We passed the village of Ulwal, its white pagoda peeping from among groves of tamarind and mango trees, and its large tank now glistening in the rays of the sun; and pursuing our way, we saw, on passing a ridge of rocks, the camp of the army at the far-famed Hoossain Sagor, or, as it is more often called, Secunderabad. The tents of the English force glittered in the bright sun, and behind them lay a vast sheet of blue water. We had heard much of this lake from many persons on our journey, and as we passed it a strong breeze had arisen, and the surface was curled into a thousand waves, whose white crests as they broke sparkled like diamonds, and threw their spray into our faces as they dashed against the stonework of the embankment. We stood a long time gazing upon the beautiful prospect, so new to us all, and wondering whether the sea, of which we had heard so much, could be anything like what was before us. I have since then, Sahib, twice seen the sea; I need not attempt to describe it, for you have sailed over it; but when I saw it first, methought I could have fallen down and worshiped it, it appeared so illimitable, its edge touching as it were the heavens, and spread out into an expanse which the utmost stretch of my imagination could not compass,—a fit type, I thought, of the God of all people, whom every one thinks on, while the hoarse roar of the waves as they rolled on, mountain after mountain, and broke in angry fury against the shore, seemed to be a voice of Omnipotence which could not fail to awaken emotions of awe and dread in the most callous and unobservant!

We passed the embankment of the tank. As yet we had seen nothing of the city; but there was a ridge not far off, and as we ascended it I could no longer control my impatience. I spurred my horse, and before I reached the top shut my eyes, that whatever was before me might burst upon my view at once. My horse slackened his pace when he reached the top, and allowing him to go on a few steps I opened my eyes, and glorious indeed was the prospect before me. Beneath lay Hyderabad, the object of many a conjecture, of many an ardent desire to reach it—the first city of the Dukhun, justly celebrated throughout the countries I had passed. I had imagined it, like every other I had seen, to be in the midst of a plain, and that all that would be visible of it would be here and there a minaret rising out of large groves of trees: but Hyderabad presented a different aspect. I stood on the crest of a gentle slope, which to my right hand was broken at some distance by rude, rocky hills, and to the left appeared gradually to descend into a plain, which stretched away almost uninterruptedly to the horizon. Before me, on the gentle rise of the valley, and beyond where I supposed the river to be, lay the city, its white terraced houses gleaming brightly in the sunlight from amidst what seemed to me at the distance almost a forest of trees. The Char Minar and Mecca Musjid rose proudly from the masses of buildings by which they were surrounded; and here and there a white dome, with its bright gilt spire, marked the tomb of some favourite or holy saint, while smaller mosques, I might say in hundreds, were known by their slender white minarets.

Beyond the city rose another connected chain of rocky hills, which ran along until they met those on the right hand, and shut in the valley on that side. The city seemed to be of immense extent; but I thought from the number of trees that it was composed principally of gardens and inclosures, and was much surprised afterwards, when I entered it, to find its streets so filled with houses, and the whole so thickly peopled. It was altogether a most lovely scene: the freshness of the morning, the pureness of the air, and the glittering effect of the city and its buildings caused an impression which can never be effaced from my memory. I have seen it since, and though it is ever truly beautiful, it never struck me as it did that day. But I was then young, full of spirits, and flushed with the consciousness of my own powers, just developing, and assuring me that they would lead me to eminence.

One by one, as the Thugs came up, each ejaculated his praise of the beautiful scene, and all declared that the capital was worthy of the encomiums they had heard lavished on it. Inquiring the nearest road to the karwan, we descended the slope, and threading our way through numberless suburbs we reached the place, and were at the end of our journey. We were grateful for it, and for the protection and success we had met with. We took up our abode for the present in a serai which surrounded a large and richly ornamented mosque; and for our greater convenience I went in search of an untenanted house, and after some difficulty succeeded in hiring a small place, the property of a merchant who resided next door. It contained only three rooms, and the verandah, which was the shop; but it was enough for my father and myself, and there was a small room with a strong door, in which we stowed away all our plunder. Zora was overjoyed at reaching the place of her birth, and what was in reality her home, and could talk of nothing but the delight of meeting with her relatives and friends, and the surprise her arrival would excite in them all, as she said they had considered her lost to them ever since the Nuwab had carried her off. The almost certainty of her being separated from me as soon as she was again in their power never occurred to her, and I determined that before she visited them I would lay all my fears before her, convinced that her affection for me would be the best guide for her conduct.

