CHAPTER II.

THE BIRTHDAY PICNIC.

"The leaf-tongues of the forest, the flower-lips of the sod, The happy birds that hymn their rapture in the ear of

God;

The summer wind, that bringeth music o'er land and

sea,

Have each a voice that singeth this sweet song to me, 'This world is full of beauty, like other worlds above, And, if we did our duty, it might be full of love.""

HE morning dawned bright and clear, the very day for a picnic! and so you would have said had you been there. Little Grace came down as fresh and blooming as ever, smiling joyously, for she remembered that this was her birthday, and dim visions of birthday gifts floated before her eyes.

"Many happy returns of the day, little Grace," we all exclaimed, and then, with many a laugh of delight and clap of the hand from the tiny lady, her papa's grand scheme was

detailed, and of course met with unbounded approval. After breakfast, we set off in style. Colonel Ogilvie, Grace, her mamma, and I, riding in the carriage, borne swiftly along by a couple of thorough-bred, high-stepping Arab horses. All the eatables had been carefully taken down to the ghaut* beforehand; for who would venture upon an excursion of this kind without fortifying themselves with ample provisions, especially in India? On arriving at the ghaut, what a scene presented itself! Instantly the carriage was besieged by a score of dark, half-naked boatmen, each solicitous of the honour of conveying us, clamouring, vociferating, gesticulating, in true oriental style, like a second Babel. One huge fellow pounced upon poor shrinking Grace and bore her off in triumph to his boat, hoping thereby to secure us all; and off rushed the Colonel after him. Mrs. Ogilvie was being pitilessly seized by a grim Hindoo, whilst I was feebly remonstrating, in what little Hindostanee I could command, with a small army, who jostled and quarrelled with each other, in their eagerness to lead me captive also, when lo! a champion appeared on the scene. A blow here, a smart cuff there, a torrent of abuse, a rapid dispersing of the

*The river bank.

tumultuous crowd, and Boxoo the heroic, Boxoo the faithful, Boxoo the valiant, stood before us, all-conquering. How delighted we were to see him!

We were speedily lifted in the arms or mounted on the backs of four of the least demonstrative boatmen, and in this manner were placed on the deck of the pinnace. Swiftly we glided down the river, impelled by the sturdy rowers, the cook-boat following in our wake. On board the latter were our household servants-the Mussalchee,* the Kitmutghar, and the Khansamah, or, as my friends always said, "the consumer." We soon arrived off the bank opposite the gardens, and disembarked. Leisurely we strolled through the pleasant grounds, admiring all the floral wonders growing there. We saw the tanks where grew the beautiful Victoria Regia, or Royal Victoria Water Lily, with its large plate-shaped leaves, more than two feet in width. Very beautiful it looked, reposing calmly on the still bosom of the lake, with its large, grand flowers gazing upwards at the sun. We saw the date-palms, with beautiful fan-shaped leaves and clusters of luscious fruit; we saw the fig-trees bearing their green figs, and orange-trees, and the

* Cook.

wonderful bread-fruit-tree, and, what is very strange, the cow-tree, with pitchers full of what looks and tastes like milk. But what most struck us was the gorgeous display of flowers, of hue and shape undreamt of in sober England. We rambled on farther and farther, until we arrived beneath the shade of a magnificent banyan-tree. This was our appointed "rendezrous;" so here Grace and I, who had wandered away from the others, sat down to await their arrival. We were not alone, for with us was that old and faithful friend, to whom I had been promised an introduction, the good dog Carlo, Grace's special pet and friend. He was now seated, conscious of his superior merit, on his hind legs, coolly surveying the banyantree. His doggish mind might have been speculating on its grandeur and size; he might have been admiring the dense foliage and offshoots, beneath which an army could repose; but if he did think of these things, he kept them all to himself.

He had quite a history, had Carlo. He was a soldier's dog, had marched with his regiment, and followed them in all their engagements; in the thickest of the fight, where shots flew thick as hail, there, with tail defiantly erect and undaunted courage, was Major Carlo; and

when the victory was won, and the army marched with flying colours, to the tune of

See, the conquering hero comes!" Carlo was not unfrequently seen modestly leading the van, evidently conscious that he had not a little contributed to the success, the admired of all beholders. So he had been quite a hero, and now, in his old age, having conquered all his enemies, and having earned a glorious reputation, proud of the medal that dangled from his collar, he had retired into private life; and, under the roof of the colonel of his regiment, the veteran passed the remainder of his days, engaged in the less hazardous employment of taking care of Miss Grace, his colonel's only daughter. Such was the history of our friend Carlo, or, as Grace more politely called him, with a due regard to his regimental honours, Major Carlo. He was a great shaggy fellow, with a noble although self-conscious air, gentle and good-tempered, but now and then rather too demonstrative and boisterous. I felt quite proud of his acquaintance, and delighted afterwards to rank amongst my friends the warlike and the valiant Major Carlo.

All this long history I learnt under the spreading branches of the banyan-tree, which, by degrees, absorbed all our attention. We