life, social, professional, and political, yet that he never ignored it in solemn moments of his own existence. A critical illness when he was only forty-eight seemed likely to prove fatal; he then took a solemn farewell of his children, expressed his reliance on the merits and intercession of his Redeemer, gave them a farewell blessing, and enjoined them so to live that all might meet again hereafter.*

We have not wished to ignore the defects and limitations of Scott, either as author or as man; but when we think of the age in which he lived, of the temptations with which he was surrounded, of his relations to family, friends, humble dependdants, and strangers, of the many opportunities for mistakes, of the few falls, and of the noble struggle waged with dying hand against the consequences of his mistakes to others; when we think of the many less tried who have been so far worse, of the few who under such an ordeal have done better, we can close with something more than the half-relenting words of his severest critic, Thomas Carlyle. Carlyle wrote: "Adieu, Sir Walter, pride of all Scotchmen, take our proud and sad farewell." We hold that we may claim him as an honor, not only to his well-loved native land, but to humanity at large, and we cannot but believe that it will be a long, long time before such a farewell is to be identified with oblivion.

Mr. Dennis has rightly called attention to this scene (see Good Words for December, 1890, p. 817). He also quotes the eulogy of Dean Stanley on "the profound reverence, the lofty sense of Christian honor, purity, and justice that breathe through every volume

of the romances of Walter Scott."

From Blackwood's Magazine. AN INDIAN RING.

whole attention of the softer sex is devoted to devising the variety of toilet necessary to an effective appearance in the grand stand.

It is curious how at this particular time the consciences of all the great panjandrums, who live in the hills, prick them into visiting and inspecting such portions of their departments as are located in Bunkumpore. The panjandrums are kind and considerate, however, and the real business of the week is never interfered with. An off day or an unoccupied hour or two in the morning is found sufficient for the official business, and the panjandrums see more of their subordinates at the race-course and the allied dinners and balls than anywhere else.

It was an off day nearly at the end of this festive period-in fact we had only one more day's racing before us - when a very distinguished officer having expressed a wish to see the gallant -th Hussars on parade, our colonel had treated us for his benefit to a bucketing field-day, in the course of which we had executed many manoeuvres, more or less satisfactorily, on the dusty and broken plain devoted to the instruction of the troops quartered in the station.

My part in the morning's proceedings had not incurred any of our commanding officer's choicest flowers of speech, and — except that I had been told in a grim undertone, when the distinguished visitor was out of earshot, that my method of commanding a squadron was like that of an old woman driving an apple-cart, a form of address so comparatively mild that I took it as a compliment rather than other. wise I had escaped the somewhat severe criticism which not unfrequently followed my most strenuous efforts to show myself an incipient cavalry general.

I had breakfasted copiously and comfortably with my cheery brother officers at the mess, and was subsequently occupying a long chair in the cool verandah of my bungalow, clad in the lightest of shirts and pyjamas, smoking the Trichy of digestion and repose, and preparing to read leisurely the pile of newspapers which had just ar

rays through the thick foliage and gorgeously colored blooms of the creepers which spread over the bungalow, and twined in many knotted tendrils round the pillars of the verandah. The stillness of the coming heat was gradually settling over the compound, where a couple of lean bullocks, released from their water

cart labors, were lazily chewing the cud, and ineffectually flapping with their tails at the flies which buzzed about them, and whose most serious enemy was the pertlooking king-crow, which had taken his perch on the most prominent bone of one bullock's back, and from time to time pecked at the wretched animal's persecutors. Two honey-birds gyrated lovingly round my favorite rose-bush; and a lizard, nondescript in color, scuffled backwards and forwards in an aimless manner across the chunam floor of the verandah.

I had torn the wrapper off a copy of our old county newspaper, and before plunging into that record of justices' justice and the doings of my native Little Peddlington, had dropped off into that drowsy state, which so often and so easily comes to those who have been bumping for three or four hours of an Indian morning on a roughish horse, buckled with spur, sword, and paraphernalia of war.

"Salaam, sahib," from a mild and insinuating voice, made me start to consciousness, whose first effort was to restore light to my cigar with two or three vigorous whiffs.

It was a native pedlar, a boxwallah, whose noiseless approach had brought him vis-à-vis to me thus suddenly. It is one of the nuisances of Indian life that, when you think yourself most alone, the soft footfall and stealthy movement of the native brings him upon you unawares, and very often when he is least wanted.

"Go away; I don't want anything today." I knew the usual wares which box wallahs produce, and did not feel inclined to be bored by seeing my verandah littered with sandal-wood boxes, dress stuffs embroidered with green beetles' scales, indifferent Chudder shawls, and Cashmere goods. I had been sufficiently long in India to have got over the first inclination of the Englishman to buy everything Oriental that he sees, and I had quite realized that all Indian wares can be procured of better quality and much cheaper in Regent Street than in Bunkumpore.

