from Madras they went two hundred miles, as far as to Bangalore. At Calcutta, where they arrived about the middle of January, Macleod, for the first time, received the impression of the imperial power of the British. Thinking of Government House, he says: ‘I have trod the gorgeous halls of almost every regal palace in Europe, from Moscow to Naples, and those of the republican White House at Washington, but with none of these could I associate such a succession of names as those of the men who had governed India.’ He got on terms of friendship with the Governor-General, Lord Lawrence, but a State dinner, given on account of the deputies, he had to forego. His health was giving way, as was inevitable from the high pressure at which he had been working in a burning climate. Nevertheless he went about the business of the embassy. One day, when he had been three weeks in Calcutta, he spoke at a morning meeting; held an examination in the General Assembly’s Institution, and addressed the students in the great hall; was the chief guest at a luncheon; and in the evening, at the most brilliant public dinner ever held in the city, delivered a great speech. That night ‘the bull,’ which had been ‘after him all day,’ caught and tossed him, and there was a sudden end to his work in India. From a kind of noble vanity he had, Macleod could never bear to have the appearance of shirking a task. Next morning, tolerably well with his way of it, he telegraphed home, ‘Off for the Punjaub’; but at a conference of doctors it was decided that ‘it would be attended with danger to his life should he persist in his intention of continuing his tour to Sealkote.’ Before quitting India he took a holiday excursion. He had seen the Red Indians in their encampment, he had been on the summit of the high tower at Moscow, he had sat on the Mount of Olives, he had floated in a raft upon the Danube; and now, behold him threading the lanes of holy Benares, mounted on an elephant! He saw the marble glories of Mohammedan Agra, and examined all the famous scenes of the Mutiny, especially Delhi, where his heart glowed as he remembered Nicholson. From Delhi he returned direct to Calcutta; whence, on board of an old man-of-war, in company with Lady Lawrence and her daughter, he sailed for Egypt. One little incident of the voyage is worth remembrance. He had been very attentive to the sailors, not only preaching in the forecastle on Sundays, but at other times reading to them selections from his sea stories. Now at Aden they had shipped an African boy who had been taken from a slaver, and when Macleod was about to leave the vessel, a deputation of the crew approached him, leading the little negro by the hand. ‘And now, your Reverence,’ said one, ‘I hope you won’t be offended if we name this here nigger boy _Billy Buttons_.’ Cairo and the Pyramids once more; then home by Malta, Sicily, Naples, and Rome.