LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume II, Issue 150, 26 November 1874, Page 3

LITERATURE.

OUR CHRISTMAS EXCURSION. (From St. Paul's Magazine.) ( Concluded.') When the whole truth dawned upon her mind, Nellie’s exclamation to me was, ‘ What a capital chaperon I must he ! They all talk of him as the rising barrister at Bombay. You’re quite right, Mary, not to marry into the army, to be ordered about from place to place.” Then to George she told all the discomforts she had endured, marching orders always coming as soon as she and Phil were “ the least bit settled in a place.” She assured George he was a for 1 tunate man, that they would miss me, me, and that Baby would never be the same without me; and George said all that was becoming and proper on the occasion. I could not talk. I now knew I was in for an attack of the fever, but I cared little. George and I " ere friends again; I knew he loved me ; we were engaged ; even now Nellie was before me talking to him as my accepted lover, so what could a touch of fever, what could anything under the sun, matter ? Some little time went by after our return to Bombay, of which I have but a vague and confused remembrance. Day and night seemed all the same in my dark room. I tossed about in my bed—a great, carved, black Bombay-wood, mosquito-curtained fourposter —and the only breaks in the monotony occurred when Nellie and the ayah changed places at my bedside, or the doctor paid me a visit, or when sometimes—was it very shocking ?—Phil came to see me. George sent mo daily messages, and flowers every morning.

I had many strange and delirious fancies. One of them was that George, and everything connected with my life in India, was a dream, and nothing more. It was hard to shake my faith in this notion. The ayah had been sleeping on the door hy my bed, and even when I saw her rise and bring me a draught, I still believed that she was part of this very vivid dream. I noted her peculiar dark face, her white robe, a part of which was thrown over one side of her head, and her ornaments, the large glass bangles on her arms, the rings which gleamed on nearly every finger, her nose-ring, and her one ear-ring, worn in the ear which was not covered by her dress, expecting momentarily to see her fade away like a vision. She only convinced me of her existence as a reality when, forcibly, she made me swallow my draught. Sometimes I had eager, impatient longings for home and far off friends—-home-sickness superadded to my other sickness. Sometimes (but this was after the worst was over, and, the fever having left me, I was a prey to weakness), I used to fancy I should die before I married George. I assurred Nellie it “was too good to hap-

pen,” and that I had a prophetic instinct I should never get well. I then cried myself to sleep, and awoke as happy as possible, my prophetic instinct telling quite a different story. The first day of which I have at all a distinct remembrance was Hew Year’s Day, and, when they greeted me with seasonable wishes, I tried, and signally failed, to repeat from Phil’s pet “ Lays of Ind “A happy New Year! As I lie on my bed, With the chill in my limbs, and the fire in my head, And think this is not the first bout that I’ve had, And that the next . . . why I work myself well-nigh mad. ” I was getting better by that time, though I had still much to go through, It was delightful when I was well enough to leave my room, and be petted and spoiled by everybody. For about ten days I was considered of even more importance in the family than the baby, my nephew. It was only when I grew strong enough to bear it, that Phil “chaffed” me until I was on the verge of distraction about my engagement. George was a very devoted fiance, as far as his professional avocations would allow him to be, and I find, now we are married, his devotion is of the kind that wears well. Of my disposition, I think I can truthfully say it has improved in the sunshine of happiness. Two or three Christmases have gone by since that memorable one, and i have certainly spent them in a better manner. George says I have a very good temper, so I suppose it must be true. Our wedding came off before the end of the same cold season of which our Christmas excursion formed an episode. E. Lynch,