The astonished reader must be called upon to transport himself tenthousand miles to the military station of Bundlegunge, in the Madrasdivision of our Indian empire, where our gallant old friends of the--th regiment are quartered under the command of the brave Colonel, SirMichael O'Dowd. Time has dealt kindly with that stout officer, as itdoes ordinarily with men who have good stomachs and good tempers andare not perplexed over much by fatigue of the brain. The Colonel playsa good knife and fork at tiffin and resumes those weapons with greatsuccess at dinner. He smokes his hookah after both meals and puffs asquietly while his wife scolds him as he did under the fire of theFrench at Waterloo. Age and heat have not diminished the activity orthe eloquence of the descendant of the Malonys and the Molloys. HerLadyship, our old acquaintance, is as much at home at Madras as atBrussels in the cantonment as under the tents. On the march you sawher at the head of the regiment seated on a royal elephant, a noblesight. Mounted on that beast, she has been into action with tigers inthe jungle, she has been received by native princes, who have welcomedher and Glorvina into the recesses of their zenanas and offered hershawls and jewels which it went to her heart to refuse. The sentriesof all arms salute her wherever she makes her appearance, and shetouches her hat gravely to their salutation. Lady O'Dowd is one of thegreatest ladies in the Presidency of Madras--her quarrel with LadySmith, wife of Sir Minos Smith the puisne judge, is still remembered bysome at Madras, when the Colonel's lady snapped her fingers in theJudge's lady's face and said SHE'D never walk behind ever a beggarlycivilian. Even now, though it is five-and-twenty years ago, peopleremember Lady O'Dowd performing a jig at Government House, where shedanced down two Aides-de-Camp, a Major of Madras cavalry, and twogentlemen of the Civil Service; and, persuaded by Major Dobbin, C.B.,second in command of the --th, to retire to the supper-room, lassatanondum satiata recessit.

Peggy O'Dowd is indeed the same as ever, kind in act and thought;impetuous in temper; eager to command; a tyrant over her Michael; adragon amongst all the ladies of the regiment; a mother to all theyoung men, whom she tends in their sickness, defends in all theirscrapes, and with whom Lady Peggy is immensely popular. But theSubalterns' and Captains' ladies (the Major is unmarried) cabal againsther a good deal. They say that Glorvina gives herself airs and thatPeggy herself is ill tolerably domineering. She interfered with alittle congregation which Mrs. Kirk had got up and laughed the youngmen away from her sermons, stating that a soldier's wife had nobusiness to be a parson--that Mrs. Kirk would be much better mendingher husband's clothes; and, if the regiment wanted sermons, that shehad the finest in the world, those of her uncle, the Dean. She abruptlyput a termination to a flirtation which Lieutenant Stubble of theregiment had commenced with the Surgeon's wife, threatening to comedown upon Stubble for the money which he had borrowed from her (for theyoung fellow was still of an extravagant turn) unless he broke off atonce and went to the Cape on sick leave. On the other hand, she housedand sheltered Mrs. Posky, who fled from her bungalow one night, pursuedby her infuriate husband, wielding his second brandy bottle, andactually carried Posky through the delirium tremens and broke him ofthe habit of drinking, which had grown upon that officer, as all evilhabits will grow upon men. In a word, in adversity she was the best ofcomforters, in good fortune the most troublesome of friends, having aperfectly good opinion of herself always and an indomitable resolutionto have her own way.

Among other points, she had made up her mind that Glorvina should marryour old friend Dobbin. Mrs. O'Dowd knew the Major's expectations andappreciated his good qualities and the high character which he enjoyedin his profession. Glorvina, a very handsome, fresh-coloured,black-haired, blue-eyed young lady, who could ride a horse, or play asonata with any girl out of the County Cork, seemed to be the veryperson destined to insure Dobbin's happiness--much more than that poorgood little weak-spur'ted Amelia, about whom he used to take onso.--"Look at Glorvina enter a room," Mrs. O'Dowd would say, "andcompare her with that poor Mrs. Osborne, who couldn't say boo to agoose. She'd be worthy of you, Major--you're a quiet man yourself, andwant some one to talk for ye. And though she does not come of suchgood blood as the Malonys or Molloys, let me tell ye, she's of anancient family that any nobleman might be proud to marry into."

