answer to the call with what strength I may still possess, and my prematurely grizzled hair shall be seen waving in the van of my country's defenders; but even an ORLANDO WILBRAHAM (have I mentioned that that was my name?) must fail if he has only shop-reared dummies to support his efforts. Enough, however, of these mournful prognostications. My preparations, then, were quickly made. I resolved on confining the numbers of the expedition within the smallest possible limits, and, after much thought, I decided to take only one associate. My choice fell upon Major THEOPHILUS GANDERDOWN. He had gone through the whole of the previous campaign with me, and had proved his solid worth on many a hard-fought field. A man, like myself, of herculean strength, and of inexhaustible endurance, he was eminently fitted to help me in those perilous situations in which I had no doubt we should find ourselves before the adventure was over and the task performed. It was not his fault that he lacked those brilliant powers of initiative, that wonderful ingenuity of resource for which I had already become famous. But one genius of that kind is sufficient in any adventure, and I knew that for courage, strength, and bulldog tenacity, I could reckon on GANDERDOWN to the death. We fixed our start for a Thursday, always a lucky day for any expedition in which I have been engaged. I gave GANDERDOWN rendezvous at the western gate, at midnight, and bade him maintain the complete secrecy in which all our plans had hitherto been involved. I myself set forth when dinner was over to bid farewell to the beautiful and affectionate CHUDDAH, the last scion of the glorious Rampore dynasty, who was at that time dwelling in the little marble palace on the outskirts of the park of her vindictive aunt, the Ranee of Seringapatam. [Illustration: "_Chuddah_"] Ah, CHUDDAH, loveliest of olive maidens, even now, when I think of thee, this war-worn heart beats faster in my breast, and the unaccustomed tear trickles down a cheek seamed by many a scar. How different would my life have been had cruel fate not stepped in to prevent us from fulfilling those mutual vows of eternal love which we had pledged to one another, I, who water these lines with my tears, might now have been the ruler over hosts of dusky myrmidons, the acclaimed chief of the fierce and warlike Châl tribes, whilst thou, a queen, a wife, a mother, wouldst have---- But, bah, these wailing regrets are unmanly. To my story. (_To be continued._) * * * * * Note: [=O] represents O-macron. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 108, February 9, 1895, by Various