UC-NRLF ^B 5TM MhM £'34.V ^ - > / :^A w^ f t** i*,-..' ■■; ■,. /^ o a- C\i en ! *f*t; ,v>:.t /^^ C/n^ve'^^U^ ye>^ ^^t^^f^ui/ //nving of the 14th Irregular Cavalry that is here arc almost all Mahommedans, and are nof to be trusted. 512884 '{l^i^'^tbW/s a 'debailWt^e, disposition of guards, and the guns, «kc., for defence.) 8th June. On Saturday, the 6th inst. , we got an express from Captain Dunlop of this regiment at Jhansi, saying that the Artillery and Infantry had broken out into mutiny, and had taken possession of the Star Fort, in which were two nine-pounders, the treasure, and magazine ; but that no one was hurt as yet. Our men were tlien preparing a petition to Major Kirke, expressing their desire to be led against the rebels " to take vengeance." That was the word they used. This act was spontaneous : every man was signing it : they were all enthusiastic. The native officers of the 12th and the 14tb Irregulars were then summoned to meet at the Mess House. The petition had by that time been given in, and was discussed and praised ; and they were allowed to expend all their professions of loyalty and attachment. The doors were then closed, and the news from Jhansi were communicated. They were all taken by surprise. It was hoped that the men had done nothing beyond entering the fort ; and so on. An undress parade was then ordered. The men were told of what had happened at Jhansi ; and then all who meant to be true and faithful were desired to come to the front and gather romid the colours. I was greatly gratified at seeing the whole, like cue man, rush up and seize the colours, their countenances and gestures evincing good feeling. The Artillery men, and the Irregulars too, were equally loyal — the former embracing their guns, and the latter seeming asto- nished that such a question should be put to them. I thanked God heartily, who moves the hearts of men. The fall of Jhansi was very trying. Our men shewed the utmost enthusiasm and heartiness ; and at sunset, when I rode through the Great Bazaar, I got ten salaams for one I ever got before, and all were profound. I was urged yesterday by two of the most influential men of the corps, and as by the wish of the whole, to go over to Jhansi— 100 miles distant— to speak to the men of the left wing in the fort. They evidently hoped that the men would be influenced by me. I spoke to the Major ; but he was decidedly against it. I was not much in favour of it myself ; I did not urge it ; but I would have gone and made the attempt, if ordered. I fear that all our native Prince Allies will turn upon us when they can do us most harm. It seems to me that the revolt is one to rid India of the British rule. Belief in some prophecy, and in some astrologer's announcement, tends to give fii-mness and consistency to the natives in this scheme. We have not seen the worst of it yet. Chutterpore, 12th June. On Wednesday, the 10th inst., while all the officers were at mess and sitting after dinner, which was at an early hour, talking over our prospects, we heard shots in the Hues. We ran out, and saw people looking distracted and distressed. Four of us (and I one of them) went to the lines ; it was clear that all was up ; the men, when I asked them to join me in an attack, 5 pretended to go, and did not. They were evidently not minded to interfere : some were afraid, and others shared in the plot. I could not get the Sepoys together, and I could not get a bugler. At last one came, a poor little crea- ture. He could not blow at all, so I took the bugle from him and sounded the assembly myself several times, but all in vain. The sentries round the magazine would not permit it to be opened. They did not flatly refuse ; no one evinced flat rebellion, but I saw that they meant it. I had been trying for some time to move them, when a leading man came up and made a sign to me to be ofi", with a wink that shewed me he was in the secret, but that they would not touch me, so 1 went back to the mess-house ; but before I got far, the mutineers sent a shower of grape over the lines to terrify waverers, by shewing that they had the guns. I saw the vagabonds in the square with the guns drawn up. The mess-house was of brick, with a flat roof, where we were all assembled, and the Major thought of holding out there ; but it was soon seen that this was impossible, as the mutineers brought up artillery against us, and we had nothing to oppose to them, nor to defend ourselves. We were obliged to decamp, and had not got far before a round shot went over our heads, and then a round of grape ; but they did not hurt us. We moved off towards Gurowley, the Chief of which had been to see the Major the day before ; but we soon lost the road in the dark, and at last came to the Gora Lake, where we had so often been before. We had two ladies and two children in arms with us, and only one buggy. We started with perhaps 100 Sepoys, but they soon fell off by the way. Three native officers stood by us. We reached this place about daybreak, and were well received by the Ranee. We are lodged in a Serai, and eat, what food we get with our fingers. We have lost all our property. I have only a horse, my sword, and a pistol, and the clothes on my back, my watch, and a pocket copy of the Psalms, which I had put into my pocket in the morn- ing, the first day I had done so, lest some catastrophe might happen. We have a great deal to thank God for. All the officers are well, as are also Mrs Mawe, the Doctor's lady, and Mrs Smalley, the Bandmaster's wife. I have much admired these two representatives of the gentler sex, and the way in which they have taken all things, from the first alarm until now ; not the least a burden in the way of wants, or loss of temper ; no fear ; nurse their children, who, poor things, give no trouble either — one two years old, the other not weaned. The Chiefs seem to be very friendly. We march this night, with our party of 60 Sepoys, and a lot of bandmen, women, and children. The Ranee has given us money and tents, &c. Rough people hereabouts, though they are rich and good-hearted. I wonder at their staunchness, after all that has been done and said to and about the British. T H E M U T I N Y I N I N D A. [The following profoundly interesting letter was addressed to Mrs Ryves in London, by Captain Scot of the 12th Bengal Native Infantry, 6 a gallant young officer belonging to our own district. We may men- tion that Lieutenant Ryves, who is noticed in the beginning of the letter as having got safe to Agra, was on detachment when the corps mutinied at Jhansi. His party robbed him, and made him march along with them towards Jhansi ; but he seized an opportunity, and rode off from them at full speed, and so escaped.]