them. Sylvia was wildly gay and mischievous. In the new train of ideas which he had lately been following he had almost forgotten that Sylvia would be in London; but it was of course charming to see her again. Afterwards when he met her, he remarked more than once how he had always said her prettiness depended chiefly on the setting. "London doesn't suit you, Sylvia," he said to her once. "When are you going to summon your woodland subjects to take their queen home in triumph?" One day when Carl Thornton had come to call on Mrs. Rivers, he found her ready to go out. Margaret and I are going to Hal's studio to see his picture," she explained. "Will you come, too?" The two men had avoided one another by tacit consent since their parting at the Hermitage, but Carl could not well refuse, and after all Merivale was out. Margaret and he remained standing before the picture, while Mrs. Rivers was examining some old china at a little distance. "How he could have had the heart to paint it!" thought Margaret. Aloud she said, "It's a ridiculous fancy of course, for he has caught her laughing look to perfection; but I think it's the saddest picture I have ever seen.' "Yes," replied Thornton, in an unmoved sort of way. "That's its cleverness, I suppose. Merivale has succeeded admirably." Some few days afterwards Margaret had arranged to spend a day with friends in the country. She started quite early in the morning, with a feeling of positive relief. "I am getting morbid about Sylvia," she thought on the journey. "If she would only be tiresome as she was at first. But those great brown wistful eyes, I cannot bear to see them! י! It was late when she returned, and she thought that the maid who opened the door for her looked at her curiously. "Miss Maynard?" she began involuntarily. "She's gone, miss; she went out early this morning. Mistress has been out all day too, you know, but of course she thought Miss Maynard had only gone for a walk, but—" Margaret went straight up to Sylvia's room; dresses were lying on the bed, on the floor; Sylvia's trunk half packed stood in the middle of the room. Everything was in disorder. Margaret looked round breathlessly, and then she caught sight of a letter lying on the dressing-table. She crossed the room and took it up. It was addressed to her, and it was open, and she | saw that it was from Hal Merivale. Then she understood. Half an hour later a ring at the bell roused her from a kind of stupor of unreasoning fear, and with a thrill of relief and gladness she heard Carl Thornton's voice in the hall. With the letter in her hand she went straight down-stairs to the drawing-room. Disjointed sentences of the letter she had just read seemed to be burning themselves into her mind. "When we were interrupted last night, you began to speak of Sylvia. Poor little am quoting a remark I have heard several Sylvia! As a picture she is charming (I times lately), but do you think I could care for a woman who has no soul? You must have discovered by this time that the poor child is not quite well, not like to say anything unpleasant when quite like other people one does not speaking of Sylvia." 66 'Opened a letter addressed to you!” he repeated. "Oh," she cried, with a kind of impatience, "I thought you knew Sylvia better. Don't you see that she is morally irresponsible? She never does, or leaves undone, anything because it is right or wrong. She does not know what is right or wrong. She will do anything to please any one she is fond of; that she understands; but what is abstract right to her? It is unintelligible! She knew Hal's writing, and she opened the letter to see what he said to me. Any child would have done the same kind of thing before it had been expressly forbidden," she cried, her eyes full of tears. 66 "Do not be so distressed," he began gently, we must telegraph to Llwyn-ybryn, but I believe we shall hear. Ah! here is a telegram." Margaret rushed to take it and tore open the yellow envelope, then she gave it to him. "Sylvia just arrived. Letter follows," was the message. "Oh, how thankful I am!" she half sobbed, leaning on the rail at the bottom of the stairs and trembling from head to foot now that the strain of a great unformed dread was removed. Carl made a sudden movement towards her, but Mar- | that he could not bear to see the old man's garet had heard the sound of carriage wheels, and in an instant was calm again as she opened the door for her mother. VIII. Two days later, in the afternoon, Merivale called at Vivian Place to see Margaret. There was no lamp in the room into which he was shown, and when she came in it was almost too dark to see her face, but Hal plunged into the midst of things at once with characteristic impetuosity. "You didn't answer my letter, Margaret," he began, "so I have come myself to hear my fate. Margaret," he went on with rising anger in his tone, as she did not speak, "you are never going to be so unjust as to let a ridiculous fancy about that little, half-witted furtive glance at him, full of dread, yet questioning, whenever he spoke of the accident." The outspokenness of Sylvia's old nurse was, he felt, a relief. "There's them that'll have to answer to God for this child's life, sir," she said solemnly. "Hadn't she a heart, because she wasn't She did not complete the sentence, but there was no need. For the rest of his life Carl will remember how the glen looked the day before he returned to London. He felt he must see it once again. It was a grey November day. The stream was swollen with rains, and rushed with a hoarse, complaining voice over the rocks. The familiar dash of the waterfall sounded inexpressibly dreary in the gathering twilight. A wind was rising, and swept moaning through the naked boughs. Every now and then a few yellow leaves whirled eddy "Stop!" cried Margaret, and he