ally, and shook hands with us
most heartily; and he was really a very jolly old fellow, some twenty
or twenty-three stone, his fat sides hanging in large flaps over his
hips, which we sometimes made shake again with laughter. He paid us many
compliments about our fighting and system of warfare, and wanted to know
how many thousands we had had killed. When we assured him that we had
not lost more than forty he laughed heartily, and said, we meant forty
hundred, for they had lost more than that. We spent a pleasant hour with
this fat governor, who, after we had looked round the fort, had the
politeness to parade his regiment for our inspection. I never saw a
finer body of men in my life. They were as well armed, and as well
equipped in every respect, as our native troops. After this we returned
to camp, and the following morning marched towards cantonments.

[Illustration: GHOORKA SOLDIER.

From a Sketch taken by the late Earl of MUNSTER.]

As all treaties contracted in India, between native and European powers,
are ever to be held with a jealous and watchful eye (for naught but time
can make them valid), it was necessary for us to take up a position to
watch the proceedings of our new friends. Under the cloak of friendship,
some of the most barbarous massacres have been perpetrated; and treaties
have been frequently signed and sealed, and, ere the signature was dry,
the enemy have commenced infringing on their contracts and sacred ties.
It has even been known that, during the time occupied by the parley
necessary for completing such negotiations, the enemy have been busily
engaged in making preparations for striking a more effectual blow. It
was but prudent, therefore, that we should keep our eye upon them. In
accordance with one of the covenants of the treaty, a British resident,
and the usual escort, were to remain at the capital. This escort
marched, on the same day we did, to Khatmandoo. Our march was through
the pass of Cheriagotte, where the mad-brained young officers wanted to
force an entrance. My description of this pass, as I proceed, will prove
how fatal, and contrary to the dictates of reason, would have been any
such attempt.

I was on the rear-guard the morning we left the valley of Muckwanpore.
The enemy--or, perhaps, I should say our friends--flocked in great
numbers, to bid us farewell, or see us depart. The whole of the baggage
was nearly gone, when a number of these soldiers gathered round the
guar