Our landlord the merchant was very civil and attentive to our wants, though his civility evidently proceeded in a great measure from curiosity as to who we were and what was our object. I stated to him in a few words our old story—of my father being a merchant, and myself a soldier of fortune who had accompanied him in search of employment. He was now curious to know of what my father's stock in trade consisted; but we were resolutely silent upon the subject, although he offered his agency to dispose of our goods. "For," said my father to me afterwards, "our goods I know are valuable, and I know not their worth; nor have we as yet opened the bales; we will do so to-morrow morning, and assort them: we will then go into the city to the shops of the sahoukars, and inquire for articles similar to them, find out their prices, and by this means be enabled to value our own. Were we to offer them in ignorance of their market prices, we might be suspected; and though we may not get what they are intrinsically worth, we shall no doubt be able to sell the whole for a handsome sum."

I agreed with him perfectly, and the next morning we set to work to open the bales. Their contents were indeed costly,—brocades, cloth of gold, fine muslin scarfs, also woven with gold and silver patterns, plain muslins, and a few shawls, besides fine cloths of different kinds for wearing-apparel, and sarees with silk and tissue borders, the latter from the looms of Nagpoor. These and the jewels in our possession, when laid out and assorted, made a display on which we feasted our eyes for some time, wondering at their magnificence; and after I had made an inventory of the whole, my father and myself, attired in handsome clothes and mounted on the best of our horses, attended by a few of the men, took our way into the city. Crossing over an old but massive bridge, below which ran the river, now a shallow stream, we entered by the gate at the head of it, and inquiring our way went direct to the chowke, or market-place, where we trusted we should find goods exposed for sale similar to our own. The streets were narrow and dirty, and the interior of the city certainly did not answer the expectations we had formed from its outside and distant appearance; still there were evident tokens of its wealth in the numbers of elephants, on the backs of which, in canopied umbaras, sat noblemen or gentlemen, attended by their armed retainers. Crowds of well-dressed persons paraded the streets, and as the festival of the Mohorum had just commenced, cries of "Hassan! Hoosein! Doola! Deen! Deen!" and a thousand others familiar to us resounded on every side.

We made our way as well as we could through the throng, and our attendants were often obliged to clear us a passage, which exposed them to the jeers and abuse of the multitude, as they were recognized as strangers from their dress and language. Once or twice I observed a hand laid on a sword by some respectable person who had been jostled or pushed by our men, and heard a deep threat muttered; but we managed to get along, and at length came to a broader street, where the crowd was less dense; and here that noble building, the Char Minar, burst at once upon our view. "How grand!" I exclaimed, stopping my horse and looking up to the huge minarets, which seemed to pierce the clouds; "to see this alone is worth a journey from Delhi." The minarets formed the four corners of the building, and from them sprang immense arches which supported a roof, upon the top of which a small mosque was built. It did not look capable of supporting the immense weight of the whole, and yet it had stood for centuries, and the fabric was unimpaired.

"It is the hour of prayer," said my father, interrupting my gaze; "and hark! the Muezzin calls from the Mecca mosque; thither we will now proceed, and afterwards transact our business."

