other Hector, into the midst of his enemies, dealing such blows around him that all rushed from him on every side. Few in the darkness recognized in the central figure of that little band, round which the tide of battle now eddied with renewed and ever-rising vehemence, the gallant leader of the Scottish forces. At last he fell, pierced by three spears which had been pointed at him at once. He was thrown to the ground fighting desperately. No sooner was he down than his head was cleft with a battle-axe. A fourth spear was thrust through his thigh. Then the main body of the English, pressing over his prostrate form, carried the surging wave of combat to another part of the field.

When all were gone he strove to raise himself, but fell back powerless. He was alone and unattended save by his lionhearted chaplain, now wounded himself, who, battle-axe in hand, had never left him the whole night through. By his side, covered with fifteen wounds from lances and other weapons, lay the dead body of his squire, Robert Hart. He too had fought by his master so long as the power to fight remained. As he lay there in mortal agony, there came up to him his cousins, Sir John Lindsay and Sir John and Sir Walter Sinclair, and one or two others of his knights and squires.

"Cousin!" said Sir John Sinclair, kneeling by the side of the dying man, "how fares it with you?"

"But indifferently," he replied. "I have little hope of living. My heart becomes every moment more faint. But, thanks to God! I die like most of my ancestors, on the field of battle! Raise up my banner," he continued, "it is lying on the ground, and shout Douglas!' as if I were with you. They say a dead Douglas will win a field. To-night it shall be accomplished. Farewell!"

He was dead.

Throwing a cloak over the body, Sir John Sinclair lifted his standard; and once more the cry of "A Douglas! a Douglas!" rallied the disheartened Scots. The knights came spurring together from every part of the field. The Earls of Moray and March, with their banners and men trooped round the uplifted pennon. There was one desperate and collective charge, one crash of splintered lances, and then slowly and sullenly the English.commenced to retreat. The dead man had gained the day. Hotspur himself was captured, and like his brother Sir Ralph, had to yield himself prisoner to a Scottish

knight. The pursuit, lasted for the remainder of the night, and was continued for a distance of five English miles.‡ When at length the Scots returnnd to their camp, the numbers of the captured exceeded that of the captors. It was reckoned that the English loss amounted to fifteen hundred men; § while the Scots computed theirs at only a hundred slain, and two hundred taken prisoners.||

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"Never since the battle of Bannockborn," says Froissart, "did the Scots gain a more complete or gainful victory." was told me," he continues, "and I believe it, that they gained two hundred thousand francs for their ransoms." Nor can he, although no friend to their race, abstain from adding a word of commendation to the Scots on their treatment of their prisoners." When the Scots," he says, saw the English were discomfited and surrendering on all sides, they behaved courteously to them, saying, 'Sit down and disarm yourselves for I am your master,' but never insulted them more than if they had been brothers." Many of the prisoners were ransomed before they left the field. "Eche of them is so contente with other, that at their depart ynge curtoysly they will saye, God thanke ye!"

Yet, after all, when the debit and credit sides of the account are summed up, what had the nation gained by the victory? It is difficult, indeed, to say. That the engagement had been conducted in strict accordance with those artificial rules of honor which it was the fashion of the times to approve, or that in courage and courtesy both parties had satisfied the most exacting rules of chivalry, was scarcely adequate compensation for the lives of a hundred Scots lost in a battle fought in defence of no principles and undertaken in support of no claim. That it indeed diminished for a short season the severity of the border raids is perhaps the greatest commendation which can be bestowed upon it.

Before the dawn of day the field was

clear of combatants. But with the morning came another danger which it called forth all the manhood and the ingenuity of the Scots to meet. The sun had hardly risen when the Scottish scouts posted along the road to Newcastle announced the approach of another English host. It was Walter Skirlaw, Bishop of Durham, eager to avenge the defeat of the Percy the night before. Wearied, wounded, and worn out, and cumbered with a multitude of prisoners, resistance seemed out of the question. But what exhausted na ture refused to do, stratagem, it was thought, might accomplish. The bishop had advanced within a league of the camp, when a noise which seemed "as if all the devils in hell had come thither to join it," startled his horses and disconcerted his men. The bishop approached half a league nearer. Again the gruesome cacophony arose, more jarring and discordant than before. Once more the intrepid churchman urged forward his troops, and this time he was permitted to come within sight of the camp. A third time the sounds broke forth, louder, more dissonant, more terrific than ever. The bishop halted and took counsel with his knights. Concealed behind their intrench. ments, the Scots could now distinctly see every movement of their enemy. It was plain the bishop was irresolute. Perhaps a fourth blast from their cow-horns would assist him to make up his mind. Wilder, deeper, shriller, lustier, more demoniac than they had heard them yet, the horrid strains echoed and bellowed, clanged and swelled, boomed and shrieked, thundered and reverberated in their ears. At last, after long deliberation, as it seemed, the English were seen to face about. One parting roar from the cow-horns, and the whole force was in retreat. With an infinite sense of relief, the Scots retired within their huts and tents to refresh themselves with meat and drink, and to enjoy that rest of which they stood so much in need.