But before she had come to such a resolution and determined tosubjugate Major Dobbin by her endearments, it must be owned thatGlorvina had practised them a good deal elsewhere. She had had aseason in Dublin, and who knows how many in Cork, Killarney, andMallow? She had flirted with all the marriageable officers whom thedepots of her country afforded, and all the bachelor squires who seemedeligible. She had been engaged to be married a half-score times inIreland, besides the clergyman at Bath who used her so ill. She hadflirted all the way to Madras with the Captain and chief mate of theRamchunder East Indiaman, and had a season at the Presidency with herbrother and Mrs. O'Dowd, who was staying there, while the Major of theregiment was in command at the station. Everybody admired her there;everybody danced with her; but no one proposed who was worth themarrying--one or two exceedingly young subalterns sighed after her, anda beardless civilian or two, but she rejected these as beneath herpretensions--and other and younger virgins than Glorvina were marriedbefore her. There are women, and handsome women too, who have thisfortune in life. They fall in love with the utmost generosity; theyride and walk with half the Army-list, though they draw near to forty,and yet the Misses O'Grady are the Misses O'Grady still: Glorvinapersisted that but for Lady O'Dowd's unlucky quarrel with the Judge'slady, she would have made a good match at Madras, where old Mr.Chutney, who was at the head of the civil service (and who afterwardsmarried Miss Dolby, a young lady only thirteen years of age who hadjust arrived from school in Europe), was just at the point of proposingto her.

Well, although Lady O'Dowd and Glorvina quarrelled a great number oftimes every day, and upon almost every conceivable subject--indeed, ifMick O'Dowd had not possessed the temper of an angel two such womenconstantly about his ears would have driven him out of his senses--yetthey agreed between themselves on this point, that Glorvina shouldmarry Major Dobbin, and were determined that the Major should have norest until the arrangement was brought about. Undismayed by forty orfifty previous defeats, Glorvina laid siege to him. She sang Irishmelodies at him unceasingly. She asked him so frequently andpathetically, Will ye come to the bower? that it is a wonder how anyman of feeling could have resisted the invitation. She was never tiredof inquiring, if Sorrow had his young days faded, and was ready tolisten and weep like Desdemona at the stories of his dangers and hiscampaigns. It has been said that our honest and dear old friend usedto perform on the flute in private; Glorvina insisted upon having duetswith him, and Lady O'Dowd would rise and artlessly quit the room whenthe young couple were so engaged. Glorvina forced the Major to ridewith her of mornings. The whole cantonment saw them set out andreturn. She was constantly writing notes over to him at his house,borrowing his books, and scoring with her great pencil-marks suchpassages of sentiment or humour as awakened her sympathy. She borrowedhis horses, his servants, his spoons, and palanquin--no wonder thatpublic rumour assigned her to him, and that the Major's sisters inEngland should fancy they were about to have a sister-in-law.

Dobbin, who was thus vigorously besieged, was in the meanwhile in astate of the most odious tranquillity. He used to laugh when the youngfellows of the regiment joked him about Glorvina's manifest attentionsto him. "Bah!" said he, "she is only keeping her hand in--shepractises upon me as she does upon Mrs. Tozer's piano, because it's themost handy instrument in the station. I am much too battered and oldfor such a fine young lady as Glorvina." And so he went on riding withher, and copying music and verses into her albums, and playing at chesswith her very submissively; for it is with these simple amusements thatsome officers in India are accustomed to while away their leisuremoments, while others of a less domestic turn hunt hogs, and shootsnipes, or gamble and smoke cheroots, and betake themselves tobrandy-and-water. As for Sir Michael O'Dowd, though his lady and hersister both urged him to call upon the Major to explain himself and notkeep on torturing a poor innocent girl in that shameful way, the oldsoldier refused point-blank to have anything to do with the conspiracy."Faith, the Major's big enough to choose for himself," Sir Michaelsaid; "he'll ask ye when he wants ye"; or else he would turn the matteroff jocularly, declaring that "Dobbin was too young to keep house, andhad written home to ask lave of his mamma." Nay, he went farther, andin private communications with his Major would caution and rally him,crying, "Mind your oi, Dob, my boy, them girls is bent on mischief--meLady has just got a box of gowns from Europe, and there's a pink satinfor Glorvina, which will finish ye, Dob, if it's in the power of womanor satin to move ye."

