upon whom their thunderous the line when his eye was charge was launched. General Feetajee himself was a fine example of a self-made soldier starting life as clerk in a Government office under the late oppressors, he had gradually pushed himself up and up and up, till at length he had exchanged the red-tape of the official for the gold-belt of an officer. Diligent as a clerk, he was more so as & soldier; Clausewitz he looked upon as a familiar friend, while he had more than a nodding acquaintance with the modern school of French strategy. He had, in short, the whole theory of war at his finger-tips, and he was ready and eager to put his knowledge to the supreme test of the battlefield; and in this most soldierly desire he felt himself supported by his men, who had already bestowed upon him the sobriquet of "The Bengal Tiger." It was, then, a fine sight that met his eye as he rode to the parade - ground to review his men: seven thousand infantry were lined up before him, with the guns upon the right, and as he surveyed them his heart swelled with pride, and he felt that the leadership of such a force was indeed the copingstone of a life which had always been strenuous, if at times intrigué. He missed his cavalry, but these were in the outpost line watching for the invader, and he rejoiced to think that while they were out in front every man of the force could sleep comfortably in his Willesden canvas camp-bed. He was about to ride slowly down arrested by a little cloud of dust that was driving over the distant plain: he and his staff watched it as it drew near, until at length it materialised into a galloping messenger. "It looks like a dragoon," oried the A.A.G. "No, it's one of the Asansols -I can see his lance," an A.D.C. replied. And sure enough it was a travel-stained lancer who arrived upon a spent horse and breathlessly handed a despatch to the General. The Commander took it and tore it open eagerly, and having read it turned to his staff. "Gentlemen," he said, "Brigadier Baij-Nath, writing from Nawabpura, ten miles from here, reports that his advanced patrols are in touch with the enemy some five miles to his front. He adds that their strength is as yet undeveloped, but that he intends to oppose every inch of their march though they be as myriad as the sands. He is a gallant fellow. Gentlemen, the parade is dismissed, for I must now formulate a plan of operation.' With this the General galloped away upon his snowwhite charger, and alighting at his tent disappeared into its interior, to weave his plan for the undoing of the Gurkha foe. The news was soon known to the soldiers, and the camp shrilled with conversational excitement: everyone had something to say as to the probable strength and dispositions of the enemy, and he said it as + I You have severe dysentery and a weak heart. It is my duty to put you on the sick-list." loud as he could, so as to be juncture. Meanwhile the G.O.C. was When that officer arrived the General said—“Major, I have a severe attack of dysentery; you must patch me up, my dear Major, so that I may be fit to overcome the enemy.' The Major was himself a "failed M.B." of a university directed by the late oppressors, but he was nevertheless a most intelligent man, and he would have qualified with honours but for the malice of a functionary who had accused him of "oribbing" in the examination. He now scanned the face of his beloved Commander and felt his pulse: he knew well the heart that beat beneath that military tunic-for they were cousins. "Were it any but my medical adviser," said the General, "who thus ordered me to lay down my command in the hour of victory, I should flatly refuse. But I obey for my country's sake. And, lest my presence should jar upon my successor, I will retire from the camp.' He nearly wept in his emotion. During the hours of night the camp was roused by the thunder of hoofs. Dragoons and Lancers swept through it and beyond it in wild disorder; they cried to their comrades that the enemy were upon them, were at their very heels, and spurring afresh their jaded horses they vanished in a moonlit cloud of dust. In a moment the camp was afoot; the noise was deafening, but soon silence reigned petitors were the now slightly wilted Flower of Bengal, the forces of Nepaul, and the Punjaub Army. The last named had rather unfairly travelled by train for the greater part of the way, but the actual winner, the Pheidippides of the race, was General Feetajee, who had the legs as well as the start of the remainder of the Bengal Flowers. And so conscientious was he in the performance of his duties, that on arrival at Calcutta he at once engaged a special steam-tug with which to pursue a M.M. steamer that had sailed down the river an hour earlier for upon this steamer were the President and the Minister of War, and to the latter it was his duty to report in person. The tug cost him a huge amount of money, but then his conscience was satisfied. As to the other competitors in the race it behoveth us not in this place to say who was second or who was third, or whether they all arrived in a bunch. Nor does it matter now whether the Sikhs beat the Gurkhas or vice versa, or whether they bought each other off by a division of the land and the loot. And it is quite immaterial as to what was the fate of the Army who, shortly after this, had a stand-up fight with hordes of Afghans