— i>wwi/ri65 Herald and Begister, ofMth September, 1857. (From the Times of 11th September, 1857.) Nagode, July 19. I am 80 glad that God's mercy emvbles me to say that yom* husband got safe to Agra. I have from time to time, as opportunity offered, attempted to tell you, that I and the rest of the Nowgong officers felt sure he must have got to GwaUor, and I also begged my father and Mr Ludlow, when I wrote to them, to teU you so. I did so, lest my letter to you might miscarry. We have had an awful lesson of the extent of man's malice, and cruelty, and folly ; it would have gone much further but for God's interference ; and amid all the horrors and atrocities, there is much to thank God for. I shall first tell you all I know about Jhansi. On the 1st of June, or perhaps a day sooner or later, God's mercy so ordered it, that your husband was sent out with 60 men of the 12th and 40 troopers of the murderous 14th Irregulars. On the 4th of June, at 4 p.m. , poor Dunlop dashed off, in a hand- writing I could not recognize, these words ; — " My dear Kirke, — The infantry and artillery have broken into mutiny, and have entered the Star Fort (the Uttle fort in cantonments), where are the guns and treasure. No one has been hurt as yet. Look out for stragglers. " Yours truly, ** Jhansi, 4th June, 4 p.m. "J. Dunlop." This letter was sent by express, and reached Nowgong at 11 a.m., next day. I have heard the depositions of those men who were at Jhansi at the time, and they agree quite enough to corroborate and rectify one, the other. The substance is as follows : — The fort at the city had been previously fixed on as a resort in such an event, it would seem, from the fact one man men- tions, that stores of ammunition and food had been collected there. This, if the case, was never told to us at Nowgong. Dunlop and the others had till the last laughed at our precautions at Nowgong, and had urged us to give them up Letters that Dunlop received from Skene and Gordon, the Com- missioner and Deputy-commissioner, were sent to Major Kirke, and showed that the Jhansi Ila.nee's headman was plotting to seduce our Sepoys, and that Dunlop, through some men who stuck by him, prevented their getting access to the hnes without great difficulty. At length, 4 p. m. , on the 4th of June, the outbreak began by No. 7 Company 12th Native Infantry march- ing into the Star Fort ; the rest kept quiet. Dunlop, it is said, held a parade the next morning, and the men said they would stand by him. He spent the day at the Quarter Guard, it is said, getting shells ready, (just the man}. Poor Taylor and Mr TumbuU were with him, so was poor Lieutenant Camp- bell, of the 15th Native Infantry, the only off >r of the 14th Irregulars. Lieutenant Tyrrwhitt never was able to rejoin ■'m leave. About noon, Captain Dunlop and Taylor were on parade. One man (the mess shepherd) said that poor Dunlop had just put three letters in the post-office, and had returned with Taylor, when the two were murdered. It seems they were shot, Campbell got several bullets into him, and, pursued by his own sowars, escaped to and entered the City Fort. Dear, warm-hearted Turnbull escaped unhurt at first, but as he could not reach the fort, through his being on foot, he got up a tree. He was seen to climb it, and pointed out to his pursuers, who shot him down. Dr M'Egan, and all the other Christians in canton- ments, had gone the pre%'ious night to the City P< and were safe there. Burgess's khitmutgar, who was in the fort till it ^ 'n, says they saw through telescopes the men kill Dunlop and Taylor, and then closed the gate. They shot some troopers that pursued poor Campbell, and then let him in. These villanous, bloodthirsty troopers had never beer -'ispected at Jhansi. At Nowgong some of us had for many days distrust*. em. The fort gates were barricaded inside with stones, and the garrisom Cnristians only, with some native servants, awaited their enemies, who bugan the at- tack on the 6th. One man said the garrison gave in on the 8th ; another said the 11th was the day. The latter authority was inside the fort during the defence. Burgess, he said, killed 14 men. Poor Powys shot a man who tried to open one of the gates, and was killed with sword cuts in return. Burgess killed his murderers. Both tales agree on this point, and also that Captain Gordon was hit in the head when looking over the wall parapet, and killed. Some of the writers tried to escape in native clothes, letting them- selves down by ropes, but they were caught and killed. At last Major Skene and the rest were deceived by assurances that their lives would be spared if they surrendered, and they opened the gate, the Hindoos and Mahommedans having both sworn to them. Two attempts to send word to Nagode and to Gwalior for lielp had failed, and so, taking the hand of some man or other, Major Skene marched out first ; they were taken to a garden, tied to two ropes in two rows, men and women separate, — Burgess's servant says the men alone were tied, — and then every soul, whatever the age, rank, or sex, was killed by the sword. The men died first, Burgess taking the lead, his elbows tied behind his back, and a Prayer