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smiled and eagerly watched the procession ; but when the fight commenced, the horrible, deafening shouts of the combatants, and the shrill screeches of the women, frightened the child, and made her shrink closer to her papa's side. So absorbed were we in the exciting scene that we forgot the child, and it was not till it was over that, turning round, we saw the white little face and shrinking figure hiding behind the Colonel. To her he was a tower of strength. We smiled at her fears, laughingly asking her, up on the house-top, what harm could reach her. I said to Mrs. Ogilvie, however, as we passed down the terrace-steps, that in future she should not allow Grace to witness any more native festivals or weddings (for the weddings are conducted on the same principle-noise, glare of torches, beating of drums and shouts), which, working upon the too sensitive mind of a delicate child, might have a very injurious effect.

“Oh no!" said she, laughing; “if she is to live in India, she must become accustomed to these things : it is almost an every-day affair. I will tell you what frightens her far more than all this—the howling of those dreadful jackals at night; indeed, we often say we must send her to England very scon, to brace up her nerves.''

eyes that the little a home, that again

“English life,” said I, “especially in some quiet country village, with its verdant fields and green hedgerows and homely farmyards, would do wonders for her.

“Yes," said Mrs. Ogilvie; “and perhaps I shall go too. You cannot tell what a longing I sometimes have to see all that again ! how I long for a sight of a home-face! If I could only see the little daisies with their golden eyes that bespangle the fields at Davenham, and the old homestead, and the old folks at home! I often think I could be happy if I could see them once again.".

I am afraid Gracie did not sleep soundly that night; for Tara came and told us that Missy Baba was shuddering in her sleep, and calling out loudly, “Do not let them kill one another, papa! Do stop them !”

“There," said I, turning to Mrs. Ogilvie, "you see the truth of my words; she should never see these sights again.”

“Ah, well,” said the Colonel, “she will outgrow that nervousness, we hope; but I am in expectation of packing them all off to England soon.”

It was not long afterwards that I heard, in the dead of night, the howling of the jackals, and certainly it is most unearthly and appalling.

You are fast asleep, and the night is dark and dismal; suddenly you are awakened by a piercing, mournful, wailing howl. You start up in bed, and listen; you can scarcely imagine what it is; a feeling of dread takes full possession of your mind, and so you remain until, wide awake, you persuade yourself of the truth, that a pack of jackals are howling over their prey.

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SERE many weeks elapsed I left the happy She White House," as the Ogilvies' home Ge was called, for a visit to the North. It was but seldom I heard from them, as in that part of the country to which I removed mails came in rarely, and at long intervals. Occasionally I heard from Mrs. Ogilvie, who enclosed sometimes a note from Grace. These letters were very welcome.

The little girl told me all her grand affairs, her secrets, and her thoughts. I heard of the most recent exploits of Major Carlo, and of his many foraging expeditions, and the impression left on my mind was that, as he grew older, and became grey, he grew more depraved.

I heard of her Sunday evening services, and how they proceeded ; that Grace became more and more interested in them every time. I heard that Tara said her prayers regularly, and had added some more words to the solitary ejaculation, “Oh God!” and Grace frequently heard her use the publican's prayer nowGod be merciful to me a sinner.” And many other things I heard of her daily lifeeven some of her conversations with the heathen or her associates. She wrote to me frequently, asking my advice in certain cases of difficulty. But through all this there ran one vein—plainly evident to the most cursory reader that the little girl's thoughts were centred, not on dress, or amusement, or the frivolities of life, but on things above, and that her great desire was to labour, in her small way, for the cause of Christ.

One letter told me of a wonderful thing that had happened. How, one morning, her mamma awakened her early, and put on her à

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