Ram-naráin, the Governor of that province, was known for a man timid, wavering, and artful. Far from being sincere in his profession to the Navvab, he hated and despised him; but as he was likewise under engagements to the English, he did not choose to bring himself under the imputation of faithlessness and treason to a man with whom they were confederated. In his heart he did not like his situation, and he waited only for a favourable moment to get rid of it; nor were the two Zemindars, Sunder-sing and Pahluvan-sing, better inclined towards the new Nazem, or Prince. Indebted for their greatness to Aaly-verdy-qhan, and impressed with gratitude to that house, they wished to promote the ruin of his enemy, and to tear his family by the roots. And indeed, those very persons that had taken a disgust at Seradj-ed-döulah’s person, for the ferocity of his manners, and the levity of his tongue, by which last he used to ridicule and The Navvab’s detestable conduct ren­ders Seradj-ed-döulah regretted. render contemptible the Grandees of the country; those very men who had wished for his ruin, in hopes that a man advanced in years, as was Mir-djaafer-qhan, and full of experience, as they expected, would govern them with moderation, without carrying things to extremity, against a family to which he was allied, and to which he owed every thing; those very men, I say, on seeing the despicable conduct of the father, and the detestable actions of the son, became another set of men, and were totally alienated from the old man. They now remembered Seradj-ed-döulah, and remembered him with shame and regret; their enmity to him changed into pity and commiseration; and they were daily regretting him, and speaking to his advantage; and this was the general sense of the public, whether amongst the knowing ones, or amongst the simple, whether in public or in private. What shocked exceedingly in Mir-djaafer-qhan’s character was, that after having rendered himself so conspicuous in Aaly-verdy-qhan’s time by his liberality and his sympathy to the soldier, he should have become now a wretch of the most sordid avarices, and a very carrion in parsimony and stinginess; just as if he had forgotten who he had been, or what character he had once sustained. One day, some one took the liberty to tell him his sense of that alteration, in these very words: “My Lord-Navvab, a time was when you were renowned for liberality. What is become of it now?” “Friend,” answered he unconcernedly, “in Aaly-verdy-qhan’s time, the matter consisted only in taking up water from a river, and in bestowing another’s money; but now that the river is become my own, my heart aches when­ever I am obliged to part with any of its water, were it even to a friend.” This state of things having been reported to Mahmed-c8ly-qhan, Prince of Ilah-abad, he resolved to avail him­self of it. Indeed he was a man of no genius, and proved wholly destitute of intelligence; but yet, he had abundance of courage; and as he was wholly dissatisfied with the confined limits of his principality, and the smallness of his income, he conceived the design of bettering his fortune by the conquest of either Azim-abad or Bengal. This scheme took so far possession of his mind, that he imparted it to his relation and neighbour, Mirza-djelal-eddin-háider, alias Shudjah-ed-döulah, Viceroy or Sovereign of A8d and Lucnow. The latter, who wished this long time to see his kinsman out of Ilah-abad, encouraged him in his scheme, promised his assistance, and offered to follow his steps, as soon as he should have made an impression on the enemies’ country. It was therefore resolved between them, that the Imperial Prince, Aaly-goher, now styled Shah-aalem, should contribute to the expedition by his name, at least, and his pedigree; and as this Prince, intimidated by the Vezir Umad-el-mulk’s power and cruelty, was leading the life of a fugitive, and enjoyed but a precarious subsistence with Nédjib-qhan, in whose dominions he had taken shelter; he listened with pleasure to the many invitations by which he was requested to put himself at the head of the undertaking; after which, there would remain nothing more, than to march down towards those Eastern kingdoms.