even small-pox cross their path. Arrived at Agra, she forgets these passing troubles at the sight of her children recovering, and beo-ins to look around her. The ruins, as regards both form and colour, strike her. as they have always struck new-comers from the Lower Provinces. She has an eye for artistic effect, having inherited that faculty from her father. She is amazed at the marble of the Táj, and the gorgeous variety of inlaid stones. Altogether her view of their new home is cheerful; but the cheerfulness is for a moment interrupted by an accident to her husband from his horse falling while he is inspecting the ruins in company with his young son James. This mishap causes a permanent injury to the left leg, and renders him slightly lame. However he soon recovers up to a certain point, and writes — 'Wife well — children smiling — what more can I expect?' His high standing in the service is a
