"حياة ومراسلات اللواء السير جون مالكوم، قائد فرسان وسام الطُهر، المبعوث السابق إلى بلاد فارس وحاكم بومباي؛ من رسائل ومذكرات غير منشورة. في مجلّدين. المجلد II." [‎١‎٦‎٠] (٦٥٤/١٧٧)

160
THE CIRCUIT OF THE EESIDENCIES.
accompanied by his sister-in-law and lier husband, lie
commenced his dawk-journey at C onnatore. Th© com
panion of his travels was " little George Wareham," a
boy whom he had picked up on his outward voyage, to
act as amanuensis, clerk, servant, or, as Malcolm wrote,
" factotum," in the place of "Jem," whose curt cognomen
had so puzzled the Duke * " Of the important occur
rences," he wrote to his wife, "which happened between
Connatore and Covrepauk, having slept all the way,
I can say nothing. At the latter place, which is only
ten miles from Arcot, I got out of my palanquin, and dis
pelled all the fatigues of it by a gallop to Captain Out
law 's, who lives in the house once occupied by our friend
Dallas, on the bank of the river. As I came to this last
stage it brought a thousand associations to my mind.
There was pride in the recollection of having come past
and galloped over the same ground with the Duke of
Wellington thirteen years ago; and there was something
better and more delightful than any emotion which pride
can give in having travelled it with you ten years ago."
On the following day, Malcolm entered the Mysore
country, and there he was among people who greeted
him as an old friend, and were eager to do him honor.
"I was welcomed," he wrote, "with horns and taum-
taums, dancing-girls, amildars, peons, bazaar-men; in
short, by high and low of every description. My vanity
was not a little tickled to hear Malcolm-Sahib on every
tongue."' At Bangalore he spent a day or two in com-
* The boy's simplicity somewhat
amused his master. An instance of
this, at the very first start, is given in
one of Malcolm's letters : " Just as we
were starting, the little fellow came
up to me, and casting a look at the
crowd of palanquin-boys, mussaulchees,
police-peons, and villagers, who were
all talking loud in a language of which
he knew not one word, whispered,
c Sir, you have forgotten something.
£ What is it ?' I asked, with impatience.
e You have forgotten,' he added, m a
lower tone, ' to load your pistols,
could not help smiling; but thanking
him, said we were yet a thousand miles
from any place where it would be ne
cessary to load a pistol."