ion. I blushed and stuttered, and murmured out a few incoherent
words to explain--but it would not do--I could not recover my equanimity
during the course of the dinner and while endeavoring to help an English
Duke, my neighbor, to poulet a l'Austerlitz, fairly sent seven mushrooms
and three large greasy croutes over his whiskers and shirt-frill.
Another laugh at my expense. "Ah! M. le Major," said the Q---- of the
B-lg--ns, archly, "vous n'aurez jamais votre brevet de Colonel." Her
M----y's joke will be better understood when I state that his Grace is
the brother of a Minister.

I am not at liberty to violate the sanctity of private life, by
mentioning the names of the parties concerned in this little anecdote. I
only wish to have it understood that I am a gentleman, and live at least
in DECENT society. Verbum sat.

But to be serious. I am obliged always to write the name of Goliah in
full, to distinguish me from my brother, Gregory Gahagan, who was also
a Major (in the King's service), and whom I killed in a duel, as the
public most likely knows. Poor Greg! a very trivial dispute was the
cause of our quarrel, which never would have originated but for the
similarity of our names. The circumstance was this: I had been lucky
enough to render the Nawaub of Lucknow some trifling service (in the
notorious affair of Choprasjee Muckjee), and his Highness sent down a
gold toothpick-case directed to Captain G. Gahagan, which I of course
thought was for me: my brother madly claimed it; we fought, and the
consequence was, that in about three minutes he received a slash in the
right side (cut 6), which effectually did his business:--he was a good
swordsman enough--I was THE BEST in the universe. The most ridiculous
part of the affair is, that the toothpick-case was his, after all--he
had left it on the Nawaub's table at tiffin. I can't conceive what
madness prompted him to fight about such a paltry bauble; he had much
better have yielded it at once, when he saw I was determined to have
it. From this slight specimen of my adventures, the reader will perceive
that my life has been one of no ordinary interest; and, in fact, I
may say that I have led a more remarkable life than any man in the
service--I have been at more pitched battles, led more forlorn hopes,
had more success among the fair sex, drunk harder, read more, and been a
handsomer man than any officer now serving her Majesty.

When I at first went to India in 1802, I was