ton' and went out. The youth showed
me some very good ground, and I found him an agreeable companion, and
an excellent shot with his matchlock. On our return we found the old
man waiting for us. He told me that he had four sons, all by God's
blessing tall enough for the Company's service, in which one had
attained the rank of 'havildar' (sergeant), and two were still
sepoys. Their wives and children lived with him; and they sent home
every month two-thirds of their pay, which enabled him to pay all the
rent of the estate and appropriate the whole of the annual returns to
the subsistence and comfort of the numerous family. He was, he said,
now growing old, and wished his eldest son, the sergeant, to resign
the service and come home to take upon him the management of the
estate; that as soon as he could be prevailed upon to do so, his old
wife would permit my sporting companion, her youngest son, to enlist,
but not before.

I was on my way to visit Fyzabad, the old metropolis of Oudh,[2] and
on returning a month afterwards in the latter end of January, I found
that the wheat, which was all then in ear, had been destroyed by a
severe frost. The old man wept bitterly, and he and his old wife
yielded to the wishes of their youngest son to accompany me and
enlist in my regiment, which was then stationed at Partabgarh.[3]

We set out, but were overtaken at the third stage by the poor old
man, who told me that his wife had not eaten or slept since the boy
left her, and that he must go back and wait for the return of his
eldest brother, or she certainly would not live. The lad obeyed the
call of his parents, and I never saw or heard of the family again.

There is hardly a village in the kingdom of Oudh without families
like this depending upon the good conduct and liberal pay of sepoys
in our infantry regiments, and revering the name of the government
they serve, or have served. Similar villages are to be found
scattered over the provinces of Bihar and Benares, the districts
between the Ganges and Jumna, and other parts where Rajputs and the
other classes from which we draw our recruits have been long
established as proprietors and cultivators of the soil.

These are the feelings on which the spirit of discipline in our
native army chiefly depends, and which we shall, I hope, continue to
cultivate, as we have always hitherto done, with care; and a
commander must take a great deal of pains to make his men miserable,
before h