hardly knew her voice, "wait a minute! You may be sorry to have said anything,-ing down from the bare woods above. As unpleasant. Sylvia is dead." She saw him turn white in the gathering dusk. "Dead!" he repeated hoarsely. "What do you mean? She is here." "No; she went home. She read your letter to me, and then she went home. Mr. Thornton was telegraphed for," she went on, in the same hard, mechanical voice which never faltered, "and they had brought her home. She had been to the Torrent Walk late in the evening, and she must have-slipped on the stones and fallen into the water. There is a deep pool, Mr. Thornton says — and she was there. I dare say you know the spot." Hal shuddered. "This was found near the waterfall. Mr. Thornton sent it to me, but I see it is yours; perhaps you had better have it." She held out a book to him. He took it tremblingly, and looked at it in a dazed, bewildered way. It was a copy of "Undine." There was a leaf turned down at the place where Undine says to her husband, "I thank thee for my soul." Neither of them spoke. Hal sat as if turned to stone. "Poor little Sylvia," whispered Margaret at last. "I wonder if she has found her soul now! If she has she owes it to you, Hal. No wonder she is grateful." When Hal raised his head the room was empty. Carl had been summoned by old Mr. Maynard. "You said, if ever you could help me, my boy," said the old man brokenly when he came. Then followed terrible days. Carl felt he stood there, a shower of dead leaves fell suddenly on the flat stone where a few months ago Sylvia had sat under green boughs for her picture. Thornton turned hurriedly and walked away. When everything was over he went straight back to Margaret. Two As she came into the room he looked at her sad eyes, and then went to her and took both her hands. "I do not ask you to forgive me for coming now, Margaret," he said, "because you know years ago I made a great mistake. I thought it was Merivale then. I have suffered for it ever since. Am I to go on suffering?" Margaret looked at him, and in her eyes he read an unspoken question. "Never!" he said. "Let us have no more mistakes, Margaret, never in that way, though I would have given years of my life," his voice trembled, "to have saved the poor child from herself. Then is it, yes?" he whispered, with his arms round her. "Yes," said Margaret with a long, quivering sigh. Suddenly she broke into a storm of sobs. "Sylvia! my poor little Sylvia!" she cried. "How wicked it is of me to be so happy when you are out there in the cold!" They persuaded old Mr. Maynard to make his home with them when they were married, and the poor, broken-hearted old man came to them. He spent much time over his books, and was gentle and courtly as of old, but the first time they saw him smile was when Margaret put her baby in his arms. "We want to call her Sylvia," | age height of two thousand five hundred she said softly, as he stroked the baby's feet above it; the sides of the hills facing little brown head delicately, “but she hesitated. "Yes, my dear," he answered, and his eyes filled with tears; "yes, I should like it." From The Nineteenth Century. "towards the valley are generally grassy slopes or at most covered with scrub jungle, but as soon as the crest is passed a fine forest is reached, except where the hill-tribes have ruthlessly destroyed it to raise one crop and then let it relapse into grass or scrub. But we must briefly describe the situation, and say that the valley of Manipur is east of Cachar and west of the Kubo Valley, thus being the centre of the chain of valleys connecting India and IT is scarcely two months since all India Upper Burmah; the capital is almost inand England were startled by the news of tersected by the 25th parallel north latia great disaster in Manipur, and the cry tude, and 95th east longitude. Its distance instantly arose, "Where is Manipur?" by road east of Silchar, capital of Cachar, most people in India being quite as igno- is one hundred and thirty-two miles, the rant of its whereabouts as the inhabitants excellent bridle-path, constructed at the of the United Kingdom, the general idea cost of the British government by Captain being, among those who had heard of it Guthrie in 1837-43, connecting the two at all, that it was in some way connected places, winding its way over hills and with the game of polo. Yet Manipur is a dales, now rising to a height of five thoucountry with many features of great in- sand two hundred feet, now descending a terest, it contains scenery of surpassing deep ravine at the bottom of which rushes beauty, every variety of climate from an a raging torrent at a level of three hundred almost tropical one to one colder than that feet above the sea; in all it crosses eight of England, finally it is the home of an ranges of hills and five rivers, the latter intelligent race of people quite distinct being made passable by means of admifrom any other Indian one, and with a rably constructed bamboo pontoon bridges history and civilization of its own well in the dry season and airy cane suspension worth a little study. The valley of Mani-bridges in the rainy season. Of late years pur, the heart of the country and the only these suspension bridges have been part where the pure Manipuris live, is an strengthened by wire. The hills on the open plain six hundred and fifty square way to Cachar are inhabited by a tribe of miles in extent, and of irregular shape, its so-called Nagas, whose tribal name is extreme length from north to south being, Koupooee; they used to be extremely perhaps, thirty-five miles, and its breadth numerous, but of late years small-pox and from east to west twenty-five. With ex- emigration to the tea-gardens of Cachar ception of the villages, which are well have sadly thinned their numbers, and the planted, and