I followed him, and passing by the Char Minar, we turned up a street to our right, and stopped our horses at the gate of the mosque. A feeling of awe mingled with admiration came over me as we entered the court-yard and advanced along a raised causeway to the foot of a flight of steps which led up to the interior. On either side of us were the graves of princes and nobles, many of them of elegant forms and richly carved; but the building itself engrossed my entire admiration. Five lofty and wide arches opened to view the interior of the edifice, where an equal number appeared in depth; and where the arches met, the eye was perplexed by the innumerable points and ornaments, which, running into each other, completed a roof of exquisite design and workmanship. To add to its beauty, the whole was of stone, carefully smoothed, whereas the Char Minar and the other buildings I had as yet seen were of stucco.

But I had little time to observe more; the sonorous and melancholy call of the Muezzin had ended, and the few attendants for the afternoon prayer had spread their carpets and commenced their devotions. We joined them, and, kneeling on our outspread waistbands, went through the usual forms, while the low murmur of the prayers of all ascended to the fretted roof and added to the solemnity of the scene. To the majority of those present there was perhaps nothing new or uncommon; but I, who had escaped the dangers of our journey and those attendant on our profession, felt that it went to my heart; and, murderer as I was, though not as yet callous, I was softened, and my tears flowed fast as I repeated the words of prayer, and the impressive language of the blessed Koran in which they were couched. The ceremony concluded, we rose; and though I was well disposed to linger in the sacred edifice and observe more of its beauties, my father hurried me away, and we returned to the Char Minar.

"Here," said my father, "those useful rogues the dullals are to be met with. They will try to cheat us, no doubt, as it is their trade; but as we are not purchasers, we may avail ourselves of their aid to find out the houses of the merchants who deal in our articles, and it may be that the fellow we fix on will be intelligent and assist us to dispose of our property." We stopped on reaching the building, the lower part of which was sadly disfigured by numbers of wretched huts and stalls, where venders of vegetables and sweetmeats sat, and served out their goods to the passers-by. My father, calling to a decent-looking young Hindoo, of intelligent countenance, asked him where he could meet with a dullal, as he was a stranger in the city, and wished to see some clothes and other goods, which he did not know where to find.

"I am one at your service, noble sir," he replied; "and I know well the richest warehouses, and can lead you to any you wish; and," added he, "there is not a sahoukar or dealer in the city who will not readily give your poor servant, Moheno Das, a character for sobriety and trustworthiness."

"You had better not say much of your good qualities till they have been proved," said my father; "your tribe has not the best reputation on these points."

"Ah," said the man, "my lord is well aware of what (alas that I should say it!) the majority of our tribe are—a sad set; nevertheless, his slave will not be found to be like them, for having begun by being honest, he has not found it worth his while to be otherwise."

"That is as much as to say you would be dishonest if it suited your interests," said I; "but come, the day wears fast, and we are anxious to be out of this crowd before dark."

The fellow gave me a knowing look, accompanied by a shrug of his shoulders, which could not be mistaken; what I had said had proved to him that we were on our guard. "What description of goods may you be in search of?" said he; "any may be procured, from the shawls of Cashmere and brocades of Benares to the meanest article."

"Benares fabrics are what we require," said I; "a few handsome roomals and doputtas, and a turban or two, to adorn ourselves for the minister's durbar."

"You shall see them," said the dullal, girding his shawl about his waist. "Now follow me, and keep a good eye on me, lest you lose me in the crowd." And so saying, he descended the steps of the building, and led us along some of the principal streets, till we dived into an obscure alley, and stopped at the door of a house which certainly promised nothing from its exterior.

"A very unsatisfactory search we should have had," said I to my father, "had we endeavoured to find out a merchant ourselves. It is well we took this fellow with us."

"These merchants, I have heard, usually choose these secluded places on account of their security," replied my father. "It would not do in a lawless place like this to expose goods for sale as they do in other cities. But they are well known, and easily found out by strangers if they apply to the dullals as we have done."