book in his hands. What a sad end for so kind-hearted and unselfish a man 1 But to die confessing the faith is a noble death. The rest died in the same way. They tried hard to get the women and children saved. Our quartermaster-sergeant and his family alone were spared ; the servant says he was taken on with the rebels when they left. This man said the women stood with their babes in their arms, and the older children holding their gowns. They had to see the men killed, Ijut I believe they were spared any violence save death. Dear little Mrs 8 Powys — I think of her with such a pang. Poor Dunlop, too, the first friend I made in India, and Tumbull, so warm-hearted and anxious to do good and to benefit others. Poor little Taylor ! he had been with his brother, and had made great haste to rejoin on the mutinies breaking out at other stations. He reached Jhansi a few days before he died. I am so glad you and your pets are gone. I should have withered with horror at your sharing the aw- ful end of the other poor ladies. It is bad enough to have to mourn Mrs Powys. Ryves, thank God, escaped to Gwalior. I have seen his name in two Calcutta papers, which say that he had escaped, with others, to Agra when the Gwalior troops mutinied. Our Nowgong tale is this : — On the 5th of June our men volunteered, company by company, to serve against the rebels, to revenge the Hon. Com- pany upon them. They were in the best possible spirits ; they were thanked and praised, and then told the Jhansi news at a parade at 3 p.m. They were unanimous and enthusiastic in declaration that they would stand by us ; so were the Artillery. The Cavalry were cool, and professed their allegiance, as if it werft absurd to ask such a question of such honourable men. We were very glad to find the three arms show loyalty, and I thanked God, who disposes men's hearts. On the 8th we got news of poor Dunlop's death, and heard from Mouraneepore that every European at Jhansi was murdered. On the 9th the Artillery company said they were anxious to serve against the rebels. We had heard, about the 1st of June, of some plot being hatched in the company, had seized four of the most mischievous, dis- missed them by a word, and walked them off instanter to Chutterpore as pri- soners. We dared not hold a court-martial ; a sudden and successful blow was our only course, and this one told ; the company was quiet, and, being rid of its worst, was well-inclined. Our own men had all along shown us utmost good- will, and it was unfeigned, with the exception of a few. On the 10th all was quiet till at sunset, when the six artillery guns were as usual brought on our parade, and our new guards were being marched off to reheve old ones, when a tall, dare-devil Sikh, and two others, walked forward, loading his piece. He made for the Havildar-Major, a very fine, faithful man, and shot him dead ; Mrs Mawe, Mr Smalley, and Mr Franks, and others saw him shot. He fell dead. The three Sikhs then dashed to the guns. The Artillery sergeant made some attempt to defend them, and several muskets were fired at him he says. None of the gunners stood by him, and so he made off. Our sergeant-major, as big as Falstaff, did so too. One Sepoy pushed aside a musket that was being fired at him. For some time before, we had all dined at 4 p.m., as we went early to the lines and to guards, to prevent mischief. We had done dinner, and Dr Mawe had been urging our making a move, because it was impossible that our men would stand fast after their brothers at Jhansi had rebelled, and were still so near. I had said that, great as the danger was, we could not abandon the station with- out orders ; we could not move until carriage came, and it was almost cer- tain that the first mention of collecting carriage would precipitate a revolt. 9 A few days before, I had sent for the Government camels, to see them. They were only eight or nine ; and those who wished to mutiny set abroad a story that I had sent for the camels, in order to remove the treasure. It was our danger all along, and the rumour warned us that there was a party who in- tended to mutiny ; and to stimulate the courage of some, and to quicken matters, gave out that, if they delayed, the treasure would be gone. You may fancy how anxious we were from the 23d of April, when the fires began, till now, one event after another adding to the proof, that mischief was being hatched. The 14th Irregulars told us on the 23d of May, that all the Christians in Delhi had been mxirdered for their belief in Jesus. I did not alarm the others, but I knew what we might expect from them, as, with four or five exceptions, they were all Mahommedans, and very fiery ones. They were very independent after that announcement, doing duty in a gay, careless manner, that seemed to say, "It will soon be at an end ; we are merely amusing ourselves obeying orders." I had to go among them and give orders, and I did so with no pleasure, feeling that my Ufe was not safe a moment with them. The native officers were chillingly polite, as Mahommedans weU know how to be. Barber would never believe anything against them, and went continually to their lines to the last. I slept at nights at the corner of your compound on the back road, with two guns all ready for the Irregulars, but I never got a chance. "Well, Dr Mawe and I had hardly ended our conversation, when we heard several musket shots in the lines. There was no doubting what they meant. I went to the top of the mess-house to reconnoitre and learn the state of things, and form a plan before going to the lines. Ewart and Townsend mounted and galloped straight to the lines, Franks had gone there some time before, and was speaking to Mr Smalley, and he saw what happened from the first, and rode off to tell us all. Poor Townsend was only in time to see his guns in other hands. I tried to get men to collect and to make a dash at the guns with Ewart, who joined me, but no one would