"Go away," I repeated. "Go to Skeffington Sahib's bungalow, if you want to sell anything." I knew that Skeffy, having only just joined from the depot, was in the acquisitive stage, and I trusted that I might be left in peace.

But my man was pertinacious. "I very nice joolry got, master. Master only looking. I never seeing master before. Plenty people telling me master very clever gentleman. My name Luchmun, master. Please look at chits I got." And, so say

ing, he thrust into my hands the usual bundle of half-sheets of note-paper, each saying that commissioner this, or general that, or Mrs. the other, had had dealings with one Luchmun, and found him honest and straightforward in his business.

While I was looking at these, and thinking that they reminded me of the persuasions of the fox that had lost his tail to others to follow his example, the pedlar had beckoned to him a small, bright-eyed boy, who carried on his head a shapeless bundle, swathed in many folds of linen cloth. This, with a rapid manipulation of its various and intricate knots, he opened at my side, and produced many boxes, which he ranged round him as he squatted on his heels, and prepared himself to make good the inroad which he had effected on my dolce far niente.

There was no chance of getting rid of him, except by the slow process of seeing his things, crabbing them all successively, and, if possible, hurting his feelings about their value so much that he would take them and himself away. This ought to be an easy matter, it seemed to me. I certainly did not want any silver-work or jewellery, and if I did, the -th had their pet artisan in the Silver Street of the local bazaar, who would provide anything that was required, and who knew full well how dangerous to his business it would be to sell anything to his military customers that was not of the best material and reasonably good workmanship. As the indefatigable Hindoo, therefore, opened case after case, and unwound wrapper after wrapper, I remained unmoved in my chair. Bangles, Cutch work, Cashmere teacups, Tanjore trays, everything in succession, only evoked the most contemptuous disapproval I could produce, and I began really to think that my friend would soon see the waste of time that he was perpetrating, and would move on to a more hopeful place of commerce.

"Master very difficult gentleman to please. Never see such bootiful joolry as Luchmun got. See here, master, I going to show something master never seen before." And plunging his hand into the voluminous folds at the bosom of his garment, he produced a small card-board box, and opening it, disclosed a very Englishlooking ordinary gold gipsy ring, set with two rubies.

Even my untaught eye could tell that, whatever the ring might be worth, the stones themselves were undoubtedly fine ones, of a deep, rich color, well cut, and of a brilliancy that told of the absence of

flaw or blemish. As the dealer held up the ring so that the light fell favorably on the gems, their lustre seemed to fix itself on me, and to follow every movement, like that of two living red eyes glaring on the

scene.

The stones were really fascinating in their ruddy brightness, and it was impossible not to yield to the wish to handle them and examine their beauties. I took the ring from the pedlar and looked at it closely. The ring itself, as I had seen when it was first produced, was of a common English pattern, but of native make, and in no way remarkable. The stones, however, were undoubtedly very good, and, though not large, of singular beauty and purity. It was evident that the ring was of considerable value, and it was hardly with any idea of being a purchaser that I asked its price.

"That very bootiful ring, master, very bootiful ruby stones. These stones coming from Burmah country. Oh! plenty gentlemen asking Luchmun to sell them, but Luchmun keeping for master to see." "You old humbug," I said, "don't tell me any of that nonsense! You've not been able to sell the ring yet. How many rupees do you want for it?" "Oh, Luchmun very good man- - very honest man. If master this time pleased, perhaps sending for Luchmun and buying more joolry. Suppose master give Rs. 100 for that ring."

I was rather staggered at the extreme moderation of the demand. If Rs. 500 had been asked, I should have thought the price, though beyond my resources, not by any means out of the way, judging from the prices which I had seen set on gems in England which were apparently no finer than those before me.

Could the never-expected moment have arrived when I was to distinguish myself by getting the better of a Hindoo jeweller at his own trade, and was I to have the chance of avenging myself, once for all, for the many occasions on which I felt that I had paid many times their value for articles which I had bought from plausible Orientals?

I had learned one lesson in previous traffic, however never to give all that you are asked in India for anything. "Come, Luchmun, it's a nice ring, and the stones are pretty. I don't mind giving you Rs. 80."

"No, master, that not good business. I very poor man. Suppose master wanting ring, giving Rs. 95."

The acquisitive spirit was upon me by this time in earnest strengthened by the belief that I was in for a real good thing, so, after long chaffering, the ring eventually became mine at Rs. 90.

After the bargain was concluded, I thought it would be interesting to know where such fine stones came from, and I asked Luchmun where he had got them, hardly expecting that he would approximate to the truth in his answer; but the English form of setting was unlikely to have suited a native, and I wondered who the last European owner of my purchase might have been.

I was astonished at the promptness of the reply. "Please, master, I done buy that ring at Maxwell Sahib's sale in Madas." I remembered seeing something in the Madras Mail a month ago about a Mr. Maxwell, a merchant who had failed after some disastrously unfortunate speculations, and had been found lying in his house on the Adyar with his throat cut and a bloody razor grasped in his hand.

