"Twaddle!" interrupted Gravestock. Egad! if they're to be had out of their very resting-places," said Thornton, "we 'll have 'em. Here goes!" said he ; and, assuming a very serious air and manner, in despite of the opposition of the clergyman, he pronounced in a solemn voice, "By all the powers of necromancy, past, present, and future, by every incantation, holy and unholy, by every adjuration, I hereby, if such a thing be possible, call upon the dead to appear!" Baghott, who had left the room for a single instant, hearing this pompous conjuration, suddenly burst into the room with a loud "Bah!" The effect was so sudden, so unexpected, that Thornton uttered a loud scream, and sprang from his chair. In an instant the general laugh recalled him to himself, when, smarting under the quiz, which being unanimously kept up at his expense, he wisely refrained from resenting, he reseated himself, determined, however, not only to be quits with Master Tom on a future occasion, but also to redeem his character from the braggadocio hue which now slightly tinged it. After much laughing, after a hundred other topics had been in turn discussed, Thornton suddenly turned round, and abruptly adverted to the conversation, which had already caused him so much pain : Gentlemen, I was taken by surprise just now; I was startled, I acknowledge, and overcome by sudden fear; but, as you have had your laugh at me, it is but fair, in my turn, I should have my revenge on some of you. I require but a slight one. A thousand rupees will compensate for the little affront that has been put upon Now, gents, who will bet me a thousand rupees that I do not go through any ordeal with respect to ghosts and goblins that may be assigned to me?" me. "I will," replied the president; for he wished sincerely to make up for his apparent rudeness in having joined the laugh at Thornton's expense, even though he felt he should lose his money. "Done!" "Done!" "Now, then, what am I to do?" "It is nearly twelve o'clock. You shall go to the churchyard of St. John's, which is close by, and pick up a skull I saw lying there to-day, near old Halliday's tomb, and with a hammer and nail, which you can take with you, fasten the said skull to the wooden monument temporarily erected over the grave of poor Martin ; come back, and finish the evening here.—I think I have let him off lightly," added the president in a whisper to his next neighbour. "I only bargain for one thing, namely, that no practical jokes are played off on me. To insure this, promise me that no one stirs from this table till I return; I, on the other hand, am willing, on my return, to pledge my honour that I have accomplished the task, or pay the bet. You must, however, allow me two hours to perform it, as I must take the opportunity when the watch is off his beat.” These terms were agreed to, the required assurances given, and Thornton started off to his house to prepare himself for his undertaking, leaving the revellers to enjoy themselves till his return. Once more at home, Thornton sent out a scout to see that the coast was clear; then changing his dress, and donning a large mili tary cloak, he armed himself with a hammer and nail, and started off for St. John's churchyard. The night was one of those beautiful specimens of oriental climates, which in some degree compensate for the violent heat of the day. The heavens presented a sheet of the very darkest blue, thickly studded with stars. No moon was visible, but the lesser luminaries gave sufficient light to distinguish imperfectly objects in the immediate neighbourhood. A gentle breeze fanned the earth, slightly sighing as it passed through the ornamental buildings of the city. Arrived at this destination, without meeting with a single living being, Thornton boldly entered the churchyard, steadily resolved to accomplish the feat that had been proposed to him. It is true he felt a slight fluttering around the region of the heart, for which he could not account; a continual desire to swallow his saliva, which, though generally admitted to be an indication of fear, or strong emotion, could scarcely be so in the present instance; for the youth never stepped more firmly than when he entered the place of Christian sepulture. Without much difficulty he found the skull; but as he picked it up, he could not help thinking he heard some one pronounce his name. As he raised himself, a shadow appeared to flit by him. Could he be deceived by his senses? Could the dead thus rise to reproach him? Well he knew, after the pledge that he had received, that none of his companions could have followed him. The man he had sent as scout had too well examined the place to believe that any one could lurk there. Whence, then, the sound which he had heard, as it were close to his ear? Already he began to feel that he was wrong in thus desecrating by his presence the place of tombs. For a moment he hesitated whether he should not return and give up the bet. The money was no object; but the tauntings which would attend such a result he could not bear; so, in spite of everything, he determined to complete his task. He now strode across the burial-ground. He suddenly felt a jerk. He started, and uttered a low ejaculation. He looked round; it was merely his cloak, that had caught the corner of a tombstone. He hastily snatched it away, and proceeded. Presently he felt a blow on his leg. For a moment he was startled. In the next he smiled, as he perceived it was only against a prostrate iron rail that he had hit it. On coming close to Martin's place of rest, he stepped on some new earth, and