fever cases during his residence in the tropics. But whilst he saw all this, he felt how powerless he was in that lone spot; his high authority availed him not; there was no medical man, no medicines nearer at hand than Colombo, a distance of forty miles. His horses had not yet come up, and when they arrived they would be tired out. His proud, hard nature sank as he thought of all this, and at the moment he would have given the value of his judgeship for a phial of medicine, or a dozen of leeches!

Though none there could administer a remedy, the servants crowded round the sick couch, for all loved that fair young child, and each would have given his uttermost possession to have saved its life. One, mcre anxious than the rest, pressed forward with the licence of an attached and favourite servant, and kneeling down, all hot and dusty as he was, fanned the sick girl with the broad leaf of a palmyra. This was Denis, head horsekeeper or groom, a fine athletic, dark-eyed, black-haired Singalese. He had come a good morning's journey on foot by the side of his master's palanquin; but he felt neither hot, tired, nor thirsty whilst cooling the parched skin of his little favourite with an impromptu fan.

He had not been many minutes thus occupied when his quick ear overheard his mistress telling the ayah that had they but a little medicine the child's life might be saved, and that they would give any sum for a messenger to Colombo. It was beautiful to see the good Denis leap to his feet, strip his flowing robe from his shoulder, and laying one of his fingers, gently as a child's, on the hand of his mistress and then on his own lips, to imply respect and submission, point with his other hand in the direction of Colombo. He told her in his own simple, energetic way, that he was quite fresh for the run; that he should soon be back; that the cool evening was coming on; that if he felt tired by the way, the Great Spirit, who loved children, would strengthen him. The judge could scarcely believe it possible that any man could make the journey both ways, but

Denis assured him that if he failed in returning he would send another messenger back in his place. A hasty note to the principal medical officer of Colombo was penned, whilst the courageous horsekeeper betook himself to the river, where he flung himself in for a minute or two; then drinking off the milk of a cocoa-nut, gathering his long wet hair into a knot, and fastening his head-dress round his waist, he stood all dripping wet from the stream before his master. The note was carefully hidden in the folds of his girdle: Denis stepped inside the room to touch the forehead of the sleeping child, and then, with a low salaam to his master and mistress, he rushed forth from the bungalow. As the keen arrow flieth from the hunter's bow, as the eagle darts upon its unsuspecting victim, so went Denis over the greensward, and the sandy plains and rough rocks that were before him. Master, mistress, servants, villagers, all flocked, as by common consent, to the large veranda, to watch the brave, bold man as he flew along like a creature of the wind, over herb, and over stone, and over flood. As he passed along, his dark form and white girdle shone in the rays of the setting sun. More nimble than chetah or fox, he sprang like a bird over a mossy rock, plunged through a dense copse of giant grass, and swept over the barren plain that stretched to the broad sluggish river, where the bamboos waved their fingery leaves. To plunge in and emerge on the opposite bank was the work of a minute: again he trod the grassy land, dashed over a hillock, and for a moment or two was lost in a short tope of palm-trees. Once more his lessening form was seen, still dashing onward; when, just as he approached a turn in the jungle, some dark form was seen to plunge upon his shoulders, and it appeared as though he halted in his course: a shudder ran through the spectators; but none dared to exclaim: 'A chetah is upon him,' though all felt it to be so, and some turned away their heads that they might not see him fall and die. It was not so. Again he pursues his course rapidly as ever. It was but his long black hair that had loosened and

flowed down his back, streaming in the wind. Another bound and he was out of sight.

The fever grew apace, and as midnight came it seemed as though the exertions of Denis were to be of no avail; but the little child's strength ebbed and flowed at intervals, and just as day broke it rallied and seemed better. Few slept there that night, when the minutes appeared hours, and the heavy hours seemed as though they meant never to go: the very night appeared unwilling to bid the sleeping child adieu. The mother watched the little slumberer as only mothers can; the father paced the long wide veranda; the moon shone brightly and beautifully, but not for him he saw only the jungle-path down which Denis had disappeared, and thither, at each turn he took during the long lone night, he bent his anxious eye. The moon sank, and for a short time all was dark; but soon the first rays of dawning day lit up the distant hills, and flung a gray and uncertain light upon copse, and dell, and sandy plain. The first notes of the earliest birds were heard amongst the palms; the monkeys chattered in the neighbouring mango-grove, when a dark form was seen advancing rapidly along the skirt of the forest, and over the green plain. It was Denis, fleet-footed as when he left a dozen hours since. He bounded lightly over the huge rocks that lay in his path, waved one hand above his head to those who were now gathered at the bungalow door, rushed through the bamboo grass, and plunging in the sleepy river, leaped up on the nearest bank, dripping wet and joyous as a child at play. The potent medicine was there, with full directions on phial, and box, and powder. Leeches were applied; a draught administered, and repeated at intervals; and already the sick one appeared more calm and easy. But nothing could induce the faithful Denis to move from beside the bed, where he sat wiping the heavy drops of perspiration from his brow, watching every gentle respiration of the beloved sleeper.