Poor fellow! and so this was his ring. And as I looked at it, somehow the rubies seemed to have borrowed some of their color from the blood of the ill-fated merchant.

With many salaams the boxwallah collected his goods and departed, and I laid my ring on the little table at my side, while I relapsed into my interrupted study of English news.

An hour later my native butler came to say, "Master's bath ready," when his eye caught the sparkle of the jewels. He took up the ring, and looking at it, said inquir ingly, "Master done buy this ring? Master going to keep?

66

Certainly, Ramasawmy; why not?" "This bad ring, master; please not to keep. This bringing master bad luck."

I had often heard that in this great Eastern land, which is occupied and ruled by a few thousands of the white race from far over the sea, and the private feelings of whose seething populations of many millions are really as much unknown to their rulers as those of people in another planet, there are many superstitious beliefs, and possibly some uncanny knowledge; but I had never heard any ill influence_attributed to jewellery or ornament. Still it was interesting to ask about a matter on which my servant was

so earnest.

"How do you know this ring is unlucky, Ramasawmy?"

"I hear talk about it in bazaar. Many

which nourishes as many black sheep as does the Indian turf. All that night and the following forenoon, if I did not actually repent of my gamble, I did not feel very proud of my rashness, and wished myself well out of its consequences.

Racing in India, even in a comparatively cool station like Bunkumpore, is not an amusement that can be enjoyed in the middle of the day, and, moreover, all the officials - judge, starter, clerk of the course, etc. are soldiers or other amateurs, who have their daily private duty or business to get through. The sport never begins, therefore, till 4 P.M. at the earliest, and even then the sun is sufficiently powerful to make early comers arm themselves with sun-hats and white umbrellas, and there are frequent complaints that the judge has been detained unduly in his office, or that some other equally necessary person has not been able to get away from duty as early as was expected. The brake of the -th started from the mess bungalow at three, carrying a large proportion of the regimental race-goers, many of whom showed that they were going to perform in the pigskin by the business-like cutting whips tucked under their arms, and the bags of racing kit which they stowed in the boot.

The road to the course was lively with all the various and eccentric conveyances to be found in an Indian station, and the cqually diversified foot-passengers. Phaetons, buggies, tongas, bullock-carts, turbaned natives, smart dragoons, sturdy artillerymen, and disreputable European loafers, surged and jostled in ever-rising clouds of white dust. As we approached the course there were the usual loathly fakirs with carpets spread in front of them clamoring for alms, the beggars displaying their sores, the sellers of native sweetmeats with their fly-blown wares, and the motley many-colored crowd which gathers in the East at any scene of excitement.

The native police kept the road clear with difficulty, and if man, woman, or child started at the blast of our coachhorn, warning them to get out of the way, it was even betting that they ran exactly where they were least expected, and did their utmost to immolate themselves under the feet of our team.

We arrived at the gate of the grand stand, and our party separated on their various quests, some to dress and weigh for the first race, some to do a little business at the pari-mutuel, and some to speculate in gloves with the fair ones of society. I went off quietly to have a final

look at Rufus, and ascertain whether trainer and jockey still felt confident of winning. The horse was in some temporary stables near the paddock, and though nearly covered up with light clothing, his kind eye looked bright and clear, and there was a bloom on his coat, wherever it could be seen, which told of health and condition.

The trainer was with him, and was passing his practised hand lightly over the horse's legs and sinews, making sure that, even at the last minute, nothing had gone amiss. He raised his head as I came into the stable.

"He's all right, Captain Wilmot; we'l! pull it off to-day for certain, bar accidents. That Calcutta horse is the only dangerous one of the lot; but I had a squint at him when he was cantering yesterday morning, and I don't think he can quite beat us, though he may give us a little trouble. I'll tell Tom Ainslie he need not pay attention to any of the others, but just keep his eye on Songster, and he'll beat him from the distance home, if he does not do it before."

This was reassuring after my big investment on the race, which lay a little heavy on my mind, and I strolled back to the stand, thinking what a good time I would have if Rufus fulfilled the trainer's hopes. The company had pretty well all arrived, and I was just in time to see the maharajah drive up, attended by an escort of the cavalry of his State, and to take my place among the group which were standing, hat in hand, to receive royalty.

Although the Bunkumpore meeting is not Epsom or Ascot, it is very smart for India; and many of the ladies make their appearance in a get-up which would be creditable anywhere, and which tells a tale of recently arrived boxes from Mrs. Mason, Doucet, or Kate Reily. Then everybody is known to everybody else, by sight at any rate, so there is an infinite personal interest in every detail, which is not to be found in the gigantic gatherings at an English race meeting.

The upper part of the race stand is divided by a railing into two parts, one of which is occupied by the maharajah, the resident, the most distinguished visitors, and some of the bell-wethers of Bunkumpore society. The other contains the rank and file, but even here there are gradations of precedence; and while the ladies who stand most upon their dignity secure seats as near the royal enclosure as possible, those who are less important, or have less confidence, gather towards the other end,