* All these matters having been adjusted between those two Princes, Mahmed-c8li-qhan repeatedly wrote to the Imperial Prince, to request his presence. The latter, who had been this longwhile putting up his fervent prayers to Heaven for some such oppor­tunity, seized it by the hair, and taking with him what servants and friends he had about his person, he proceeded to Ilah-abad. On his march he received respectful letters from Radja Sunder-sing, who also addressed my father on the subject, as he acted as Prime Minister to that forlorn Prince; and he requested his presence in countries, that waited only for the moment of receiv­ing him with open arms. And here it must be remembered that the Gentoo Prince, being bent on revenging Seradj-ed-döulah’s death, had provided a large force, which he had furnished with every thing necessary; and that he panted in his heart for that happy moment, when some man of consequence might lend his name to the undertaking, and put it in his power to take a full revenge from Mir-djaafer-qhan; for he had borne a strong attach­ment to Aaly-verdy-qhan, and thought his honour concerned in revenging the injuries offered to his family. For this purpose, he had likewise drawn Pahluvan-sing in his views, another Zemindar of consequence and it must be acknowledged, that this Hindoo Prince was a man of great merit, brave and valor­ous, greatly esteemed in the province, very intelligent in busi­ness, and very grateful in his attachments—in one word, he was a man of such uncommon qualities, and of such extraordi­nary talents, that it is highly probable, that had fate permitted it, Radja Sun­der-sing, one of the most zealous friends of a revolution, is killed acci­dentally. he would have brought his enterprise to maturity, by overcoming every obstacle; but destiny cut him short in the flower of his age, and on the very eve of unfolding his project. Under pre­tence of making a tour throughout his dominions, and of seeing Radja Ram-naráin, he set out from his fortress of Ticavy, and encamped in the plain, where he assembled his troops silently. Unfortunately for him, the festival of Besent-panchmi,* which is held sacred amongst the Gentoos, arrived at that time; and he was celebrating it with the usual rejoicings amongst the Commanders of his troops. Amongst these was one Sheh-gho­lam-ghö8ss, a son of the famous Sheh-hassen-cadyri, the Lucno­vian, who had begotten him upon a Kencheni, or dance-woman, or actress. He bore the character of a brave man, had been employed in many difficult services by Sunder-sing, and had thereby so far endeared himself to that Prince that he often obtained whatever he had a mind to ask, the Radja having a paternal affection for him. This officer came that day, and with very little ceremony, requested the favour of a thousand rupees, to make merry with his friends. This request was introduced with no preamble at all, as he was accustomed to obtain much more important favours. These importunities at last had often fatigued the Radja, who on granting one some days ago, had chanced to say in company, that Sheh-gholam-ghö8ss had indeed inherited an heroical bravery, and many military talents from his father; but that as to a turn of mind for importunity, which rendered him sometimes a disagreeable man, he held it unquestionably from his mother. Such an observation sunk deep in the officer’s mind; and setting at nought all the obliga­tions he owed to his benefactor, he resolved to sacrifice him to his resentment; and like a snake rolled upon itself, he only waited for a favourable moment; and to all appearance he had now come with such a design in his heart. This much is certain that his importunities to-day exceeded all bounds. Gholam-ghö8ss, said the Gentoo Radja, so much importunity is not likely to do you any good.—He had hardly uttered these few words, when the other swearing he could not part with him, unless he obtained his request, the Radja got up with intention to retire; but the other having laid hold of him by the hem of his coat, drew him so low as to give him a violent blow with his poniard in the breast. The blow was mortal, and the Radja fell dead. On sight of this, B8ni-sing, the Cahtree, one of the Prince’s friends, ran upon the murderer to seize him; but was laid dead with another such stroke; and the villain having again wounded another man, who was a relation to the two dead men, fled instantly, and ran to the gate, where meeting by chance a horse ready saddled, he jumped upon it, and fled towards the little river of P8n-p8n; where being incessantly pursued by several men on foot, four cosses together, at the head of whom was Sab8ri-sing, a relation of the murdered Radja, who lamed his horse, and called him a coward, much more capable to murder a defenceless man, than to fight an armed one; he turned about, dismounted and engaged his pur­suer. In the scuffle, the officer’s sabre having broke, he closed with his enemy, and threw him on the ground, where the strug­gling continued; but where he was soon dispatched with sticks and stones by some peasants, to whom Sab8ry-sing’s reproaches had given courage. The man was punished; but the murdered Prince did not live long enough to carry that sort of consolation to his grave.