We were ushered into the interior of the house, and were received by a large fat man, the very counterpart of the sahoukar I had killed. I started involuntarily at the resemblance; but soon recovering myself, and assured by his civility, I seated myself, as did also my father, and we quickly entered on the object of our visit. One by one bales were opened and their contents spread before us. The sahoukar's stock seemed to be interminable and of great value. We selected several articles, and inquiring the prices of those which we inspected, of which I made memorandums, we desired them to be kept for us, saying that we would call the next day with money to pay for them. The sahoukar pressed us to take them with us, and the dullal offered his security for us; but for obvious reasons we declined, and took our leave of the merchant.

The dullal accompanied us as far as the Char Minar, where my father, slipping a piece of money into his hands for his trouble, told him we now knew our way home, and bid him come early in the morning to the karwan, and inquire for the house of Rugonath Das Sahoukar, where he would get tidings of us. "So far I am satisfied," said my father; "our goods, as you will have observed, are equal in quality to those we saw, and by the prices affixed to them we have a good earnest of a large sum of money, if we can only dispose of them, a matter I apprehend of no difficulty if properly managed."

The next morning came the dullal. "Canst thou be secret?" asked my father at once, and throwing him a couple of rupees. The fellow started and trembled.

"If such is my lord's will," said he, his teeth almost chattering with fear, "I can; but I am a poor man, a very inoffensive man. I am my lord's slave, and rub my nose on his feet," cried he at last, fairly throwing himself on the ground and rubbing his forehead against the ground, as he saw my father's brow contracting, and his face assuming an expression of anger at the evident suspicion which the man had of us.

"Why," cried my father, as the fellow lay on the floor whimpering, "what is this? what chicken-hearted son of a vile woman art thou? In the name of Alla get up! Because a man who, Inshalla! is somebody, asks thee whether thou canst be secret, must thou of necessity think thou art going to have thy throat cut?"

"Do not talk of it," cried the wretch, shutting his eyes and shuddering. "I am a poor man and a miserable Hindoo; what would my lord get by cutting my throat?"

"Nay," said my father, "this is beyond bearing; the fellow has not the soul of a flea. Kick him out into the street, and beat him on the mouth with a slipper: there are plenty of dullals to be found beside him."

"Pardon, noble sir!" cried the fellow—the mention of his trade leading him to suppose that he was required in the way of his calling—"pardon my foolishness. My lord's threatening aspect turned my liver into water; but now that he smiles again, I am assured that no harm is meant."

"Harm! surely not to such a wretch as thou," said my father; "but since thou art inclined to listen to reason, sit down, and hear what we have to say to thee."

"I can be secret," cried the dullal; "let my lord speak."

"It will fare badly with thee if thou art not," said my father, again looking grimly at him: "but listen. I am a merchant; I have never been at this city before; but hearing at Delhi that an investment of valuable goods, such as we saw yesterday, was likely to sell well here, I have brought one down with me. I knew not the selling prices here, and therefore engaged thee to show me some goods, that I might be able to regulate the sale of my own. Now, canst thou manage it for me?"

"Surely, surely," said the fellow in delight, "nothing is more easy. My lord will not, of course, forget my perquisites on the sale?"

"Thou shalt have five rupees in every hundred's worth disposed of," said my father: "will this content thee?"

"It is a princely offer, and worthy of my lord's generosity," said the dullal. "Might I be permitted to see the goods?"

"It is necessary that you should see them, and here they are," rejoined my father; and he opened the door of the room where they were, and one by one displayed the contents of the bales.

"This is indeed a rich stock," said the dullal; "you may be able to sell most of the cloths, but I question whether the whole, without you intend to remain here some time."

"That depends upon circumstances over which I have no control," said my father; "if I cannot sell them all here, I shall take what remains to Poona."

"Well," said the man, "if I am permitted, I will make memorandums of all that there is here, and in the course of to-morrow will let you know what can be done. I cannot do so earlier, for I shall have to visit all the dealers."

"Do what you think best," said my father, "and here are ten rupees for your expenses. Now begone, and let me see you again at this time to-morrow." The fellow made many salams and took his leave.

"Did you ever see so pitiful a wretch?" said my father. "For two cowrees I would have strangled him on the spot, to put an end to so disgraceful a coward."