move. They were panic-stricken, or mutinous. At last I got a bugler, who was too ner- vous to sound. I blew the '* assembly" several times, but with no effect ; no more joined me than before. One gun, loaded with grape, had been fired over the lines, and I thought another would be fired at me for sounding the bugle. Perhaps they knew it was of little use. At any rate, they r?id not fire. I pushed across the lines with Ewart, the men trying to force us back (to save our fives). At last, as I saw none would accompany us, and that some of the men were against us, I made Ewart come back with me to the mess-house. More than 100 men must have collected there. The Smalley s and Dr and Mrs Mawe had, for some time, occupied the two little sergeants' bungalows, which you may recollect stood on our parade at the left of the lines. The buggy road on to the parade passed between 10 them. They thus got at once, with the two children and their two buggies, to the mess. The Major and Jackson had meanwhile done their best to get the men there to attack the mutineers. They would not budge. The Major would insist on our holding the mess, occupying the top. Jackson reasoned him out of this before I got back. A 9-pounder, that the rebels brought opposite the mess-house, helped his arguments, and we all made off, the old camel car- riage and two buggies with us. The fat sergeant-major broke Mr Smalley's buggy in five minutes, by entering it. The camel carriage soon upset, and had to be left. The two ladies went on in Dr Mawe's buggy. The Major called out to go to Chutterpore. Dr Mawe providentially took a road at right angles to the one intended. He knew that I had taken it when remov- ing the artillerymen. I had, but only to throw any pursuers on a false scent. Dr Mawe, ignorant of this, took this road. It leads to Gurowlee from Mrs Powys' house, and the sowars and others, with ill intent, sought for us at Gurowlee. The Rajah of that place had paid us a visit a few days be- fore, and this confirmed the blood-thirsty ruffians in their mistake. A round shot and a shower of grape were sent after us. They did no harm, as we were not visible to the gunners. I thought at first that the guns were merely meant to terrify us, and convince us we must go ; but I am quite sure now it was mesuit to rival Jhansi. I did not know till to-day, ^that before I left the mess, a charge of grape was fired at the tents the oflBcers used to oc- cupy on parade. A second was fired over the lines towards Dr Boyes' house, and two more, after a long interval, as we left the mess. Young Henry Kirke just got out of his father's compound in time to see a lot of troopers ride up with drawn swords and surround the house. A Sikh on his father's guard aimed at him, but the naik put the barrel aside, and Henry reached us safely. Providentially avarice was uppermost in the mutineers' minds. They seized our bearers and khidmutgars, thinking they would have money, and would also know what direction the ofl&cers had taken.- The mess knansaman was taken a prisoner with the rebels on their march, to be tortured or terrified into disgorging. I heard that they cut off his head at Alipore. The bungalows were surrounded by parties. The Sepoys took what they wanted, and then they burned house and all together, a party pe venting others removing anything. The bazaar was then attacked, and the dealers stripped, and searched, and threatened. They seem to have known what was coming, and to have concealed it from us, trusting to a pro- mise that they would not be robbed, and an assurance that hostility would only be directed against us. It is a mercy the men were thus occupied, and that the moon was long of rising and the night dark ; it caused us to miss the Chutterpore road again ; we hit the Lake road. The country between the two could not be crossed, and so Jackson said we had better make for the Lake, and get his old boat- man, Bowanee, to show us a cross-country road to Cawnpore. Our Sepoys were dwindUng off, and those ^vith us were ready to disperse or run from an 11 attack. We kept quiet. The Sepoys said we should be followed and cut up. I thought that it had been intended by the mutineers of the 12th to let us go ; the Sepoys were right, but our track was not known. They tried to find us, but failed. They sent threatening messages to Kajahs in the vi- cinity, forbidding them to shelter us ; but the Chutterpore Ranes, ruHng for her son, did not mind them. We got to her city, Chutterpore, at daybreak of the 11th, and stayed till the night of the 12fch. Poor Townsend and I then went back to cantonments. The rebels had gone on the 11th at 3 p.m. Not a bungalow had escaped the flames ; the mess-house could not be burnt. The whole country around was walking off with wood from the lines and bazaar. We left in the afternoon, and slept at the Logassee Eajah's, nine miles off. Major Kirke was there ; his health had been faiUng, and now, ^rom want of tea, and wine, and beer, he was quite gone. The remains of the corps (79 Sepoys, 4 native officers, and some havildars, your pet for one) had left Chutterpore on the night of the 12th. On the way the Major took it into his head the Sepoys meant to murder him, and rushed off, without any warning, to Logassee. He passed the night there, imagining all sorts of hor- rible deeds were being meditated by the Rajah, who treated us most kindly. We set out early under a guard, and on the way heard that, when we joined, all the officers were to be murdered. The Rajah said his servant, who had been in the camp, had overheard it ; so we changed our route, and wrote to Jackson to look out and join us at Churkharee, whither we went by a forced march, meaning to ask the Rajah for troops to enable us to disarm the last comers of our men. They might have joined solely for mischief. It was all an illusion. The servant had made the tale up. The Rajah sent us during the day a second message, to say he had heard that