McGuffin, who by this time had come to the side, replied to this question himself. Taking off his hat, and waving it, he said, “Hoo air ye, general? I’m glad to see you, sir, luking sae weel. Will you come on board, sir?” “Hah! McGuffin, is that you? How are you, my good sur?” returned the general, raising his hat, too, with all the dignity of the old school, or of the guardsman at Fontenoy. “Sorry to see you in this ugly pickle, though. Have you got my Cordalia on board?” alluding to his daughter, a widow lady, one of our passengers from Madras, and who, at this instant, having heard of her father’s arrival, rushed to the side, and kissing one hand with _empressement_, whilst she waved her handkerchief in the other, soon afforded him satisfactory evidence of her existence. After some little trouble, the pinnace was safely moored alongside, and the old general securely, though with equal difficulty, and a few volleys of abuse to his servants, deposited by instalments on the deck. Here, however, he appeared in some danger of suffocation, from the vigorous embraces of the buxom young widow, who yielding to the impulses of natural feeling, and regardless of standers-by, rushed into his arms, and kissed him with the warmest affection, knocking off his hat by the collision, and exhibiting to our view the generals venerable head, white with the snows of seventy or eighty winters. Here, then, in the shrivelled old soldier standing before me, I beheld a warrior of the days of Clive, a last representative, probably, of a generation long gone down to the dust, whose thoughts, dress, and manners so essentially differed from our own, and who (all honour to their three-cornered hats and big waistcoats!) had baffled the Indian in the field and the cabinet, and laid the foundation of this proud dominion, on which I was about to set foot. I looked on him with that respect with which we contemplate a grey ruin of other days, with its silent courts, its “banquet-hall deserted,” and all its glorious associations, and which long has withstood the tempests of the world. [Illustration: General Capsicum on Board the “Rottenbeam Castle.”] After retiring to the cuddy, and some private conversation with his daughter, the general again came on deck, and had a renewed round of handshaking with the captain, and some other of his acquaintance, whom he expressed himself as devilish glad to see in India again, “the best country in the whole world, by all that’s good!” He concluded with a look redolent of gunpowder and hair-triggers, though half jocular, “And where is the man that will say me nay?” It was obvious at a glance the general was what an old Scotch author calls A fiery Ettercap, a fractious chiel; As hot as ginger and as true as steel; with not a little of that _refined savageism_ in him, which exalts the _duello_ into the first accomplishment of a gentleman.