displays of pusillanimity. We marvel now at the cunning of the strange foes—deceptions prolonged till duplicity became almost respectable as an exhibition of ingenuous perseverance in the teeth of failure—now at their dogged courage—now at their fantastic boasts and melodramatic menace. As a part of the stage properties, the golden fetters forged for the Governor-General are particularly effective: but they had a meaning serious enough. There was alarm on the Húglí as well as vapouring on the Irawadi. The narrative has the particular charm of personal feeling. Lord Amherst's keen sense of responsibility would in any case have made him sensitive to every rumour and report; but he had in addition the instincts of a soldier's son. A lover of peace, he was bred in the traditions of the battlefield. His wife shared her husband's anxieties. She had a delicate perception of the picturesque and romantic aspects of war. There are entries that have all the simple seriousness of the comments of a Greek chorus as the action of the piece proceeds. There are intervals of suspense: of eager waiting for news. If only the record covered the whole series of events it might be adopted as the story of the wars. But it would lose something of its charm if it were systematic. We are fortunate in having it as it is, and shall endeavour to weave it into our account of events, and so tinge the matter-of-fact summary with the emotions of the hour.
Lady Amherst had not had the preliminary experience of Asiatic travel which had prepared the