Later in the day, with the dead bodies of the Earl Douglas, Robert Hart, and Sir Simon Glendinning, enclosed in coffins and placed on carts, they withdrew from that position to whose strength, rather than to their infernal minstrelsy, they probably owed their late deliverance. The following day they arrived at Melrose, and there, in the abbey of black monks in a tomb of stone, with his banner floating above it - they laid the body of their brave commander. Soon after they dispersed to their various homes.

With the almost immediately supervening return of the lord of Galloway and his division of the army, the great Scottish foray of 1388 came to an end.

From Chambers' Journal. SOME INDIAN HERBS AND POISONS.

No country is better supplied with medicinal as well as poisonous herbs than India. Along waysides and ditches, harmless-looking plants flourish abundantly, yet possessing, some strange, and some the most deadly qualities. It is one of the mysteries of creation how side by side with plants and cereals the most valuable and necessary to life, nature has also scattered abundantly plants so deadly; as if along with an element of good, there must also be one of evil. But it is only during a long residence in the country that the ordinary Anglo-Indian grows into acquaintance with this feature of the vegetable world around him, which previously he has only recognized as rank, troublesome weeds, intruding where not wanted, and having to be cut down and cast away. Many if not all of these become convertible, however, according as they are used, into some medicinal purpose or other; as if, after all, even the most seemingly useless or noxious have their value, if properly treated.

One of the most common plants by ditch-side or cactus hedge is the datoora, with its large white flower, and leaves resembling the hollyhock, and now well known as a valuable medicine for asthma, for which its leaves are used in the shape of cigars or "tobacco." The seeds, on the other hand, are a subtle and powerful poison, in small quantities causing temporary insanity, and in large, either permanent injury to the brain or death. By an accident, I became aware of the peculiar properties of the datoora. A robbery occurred in a neighboring village, and an alarm spread that this had been effected through the agency of datoora poisoning by an organized gang of robber poisoners. It seemed the gang had put up at the village the night before in the guise of travellers, and succeeded in getting on friendly terms with one of the wealthiest families there, whom they entertained to a feast of sweetmeats the only eatable in which different castes may join. As night advanced, the family allowed them to put up in their veranda; and when the village was sunk in sleep, the effects of the poi

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soned sweetmeats gradually placed the house and all it contained at the mercy of the robbers. Next morning, when the hue and cry arose in the village, and native inspectors, thannahdars, and constables had arrived from far and near to investigate the case-and turn to what profit they could the opportunity they found the family of eight lying helpless and dangerously ill, semi-idiotic, and unconscious of what had occurred or was going on around them. The house had been ransacked, and money dug out of the ground (the natives' purse) amounting to about thirty thousand rupees; and the suspicion of datoora poisoning was confirmed. No trace of the gang could be found, in spite of the official raids made by the police, and the levy of blackmail on those who could afford to "pay" to escape suspicion. The family gradually recovered to find themselves almost penniless, the time they had been under the poison being a blank to them.

A sad case of datoora poisoning occurred some time after this. My gardener's child, a fine little fellow of two years, whom I had often seen in the garden, had swallowed a few datoora seeds while playing with some children by the roadside. This was first suspected by his parents from some of the seeds being found in his hand; and after being taken home, the fatal result too soon confirmed their fears. From being in perfect health, in a few hours he was a memory of the past; and one of the saddest sights was the distracted grief of the parents for their only son. Sadder if anything was the fact of the body being kept for three days in the hot weather under the shade of a large sacrificial banyan-tree close by, covered only with a light cloth and some leaves, waiting till the thannahdar of the nearest station could find leisure to come and report on it before burial, while the mother was rushing off at all hours of the night and day to take another look at her dead child.

Though the plant is to be found every where, this is the only case I know of accidental poisoning from datoora. The native belief, however, is that it is commonly used by professional robbers instead of the terrible roomal (handkerchief strangling) of the old Thugs.

