The usual telegraphic
abstract of news brought to Bombay by the latest English mail. The news
was of the most astounding character, with just enough air of probability,
in minor details, to pass muster with a dull reader. The effect was all he
could wish - or rather more - and there was a general flutter in the camp.
Of course the Governor-General and one or two others were in the secret,
and mightily relished the diversion. But this pleasant and cheering
intercourse was drawing to its mournful close. On her way back from
Darjeeling, in November, 1861, Lady Canning (not then in Yule's care) was
unavoidably exposed to the malaria of a specially unhealthy season. A few
days' illness followed, and on 18th November, 1861, she passed calmly to
"That remaining rest where night and tears are o'er."[47]
It was to Yule that Lord Canning turned in the first anguish of his loss,
and on this faithful friend devolved the sad privilege of preparing her
last resting-place. This may be told in the touching words of Lord
Canning's letter to his only sister, written on the day of Lady Canning's
burial, in the private garden at Barrackpoor[48]: -
"The funeral is over, and my own darling lies buried in a spot which I am
sure she would have chosen of all others.... From the grave can be seen
the embanked walk leading from the house to the river's edge, which she
made as a landing-place three years ago, and from within 3 or 4 paces of
the grave there is a glimpse of the terrace-garden and its balustrades,
which she made near the house, and of the part of the grounds with which
she most occupied herself.... I left Calcutta yesterday ... and on
arriving here, went to look at the precise spot chosen for the grave.