sank ankle-deep into it. It was the new grave of a friend, a fellow-passenger, who had been interred that morning. He felt shocked; yet, determined on accomplishing his enterprise, he at length laid his hand on the wooden tablet, which, till the marble one should be completed, covered the remains of poor Martin, his brother writer, his late chum. As he knelt down beside the monument, which consisted of a flat piece of board, resting on four brick walls, about eighteen inches from the ground, he felt more inclined to pray for the repose of his friend's soul, than thus to pollute the covering to his ashes by an unholy act. Again, however, the idea of the ridicule to which he would be exposed, shot across his mind, and he set about his task, being determined to do it as quietly as possible. Having placed the skull upon the tablet, he was pulling his hammer from his pocket, when, in turning, his hat was suddenly knocked off. He rose, and with the boldness often inspired by fear, looked around him. No one was near. He had, most likely, struck it against something, and so caused it to fall off. In groping around he grasped a human bone, which he threw away with a shudder. Again he felt about, and his hand touched a cold, slimy frog. Its icy, clammy chill reminded him of death, and he determined to finish his labour before he again sought his hat; so down he knelt, and earnestly commenced his task. With extreme agitation he began to fasten the skull to the tomb. As the nail ground through the bone, he fancied some one or other twitched him from behind; but, determined that nothing should now deter him, he gave one more stroke, and the dead man's head was firmly affixed to the monument of his friend. He was about to rise, when he felt himself held down by the back of his neck. Here there could be no mistake. "Who is there?" loudly demanded Thornton. "By heaven! if you don't let me go, I'll strike you dead with this hammer!" No answer was given, and Thornton began to feel extremely agitated. "Who's there, I say? I'll not consider this a joke. Scoundrel, let me up!" And he strove to rise, but in vain; the same firm grasp held him by the nape of the neck. His horror now almost amounted to madness; for, by stretching out his leg, he had clearly ascertained that no one was behind him. "Living or dead, you shall not conquer me!" added he, in a paroxysm of fear and desperation; "you shall not hold me!"—and he attempted suddenly to spring up. In the next instant he was dashed down upon his face, perfectly insensible. In the mean time the two hours demanded by the adventurous bettor had expired, and some of the party at the Writers' Buildings proposed to go and look after Thornton, and claim the bet, which was now clearly won. Supposing that his courage had failed him, and that he had quietly sneaked home, to avoid the sneers of the company, it was proposed they should one and all go to the young man's house, and have their laugh out at his expense. The proposal was warmly approved of, and they sallied forth; but, alas! the bird was flown. From the servant's account, he had evidently gone forth to accomplish the task he had undertaken; so to the burying-place they joyously trudged. The gate was open; Thornton was evidently there. They shouted to him; no reply was given; so in they marched. Presently they came to Martin's grave, beside which lay their friend, perfectly motionless. In an instant the drunken party became sobered, and they felt too late that they had engaged in an affair likely to terminate in a disagreeable manner, and reproached themselves with having seriously frightened a good comrade and a valued friend. Those who were nearest immediately stepped forward to raise poor Thornton up. He was cold and insensible. A doctor, who was of the party, advanced; he looked alarmed, felt the pulse, put his hand upon the breast, then turning round, exclaimed, in a voice which struck terror to every heart around him, "He is dead-quite dead!" The friends who supported him hoped he was deceived, and attempted to remove the body. It was attached to the tomb. In an instant the whole cause of his terror and death was apparent. His cloak had slipped in between the skull and the tablet-he had firmly nailed it to the monument, so that when he had endeavoured, poor fellow to rise, he had been held down by the back of the collar, and, striving with a jerk to free himself, had been naturally thrown down by it. The matter was hushed up. To this day the friends of the unhappy youth know not the cause of his death. From that moment none of the company have ever indulged in a practical joke. A brave, a good, and virtuous youth was thus immolated in attempting to prove his courage, where no such test was required. May his example serve as a beacon to the foolhardy! FREEMASONRY IN INDIA. THE glories of Calcutta are well ushered in by the charms of Garden-Reach, a spot so perfectly beautiful, that the newly-arrived Englishman, on passing this part of the river on his voyage from Diamond Harbour to the metropolis, at once begins to believe himself in Fairyland. The magnificent stream up which he is sailing is here wide and, comparatively speaking, clear. The banks on either side, sloping gently down to the water's edge, are covered with the only real verdure I ever saw in Bengal. Flowers and shrubs of every hue peep forth from amongst the foliage; while bungalows of the most refined taste stud the sides, and invite the traveller to land, and try a foretaste of Indian hospitality. There was a time, indeed, when every rural habitation of this kind