Another plant called the madar, from two to four feet high, grows in isolated groups along roadsides and in open sunny places. It is soft and branching, with broad, thick, dark-green leaves covered with down, and large, white waxen flowers

faintly tinged with pink towards the centre. The first time I discovered it to have a curative value was on getting a sprained thumb through an upset out of my dogcart, causing swelling of the whole hand with severe pain. While trying in vain the ordinary home resources, my bearer, Jhoti, who stood a stoical witness of the ejaculations and contortions which the pain and failure of remedies elicited, at length sug. gested the madar leaf. Glad of any chance, though placing little faith in his nostrum, I agreed readily enough; and he soon appeared with a madar leaf, which he ap plied hot to the hand and tied firmly round. The relief seemed almost to begin from the moment of application; and in a quarter of an hour the pain had nearly subsided, while the hand felt more elastic with the rapid decrease of the swelling. In an hour or two there was no perception of pain left, and the hand felt much like the other, except for a little stiffness. Keeping on the leaf, by his advice, for twenty-four hours, with one or two fresh changes during that time, there appeared afterwards a minute crop of watery pustules, which itched for a day or two, and then disappeared. No trace of pain or swelling remained. After such an experience, my incredulity in native remedies was somewhat shaken, and the plant, which had hitherto seemed but a useless weed, now rose into new interest. The hurry of the native for his madar leaf, his neem-tree leaf or bark for poultices, his castor-leaf, etc., for sprains and swellings, now savored less to me of native simplicity, and inspired a desire to test their remedies before condemning them. On other occasions I have used the madar leaf with the same result, often wondering whether its efficacy were known to our medical faculty, or ever tested for employment in a wider and more scientific sense.

But it is the milk of the madar which, like the poppy, contains its strangest and most powerful property, and exudes abun dantly on the slightest scratch of its succulent leaf or stem. When dried in the sun, the milk becomes hard and brittle. The natives profess to use it for any obstinate sore, especially in the nostril, and it was when used for this ostensible purpose that I witnessed its effects among my servants, caused either from absorption in the blood or accidental swallowing. Finding the khansamah absent one evening from duty at dinner, and the masalchie arrayed in his pugri officiating for him, I learned that he was in a very bad way,

from accidentally swallowing some of the madār milk, which he had applied to a sore in his nostril. With some fear, from the description given, that he might be poisoned, and as he was an old and valued servant, I left dinner and went to see him. He was sitting in front of the cooking. house, with his face buried in his hands in an attitude of the deepest dejection, from which nothing could rouse him or elicit a word of answer to my inquiries. In eight or ten minutes, the first change I noticed was a slight movement of the head to one side and a distinct leer at his fellow-servants, who were standing by. This was repeated in a few seconds, and again at lessening intervals, accompanied by sounds of suppressed chuckling, as if the whole affair were a grand joke which he was playing at the expense of those present. Shortly, the leers, which expressed the most intense mirth, developed into bursts of laughter loud and ecstatic, with looks of indescribable enjoyment, and I began to doubt whether, after all, we were not being fooled. The "blowing up," however, which I began to give him received no notice - if anything, it seemed but to increase his merriment; but while I yet stood by, the fits of laughter grew less violent, the merriment decreased, soon ceased altogether, and the fit of dejection supervened. This lasted for about a quarter of an hour, and then the hilarious mood gradually came on as before, but always of less duration than the depressed mood. The paroxysms continued for some hours, till at last the man fell into a deep sleep. Next morning, he was at his work as usual, none the worse, looking fresh as ever, but without any recollection of his exhibition the night before.

As on several occasions I had found one or other of the servants in the same state, I began to wonder whether it was "sores in the nostril," or whether the drug had not been taken to produce the effect I had witnessed. The inquiries I made brought no confirmation of the suspicion, or showed that the drug was known or used for that purpose. However that may be, the frequent recurrence of the accident with the same individuals, and on so improbable a pretence, forced the inference that the madar was used as an intoxicant. One peculiarity of it was that highly exciting or intoxicating though it seemed, there was no visible reaction of nervous depression, disordered stomach, etc., as in the case of intoxicating liquors. The terrible effect of larger quantities on the

brain, on which it seems specially to act, may be imagined.

It is stated by the natives as a familiar fact, that if a probe is formed from a mixture of the madar milk with a pounded ruttee-seed a recognized weight of the country used by jewellers-dried and hardened in the sun, and if the skin be pricked with this and the point left, death will follow imperceptibly and painlessly in two or three days, leaving no trace of the cause medically or otherwise but the faintest speck like a mosquito bite where the skin was probed.

The wild ganja grows profusely wherever it is permitted, and somewhat like the home nettle without the sting, its flower is small and insignificant. Though very different in appearance from the cultivated ganja― the Canabis Indica of the pharmacopoeia and famous hashish of the East- its intoxicating effects are nearly similar, except that the ganja proper is less injurious to the system, and is therefore correspondingly prized. This difference between wild and cultivated plants is seen to a stronger extent even among cereals. The wild rice, or that which has sown itself from a previous crop, if in good ground, looks like the cultivated in every respect, rich and heavy, and is really equally good; but the moment it is touched with the hook, the grains shed themselves into the water in which it has grown, and are lost. A different peculiarity is found in the kodo a small grain like turnip-seed, much grown in dry soil, and with a peculiar pleasant flavor-the self-sown or wild crop of which, though easily gathered, and undistinguishable in appearance from the cultivated, yet causes giddiness when used for food, and is often fraudulently mixed with the cultivated. In noting this difference between wild and cultivated grains, one realizes indeed that the bread we live by must be toiled for. The cultivated ganja is somewhat like the caraway plant, but stronger and more leafy; and while the wild ganja has a strong, pungent smell, the cultivated is odorless. Being a government monopoly, it is subject to a high duty, is rarely grown, and owing to its expense, the wild ganja is often made to do duty for it. At the same time, the ganja proper can always be bought at the rural bazaars, while a good deal is understood to change hands sub rosâ, which accounts for its reaching the poorer classes.