"Let him pass," said I; "he is but a Hindoo, and not worth thinking of. But you are not going to let him off with all the money you have promised him?"

"Of course not," replied my father; "you understand, I suppose, what is to be done?"

"Perfectly," said I; "leave him to me."

I went to Zora, my own gentle Zora. She had been speaking much of visiting her kindred, and though I had put her off as well as I could since we arrived, I saw with concern that I had no longer any pretext for detaining her. I could have fled with her—I think I could. Such was the intensity of my love for her, that, had I had the courage to speak of flight and she had agreed to accompany me, I verily believe I should have forsaken father, associates, and profession, and committed myself to the world. And if I had, said the Thug, musing, should I have been worse off than I am now? should I ever have worn these disgraceful fetters? have ever doomed myself to perpetual imprisonment and a state of existence which I would to heaven were ended, and should be ended, but that I have (and I curse myself for it), a mean, base, aye, cowardly lingering for life! Sahib, I tell you it would have been well for me had I then fled—fled from guilt and crime, into which I daily plunged deeper. With my soldierlike figure, my address, my skill in the use of arms, I might have gained honourable service; I might have led armies, or have met a soldier's death on some battle-field! But it was not so written; it was not my fate, and I am what I am—a curse to myself, and to all with whom I have ever been connected.

Zora! she thought not of my anxiety; all she hoped for, cared for now, was to see her mother and her sister. She assailed me with importunities that I would send her, and assured me that she would not be long absent, but go to them she must; they would so rejoice to see her again, and would welcome me as her deliverer. After seeing them she would return to me, and we should never again be parted. "Alas!" I said, "my Zora, you know not what you ask. Do you think that those charms are of no value to your mother and sister? You have owned to me that you are far more beautiful and attractive than any of those you are connected with. In your absence they will have sunk into obscurity, and they will hail your return as the earnest of more wealth and more distinction."

"Nay, these are cruel words, my beloved," she replied; "you well know that I have never deceived you, and that, as true as that I breathe, my soul is yours for ever. So let me go, I pray you, and in a few hours I shall be again with you, and pressed to your honoured breast."

"Be it so," said I, sadly; for though I hardly dared think it, I felt as if this was our parting for ever. "Go, then; and if you return not, I will come to you by the evening." A covered zenana cart was easily hired; and the driver seeming perfectly to understand where she wished to go, she stepped joyfully into it, attended by her old servant, and, with two of my men to attend her, she left me.

They soon returned; but they knew nothing, save that there was great joy in the house when her relatives saw her. Towards evening I could no longer control my impatience; and, taking one of them with me, I mounted my horse and rode to her house. It was situated nearly opposite a fountain, which is in the centre of the street below the Char Minar, and I had passed it the day before. I was easily admitted; and oh! what joy was evinced when I entered the room where Zora, her sister, and mother were seated. "He is come!" cried my poor girl, and she rushed into my arms. She strained me to her breast for an instant, and then, holding me from her, "Look, mother!" she cried; "look on him; is he not as I said—is he not as beautiful and brave!"

The old lady approached me, and, passing her hands over my face, cracked her knuckles, and every joint of her fingers, by pressing the backs of her hands against her temples, while the tears ran down her cheeks. This she did as often as there was a joint to crack; and then she caught me in her arms and hugged me, crying at the same time like a child. The sister received me, I thought, rather coldly. Had I been less handsome, perhaps, she would have been more cordial; she did not seem to like Zora's having so handsome a lover.

