CHAPTER XIV.

In which our Hero makes a Discovery, and finds himself in a Dilemma.

PEREGRINE PULTUNEY spent the whole of that morning at Mrs. Sweetenham's, and tiffed there, as, indeed, he always did, when he paid his dear friends a visit. The durwan knew well enough, that when Pultuney sahib once passed in he would not pass out again till some where about "driving time," whilst the bearers said to one another that Missybaba was always very kush indeed, when Pultuney sahib came from Dum-Dum, to spend the day with their young mistress. If a native house-servant were to write his reminiscences, and give his opinions in full of all that passed in the different families he had attended, as singularly amusing a work would be produced as has ever yet emanated from

man.

It was about six o'clock in the evening, and the sun which had been all day shining in the full fierceness of its unclouded splendour, scorching up the

earth like a shrivelled parchment, and defying the conservancy water-carts, was just sinking behind the river-bank, when Peregrine Pultuney mounted one of Mr. Sweetenham's Arabs, and cantered to Dr. Fitz-simon's well known hospitable mansion in Chowringhee. Not that the young gentleman was ill, but that he had not seen his kind friend and benefactor for some weeks, and was anxious, therefore, to have a little talk with him. Calcutta was just beginning to pour forth its inhabitants for the evening ride and drive, and as Peregrine rode along, he passed by several people with whom he was acquainted. To his great astonishment, one stared at him, as though uncertain of his identity; another laughed as he passed; a third, a lady, turned away her head, and tried to look grave and dignified. He did not know what to make of this: he thought that there must have been something extraordinary about his dress; so he took off his hat (he was in plain clothes) glanced down at his trousers, examined the tails of his surtout; but could see nothing to attract attention. It was certainly very strange.

As he rode into Fitz-simon's compound, he saw, as might always have been seen about that time, two or three doctors' carriages at the door, with coachmen and syces in the well-known livery of that great jobber, Mr. Hunter, and when he made his way unannounced into the good doctor's well-furnished study, he found his old and kind friend in conversation with Dr. Martingale. Peregrine shook

hands with them both and was about to withdraw, until they had finished their consultation, but Dr. Fitz-simon laid his hand on Peregrine's arm, said that he wished to speak to him, and after exchanging a few more words with Dr. Martingale, wished that gentleman good bye, and then placing his hand on the shoulder of our hero, asked him, a benevolent smile playing all the while about the worthy doctor's mouth, whether he had seen the papers that morning.

"Yes," said Peregrine, "I read the Hurkaru, as I was coming up from Dum-Dum, in the carriage."

They were walking up and down Dr. Fitz-simon's ample and well-supplied library-the doctor's hand. upon Peregrine's shoulder. Nothing could have been kinder than the elder man's manner, and yet there was something serious in his aspect. Peregrine was all attention-nay, more, reverence, for

he loved and honoured his friend.

Have you read the Englishman, though?" asked Dr. Fitz-simon.

"I saw it," returned Peregrine-"just saw it at the mess-was there any thing very particular in it?"

"You may judge for yourself," said the doctor, walking towards his writing-table; "here is the paper-now just look amongst the Domestic Occurrences-you will not be able to see there-you had better go to the window."

Peregrine took the paper and walked towards one of the windows. He could not conceive what the doctor was driving at, or what the "Domestic Occurrences" were to him. He found the place, however, and read through a tolerable list of births -Mrs. Pereira had got a little boy-Mrs. De Rozario a little girl, and the lady of Ensign Simkins (unfortunate youth!) had got both a boy and a girl.

Peregrine did not see that these events, however interesting to the parties concerned, particularly interested him, so he began incontinently on the marriages.

"God bless my soul!" he cried, "what is this? 'At St. John's Cathedral, by the Rev. Henry Hunter, senior presidency chaplain, Peregrine Pultuney, Esquire (the devil!) of the Bengal Artillery, to Augusta Emily, (oh! the devil!) only daughter of the late Lieut.-Colonel Sweetenham.' Oh! this is very nice -very nice indeed, of a certainty."

"Well; what do you think of that?” asked the doctor.

"Think! I give you my honour," returned Peregrine," that I really do not know what to think." "It is a great pity," remarked the doctor.

"Very," returned Peregrine; "I wish that these facetious gentlemen, whose delight it is to hoax the public, would not make me the subject of their hoaxes. However it is very easy to contradict it -and as for myself I do not much care; but I am

afraid, that if Miss Sweetenham hears of it, she will be annoyed, perhaps offended."

"That does not matter much," said the doctor; "I am now thinking of you."

"What of me?" asked Peregrine Pultuney.

"Why," said the doctor, gravely, " perhaps this hoax may not be quite so harmless as you think it. Did you write to England by the last mail?"

"No," returned Peregrine, "I think not-nono-when was it sent?"

"Yesterday," said Dr. Fitz-simon, "to-day's letters will probably be in time."

"Will they?" rejoined Peregrine vaguely, for he did not exactly know what the overland mail had to do with the newspaper hoax.

"I thought you always wrote home by every mail," continued the good doctor; "you told me you did, to Julia Poggleton."

"So I have done;" returned Peregrine," so I do indeed-this is the first time I have missed."

"Is it? the more's the pity," exclaimed the doctor, emphatically; "I am afraid that to-morrow's dâk will be too late-however, you had better write."

"Write what?" asked Peregrine Pultuney.

"Why, write, boy, to Julia Poggleton, and tell her that you are not married-that the whole thing is a miserable hoax."

"Is there any occasion for that?" asked Peregrine.