Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !

Updated: June 17, 2025


Through this Malet-Marsac stepped and found himself, light-dazzled, in the vast enclosure of Gungapur Jail, a small town of horribly-similar low buildings, painfully regular streets, soul-stunning uniformity, and living death. "'Morning, Malet-Marsac," said Major Ranald of the Indian Medical Service, Superintendent of the jail. "You look a bit blue about the gills, what?"

Spensonly went early from office, feeling feverish; and when I called, as in duty bound, to make humble inquiries on Tuesday, he was reported jolly sickish with Plague and he died Tuesday night. I never heard of any other Sahib dying of Plague in Gungapur except one missionary fellow who lived in the native city with native fellows.

A few days before the date fixed for the execution of this very remarkable desperado, Captain Michael Malet-Marsac, Adjutant of the Gungapur Volunteer Corps, received two letters dated from Gungapur Jail, one covering the other. The covering letter ran: "I forward the enclosed.

One siege is very like another and Ross-Ellison's garrison knew increasing weariness, hunger, disease and casualties. Mrs. Dearman's conduct raised Colonel Ross-Ellison's love to a burning, yearning devotion, and his defence of Gungapur became his defence of Mrs. Dearman.

To rumours of General Murger's failing health and growing alcoholism Colonel Dearman listened with interest nay, satisfaction. Stories of seizures, strokes and "goes" of delirium tremens met with no rebuke nor contradiction from him and an air of leisured ease and unanxious peacefulness pervaded the Gungapur Fusiliers.

The pulse of the heart of Europe can be felt very far from that heart, and as is the wrist to the pulse-feeling doctor, is Afghanistan and the Border to the head of India's Political Department; as is the doctor's sensitive thumb to the doctor's brain, is the tried, trusted and approven agent of the Secret Service to the Head of all the Politicals.... What chiefly troubled Captain John Robin Ross-Ellison of the Gungapur Fusiliers was the shocking condition of those same Fusiliers and the blind smug apathy, the fatuous contentment, the short memories and shorter sight, of the British Pompeians who were perfectly willing that the condition of the said Fusiliers should remain so.

Robin Ross-Ellison, "that was the man of all men for me! A gentleman, wishful to die.... That is the sort that does things when swords are out and bullets fly. Seeks a gory grave and gets a V.C. instead. He and Mike Malet-Marsac and I would have put a polish on the new Gungapur Fusiliers.... Rough luck...."

Further, he intimated his desire to inspect the Gungapur Fusiliers "on Saturday next". Not the great and terrible Annual Inspection, of course, but a preliminary canter in that direction.

She would be sufficiently "straight" in her bungalow, by this time, to permit of a formal mid-day call being a reasonable and normal affair.... "Good-morning, Preserver of Gungapur," said Mrs. Dearman brightly; "have the Victoria Cross and the Distinguished Service Order materialized yet or don't they give them to Volunteers? What a shame if they don't!"

Behind the Grand Stand were massed the motor-cars and carriages of Society, as well as the Steward of the Gungapur Club, who there spent a busy afternoon in eating ices and drinking Cup while his myrmidons hurried around, washed glasses, squeezed lemons, boiled water and dropped things.

Word Of The Day

opsonist

Others Looking