something had happened. I calculated on the men being disconcerted at our not coming, and postponing the assault. The men were, on the contrary, most faithful, and were greatly excited at the Major's absence, and were in great suspense and pain through hearing he and I had been killed. They were actually weeping, and were determined to go no further till we came, or at least the Major did. We joined them at Malwa on the 15th, at night. The Rajah had treated us ill ; he feared to shelter us, lest the rebels should hear of it. The d^k from Agra came in during the day, and he took heart, and then let it be known we were with him, giving us a carriage and four to get to Malwa. There we found all the Nowgong Christians, save two bandsmen, and the woman who was servant to you for two hours, and then made a great rumpuss about the children, and left you. I think she then must have gone with the mutineers. The Christians had hid themselves till they could get away. I half fear that one drummer, George Dick, the African, was killed by men of the 14th, near Mhow. Mr Carne, at Malwa, was very kind, and we stayed at his house, till the night of the 17 th. He could not get people to obey, and had got the Churkharee Rajah to take care of the district for him. On the 17th we moved off southwards, to get to the Ganges. No tents for any one. I had brought a cartload of wine, &c, , from Nowgong, and a little tea I found 12 on the road behind my house. It was useful while we had it. Our guide took us off the proper road to a village, fuU of men ; we found them all ready- armed with clubs, seemingly dreading us. We passed through. I had or- dered the whole not to enter till 1 came back from a visit to it, and was de- termined not to enter it. Some one said 1 had sent word to move on, and when too late I found the party in the village. The road lay on through a^ pass between two hills. We camped opposite it under trees. The hills were covered with men, some armed ; some were in the pass, too. I thought they feared us, and went towards them ; so did Jackson, and said they had no- thing to fear. By noon a message came that we must give 1000 rupees, or we should not pass. I told the men to get ready to force a passage at 4, and aU were in high spirits for a while. But some time after, to my horror, a- native ofl5cer came and said we must pay the money. We had a long con- sidtation about it, and resolved that we must either allow the transaction, or be left by the Sepoys, so 700 were paid the head of the party, and 300 more promised on our getting safe to Callingur. The man was to aid us by the way. It was very humiliating, but, after all our anger, we had to agree. We had nearly 40 women and children to look after, and 79 men were quite unable to protect them on the march, and these men the real masters now. All our orders were obeyed, and the men were servants to us, clean- ing our horses, &c. , but we could not enforce their presence with us on our way. Next morning, the men who held the pass fired into us. Our men fired in the air, or without an aim, and then fell back. The Major now came to his senses, and was himself, from being a child, who spoke of a mango, or something to eat or drink, as if it were his life, and he and Jackson and Franks did their best to bring up the men to the attack, but they all melted away panic-stricken. Poor Barber never had strength to do anything from the moment we started. Ewart, poor Townseud, and I kept our ground with a few men, 10 or 12, who stood by us, and we fired away at the rascals. One of them afterwards saw the drum-major elsewhere, arid said we had killed 14. I saw none faU. I could not get for more men, lest the few that were standing should follow me. We kept the rascals at a distance, and long out of shot of the women. At last poor Townsend fell, shot through the breast ; he said, " My God, I am hit," and fell, turning over and over. I lifted him, and saw the blood coming from his heart, I said, " I think we must go." At any rate, we all moved back. The main party were a long way off, the men, I am ashamed to say, walking very quick. I knelt beside the poor fellow when we were left alone, and prayed that he might speedily rise in the resurrection to joy. I brought away his sword, and left the body. He was a brave warm-hearted fellow, and would have been a fine officer. We walked or rode all that day till 3 p.m. ; not a buggy or carriage was brought away. Dr Mawe and Mr Smalley walked from daylight till past noon on foot. I was alone in the rear all the time, with some of the women and two children. I sent Ewart on to find out where the main body had gone, as they were a long way out of sight. He seems to have lost his senses 13 with the sun, for he told the corps I was in a city close to them, when I was nules behind ; the main party pushed on, and every one had to follow as they best could. Our enemies followed till we came to a native chiefs lands, and then stopped. A vUlage fired on us, and we were threatened on every side. Mr Carne, who had joined us, left us now, and went to the Ghorkoree Rajah, who took him in and protected him. My part that day was terrible. 