which had been given to him by Scindeah; and she resolved to furnish Captain L. with money to enable him to go and recover his father's possessions.
The captain remained at Dar Jôon for some months: he had his horse, was lodged in a pavilion in the garden, and treated with every mark of respect. Restless, hasty in his temper, overbearing, and accustomed to the blustering manners of a camp, he occasionally got into difficulties with the natives, both Mahometans and Christians. Not aware of the necessity of much precaution in shunning checks of perspiration in hot climates, he one day caught a fever, which almost brought him to his grave. He recovered, however, and was convalescent, when his imprudence caused a relapse, and he died. He was buried in Lady Hester's garden, where his tomb, ornamented with flowering shrubs, and entirely shaded by a beautiful arbour, still remains.[1] The poor father never would believe in his death. "He is not interred," he used to say, "but is still alive and on the earth: do not be grieved about him; in the year 1847 he will join me here. I and my lady shall then be made young again, and your little daughter is destined to be my future wife." The poor old general, it was observed by us, seemed to have no greater pleasure than watch-
- ↑ In this same tomb Lady Hester herself was afterwards interred.
