Whilst an orage was gathering within Aaly-verdy-qhan’s family, a storm was already breaking over the Oressa. Mir-habib, who listened only to the dictates of his jealousy against Aaly-verdy-qhan’s fortune, was perpetually tormenting him in every manner in his power; and having once put on the odious charac­ter of ravager, he gave himself and others no rest, but was perpetually in action for ruining countries which he could not conquer, and rendering miserable people whom he could not bring under subjection. He had attached to his person a large body of Mar­hattas and Afghans with whom he was desolating these many years all the countries south of the Ganga; nor did he seem either tired of his ill success, or inclined to submit to his fate. To drive such implacable enemies, from his dominions, and to deliver his people from such merciless ravagers, seemed incumbent on Aaly-verdy-qhan’s lofty mind; and he thought so himself. For although worn down by repeated campaigns and endless wars, and broken with the infirmities of old age, he was ever ready to engage in an expedition. And first of all, under pretence of a hunting match, (a divertissament also which he was very fond of, and which is not without its utility) he went out and encamped at Mehrp8r, betwixt the southern and eastern part of the city, in a country that proved so very full of game, that reckoning only the deer, there were killed every day hundreds of those animals. The poor beasts astonished at the noise and sight of such a multi­tude of men, were stupefied with fears, and so confounded, that they ran from the bushes and from the plain into the very camp, where they were taken alive, or knocked down with sticks and cudgels. After some days spent in this hunting, he turned to the south, and marched as far as Catwa, where he encamped to assemble his troops. From thence he marched to Bardevan, and then to Midnip8r. The enemies hearing of his drawing near, took to their accursed and wonted custom of hiding their unwel­come faces in desert difficult countries; and they concealed them­selves so well that no intelligence could be had of them. The Viceroy passed the little river Cassáy, and encamped on the other side; and he resolved at this time to secure the passes so well, that his obstinate enemies should find it difficult to penetrate into his dominions for the future. He therefore determined to pass the season at Midnip8r where he ordered his troops to barrack themselves; and where he gave the Fodjdary of that place and country to Ala-c8li-qhan, Commander of Seradj-ed-döulah’s bri­gade. He resolved to send that young Prince towards Balisser, where he heard that Mir-habib had been seen. His intention in this, was to accustom the young man to face an enemy, and to command troops, whilst he afforded some rest to the main of his army; being of opinion that the troops which Mir-habib could muster, were not such a force as might endanger his grandson or his detachment. Seradj-ed-döulah having sent forward Dost-mahmed-qhan and Mir-cazem-qhan to see the enemy’s pulse, marched himself after them. Dost-mahmed-qhan having advanced briskly, at day-break found he was in the enemy’s presence; and he attacked immediately, without waiting for Mir-cazem-qhan, his friend and rival. The enemy who dreaded the very name of Aaly-verdy-qhan turned about, after having just stood their ground for form’s sake; and they fled as usual, intimidated even by Dost-mahmed-qhan’s slight attack. Seradj-ed-döulah having pursued the enemy, encamped at Balisser-ben­der; and as he had no orders to advance farther, he discontinued the pursuit.

So slight a separation from that beloved grandson of his, was enough to decompose all the gravity of Aaly-verdy-qhan’s behaviour. He doated so fondly on his beloved person, that he found it hard to be a whole day without his company; so that, when he found himself deprived of his presence for some days, whilst he knew him engaged in a scene of trouble and danger, he lost his usual firmness of mind, betrayed tokens of impatience, and could not reconcile himself to such a separation. To humour therefore his own inclination, and to turn it to some account, he resolved to try what could be obtained by marching forwards himself, and endeavoring to enclose Mir-habib between two fires; hoping that such a neighbourhood would not fail to afford some favourable opportunity to Seradj-ed-döulah, or to himself. In the sequel he repented, was apprehensive lest the enemy should part the two armies, and avail himself of the young Prince’s inexperience and inattention to fall upon him, and he sent him orders therefore to come back; and following his own messen­gers, he advanced impatiently by long marches, whilst Seradj-ed-döulah himself was on his side lessening the distance. The two armies joined at Nàraingur; and Seradj-ed-döulah having hastened to embrace the feet of his grandfather,* filled the old man’s heart with inexpressible joy. The two armies now cantoned themselves at Midnip8r.