The medicine wrought its full effect: the child recovered, to thank and gambol with its fond preserver. It would not have been easy to tell who shewed the

greatest delight when the young creature smiled again in health and vigour, the fond parents, or the simple-minded, single-hearted Denis. It would have done a cynic's heart good to have seen how fondly and tenderly the huge athletic man walked beside the child's palanquin on their return to Colombo; how he chased beautiful insects with gay, glittering wings, and brought them to her to admire as he set them free again; how he plunged into the mazy dells and jungle-depths for pretty wildflowers, and literally strewed her tiny pillow with delicate buds and blossoms of richest hue and perfume.

Not many months after the incident just related, Denis was as usual occupied in the early morning exercising his master's horses, some of the finest Arabs in the island. One of these, a proud and daring animal, named Harremjuddah, was the groom's especial favourite. He could make the creature do his bidding to the veriest trifle, whilst his master could with difficulty control him. On this morning Denis appeared to be in unusually high spirits, and played, and ran, and gamboled with the horse like a child with a dog. In the height of his excitement Denis unfortunately forgot his master's strict injunction never to mount any of his horses, and leaping on the back of Harremjuddah, gave loose to the halter and cheered on the spirited animal to the top of his speed. Twice did the creature bear him round the race - ground, fleet as the wind; the third time Denis would have pulled him up, but the horse was warm and heeded him not, for the first time in his life. The rider in vain checked his steed, he only shook his mane scornfully in the breeze; another and a stouter pull swayed the animal from his course, and turning sharply round he made at full speed for his home, close by; and before Denis well knew where he was, the horse had with one spring cleared the low stone-wall, bounded across the green lawn, and stood panting and pawing the ground at his master's door.

There sat the judge, beside a heap of legal papers, quietly sipping his morning coffee; and when he looked up, and saw the offending horsekeeper on the back of his

favourite Arab, no word of anger, no outward sign of passion, escaped him. But Denis knew his master too well to expect perfect impunity; and sliding from his dangerous elevation, he made a low salaam, and would have commenced an explanation. The calm, stone-cold judge waved his hand for silence, and motioned to him to begone to the stables, a hint which the frightened horsekeeper gladly acted upon at once. In a few minutes after, the trembling Denis received a summons to appear before his master in the back-court of the house: this was a little stone paved yard lined with jack - trees and bananas, under the shade of which the chief-justice was wont to administer summary justice to minor offenders, a sort of morning Lynch law, the efficacy of which was as undoubted as was its legality unquestioned. He was conducted to this well-known domestic court of justice by two Malay peons, grim ministers of the law, as much hated and feared in Ceylon as were ever mutes in Egypt or Turkey. Trial there was none. A few words through an interpreter sufficed to tell Denis that by the law of the island disobedience of a master's orders by a servant subjected the offender to the punishment of the lash; that he must suffer the penalty of his offence and receive fifty lashes. The poor horsekeeper could scarcely believe his ears; for some moments he felt confounded and speechless: then he asked the interpreter to repeat the words to him, doubtful of his having understood him aright. But when he saw the peons produce the well-knotted lash and a double coil of stout cordage to bind him to the nearest breadfruit-tree, his lips quivered and lost their colour: not that he cared for the pain he was to endure, he had been accustomed from his childhood to suffer patiently in a variety of ways; and as he saw the ugly, hateful whip stretched at full length before him, he could but think that the smart of those fifty lashes would not nearly equal the suffering he had undergone a month or two since on his night-journey, afoot, to Colombo, when he saved the life of his master's child. But he did dread the disgrace, the stigma which would attach to him after