a few sacred groves here and work of the road and bridges falls heavily there left for the benefit of the sylvan gods, on them. There are, or used to be, rude the country is devoid of timber. The huts as rest-houses for the political agent capital, called Imphal, is a large mass of at intervals along the road, many of them villages and from the neighboring heights in lovely and romantic situations, and, but presents the appearance of a forest; it for the inevitable toils of the march, a covers a space of about fifteen square more beautiful line of country along which miles. Every house in the capital is in to travel could hardly be imagined. Travits own well-planted garden, hence the ellers with strength and energy walk or at large space covered; the population at most ride up to Manipur; but, for those the census of 1881 showed it to contain who are delicate or lazy, the Manipuris sixty thousand inhabitants; the remainder have devised an uncomfortable kind of of the valley had another sixty thousand; litter called a dulai, in which the occuwhile the hill-tracts accounted for one pant sits, and the hill-people have learned hundred thousand- making in all a pop- to carry it. ulation of two hundred and twenty thousand, the extent of the little state, hill and plain together, being eight thousand square miles, or a little larger than Wales. The valley itself is two thousand six hundred feet above the sea-level and is completely surrounded by hills of an aver One hundred miles to the north of Manipur is the British station of Kohima, the seat of government in the Naga Hills, and twenty miles from Mao on the Manipur frontier. The road as far as Mao was cut by the Manipur Durbar in January, 1881, the line being laid out at a cart gradient (never steeper than one in twenty), and along this it is possible to gallop the whole distance. The road runs chiefly along upland valleys with magnificent scenery, hills rising to over nine thousand feet on one side; often the road runs through oak forests; often along a cliff overhanging a river, the steep sides of which are covered in spring with wild azaleas and other flowering trees; now it goes over a grassy plain covered with strange bee-hive shaped cairns, the work of a race passed and gone, whose only trace these are; suddenly, as if divided by a line, the cairns cease, and the road enters a country with huge monoliths scattered here and there in forest and on plains; these monoliths continue till the British Naga Hills district is reached. prehistoric times. The present route to the Naga Hills and Assam is new, but there was a connection between Manipur and the last-named country in former days, but the exact way it followed cannot be certainly determined. To the south of the valley there must have been an outlet in former days, as traditions exist regarding it; but for many years past the fierce Kuki tribes have blocked it, and it is for our survey officers to enlighten us regarding it. Situated there in the middle of hills, and possessing no means of cheap carriage, Manipur is singularly cut off from the outer world. This has tended to make the people clannish, insular (if I may use the term) in their prejudices, and self-reliant. The soil of the valley is marvellously fertile, and the policy of its rulers has always been to prevent the exportation of rice for fear of creating scarcity, the argument being that, though great dearness in the Naga Hills may make it pay to import from Manipur, Manipur has neither money nor means to import from Cachar or Burmah in case of famine. One other road connects Manipur with British territory, namely that to Tamu, just across the frontier in Upper Burmah; for more than thirty miles it runs along the open plain; at three and a half miles it passes Langthabal, where our old cantonment and an old Manipuri capital lie close together at the foot of a hill; at six miles, at a place called Leelong, it crosses a stream. This is where the last execution of members of the royal family took place, two princes being, according to the custom which prevented their blood being shed, fastened up in baskets and drowned. At thirteen miles we pass Thobal, rendered memorable by the gallant Grant's spirited defence; eleven miles further on we come to the scene of the last stand made by the Manipuris when they opposed General Graham's column on the 25th of April last. This is the same place where the Manipuris made their last stand against the invading Burmese in 1819, the entrenchments were probably the old ones, and it is probably tradition that made them select this place. Shortly after leaving Pallel, thirty miles from the capital, the road ascends the Yoma hills, and after passing the highest point near Aimole, runs down to Tamu, a distance of seventy miles in all from Manipur. Part of it having been constructed since I left, I do not attempt its description; suffice it to say that it runs through a pretty country, but not one possessing the same features of extreme loveliness that are found along the routes to Cachar and the Naga Hills. These three roads are the main outlets connecting Manipur with the outer world. Those to Burmah and Cachar are trade routes of great antiquity, and it is probably along them that the wave of Aryan invasion poured from India into Burmah in It has been said that the pure Manipuris only live in the valley; the hills are, however, inhabited by various races known as Nagas, Chins, Kukis, Sooktees, Looshais, etc. Probably most of these races have some affinity the one to the other; the last four are obviously connected, as their languages are mutually intelligible, and under the head of Kuki many tribes are comprised. The different Naga tribes are all north of a line drawn through the centre of the valley and prolonged east and west, while the others are