1 had to try to lug along two fat old women, while I carried three children on my horse, and tried to keep back the Sepoys who were with me. The senior havildar got more and more saVage, and wanted me to leave the wo- men and children, but I would not, and, thank God, they did not leave us. I came at last to Mr Smalley sitting beside his wife ; she seemed dead, but it was doubtful, so I took her up before me, and gave a boy to my writer, who had got hold of my own horse. I was on poor Townsend's, and T went on thus some distance. It was a most arduous task to keep the utterly inert body on the horse, as I placed her as women ride ; but after a while she seemed dead. I held a consultation about it, and we left the body. I then got on foot. I was lame from an awful kick of a horse, and had only a strip of cloth on one foot ; but poor Smalley was worse off, and he got on my horse, and Mrs Tiernay behind ; her two children each got a seat on the two horses, and thus I reached the main body. I found on the way a golosh the poor major had dropped ; it was very useful to me. At noon the serjeant- major died before me, in the most awful way, of apoplexy ; he fell as if struck, rose and fell, and staggered. The major, ere I reached, had died of the sun too. I had lost sight of some of my party. I went slowly, and did all I could for them, but I was obhged, the country being so hostile, to join the main body, and save those on my horses. The Sepoys were very glad to see me ; they feared I had been murdered at Malwa ; Ewart had said I had entered it with him, and that we had been fired at there, and that I had not come away. He went in alone, when I was miles behind him. His imagination was for a long time quite destroyed. For the remainder of the day we moved on, as a party of oflficers escorted by rebel Sepoys to be killed at Banda by a Newab. The ruse took, and we were allowed to pass. We entered and passed through a large city, and were fed by it. I heard our men say, " They are great people, the Sahibs ; we must treat them as such, and entertain them ere killing them." The citymen assented. We had an opportunity few have of know- ing natives; hundreds surrounded us as we sat on the ground and ate chupattees and native sweetmeats. Not one said an uncivil word. Some said our rule had been very just ; some expressed sorrow ; some, it struck me, did their utmost to get a few of us killed for the amusement of the city. At length all cleared off, it being dark. All the bandmen and their women were gone to the city to make terms of some sort, or to shift for themselves. The Sepoys told us respectfully we must shift for ourselves ; they could not protect us, as all the country was against us. We all mounted our horses— Dr and Mrs Mawe on Mr Townsend's horse that T lent them ; Mr Smalley and his child on my own. I was able to walk. 14 We suffered terribly from thirst that night and next morning till it was light. We saw a well close to where we had slept ; we sought in a wrong direction at first. We had slept near a road ; had we discovered it, we would have gone to a distance for fear of being discovered. It was a great mercy we did not. In the morning we were attacked by villagers with long bamboos, who came about us in numbers that increased every moment. Their yells were horrible, so deviHsh, though we had done nothing. We fired pistols and missed them. I was commanding, and kept in the rear with Ewart, facing about now and then, and stopping the ruffians. I was horribly hampered, with Mr Smalley behind me, and little Lotty in my arms. I missed the ruffians when I fired, but they missed me too. At last some armed horse and foot men joined from the road, and then a Mrs Kirchofif, who with her husband, a sergeant under poor Powys, had joined us at Malwa, fell ofi" her horse. I had a ruffian with a lance poised at me, and another brandishing one of their long bamboos. I had neither hand free, and missed the spearman. My two friends, however, missed me, and as I could do nothing on horseback, and the woman's husband seemed quite unable to put her on her horse again, I was wanting to get off and fight on foot, feeling we could not leave the woman, when off went my horse at such a gallop. I had only a string for a bridle, and had to hold Lotty, and could do nothing to stop the horse, that was always a runaway and hard to. stop. Franks came thundering up, and my horse got worse. I was very angry, not knowing Franks was chased by a loose horse. At last we got near a frightftd nullah I expected the horse to leap into, when, to my relief, he yielded, and, turning to the right, stopped soon ; and I thought all must have been murdered, but some who might have ridden off, and so moved on, and I now found my poor horse had been pierced on the right hock by the lance ; he had carried it some distance. Franks said, " No wonder he ran." Poor Lotty was alive. I had the greatest difficulty in holding her ; and in trying to save her the shock of the horse, nearly lost her often. A kind man, a very poor one, sheltered us part of the day ; his name was Ferukh Khan. Wherever we turned that day and the next, every hand was against us. We were offered water, when parched with thirst, to get a chance of knocking us off our horses. At noon of the 21st, a Sunday, we lay down under some trees, and soon became aware of a concourse of armed men being close to us. The others mounted and got off a few yards. I had to pick up Lotty and mount, and had not time ; so I took her in my arms, and let them come on. My horse could not go at all, so it was useless to attempt an escape. I had repeatedly told the others to make off under such circum- stances, and see how I was treated. They did not do so. Good feeling prompted Franks, who is a fine fellow in many respects. We were taken to a village. I need not describe what followed, but everything betokened death as certain. One old rascal looked at me maliciously, and made a hacking movement with his hand against his throat, as a suggestion of what we deser;-ed, and were to get. We were told at last we were to be taken 15 to tlie Newab of BanJa. Tlie poor man Ferukli had said it was certain death to go to Banda, and I felt certain we should be all killed. I had a very faint hope that God might spare us. It was a great relief when we got to the Newab' s palace, through thousands of zealous Mahommedans, and were all inside the gate and assured we were safe. Mrs Mawe was brought in next day. The rest of the party had got rid of the assailants, shooting one, and by the 21st they had crossed the river Cane, five miles below Banda. They were close to it when some villagers menaced them ; they all mounted and rode off. Poor Doctor and Mrs Mawe