lkar sulkily sheathed his scimitar, and muttered, "'Tis better as it
is; had I killed him now, I had spared him the torture. None of this
shameless fooling, Puttee Rooge," continued the tyrant, dragging her
away. "Captain Gahagan dies three hours from hence." Puttee Rooge
gave one scream and fainted--her father and the Vizier carried her off
between them; nor was I loth to part with her, for, with all her love,
she was as ugly as the deuce.

They were gone--my fate was decided. I had but three hours more of life:
so I flung myself again on the sofa, and fell profoundly asleep. As it
may happen to any of my readers to be in the same situation, and to be
hanged themselves, let me earnestly entreat them to adopt this plan
of going to sleep, which I for my part have repeatedly found to be
successful. It saves unnecessary annoyance, it passes away a great deal
of unpleasant time, and it prepares one to meet like a man the coming
catastrophe.

*****

Three o'clock came: the sun was at this time making his appearance in
the heavens, and with it came the guards, who were appointed to conduct
me to the torture. I woke, rose, was carried out, and was set on the
very white donkey on which Loll Mahommed was conducted through the camp
after he was bastinadoed. Bobbachy Bahawder rode behind me, restored to
his rank and state; troops of cavalry hemmed us in on all sides; my ass
was conducted by the common executioner: a crier went forward, shouting
out, "Make way for the destroyer of the faithful--he goes to bear the
punishment of his crimes." We came to the fatal plain: it was the very
spot whence I had borne away the elephant, and in full sight of the
fort. I looked towards it. Thank heaven! King George's banner waved on
it still--a crowd were gathered on the walls--the men, the dastards
who had deserted me--and women, too. Among the latter I thought I
distinguished ONE who--O gods! the thought turned me sick--I trembled
and looked pale for the first time.

"He trembles! he turns pale," shouted out Bobbachy Bahawder, ferociously
exulting over his conquered enemy.

"Dog!" shouted I--(I was sitting with my head to the donkey's tail, and
so looked the Bobbachy full in the face)--"not so pale as you looked
when I felled you with this arm--not so pale as your women looked when
I entered your harem!" Completely chop-fallen, the Indian ruffian was
silent: at any rate, I had done for HIM.

We arrived at the place of execution. A stak