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conducted in my ramble through the Meerut
churchyard by an old and very intelligent
pensioner, who had originally been a private
in a regiment of Light Dragoons. This old
man lived by the churchyard, that is to say,
he derived a very comfortable income from
looking after and keeping in repair the
tombs of those whose friends are now far
away; but whose thoughts, nevertheless, still
turn occasionally to that Christian enclosure
in the land of heathens and idolaters.

"I get, sir, for this business," said the old
man, pointing with his stick to a very
magnificent edifice, "two pounds a-year. It is not
much, but it is what I asked, and it pays me
very well, sir. And if you should go back to
England, and ever come across any of her
family, I hope, sir, you will tell them that
I do my duty by the grave; not that I
think they have any doubt of it, for they
must knowor, leastways, they have been
told by them they can believethat if I
never received a farthing from them I would
always keep it in repair, as it is now. God
bless her, and rest her soul! She was as good
and as beautiful a woman as ever trod this

"Who was she?"

"The wife of an ofiicer in my old regiment,
sir. I was in her husband's troop. He's
been out twice since the regiment went
home, only to visit this grave; for he has
long since sold out of the service, and is a
rich gentleman. The last time he came
was about five years ago. He comes what
you call incog.; nobody knows who he is, and
he never calls on anybody. All that he now
does in this country is to come herestop
for three days and nightsputting up at the
dak bungalow, and spending his time here,
crying. It is there that he stands
where you stand nowfixing his eyes on the
tablet, and sometimes laying his head down
on the stone, and calling out her name:
' Ellen! Ellen! My own dear Ellen! ' He
did love her surely, sir."

"Judging from the age of the lady
twenty-three, and the date of her death,—
he must be rather an old man now."

"Yes, sir. He must be more than sixty;
but his love for her memory is just as strong
as ever. She died of a fever, poor thing. And
for that business," he again pointed with his
stick to a tomb admirably preserved, " I used
to get two pounds ten shillings a-year. That
is the tomb of a little girl of five years old,
the daughter of a civilian. The parents are
now dead. They must be, for I have not
heard of 'em or received anything from 'em
for more than six years past."

"Then, who keeps the tomb in repair?"

"I do, sir. When I am here with my
trowel and mortar, and whitewash, why
shouldn't I make the outside of the little
lady's last home on earth, as bright and as
fair as those of her friends and neighbours?
I have a nursery of 'em as I call it over in
yonder cornerthe children's corner. Some
of 'em are paid forothers not; but when
I'm there, doing what's needful, I touch 'em
up all alike bless their dear little souls.
And somehow or other every good action
meets its own reward, and often when we
least expect it. Now, for instance, sir, about
three years and a-half ago, I was over there
putting the nursery in good order, when
up comes a grey-headed gentleman, and looks
about the graves. Suddenly he stopped
opposite to one and began to read, and
presently he took out his pocket-handkerchief
and put it to his eyes.

"' Did you know that little child, sir? '
said I, when it was not improper to speak.
' Know it? ' said he, ' yes. It was my own
little boy.' ' Dear me, sir! ' I answered
him. ' And you are, then, Lieutenant
Statterleigh? ' 'I was,' said he; ' but I am now
the colonel of a regiment that has just come
to India, and is now stationed at Dinapore.
But tell me, who keeps this grave in order? '
' I do, sir,' says I. ' At whose expense? ' says
he. ' At nobody's, sir,' says I. ' It is kept in
order by the dictates of my own conscience.
Your little boy is in good company here; and
while I am whitening the tombs of the other
little dears, I have it not in my heart to pass
by his, without giving it a touch also.'

"Blest, if he didn't take me to the house
where he was staying, and give me five
hundred rupees! That sort of thing has
happened to me more than five or six times in
my life,—not that I ever hope or think of
being paid for such work and labour when I
am about it."

"That must have been a magnificent
affair," said I, pointing to a heap of red
stone and marble. " But how comes it in
ruins ?"

"It is just as it was left, sir. The lady
died. Her husband, a judge here, took on
terribly; and ordered that tomb for her.
Some of the stone was brought from Agra,
some from Delhi; but before it was put
together and properly erected he married
again, and the work was stopped. I was
present at the funeral. There was no getting
him away after the service was over, and at
last they had to resort to force and violence,
in fact, to carry him out of the yard. But
the shallowest waters, as the proverb says,
sir, always make the most noise, while those
are the deepest that flow on silently. Yonder
is a funny tomb, sir," continued the old man,
again pointing with his stick. " There!—
close to the tomb of the lady which I first
showed you."

"How do you mean, funny? " I asked,
observing nothing particular in the

"Well, sir, it is funny only on account of
the history of the two gentlemen whose
remains it covers," replied the old man, leading
me to the tomb. "One of these young
gentlemen, sir, was an officera lieutenant