“Why, Tom,” said I, astonished, “what’s the matter with you? You’re warm, my dear fellow; I meant no offence to you, and as for—”
“Say no more, say no more,” said Tom, stopping my mouth; “you were jesting, and I was hasty; but I cannot bear the shadow of an imputation on those I regard. If any one said a word against you, Frank, I’d floor him.”
I was touched by my friend’s generous warmth. “You’re a worthy fellow, Tom,” said I, squeezing his hand; “but pray heaven we may be spared the necessity of showing our love for one another in that way, though we have battled pretty often in each other’s defence in times past. Do you remember, by-the-bye, the joint-stock pummelling we gave Jack Grice, the cobbler, when at old Thwackum’s?”
“Ha! ha! I do, indeed, Frank; the fellow thought he had us out of school, and in a cul de sac; but he caught a brace of Tartars.”
At the appointed hour, the next evening, we found ourselves at Mrs. Brownstout’s bungalow. From the number of palankeens and return buggies we met, on our entering the domain, or compound, we were led to infer that the party was pretty numerous, which proved to be the case.
Having deposited our hats in the hall or verandah, which, by the way, was full of hookhas of various degrees of splendour—a luxury then more indulged in than at present—we entered the well-lighted saloon, or reception room; and I confess I was agreeably surprised at the elegance and propriety of the tout ensemble.
It is a pleasant sight, in a distant land, thus to meet a social assembly of your countrymen and women, young and old, enjoying music and conversation, and the pleasing refinements of the Western world.
A group of Barrackpore belles occupied one portion of the apartment—a gay parterre—in which, however, the sun flower and the lily greatly predominated over the rose.
In front of them, and standing in groups here and there, were numerous officers of the different regiments at the station, fine, handsome young fellows, for the most part, in the bloom of life, on whom the sword, and time, and care, and the airs of the death-concocting jungles, had yet to do their work. There they were, laughing the light laugh of the careless heart, and doing and saying all those things, the exact counterpart of which, perhaps, had been said and done in that very bungalow by many a set as jocund as they, who had gone before them, had run their brief Indian career, died, and been forgotten.
Then, as a sort of counterpoise to the youth of the party, were certain portly colonels and majors, button-holding in corners over grave discussions of off-reckonings, changes of stations, &c., their goodly and well-matured persons contrasting with those of the slender youths around—as do the gnarled and bulky oaks of many a winter, with the tall and slender saplings of the forest.