Begumbagh: A Tale of the Indian Mutiny. George Manville Fenn

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Begumbagh: A Tale of the Indian Mutiny - George Manville Fenn

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       George Manville Fenn

      Begumbagh: A Tale of the Indian Mutiny

      Published by Good Press, 2019

       [email protected]

      EAN 4064066193836

       Introduction.

       Story 1—Chapter I.

       Story 1—Chapter II.

       Story 1—Chapter III.

       Story 1—Chapter IV.

       Story 1—Chapter V.

       Story 1—Chapter VI.

       Story 1—Chapter VII.

       Story 1—Chapter VIII.

       Story 1—Chapter IX.

       Story 1—Chapter X.

       Story 1—Chapter XI.

       Story 1—Chapter XII.

       Story 1—Chapter XIII.

       Story 1—Chapter XIV.

       Story 1—Chapter XV.

       Story 1—Chapter XVI.

       Story 1—Chapter XVII.

       Story 1—Chapter XVIII.

       Story 1—Chapter XIX.

       Story 1—Chapter XX.

       Story 1—Chapter XXI.

       Story 1—Chapter XXII.

       Story 1—Chapter XXIII.

       Story 2—Chapter I.

       Story 2—Chapter II.

       Story 2—Chapter III.

       Story 2—Chapter IV.

       Story 2—Chapter V.

       Story 2—Chapter VI.

       Story 2—Chapter VII.

       Story 2—Chapter VIII.

       Story 2—Chapter IX.

       Story 2—Chapter X.

       Story 2—Chapter XI.

       Story 3—Chapter I.

       Story 4—Chapter I.

       Table of Contents

      Begumbagh.

      I’ve waited all these years, expecting some one or another would give a full and true account of it all; but little thinking it would ever come to be my task. For it’s not in my way; but seeing how much has been said about other parts and other people’s sufferings; while ours never so much as came in for a line of newspaper, I can’t think it’s fair; and as fairness is what I always did like, I set to, very much against my will; while, on account of my empty sleeve, the paper keeps slipping and sliding about, so that I can only hold it quiet by putting the lead inkstand on one corner, and my tobacco-jar on the other. You see, I’m not much at home at this sort of thing; and though, if you put a pipe and a glass of something before me, I could tell you all about it, taking my time, like, it seems that won’t do. I said, “Why don’t you write it down as I tell it, so as other people could read all about it?” But “No,” he says; “I could do it in my fashion, but I want it to be in your simple unadorned style; so set to and do it.”

      I daresay a good many of you know me—seen me often in Bond Street, at Facet’s door—Facet’s, you know, the great jeweller, where I stand and open carriages, or take

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