"May the blessing of the Prophet and the twelve Imams be on you and your posterity!" cried the old lady, when she had recovered breath to speak. "May the gracious Alla keep you in his protection, and may the lady Muriam and the holy Moula-ali bless you! You have made a desolate house full again, and have changed our weeping to joy. What can I say more? Who could have thought it was our Zora when a cart stopped at the door? Zenatbee was just saying that it was that vile wretch Sukeena, come to pretend condolence, while in reality she rejoiced at our misfortune, which left her without a rival; and I was saying—no matter what I was saying—when we heard a faint cry, as if of astonishment, and a bustle, and we did not know what to think; when in rushed our lost Zora, our pearl, our diamond; and then I thought my old heart would break with joy, for my liver seemed to be melted; and I have done nothing since, Meer Sahib, but sit opposite to her, and stroke her face with my hands, and gaze into her eyes, to assure myself that I am not mistaken. Inshalla! to-morrow I will send five rupees to every shrine in the city, and distribute sweetmeats to fifty beggars in the name of the Imam Zamin; besides, I will have a tazea made, and will no longer wear these mourning garments. Ah! Meer Sahib, if you knew how I have sat day after day, and wept till I am reduced to a mere shadow of what I was! and all my friends tried to console me, but in vain; I would not be comforted." And her tears flowed afresh at the recollection.

What the old lady was before her grief commenced I cannot pretend to say; but in her present plight she appeared the fattest woman I had ever looked upon. We sat conversing and relating our adventures until the evening fell; and I spread my carpet for prayer. "Ah, he is a good Syud," said the old woman; "I like to see the young fond of their devotions; but it is ever thus with the noble race from Hindostan."

I was preparing to take my departure, when they one and all cried out against it. "What! leave our house before you have broken bread and drunk water with us?" It was not to be thought of—I must stay—dinner was prepared; they were just on the point of sending for me when I came; and, above all, it was the ninth day of the Mohorum; and I must stay, were it but to see the procession of the Nal Sahib. That sacred relic, one of the shoes of the horse the blessed Prophet rode when he fled to Medina, would be carried in grand procession, and I should never have a chance of seeing the like again. These reasons, and many imploring looks from Zora made me speedily determine; so, sending away my horse and the man, with a message to my father to say I should not return, I gave myself up to a night of enjoyment, such as I little expected when I parted with Zora in the morning. The dinner was excellent, and the old lady's cooking unexceptionable. There were all sorts of curries, with but a mouthful in each little cup, but still sufficient of each to leave an exquisite flavour in the mouth, only to be replaced by another surpassing it—pilaus of various kinds, and sweetmeats; and, to crown all, some delicious wine of the infidels called the Francees, which the old lady pronounced not to be wine, but sherbet, and allowed to the Huzoor himself, the great Sikundur Jah. It certainly was very delicious, and elevated the spirits. At the end, after taking a whiff or two, she carefully wiped the mouth-piece, and presented me with her own hookah, the fragrance of which was beyond that of ambergris or musk. I was in paradise!—I was intensely happy!

"You have heard me sing," said Zora to me, "when I was in captivity, and, after the fatigues of travel, in our little tent, where there was no scope for my voice; now my heart is glad and bounding, and you shall hear me again—may the Prophet pardon me for singing during the Mohorum!—and you shall say which you like best; my sister shall accompany me till I am tired, and I will then accompany her."

A saringhee was brought; Zenat tuned it, and, taking the bow, played a short prelude. It was one of the most entrancing sounds I had ever heard. Zora surpassed all her former attempts; it was ravishing to listen to her; and her sister, who was a perfect mistress of the instrument (a strange thing for a woman), gave it its full force of melody and expression. You know, Sahib, how nearly it accords to the human voice; and now, as accompaniment and song rose and fell together, it appeared as though two of the richest, fullest voices were pouring forth strains such as angels might have come down from the skies to hear.

But at last the noise of drums and shouting outside became so great, that both gave up in despair. "A plague on them all," said she; "and I in such voice, that I could have sung to you all night! And have I sung well?"

"Ay, have you," said I; "but methinks the first song you ever sung to me, at the palace in OomerkhÉr, will dwell longer on my memory than any I have heard since."

"Ya Alla!" exclaimed Zenat who had moved to the window; "was there ever a sight so magnificent! Come and see; 'tis passing fast, and will be soon out of sight."