Much hadst thou to tell of the trials of a married sub, on small means, and kept much on the move; but I must reserve it for some other occasion, “with the rest of Tom’s story,” as Corporal Trim would say, “for it forms a part of it.” In Julia—the shawled, be-capped, and languid invalid—I could scarcely think that I was indeed looking on the belle of Barrackpore, truly the “light of the ball-room.” I had nearly omitted to mention a circumstance which occurred on the previous day, with which it is of importance that the reader should be made acquainted—to wit, an unexpected visit I had from my friend Chattermohun Ghose. On going into Tom’s verandah, to order the despatch of some chattels to my bolio, I observed a Bengalee at one extremity of it, his head going like that of a Chinese mandarin. I discovered that these profound salaams were intended for me. I advanced towards the automaton, and immediately recognized the patriarchal proprietor of “five effective children of various denominations,” Chattermohun Ghose. “Hah! Chattermohun, my fine fellow, is that you?” said I. “What brought you to Barrackpore?” “I came, sair, for argent private affair; two, three gentilman owe me little bill here, and accidentally I have learn by chance that master was ishtaying here; therefore I think my duty to pay respect; master make me great obligation; master is my father, to whom my everlasting gratitude will be due.” “As for being your father, Chattermohun,” said I, laughing, “no one would suspect that, for if I am not mistaken, you are old enough to be mine; and why you should be so grateful towards me, I cannot imagine.” Some writer has well observed, that “gratitude is too often but a lively sense of favours to come;” to Asiatics, or natives of India, at all events, this remark applies with more force than to Europeans in general. That my friend Chattermohun’s gratitude partook largely of this prospective character, soon became abundantly apparent. “Master I understand will shortly go ope contree?” “Yes, Chattermohun, I’m off to-morrow—please the pigs; have you any commands?” “No, sair, command not got; but——” Here was a pause; after which, Chattermohun resumed his plan of operations in the usual wily style of the Bengalee; any one of whom I’ll pit against any Jew in the Minories. “Does master know,” said he, with an air of perfect unpremeditation, “one gintleman name Captain Belfil, who was shortly go Danapore?” “Oh, yes,” said I, falling into the trap; “to be sure I do; we’re going up together.” “Master go up contree with Captain Belfil? I not know that” (the vagabond had come up on purpose to make his approaches through me); “then that will be good bis’ness for master; master very clever gintleman, but little too much young to go up river by ownself. I think Master Belfil will be in paymaster bis’ness—got good ’pointment up contree?”