"I heard the angry waters rave, I saw the horrors of the grave That yawned to gulf its prey; And started back in such dismay, As wretch that, waked from midnight sleep, Descries through shadows, glooming deep, The ghost of murdered victim glide, In gory robes, his couch beside. I looked towards the darkling cave; No more the vision glittered there, No music charmed the echoing air-- That strain so sweet! that face so fair!-- And, but for one shrilly shriek Of fiendish rage that smote mine ear, And, but for one horrent thrill That seemed with ice my veins to thrill; Well had I deem'd 'twas Fancy's freak, That scene, whose vivid features lie On Memory's page typed durably." [Sidenote: _Travelling in Sind_.] We go to Sundan, to Jarak, to the Phuleli river, where he spent some time in his early days with a _moonshee_, and make a pilgrimage to the Indus river, and eventually to Hyderabad (Sind) and to Kotri the Fort, where, as he says, for the sake of "auld lang syne," he visits every place to right and left on his way, even the Agency and the old road. He says the changes take away his breath. "I was last at Kotri in 1849. All that once _was_, is a dismal ruin, even the outer wall, which, loopholed and banquettéd, had driven off a host of Beloch swordsmen, headed by Mír Sháhdád. Who would fancy that the defence of that wall by the Light Company of H.M.'s 22nd Regiment, under Captain Conway, directed by Major Outram, had ever given rise to a treatise on the defence of field fortifications? Surely it would have been well, at the expense of a few rupees, to have kept up a place to which such mighty memories cling. The trees had grown, but everything else seems changed. I am now bound for my old home. Novelties meet my eye at every turn. In some places I find improvements." On arriving he says--