A confirmed ganja-smoker was a Bengali baboo (English bookkeeper) I had, whose weakness came to my knowledge through

a quarrel he had with the Persian accountant. The latter mentioned as an instance of the baboo's moral degradation that not only was he a ganja-smoker, but had fallen so low as to use the common ganja of the ditches. True enough, one day I saw a large supply of the dried leaf on a shelf, which he had inadvertently left behind. He was an active writer, how ever, and must have used the drug ab stemiously, as it neither interfered with his work nor showed the usual signs of havoc in the face. Whether the continued use of the ganja incapacitated him from discriminating between his own prop erty and another's, I cannot say, but for this reason I had to part with him, which also accounted for his losing his previous situation.

Another of his class whom I was unfortunate enough to have later in the same post, so yielded to the allurements of the drug, that latterly he rarely appeared except in a semi-muddled, dreamy state; his shrivelled, yellow face, blear eyes as of a film drawn over them, and cracked voice, though he was a young man, showing the lengths he was going and the terrible havoc it was making of him. Premature age had already come upon him, the excitement and visions of a few years of the ganja having condensed into them the measure of a lifetime. I had also to part with him from incapacity caused by his habit.

The next of those around me whom I discovered to be a worshipper of the weed was the gardener. He had been with me at the same time as the latter baboo, and had turned a secluded corner of the gar. den to account to supply both his own and the baboo's needs in the way of ganja, with perhaps a surplus for the bazaar. He was an old, tall, lean man, with shrivelled face, but clear, strong eyes, and wiry and strong, with an amount of activity in him which got him over as much work in an hour as took many younger men three. Whether the ganja had any thing to do with his long-sustained energy is doubtful, but he used to assert that it was it that gave strength to his old age

and enabled him to work as he did.

Once I had occasion to use the ganja medicinally in the shape of some of the extract, sent to me by a bachelor friend, prepared by him as he said according to a well-known pharmacopoeia. The dose I took was ten drops, just before setting out for a neighboring bungalow where I was expected to spend the evening. During dinner, I become aware of an increas

ing risibility at the merest trifles, causing surprise, especially to some young ladies present, who I could see put it down to the sparkling lager beer. This tendency increased as the evening advanced; and though conscious of the figure I was making, I felt powerless to exercise the neces sary control. After bidding adieu to my friends, as I mounted my horse in front of the veranda, suddenly the whole place, the familiar bungalow, walks, shrubberies, all seemed changed, and only the voices of my friends remained the same. The transformation was even greater as I rode homewards through the woods and quiet villages asleep in the moonlight. Now I seemed to be in Spain, acting the hero of the "Romance of War;" then I seemed to be shooting over the moors of Scotland; and from one part of the world to another was but the flash of a moment. Now the pale moonlight showed all the vegetation crisp and sparkling with hoarfrost, or covered with snow; while the moon herself appeared a dull yellow speck in the heav ens. The whole way home I found myself forever diverging from the well-known road into bypaths; and it was only after the syce, who trotted beside me, had brought back the horse for the twentieth time, that I saw the necessity of taking his advice and dropping the reins on the horse's neck, to trust to the surer guid ance of his instinct. At times, with a strong effort, I endeavored to recall my whereabouts; but it was only for an instant, and the memory was gone, to be replaced by the unreal. At length, after a period that seemed an age, though only extending over a ride of four miles, I reached my bungalow, the sight of which was the first thing that began to bring back reality. Getting into an easy-chair, with the lamplight swimming dim and yellow before me, 1 began to reflect with some alarm that I was suffering from an overdose of ganja. Though drowsy, I dreaded to sleep; so, drinking off a strong cup of tea, I resolved to keep awake till the effects wore off. Reading and staring at the lamp in turn was all I remembered, till I awoke next morning quite well, and without the least reaction from the night's experience. Considering the different scenes I was transported to, all of a gorgeous and fairylike nature, and minutely remembered, I could easily understand the prevalent belief that it was the ganja that gave birth to the " Arabian Nights' Entertainments."

The natives chiefly use ganja spiced for the hookah, or as an infusion for drink.