This moment of rest seemed to give rise to much heart-burning amongst the officers of the army, and to numberless divisions and discontents. Great discoveries were made in the finances, as well as in the administration of the army. One Qhadja-abdol-hady-qhan, a Cab8lian by birth, who was an officer of Cavalry, although none of the considerable ones, came one day together with his countryman, Séyd-mahmed-yessáol, and was introduced by Gholam-hossëin-qhan, Superintendent of the hall of audience. They both represented that the “collusion between the Accomptant’s office, on one side, and the Pay­master-General and the officers on the other, was such, that the musters were shockingly overcharged, and immense sums made away; so that not one-fourth of the men borne upon the books would upon examination prove to be effective; that for a proof of their assertion, they appealed to their own case, which was exactly such, and similar to what would come out to be the case of every brigade, and every corps in the army, upon the slight­est examination; in one word, that to put the case of every brigade beyond dispute, they wanted no more than to be entrusted for one day with the mustering of the troops.” This speech struck the Viceroy with amazement; and the discovery being so very important, the request was complied with, and orders were given to the treasury, and to the several officers, to attend on those two men, and to be obedient to their commands. When to every one’s surprise and amazement, every one of the officers of the troops proved to be struck with confusion and dismay, like so many men that had lost their wits. The two inspectors having agreed together to mind neither rank nor station, nor recommendation, brought forth such a scene of villainy, collusion, and peculate, as covered every one of them with eternal shame; and they supported their assertions, by such undeniable proofs, that it appeared as clear as day-light, that an officer of the army, who received pay for seventeen hundred horse, could not muster so many as eighty or even seventy; and that most of those that were borne for a thousand, could not shew so many as a hun­dred. These were strange discoveries indeed; and from thence the difference arising throughout the whole army may be easily guessed.* The two discoverers were loaded with presents, and preferments, and were daily advancing in favour; but they became objects of taunt and reproach, and they gave rise to a general discontent, and to many heart-burnings. It seems that every party acted wrong in this affair; neither ought these men to have carried their animosity and private interest so far; nor ought the army to have been guilty of such enormous collusions. Still less did it become Aaly-verdy-qhan, in a time of war, and at the beginning of a campaign, to examine so minutely into such a discovery; especially as those Commanders had always served him well, and had never spared their pains nor their blood; and as such an inquiry at such a time might have had fatal conse­quences, he ought to have remembered these verses of the poet:

“Nothing but dust is to be seen in this plain immense;

Let us go quickly over it with our eyes shut up.”

Whilst all Bengal resounded with this discovery, news came that the Marhattas having turned the Bengal army, were proceed­ing to M8rsh8d-abad by rapid marches through the hilly country. Aaly-verdy-qhan who was bent on engaging those ravages by all means, and who did not trust either the troops or the deputy he had left in his capital, decamped from Midnip8r, and came back to Bardevan. There he learned that the enemy who did not like a close engagement, and who dreaded his very name, had again retreated behind the hills westward of M8rsh8d-abad.

It was during this march he learned that Fahr-eddin-hossëin-qhan had either by the neglect or connivance of his guards, found means to effect his escape, and to make his way good to Mir-habib and to the Marhattas; but he soon became tired of his new friends. Bred with delicacy, he had never known but by hearsay what bodily pain might be; and he no sooner saw himself amongst those new friends of his with nothing but his horse for all carriage, and nothing but scanty meals for all table, than his spirits failed. Finding himself harassed by long marches and daily toil, he took a disgust to such a way of life, and quitted the Marhattas, to repair to Shah-djehan-abad; where with the money and jewels which he had found means to transmit thither by the channel of some Bankers of P8rania and Maldah, some time before his captivity, he made a shift to live comfortably; but soon falling into a melancholy state of mind, that incessantly preyed upon his spirits, he departed his life and went to join his departed father.