was open to the new-comer, and bed, board, and hearty welcome were proffered to every Briton who here arrived. Even though the master of the cottage was away, the servants had, then, orders to receive and wait upon whoever might seek the shelter of these picturesque roofs. Those times have passed away; munificence and reckless expenditure have given place to economy and prudence. The style of persons who now seek the shores of Asia has also altered. "Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur ab illis." But Garden-Reach is still the same as regards its picturesque beauties; and, though every bungalow is not now open to the stranger and the wayfarer, the person who travels up by water from the place of anchorage to Calcutta will* do well to stop here, and partake of the good fare which a very nice hotel proffers. It is to this house that many families go to meet their relatives arriving from England, and hence conduct them to the capital. Never was I more delighted with the sight of any spot than I was with Garden-Reach. I eagerly gave orders to be set on shore, anxious at once to land on the lovely spot, and meet some friends who had written to Madras, telling me to expect them here. As I approached the neat little hotel, so different from our suburban smoking inns at Blackwall and Greenwich, I met a large party escorting an elderly gentleman and a young lady, who seemed to be his daughter, down to a budgerow, which was to convey them to a vessel lower down the river, only awaiting their arrival to sail for Europe. At the water's edge the parting took place, and a more affectionate one I never beheld. The departing friend had been long, apparently, endeared to them; he was evidently highly esteemed by them all. On some of their parchment cheeks I even saw a tear trickle down as they wrung his hand with earnest friendship, and a light drop glistened in many of their eyes, as they fervently pronounced "God bless you!" Bowed down more by ill health than years, their friend hid his face in his handkerchief, and, hurrying his daughter on board the boat, hastened into the cabin to conceal the emotion he felt at thus parting,-parting, most likely for ever, from the companions of his youth, the friends of his middle age, to whom he felt endeared by every tie of affection and long acquaintance, about to return to a land which, though once his home, had become desolate to him from the loss of those he loved,— about to exchange the warm welcomings of friendship and regard for the cold and suspicious salutation of strangers,-about to visit the spot where he had left parents and kindred, now numbered with the dead, to recommence life, as it were, and recognise once familiar and dear objects, now the property of strangers, perhaps of enemies ;-in a word, to rend every tie he had so happily woven, to burst asunder every link of friendship, and begin life again at an age when sanguine youth no longer lends its energies to overcome difficulties, or bear up against unkindness. Such was the fate of him who now left the shore. Though a stranger, I could not help joining in every wish for his future happiness. There was a look of mild resignation, of philanthropic feeling, beaming in his countenance, which at once engaged my best regards. During tiffin I asked who he was, and found that his name was Robinson. He had been a resident in India during twenty years; but, unfortunately, having been more generous than prudent, he had managed to amass but little wealth. He was worth, perhaps, ten thousand pounds, certainly not more. With this he was now returning to Europe, the doctors having declared that a longer sojourn in Asia would endanger his life. Poor, but respected, he therefore left his friends, having taken home with him his fortune, invested in indigo, the exchange of the rupee being so low as to compel the Anglo-Indian, returning to his native country, to remit it in anything rather than in specie. Robinson had not insured his investment, as he was to sail in the same ship with it. I do not remember the name of the vessel, but we will style it "The Dover Castle." On arriving at the hotel, which was one of the sweetest bungalows I ever entered, commanding a splendid view of the river, we found tiffin ready, and the acquaintances of Mr. Robinson waiting to join us in our meal. I soon learnt that these gentlemen were all Freemasons, who had come down thus far to do honour to their friend, who for many years had presided over the lodge in Calcutta ; that he had been greatly instrumental in its foundation, and ever attended and benefited it during the twenty years he had spent in India. They not only deplored his departure as a friend, but as a bright and shining luminary in the order of Masonry. They spoke so highly of their lodge, and were so pressing in their invitation to me, that I consented to dine with them on the following day, and assist in celebrating one of their greatest festivals. Being discovered to be a Mason, a thousand kind offers were made, and many a warm palm proffered to me. The next evening I was just stepping into my hired palanquin, about to start for Chowringhee, where the lodge was held, when a pune (a messenger) suddenly arrived, and announced the dreadful intelligence that "The Dover Castle" had been totally wrecked on the dangerous sands near Diamond Harbour, and that, though all the crew and passengers were saved, everything in the shape of freight was utterly and irretrieveably lost. "Alas! poor Robinson!" involuntarily ejaculated I; "he is, then, completely ruined!" and, though personally |