to the south; though probably distantly connected, the Nagas are certainly more distinct from the tribes to the south than any of the latter are one from the other. The Manipuris are of doubtful origin. They are probably descended from some powerful tribe of Indo-Chinese origin, with some admixture of Aryan blood, drawn from the wave on its way through Manipur. Since then, and up to the early part of the last century, they have constantly mixed with the different tribes surrounding them. For the last one hundred and eighty years they have been more select, but the process still goes on to a limited extent. Anyhow, Manipur has existed as a separate kingdom for over a thousand years, much respected by its neighbors, occasionally under spirited rulers carrying its victorious arms far into Burmah. Early in the last century the rajahs took a new departure, and though they still retained, as they do to this day, many Naga cere monies, they cease to intermarry with that people. Yet, even now, a rajah is not thought to be duly installed until he and his wife have gone through a quaint ceremony, clad in Naga costume; his official house is built on the pattern of a Naga hut, and man armed with a Naga spear and shield always accompanies him on a State visit. ing hill-tracts, while large numbers had been driven off as slaves to Burmah, where their descendants still remain. Not a pony, not a cow remained in the valley — all was desolation. From Manipur the Burmese invaded Cachar, and from thence threatened our frontier district of Sylhet, and from Assam they threatened Goalpara, Manipur. Only those who have talked with_old people who actually remember the Burmese invasion of either of these countries can realize what it was. Here we have no concern with Assam, suffice it to say that Manipur was devastated. Before the invasion the valley is said to have contained a population of six hundred and fifty thousand, the eaves of the houses in At last, early in the eighteenth century, the capital are said to have touched. The Hindoo missionaries appeared, and in the amazing fertility of the soil makes it quite reign of the great Pam Heiba, one hun- possible that it did support such a populadred and thirty years ago, Hindooism be- tion, certainly it seems likely that it concame the fashion and conversions common, tained four hundred thousand. It had, though theoretically a man cannot be made too, a famous herd of ponies, on which its a Hindoo, but must be born one. The celebrated cavalry was mounted, and its process is even now going on among the cattle were known as superior to any in hill-tribes, as it does all along the frontier the neighboring countries. What did the of Assam, much to their detriment as re- Burmese do? Let us answer by saying gards courage and honesty. Generally that when they were driven out of the speaking, the Manipuris may be described valley only two thousand inhabitants were as a well-made, robust race, of middle left, the remainder had been scattered height, light brown, yellowish complex- abroad and were fugitives in Cachar, ions, with straight, black hair, and rather Sylhet, and Chittagong, and the neighborMongolian-like eyes. They are active, energetic, and abstemious; very patient, cheerful, and enduring under great hardships; capable of fighting when well disciplined, and led by men they trust, but not naturally courageous. They have the Japanese talent for rapidly acquiring new arts, and make first-rate and intelligent workmen. They are far more industrious and energetic than any of the tribes surrounding them; the women are famous as weavers, and conduct the retail trade of the country. The first record of any deal ings between the British government and that of Manipur is of a treaty made in 1762; this, however, led to nothing, and our real relations commenced in 1823. We must, however, go back a little. In the latter half of the last century the Burmese were a rapidly rising power; the great Alompra gave them the impetus that a single great man has so often been known to do in the East, where the man and the nation seem to rise suddenly from the earth, glow like a flame with exceeding brightness for a time, only to die down rapidly and become suddenly extinguished, as the man whose mind gave the impetus relaxes his grasp on the helm of state. Burmah rose to a great height of strength and prosperity within a few years, and by the end of the century had subdued Arracan, Pegu, the great Shan kingdom of Pong, and some of the smaller Shan States, and even threatened Bengal. During the early years of the present century she was a constant menace to us. In 1817 her generals invaded Assam, and, in 1819, On our eastern frontier we were ably represented by Mr. David Scott of the Civil Service, who held the office of agent to the governor-general, and by his advice troops were moved up to defend our frontier. Marjeet, the ex-rajah of Manipur, was, with his brothers Chourjeet and Ghumbeer Singh, a fugitive; he was not an able man, but only notorious for his cruelties. Chourjeet was not remarkable for his ability, but less cruel. Ghumbeer Singh was able and ambitious, and he one day presented himself before Mr. Scott and offered to raise a corps of Manipuris in his service; the offer was accepted, and a corps of five hundred men was speedily raised. This was in 1823. In 1824 we declared war with Burmah, and decided to make a movement forward into Cachar and, Ghumbeer Singh's troops proving useful, they were increased to two thousand, armed, and paid by us, and two officers, Captain Grant and Lieutenant R. B. Pemberton, appointed to drill them. These troops advanced into Manipur in 1825, driving all the Burmese before them, and at the conclusion of the war Ghumbeer Singh was recognized as rajah of Manipur, which was made a protected State. Ghum |