But the truth is, neither beauty nor fashion could conquer him. Ourhonest friend had but one idea of a woman in his head, and that one didnot in the least resemble Miss Glorvina O'Dowd in pink satin. A gentlelittle woman in black, with large eyes and brown hair, seldom speaking,save when spoken to, and then in a voice not the least resembling MissGlorvina's--a soft young mother tending an infant and beckoning theMajor up with a smile to look at him--a rosy-cheeked lass comingsinging into the room in Russell Square or hanging on George Osborne'sarm, happy and loving--there was but this image that filled our honestMajor's mind, by day and by night, and reigned over it always. Verylikely Amelia was not like the portrait the Major had formed of her:there was a figure in a book of fashions which his sisters had inEngland, and with which William had made away privately, pasting itinto the lid of his desk, and fancying he saw some resemblance to Mrs.Osborne in the print, whereas I have seen it, and can vouch that it isbut the picture of a high-waisted gown with an impossible doll's facesimpering over it--and, perhaps, Mr. Dobbin's sentimental Amelia was nomore like the real one than this absurd little print which hecherished. But what man in love, of us, is better informed?--or is hemuch happier when he sees and owns his delusion? Dobbin was under thisspell. He did not bother his friends and the public much about hisfeelings, or indeed lose his natural rest or appetite on account ofthem. His head has grizzled since we saw him last, and a line or twoof silver may be seen in the soft brown hair likewise. But hisfeelings are not in the least changed or oldened, and his love remainsas fresh as a man's recollections of boyhood are.

We have said how the two Misses Dobbin and Amelia, the Major'scorrespondents in Europe, wrote him letters from England, Mrs. Osbornecongratulating him with great candour and cordiality upon hisapproaching nuptials with Miss O'Dowd. "Your sister has just kindlyvisited me," Amelia wrote in her letter, "and informed me of anINTERESTING EVENT, upon which I beg to offer my MOST SINCERECONGRATULATIONS. I hope the young lady to whom I hear you are to beUNITED will in every respect prove worthy of one who is himself allkindness and goodness. The poor widow has only her prayers to offerand her cordial cordial wishes for YOUR PROSPERITY! Georgy sends hislove to HIS DEAR GODPAPA and hopes that you will not forget him. I tellhim that you are about to form OTHER TIES, with one who I am suremerits ALL YOUR AFFECTION, but that, although such ties must of coursebe the strongest and most sacred, and supersede ALL OTHERS, yet that Iam sure the widow and the child whom you have ever protected and lovedwill always HAVE A CORNER IN YOUR HEART" The letter, which has beenbefore alluded to, went on in this strain, protesting throughout as tothe extreme satisfaction of the writer.

