The offer was eagerly accepted; and I had every reason to be satisfied with my companion, who proved a very intelligent fellow, and was fortunately sufficiently master of the English language to enable me to dispense with that painful medley of distorted English, mongrel Hindustani and original Burmese by which I was in those days compelled to give expression to my thoughts when conversing with Asiatics. It was customary at the time of which I am writing—and, for all I know to the contrary, may be so still—for the Bengalese to look down upon the Madras soldiers as a vastly inferior set of men, and especially to ridicule their helmets and general attire. Physically inferior they were without a doubt; but there was much in the way of compensation, notably their freedom from the unnatural trammels of caste; they were also more sociable, readily joining their officers in cricket and other games, and far more eager to acquire information. The Bengal sepoy, on the other hand, was better set up and more imposing-looking, and there his qualifications ended: drill and other duties over, he became a somewhat sensual recluse, with no thought for anything save eating and drinking, and weighed down with sheer grief if he infringed the rigid line laid down by his own sect. Beyond the ordinary and unvarying routine of everyday life, his mind was a blank; and it was no easy matter to avoid the mere shadow of offence with men so ready to impute their own sinister designs to others. Subterfuge and cunning occupied the place of intelligence; and when the veil was at last thrown aside, they appeared in their true character, repulsive and forbidding. Even then we were slow to believe it; and officers pinned their faith in their integrity, until the men turned round and shot them down without compunction. The sun was well up, too much so indeed to be exactly pleasant, when we stood by the boat next morning impatient to be off; but our eagerness was to all appearances not shared by the Burmese, who seemed to have lost their heads, their courage oozing away as the time for departure approached, assailed no doubt by visions of decapitation, which would assuredly be their lot if captured in the act of conveying the enemy. We were twelve, all told: under the thatch, which covered the middle of the boat, sat the native officer and myself, the sepoys and my servant; the steersman squatted on a raised platform astern, and the rowers sat for’ard. I have mentioned my servant, and must devote a few words to so important a personage. This admirable Bengalee, who _out of his own country_ was bearer, cook, waiter, cleaner and tailor all rolled into one, seldom or never gave me occasion to find fault with him, either during the two years he remained in my service in Burmah, or when he afterwards rejoined me on my return to Bengal.