The Hangodi business is a different matter. There is little doubt in my mind that B. was a little spoony on Mrs. Baines—They had travelled out together, and it seems she comes from near his part of the world in Berkshire-Hampshire—Jolly district, near the Carnarvons and the Silchesters.—Ever go there to shoot? But Mrs. Baines had been ill from one of these confinements that Missionary ladies—married, of course—have so regularly, and her husband seems really to have wished his wife to go away with Brentham. To make it all right and proper he packed off at the same time the other woman at their station, a strong-minded female named Jamblin. (She figures very much in the dispatches I sent home last mail.) Well: according to Brentham, this Jamblin woman, when they had done a few marches and stopped at another Mission station, insisted, positively _insisted_ on going back to Hangodi, and equally insisted on _his_ taking Mrs. Baines to the coast. He oughtn’t to have agreed. That’s where he was weak. He ought to have returned to Hangodi and helped to beat off the attack—if it came, as it did—and then have refused to take the ladies away unless the men came too. Instead of that, Brentham, having found some missionaries of whom he was in search, hung about their place until the news of the attack on Hangodi and the death of Mrs. Baines’s husband reached him. After that he made for the coast by the northern route, the only one open to him at that time without fighting. Even on this route they had some most extraordinary adventures and spent a devil of a time before they got back to civilization—as we call ourselves by contrast.