REMINISCENCES OF INDIA
serving ; he then expressed the great pleasure he should have in meeting me again after all the years that had passed, but at the last moment he accepted the fatal mission to Khartoum.
Adam Lindsay Gordon, no relation of his distinguished namesake, was also the son of an officer. When he came to us he was a little over twelve ; he had outgrown his strength, and was a long, lanky, narrow-chested, short-sighted lad. He was not clever in the general acceptation of the word, but as a romancer, and more particularly as a poet, he excelled. Give him a theme, and he would write page upon page. Many of his tales written before he was twelve were as thrilling and exciting, and much on the same lines, as 'The Mysteries of Udolpho' or 'The Castle of Otranto.1 But the difficulty was to induce him to stick to any one thing long. He would begin a dozen tales and poems, and leave them all unfinished. I was somewhat older, and had some influence over him, and tried to induce him to finish a poem he called 4 The Disinherited ' ; he had completed some ten cantos when I left, but I fear that he never got further, for it is not amongst his published works. It commenced :
* On Royston stood the Castle fair ;
Its banners floated in the air.'
I had quite a collection of his tales and poems for years, but lost them in Burma, with the greater part of my kit.
Hunt, our classical tutor, was madly fond of poetry, and used to walk about tossing his arms, spouting Tasso and other Italian poets, quite oblivious thatHunt, our classical tutor, was madly fond of poetry, and used to walk about tossing his arms, spouting Tasso and other Italian poets, quite oblivious that