This letter, which arrived by the very same ship which brought outLady O'Dowd's box of millinery from London (and which you may be sureDobbin opened before any one of the other packets which the mailbrought him), put the receiver into such a state of mind that Glorvina,and her pink satin, and everything belonging to her became perfectlyodious to him. The Major cursed the talk of women, and the sex ingeneral. Everything annoyed him that day--the parade was insufferablyhot and wearisome. Good heavens! was a man of intellect to waste hislife, day after day, inspecting cross-belts and putting fools throughtheir manoeuvres? The senseless chatter of the young men at mess wasmore than ever jarring. What cared he, a man on the high road to forty,to know how many snipes Lieutenant Smith had shot, or what were theperformances of Ensign Brown's mare? The jokes about the table filledhim with shame. He was too old to listen to the banter of theassistant surgeon and the slang of the youngsters, at which old O'Dowd,with his bald head and red face, laughed quite easily. The old man hadlistened to those jokes any time these thirty years--Dobbin himself hadbeen fifteen years hearing them. And after the boisterous dulness ofthe mess-table, the quarrels and scandal of the ladies of the regiment!It was unbearable, shameful. "O Amelia, Amelia," he thought, "you towhom I have been so faithful--you reproach me! It is because youcannot feel for me that I drag on this wearisome life. And you rewardme after years of devotion by giving me your blessing upon my marriage,forsooth, with this flaunting Irish girl!" Sick and sorry felt poorWilliam; more than ever wretched and lonely. He would like to havedone with life and its vanity altogether--so bootless andunsatisfactory the struggle, so cheerless and dreary the prospectseemed to him. He lay all that night sleepless, and yearning to gohome. Amelia's letter had fallen as a blank upon him. No fidelity, noconstant truth and passion, could move her into warmth. She would notsee that he loved her. Tossing in his bed, he spoke out to her. "GoodGod, Amelia!" he said, "don't you know that I only love you in theworld--you, who are a stone to me--you, whom I tended through monthsand months of illness and grief, and who bade me farewell with a smileon your face, and forgot me before the door shut between us!" Thenative servants lying outside his verandas beheld with wonder theMajor, so cold and quiet ordinarily, at present so passionately movedand cast down. Would she have pitied him had she seen him? He readover and over all the letters which he ever had from her--letters ofbusiness relative to the little property which he had made her believeher husband had left to her--brief notes of invitation--every scrap ofwriting that she had ever sent to him--how cold, how kind, howhopeless, how selfish they were!

Had there been some kind gentle soul near at hand who could read andappreciate this silent generous heart, who knows but that the reign ofAmelia might have been over, and that friend William's love might haveflowed into a kinder channel? But there was only Glorvina of the jettyringlets with whom his intercourse was familiar, and this dashing youngwoman was not bent upon loving the Major, but rather on making theMajor admire HER--a most vain and hopeless task, too, at leastconsidering the means that the poor girl possessed to carry it out.She curled her hair and showed her shoulders at him, as much as to say,did ye ever see such jet ringlets and such a complexion? She grinned athim so that he might see that every tooth in her head was sound--and henever heeded all these charms. Very soon after the arrival of the boxof millinery, and perhaps indeed in honour of it, Lady O'Dowd and theladies of the King's Regiment gave a ball to the Company's Regimentsand the civilians at the station. Glorvina sported the killing pinkfrock, and the Major, who attended the party and walked very ruefullyup and down the rooms, never so much as perceived the pink garment.Glorvina danced past him in a fury with all the young subalterns of thestation, and the Major was not in the least jealous of her performance,or angry because Captain Bangles of the Cavalry handed her to supper.It was not jealousy, or frocks, or shoulders that could move him, andGlorvina had nothing more.

So these two were each exemplifying the Vanity of this life, and eachlonging for what he or she could not get. Glorvina cried with rage atthe failure. She had set her mind on the Major "more than on any ofthe others," she owned, sobbing. "He'll break my heart, he will,Peggy," she would whimper to her sister-in-law when they were goodfriends; "sure every one of me frocks must be taken in--it's such askeleton I'm growing." Fat or thin, laughing or melancholy, onhorseback or the music-stool, it was all the same to the Major. Andthe Colonel, puffing his pipe and listening to these complaints, wouldsuggest that Glory should have some black frocks out in the next boxfrom London, and told a mysterious story of a lady in Ireland who diedof grief for the loss of her husband before she got ere a one.

