In two days more we reached the new station of Mhow, the residence of Sir John Malcolm, with whom we spent two pleasant days. Sir John was as hospitable as he was brave, and his tables groaned under the luxuries of the season. He possesses a profundity of wit; so that, wherever he is, the whole company are sure to be on the broad grin. I should recommend all people subject to liver complaints to pay Sir John a visit, if opportunity favours them, and I would wager ten to one that, in one month, he would laugh most of them out of their complaints. I was myself suffering under a violent attack when I was his guest, and the smallest motion, more particularly that caused by laughter, was attended with most excruciating pain; but our host could almost make a dead man laugh. The consequence was, that I laughed to some purpose, for I actually got rid of my complaint. Sir John generally made it a point of getting me close to him. He said to me one morning, "Shipp, did I ever tell you the story of my being invited to breakfast off a dead colonel?" I answered, "No, Sir John; nor are my poor sides in a state to hear it."--"Oh, but I must tell you: it's rather a serious story than otherwise." Finding there was no escape, I put both my hands to my sides (a necessary precaution to prevent them from bursting) and listened attentively. Sir John had a peculiar manner of relating anecdotes, which, for effect, I have never seen equalled; and a sort of squeaking voice, in which he generally spoke, especially when pleased, added greatly to the drollery of his stories. "I was invited to breakfast," said Sir John, "with a queer old colonel of the Bombay Artillery. This colonel was famous for giving good breakfasts, so I accepted his invitation, and went to his residence rather early, where I walked without ceremony into the breakfast-room. It is customary in India, when breakfast-things are laid, to throw a table-cloth over the whole, to keep the flies off. I thought it strange that I did not see a single servant; but I walked up and down the room, very contentedly, for nearly a quarter of an hour. At last I got quite hungry, so I thought I would help myself to a biscuit. For this purpose, I lifted the end of the cloth, and the first object that met my eye was--the colonel's head!" Just at this instant Sir John Malcolm struck me a violent blow on the shoulders, which so startled me, that I really thought the dead colonel was on my back. From that time, however, I lost all symptoms of the liver complaint.