taken any remedy prescribed by a European physician, and that he used to give all the remedies which had been ordered him by the English doctors, Murray, Steel, and Macgregor, to his servants, to try the effect on them; but that he was now resolved to take my medicines, which I was to prepare in his presence. This I promised to do. It was then mid-day, the time when the durbar (assembly) leaves the palace, so, accompanied by the fakeer, I presented myself to the king. I found with him only the minister, Dhyan Sing. I had brought with me the tinctura dulcamara, and three empty corked little phials. First of all, I asked for a gud wai (water-carrier), and ordered him to bring the spirit that the maharajah was in the habit of drinking; this had been distilled, in my presence, from Cabul grapes, and it was rectified, because Runjeet Sing preferred strong spirits. I put the three empty phials into the hands of the gudwai, and ordered them to be rinsed with the same spirit, and afterwards each of them to be half filled with spirit, about one drachm in each phial. When this was done, I put just one drop of the essence of dulcamara (woody-nightshade) into one of those phials which the water-carrier held in his hand, and I ordered him to cork it and shake it. Then I desired the fakeer to mark it number "one," and I put a drop out of it into the second phial, causing it to be corked and shaken like the first, and marked number "two.” In the same manner, the third dilution was made, and number "three" was marked on it. From this last, I ordered one single drop to be let fall on a lump of sugar, which, at my request, the maharajah put into his mouth, where it was retained until dissolved. I ordered the same dose to be administered to the patient every morning and evening. During the preparation of the medicine, some persons who were standing by could not forbear smiling; and the fakeer himself was of opinion that such a minute dose could not be hurtful, should it even be supposed to be poison. But what was the result? On the first day there was no sensible amelioration in the health of the maharajah; on the second day he felt somewhat better; and on the third he was in such a merry humor that, at five o'clock in the afternoon, he ordered the minister, Dhyan Sing, to put a pair of gold bracelets on my arms, valued at five hundred rupees, in his own presence and in that of the durbar; this present was accompanied with two Cashmere shawls of the same value, and, whilst I sat on the floor, the minister laid them upon my shoulders, the maharajah telling me that my physic had produced in him the best effect. It was, of course, quite natural that this event should fill my heart with joy, as it inspired me with the hope that the king would soon recover, and thus lay the first stone of my reputation and future fortune. This scene took place in the royal garden, Shahbelore, two miles from the city, where I had resided for three days. On the fourth day, early in the morning, the minister allowed me to visit my patients in the city; but while there, I heard that several mounted messengers had been despatched from Shahbelore to request me to return to that place. I galloped back; and on the road I overtook some hakims (Mohamedan physicians) and astrologers, travelling the same way, on elephants, on horseback, or carried in palanquins, from which I presumed that the maharajah had met with some accident, which made me very anxious. Arrived at Shahbelore, I was told that the maharajah had an attack of fever. On examining him, however, I could not find the least symptom of fever, it being in fact only excitement. The gud wai, who was in charge of the medicine, was of opinion that the fever proceeded from too great a dose, which the maharajah had asked for on the previous evening, namely, two drops at once; but I thought that could not be the cause of the alteration, one drop more or less not being able to produce such an effect. The physicians of the city were invited to a consultation. That was all they desired; for they had been touched to the quick on hearing that the maharajah was recovering, and that he had made me presents of gold and robes of honour. They would have preferred seeing the king die, rather than acknowledge me, an European, as his saviour. That was the reason why all my endeavours and all my demonstrations turned out fruitless. The prudent minister was of opinion, that it did not lie in his power to decide; the fakeer, Azez-oo-Deen, exercising such magic influence on the maharajah, that only by addressing myself to him could I obtain any decision according to my desires. I reminded the fakeer of his own words, that such minute doses could not be hurtful, even if it should be poison. Besides, I observed, that it was not every fever, especially when appearing in so mild a form, that could be of bad consequence, as nature sometimes cures diseases by re-action in the frame; and that, under such circumstances, it was advisable to lay aside all medicine, and await the result. But he objected to that, saying that the maharajah was too feeble to endure such a fever. "But," continued he, "let us hear what opinion the other physicians have." All my arguments availed nothing. The consultation, at which the fakeer presided, was composed of a dozen hakims from Peshawur and Lahore, Hindoo physicians, astrologers, &c., each of whom imagined that he possessed the deepest knowledge of medical art. Most of them carried large books, to cover their want of real learning. In fine, they agreed unanimously to administer to the patient a majoon (electuary), of which jowahirad (precious stones) constituted the principal ingredient. The fakeer himself prepared and administered it to the patient; but in less than a fortnight the maharajah gave up his temporal life. He died at the fortress in my presence, upon which the minister ordered the gates to be shut, but I readily obtained his permission to absent myself. The fakeer, who exercised great influence in the household of the royal court, and who had begun his career at Lahore as a barber, with a few boxes of ointment, did not live long after his patron, Runjeet Sing. Azeez-oo-Deen-of Arabian origin, and descended from the Ansari Arabs of the desert-was the oracle of Runjeet Sing. He, the prime-minister Dhyan Sing, and Dewan-Deena-Nauth minister of finance, constituted the triad of which the privy-council of the king was composed. The latter has been recently promoted to the rank of rajah by the English. The small doses of opium (every afternoon one pill of 3 grs.) which Runjeet Sing took daily, and the strong spirits he used to drink at different hours of the day, transported him into a kind of excitement, which manifested itself in the highest degree in the evening, after the enjoyment of larger portions of spirits. Every one loved and feared him at the same time. He had an army of 100,000 men, inspiring awe and respect, half of whom were regular and the other half irregular troops, with whom he might have enforced his laws on all the Hindoos; nevertheless, he entertained the greatest friendship with his neighbours the English, and manifested his favour towards the French, the Italians, and other European nations, by making them governors in his provinces. His disease was brought on by a severe cold, and by indulging somewhat too much in strong spirits. The latter I am told was especially the case during the winter in which the Governor-General of India, Lord Auckland, came to Lahore to pay him a visit. In the transport of his joy, he drank more than ordinarily. Probably, if an emetic had been given at the commencement of the disease, it would have produced a good effect; but as the native physicians did not know of any good and effective emetic, and are fearful, also, of the effects of vomiting, they prefer using purgatives, by which sometimes the disease grows worse, as the case above related sufficiently proves. It made a very deep impression on my feelings to have been prevented from making myself useful to the maharajah, and restoring to health the man on whose life was depending the happiness, peace and prosperity of that country. Every one whose forethought enabled him to throw a glance on the future, must have seen with pain and sorrow that a violent crisis menaced that country, by which a nation scarcely risen from barbarity might sink back into its former condition. The first sad and cruel scene that I witnessed after the death of Runjeet Sing, was the Suttee, or burning of his eleven wives, along with the body of the deceased. There were four ranees (legal wives), and seven female slaves, who, animated with the superstitious hope of entering paradise with their |