While the Major was going on in this tantalizing way, not proposing,and declining to fall in love, there came another ship from Europebringing letters on board, and amongst them some more for the heartlessman. These were home letters bearing an earlier postmark than that ofthe former packets, and as Major Dobbin recognized among his thehandwriting of his sister, who always crossed and recrossed her lettersto her brother--gathered together all the possible bad news which shecould collect, abused him and read him lectures with sisterlyfrankness, and always left him miserable for the day after "dearestWilliam" had achieved the perusal of one of her epistles--the truthmust be told that dearest William did not hurry himself to break theseal of Miss Dobbin's letter, but waited for a particularly favourableday and mood for doing so. A fortnight before, moreover, he hadwritten to scold her for telling those absurd stories to Mrs. Osborne,and had despatched a letter in reply to that lady, undeceiving her withrespect to the reports concerning him and assuring her that "he had nosort of present intention of altering his condition."

Two or three nights after the arrival of the second package of letters,the Major had passed the evening pretty cheerfully at Lady O'Dowd'shouse, where Glorvina thought that he listened with rather moreattention than usual to the Meeting of the Wathers, the Minsthrel Boy,and one or two other specimens of song with which she favoured him (thetruth is, he was no more listening to Glorvina than to the howling ofthe jackals in the moonlight outside, and the delusion was hers asusual), and having played his game at chess with her (cribbage with thesurgeon was Lady O'Dowd's favourite evening pastime), Major Dobbin tookleave of the Colonel's family at his usual hour and retired to his ownhouse.

There on his table, his sister's letter lay reproaching him. He tookit up, ashamed rather of his negligence regarding it, and preparedhimself for a disagreeable hour's communing with that crabbed-handedabsent relative. . . . It may have been an hour after the Major'sdeparture from the Colonel's house--Sir Michael was sleeping the sleepof the just; Glorvina had arranged her black ringlets in theinnumerable little bits of paper, in which it was her habit to confinethem; Lady O'Dowd, too, had gone to her bed in the nuptial chamber, onthe ground-floor, and had tucked her musquito curtains round her fairform, when the guard at the gates of the Commanding-Officer's compoundbeheld Major Dobbin, in the moonlight, rushing towards the house with aswift step and a very agitated countenance, and he passed the sentineland went up to the windows of the Colonel's bedchamber.

"O'Dowd--Colonel!" said Dobbin and kept up a great shouting.

"Heavens, Meejor!" said Glorvina of the curl-papers, putting out herhead too, from her window.

"What is it, Dob, me boy?" said the Colonel, expecting there was a firein the station, or that the route had come from headquarters.

"I--I must have leave of absence. I must go to England--on the mosturgent private affairs," Dobbin said.

"Good heavens, what has happened!" thought Glorvina, trembling with allthe papillotes.

"I want to be off--now--to-night," Dobbin continued; and the Colonelgetting up, came out to parley with him.

In the postscript of Miss Dobbin's cross-letter, the Major had justcome upon a paragraph, to the following effect:--"I drove yesterday tosee your old ACQUAINTANCE, Mrs. Osborne. The wretched place they liveat, since they were bankrupts, you know--Mr. S., to judge from a BRASSPLATE on the door of his hut (it is little better) is a coal-merchant.The little boy, your godson, is certainly a fine child, though forward,and inclined to be saucy and self-willed. But we have taken notice ofhim as you wish it, and have introduced him to his aunt, Miss O., whowas rather pleased with him. Perhaps his grandpapa, not the bankruptone, who is almost doting, but Mr. Osborne, of Russell Square, may beinduced to relent towards the child of your friend, HIS ERRING ANDSELF-WILLED SON. And Amelia will not be ill-disposed to give him up.The widow is CONSOLED, and is about to marry a reverend gentleman, theRev. Mr. Binny, one of the curates of Brompton. A poor match. ButMrs. O. is getting old, and I saw a great deal of grey in her hair--shewas in very good spirits: and your little godson overate himself atour house. Mamma sends her love with that of your affectionate, AnnDobbin."