nto the hands of the best known firm
of the day.

"I have asked," Mrs. Cunningham said, "the Rector and his wife and
Mr. Chetwynd to dine with us this evening; they can scarcely be termed
company, and I thought that you might find it pleasant to have these old
friends here the first evening. There is a letter for you on the library
table, Mark; it may almost be called a packet; it has been here nearly a
month."

In our days a newly married couple would find on their return from
foreign travel basketfuls of letters, circulars, and catalogues from
tradesmen of all kinds; happily, our forefathers were saved from these
inflictions, and Mark at once went to the library with almost a feeling
of surprise as to who could have written to him. He saw at once that
it was a ship's letter, for on the top was written, "Favored by the
Surinam."

"Why, it is Ramoo's writing. I suppose he gave it to someone he knew,
and that instead of its being put in the mail bag in India, he brought
it on with him. What a tremendously long epistle!" he exclaimed,
glancing his eye down the first page, and then a puzzled expression came
across his face; he sat down and began to read from the first slowly and
carefully.

"HONORED SAHIB:

"I do not know why I should write to tell you the true history of all
these matters. I have thought it over many times, but I feel that it
is right that you should know clearly what has happened, and how it has
come about, and more especially that you should know that you need never
fear any troubles such as those that have taken place. I am beginning
to write this while we are yet sailing, and shall send it to you by
ship from the Cape, or if it chances that we meet any ship on her way to
England, our letters may be put on board her."

"Why, this letter must be more than a year old," Mark said to himself.
There was no date to the letter, but, turning to the last sheet, he saw
as a postscript after the signature the words, "January 26th.--A ship,
the Surinam, is lying a short distance from us, and will take our
letters to England."

"Yes, it must be a year old; but what he means by the way he begins is
more than I can imagine;" and he turned back to the point at which he
had broken off.

"I would tell it you in order as it happened. I, Ramoo, am a Brahmin.
Twenty years ago I was the head priest of a great temple. I shall not
say where the temple was; it matters not in any way. There was fighting,
as there is