feU off, and were not noticed, save by Sergeant Kirchoff, who had to attend to his own wife. She had gone on, and he was on foot ; and he left the two. Poor Dr Mawe had lost his hat the day before, and had suffered awfuUy. He died a few minutes after being left. Poor Mrs Mawe, burned all over by the sun, went then and sat down in the river to cool her burns. By and by, some more villagers came and dragged her out, stripped off her clothes to get money. Others had plundered her and the Doctor ere he died. She saved her mar- riage ring in her hair. She had to leave the body imburied, and with bare feet to walk over the burning rough road for three miles to a village, to be teazed and terrified till sleep quieted all the village. Next morning they sent her to the Newab. The Doctor's last words were, " Poor Lotty ! I am glad to know she is safe with Scot." I am glad he thought so highly of me as to put such confidence in me, and consequent satisfaction about his child. 1 am glad God preserved her. We were all sixteen days at the Newab's, and got here on the 12th of July. Poor Mr Barber was quite knocked up ere Mrs Mawe lost sight of him ; he fell as if shot an hour afterwards, killed by the sun. Poor Ewart, the most fearless of men, died in the same way. On the 23d they stopped, and Henry Kirke went to a village to get him a little water, though insensible ; he came back with the whole village yeUing like fiends at his heels : thus they could neither see Ewart nor Barber breathe their last — every one against them. One man snatched away Kirke' s pistol as he gave him drink ; another stunned poor Sergeant Kir- choff as he stooped to drink from the man's brass vessel. They cudgelled him tiU he seemed dead, then plundered him. He rose when they were gone, and God directed his steps to a village, where the people sheltered him and gave him money. I think he must have called himself the Magis- trate of Mahoba, for the man who told me of this said he was that official, who is still at Ghurkaree, or was when we last heard. Jackson, for three days without a hat, and carrying Mrs Kirchoff behind him, a heavy woman, got with Henry Kirke to a village in a native State. He was well received, and sent on here after a few days' rest. He is now second in command of a smaU force being raised hereabouts by the Eajah of Bewah. Mrs Mawe has left by palkee for Mirzapore, whence a steamer takes her and Lotty to Calcutta — thence she goes home. Poor woman ! she suffered awfvdly. She expects her confinement in September. I was afraid of its taking place every day. Sergeant and Mrs Kirchoff have gone to Mirzapore. Franks and I 16 are detained to serve with the 30th Regiment here. It is loyal— that is, it consults its own interests, and is obedient. It could not well get away if it rebelled now. I pray God it may be true. I have tried to get away to get to Allahabad, and join an expedition. You will feel that we who are alive have much cause to thank God. I am glad to say Jackson and Franks feel this, and see the finger of God in many events that told for us. Everything I possessed has been destroyed : my horse ruined last of all by the spear wound. I had to throw my pistol away, in order to hold Lotty. How that child, two years old, lived, I know not ; angels must have had their wings over it. On the 19th and 20th its head was for hours bare to the sun. On the 22d I made a rag into a sort of turban. She, aged three years in mind, during her ride, was as healthy as any chUd in England. She felt more horrified than Leonora after her ride with Wilham, and could not endure my approach after her mother came. Monday, July 20. I was very sorry on the 19th to lose sight of some of the stragglers, but it could not be helped. I could not keep the men back, and I could not carry more on my two horses. Thank God, all got safely to places of shel- ter save the wife of Mr Langdale, who wrote for the Treasure-chest-office. Her husband left her, and she died or was killed. Jackson had a terrible labour in carrying Mrs Kirchoff behind him, which he did from the 20th to the 23d or 24th. She sat a la Turque, so did Mrs Mawe, behind the doctor, and not as ladies Hke to sit, both feet on one side. The labour was terrible to Jackson ; the poor woman was tied to him. They went 40 miles one day ; the poor women had to ride on the nearly bare backs of the horses, and must have suffered much. ' A Narrative similar to the preceding, hut more circumstantial, was received at a later period by Mr Scot, and though containing many repetitions of the same story, it at the same time fills up some blanks, and is therefore given here : — Palace of Alice Bahadur, Newab of Banda, 26th June, 1857. God has often wonderfidly preserved me since the 16th inst., or I would not now be alive to teU you. I am very sensible of this, and truly grateful, I was seized by villagers on Sunday, the 21st, when death seemed certain. I was told that I was to be kiUed, as well as my companions, Remington and Franks. Dr Mawe's little baby was in my arms. We were aU led on to this place ; but the moment we entered the Palace gate, the Newab's ser- vants said to us that we would be well treated, and sent to any safe place we might name, if it could be managed. The Newab himself has been very kind. We told him about the rest of our party, and he said that he had heard of a lady being at some village that our party had been near. He sent off for her at once, and next morning she arrived in a palankeen. Our hope 17 that she might prove to be the mother of the sweet little girl in my arms, was gratified. Poor lady ! she had become a widow during the three days wo had been apart. Her dress was torn ; she had been plundered j the sun had blistered her neck, feet, and arms dreadfully. Part of her dress had been torn off by her own faithful hands, to be moistened in the river, that her husband's thirst might be alleviated in his last moments. You may suppose how