who had broken into India; and nobody cares in the least what voice the Rajputs on one side and the Nizam on the other had in the settlement of this affair. It is quite sufficient to know that the strongest won, and that any one who was at all weak, or in any way harmless, was harried to the last degree. No one dared ever after to raise his voice unless his arm could make good his words, so that the Bengalis found that a modest silence was not merely golden, but that it was safety itself; and I believe no British M.P.'s of the Labour Party ever again ventured to India, which was, of course, under the altered oircumstances of the country, a very great pity-for England. As for the high-toned oil-painting of the Motherland, I have heard that, stripped of its frame, it is actually serving as a mat beside someone's bed, and that the owner has more than once denounced its poor wearing qualities. SCOTO-INDIAN. SIR ROBERT CALDER. HIGH on a hill in the pleasant land that lies between the Itchen and the Hamble stands the old-world village of Upham. When Britain was a Roman province the road, traced arrowwise over hill and dale from Portchester to Winchester, ran close by, abandoned these many centuries for easier ways along the valleys, and rare to-day is the wayfarer who breaks in upon the quiet of the village. The flint-built church, with grey mottled walls and ivycovered tower of mellow brick, red bricks and black black laid chequer wise, stands close beside the road, and behind it nestles the parsonage wherein was born the gentle Young, poet of a bygone day, forgotten by a generation deaf to the placid melody of the 'Night Thoughts.' Two ancient yews stand sentinel beside the gate which CIRCLE OF FRIENDS AND NEIGHBOURS. leads into the churchyard, TO THE GREAT GRIEF OF AN EXTENSIVE wherein the graves lie thick; and here amongst the unremembered dead, as unnoticed as they, sleeps through the long years a famous seaman, who, after half a century of faithful service, was fated to drain to the lees the bitter cup of unmerited disgrace, and to whom, though tardy reparation was made him, yet olings a stigma ill-deserved-Robert Calder. Nothing more; and who of those who idly read the words would guess that this was he who, in the year of Trafalgar, first met the fleets of France and Spain in battle, and with their defeat ruined for ever Napoleon's deep-laid plans for the invasion of England. "To the great grief of an extensive circle of friends and neighbours." What contrast here to the "mourning of a mighty nation," amidst which, thirteen years before, his great comrade Nelson had been laid to rest. What contrast this simple tablet to the soaring column whence looks down "the greatest seaman since the world began," this modest village church to London's Cathedral. For Calder might have won a place in the love and admiration of his fellowcountrymen, not indeed as the peer of Nelson, but with Rodney and Duncan and Jervis. To him was given the chance of destroying the fleet which threatened England's safety, which Nelson had sought so long and eagerly and was yet to gain, and which, had Calder seized it, would have won him gratitude and fame imperishable and an honoured restingplace amongst England's illustrious dead. Not "under the Cross of Gold," but in this quiet country churchyard, Calder lies unhonoured, maybe a resting-place not unfitting, for even the victory he won is nameless. Who does not feel a touch of pity? For Calder deserved well of his country, and though before he died atonement was made for the wrongs inflicted on a gallant sailor, yet in his grave he has not been spared the obloquy from which he suffered living, by contrast the further to exalt the fame of Nelson, whose generous protest on his behalf against "insinuations that Nelson could have done better" has fallen on deaf ears. Jealous, mean - minded, pusillanimous, unpatriotic, these are amongst the epithets with which is still assailed the memory of one whose rectitude marked him amongst his fellows in the golden age of the British Navy. The Calders were an ancient Scottish family of Morayshire, connected by marriage with the great Gordon olan, and at one time possessed of considerable wealth. There is a tradition that James Calder, then head of the family, was honoured with the friendship of James, Duke of York, who graciously condescended to borrow money of him for commercial speculations, and who, become king, proved not unmindful of his friend, creating him a baronet of Scotland. But the loan was never repaid: before it could be recovered the king was & fugitive. Sometime during the first half of the eighteenth century Sir James Calder of Muirton, third baronet and grandson of the first Sir James, quitted Scotland to settle at Park Place in Kent, taking to wife Alice, daughter of one Admiral Robert Hughes, who in due time bore him four sons and three daughters. He was a man of some influence, and for many years, when George III. was king, filled a minor post at Court as Gentleman Usher to the Privy Chamber of Queen Charlotte, an appointment which he owed to his brother Scot, Lord Bute. Robert Calder, Sir James's youngest son, was born on the 2nd July 1745, and was sent to school at Maidstone; but his schooling was of the briefest, and before he was twelve years old he was appointed midshipman in the Navy, in which his eldest brother, Thomas, was |