“Look at Gahagan,” said his lordship.  “Gentlemen, did I not tell you we should be sure to find him at his post?”

The gallant old nobleman rode on:  and this was the famous battle of Furruckabad, or surprise of Futtyghur, fought on the 17th of November, 1804.

*****

About a month afterwards, the following announcement appeared in the Boggleywollah Hurkaru and other Indian papers:—­“Married, on the 25th of December, at Futtyghur, by the Rev. Dr. Snorter, Captain Goliah O’Grady Gahagan, Commanding Irregular Horse, Abmednuggar, to Belinda, second daughter of Major-General Bulcher, C.B.  His Excellency the Commander-in-Chief gave away the bride; and after a splendid dejeune, the happy pair set off to pass the Mango season at Hurrygurrybang.  Venus must recollect, however, that Mars must not always be at her side.  The Irregulars are nothing without their leader.”

Such was the paragraph—­such the event—­the happiest in the existence of

G. O’G.  G., M. H. E. I. C. S., C. I. H. A.

A LEGEND OF THE RHINE.

CHAPTER I.

Sir Ludwig of Hombourg.

It was in the good old days of chivalry, when every mountain that bathes its shadow in the Rhine had its castle:  not inhabited, as now, by a few rats and owls, nor covered with moss and wallflowers, and funguses, and creeping ivy.  No, no! where the ivy now clusters there grew strong portcullis and bars of steel; where the wallflower now quivers in the rampart there were silken banners embroidered with wonderful heraldry; men-at-arms marched where now you shall only see a bank of moss or a hideous black champignon; and in place of the rats and owlets, I warrant me there were ladies and knights to revel in the great halls, and to feast, and to dance, and to make love there.  They are passed away:—­those old knights and ladies:  their golden hair first changed to silver, and then the silver dropped off and disappeared for ever; their elegant legs, so slim and active in the dance, became swollen and gouty, and then, from being swollen and gouty, dwindled down to bare bone-shanks; the roses left their cheeks, and then their cheeks disappeared, and left their skulls, and then their skulls powdered into dust, and all sign of them was gone.  And as it was with them, so shall it be with us.  Ho, seneschal! fill me a cup of liquor! put sugar in it, good fellow—­yea, and a little hot water; a very little, for my soul is sad, as I think of those days and knights of old.