happy she was to find her child alive. The Newab spoke kindly to her ; so did all his people, both to her and us. His household take after him, and treat us well in our misfortunes. They behave Hke men, and I much admire them. I was fortunate in having Httle Lotty in my arms. That circumstance has inclined the natives here to me very much. Even the Newab's Begum has spoken of it, and mentioned me by name. I thought, while death seemed certain, what love it was in God to give us a pattern for the Kingdom of Heaven. In that light I really valued her, she behaved so wonderfully ; never complaining but when the galloping hurt her, or the heat scorched her. She had no cap for three days, during which she was exposed to the fierce sun. You have not seen perhaps men living for bare life ; till you do, you will not know what they will do to save it : How hard-hearted they become ! The lesson is very humiliating. I must now attempt a narrative of what has occurred to the Nowgong force and myself, since I wrote from that place, once so smiling, now such a picture of desolation and ruin — a place for satyrs and owls to meet in. Those who are in the dark spots of Hindostan know well what reason there is for apprehension, for they have had abundant proof that daily miracles have alone saved their lives. The horizon is threatening, but I trust that it will please God to save our lives. I have, in a former letter, given you an account of our night march from Nowgong to Chutterpore. On our arrival at Chut- terpore at daybreak of the 11th, I went to the Ranee's people to ask for shelter and food. We were all put into a serai, where we staid that day and the next, the 11th and 12th. We were badly off in every respect. A little fruit, some sweetmeats, and a large quantity of beautifully boiled rice was sent by the Ranee, and 1000 rupees were lent us ; but all was done in a wretched way, and we were badly off for food. We had too frequent visits from idle ofiO-cials, who, I believe, were ordered by the Ranee to do much for us, and did very little ; and when the party marched away, they were still less attentive, and more shabby. All the ofiicers were of the party, with Dr and Mrs Mawe, and their little girl ; Mr and Mrs Smalley, bandmaster, and their little boy ; the Serjeant-Major, and the Artillery Serjeant ; bandsmen and their families ; with 4 native ofiicers, and 35 men. More came in hour by hour, till they amounted to 79 — only one Artillery- man, and no Sou war. On the night of the 12th, Lieutenant Townsend of the Artillery and I rode back to Nowgong, the cantonment having been taken charge of by the Chutterpore Rajah's men. It was a horrible scene of ruin and plunder. The only thing of mine that I found was a quantity of tea lying on the road. We collected what we coitld in the way of wine and c 18 spirits. Plenty were left of the mess stores, excepting brandy, which the Sikhs delight in ; but not a dish or glass was left whole, not a chair or tabte was left. The bilhard-table, that cost 1600 rupees, was broken up for the, iron and brass. The bazaar men had been beguiled by an assurance that they would be spared, but they were thoroughly sacked. A Hindoo servant to a fine old Hindoo gentleman, named Bausgopal Ditchet, gave us dinner at his house. Bausgopal was one of the old school — a thorough gentleman ; a rich man once, and I hope he may be so again. After dinner we pushed on to Lagassu — a fort belonging to a Bundelcund Rajah, a great friend of the Major's. He had called on me once, and begged me to visit him ; but I never had time, though I liked him. We found the Major there. He told me, that he had found the Sepoys preparing to shoot him on the march ; but when I met the others, they told me that in a sudden fit of terror he had dashed off from them. He was a brave man naturally ; but he had become quite incapable, from anxiety and fatigue, and the want of his usual support, as to diet, &c. The Rajah, a high-caste Hindoo, was in the highest degree friendly. He gave us a capital entertainment ; his servants were attentive ; and while everything shewed the Rajah to be a true friend, the Major, poor man, passed the night in great alarm, telling us we were going to be shot the next minute , actually spelling the words, lest the unlettered attendants should under- stand. Next morning, at daybreak, we three set out to meet the other party and the remnant of the corps at a place called Sturnugger, under an escort of twenty men, with spears and matchlocks, sent by a Uttle Rana of Nowgong, near the cantonments ; and we had not got over five miles when the kind Rajah of Lagassu sent liis servant to tell us that the Sepoys had been overheard plotting to kill us all, as soon as we three had rejoined. This led me to think, that perhaps some of those who had last joined might have meditated such a design ; and, after a talk with Townsend, I determined not to join the party that day, so we changed our direction. We halted under some trees about noon in our own territory, got some scones from.the village, and had plenty of cheese and wine. At sunset, a second messenger came from the Rajah, saying that he had heard that there had been an affray in the main party. Our guard was much alarmed. We set out at once for Chirkaru, where a powerful Rajah resides. Our guard, much alarmed, went on silently and swiftly ; and I heard them, when asked who we aU were, say, that it was a marriage procession ! I wrote to Captain Ewart, commanding the main party, telling what we had heard, and stated my expectation, that our not joining that night would disconcert the plan, and I told him to bring his party to Chirkaru, where I would get a strong party from the Rajah, and disarm the last comers. The letter was destroyed by the messenger, and it was just as well. By two a.m. of the 15th we reached a spot, with a metalled road, that led to Banda. The guard would go no farther ; they durst not enter the Chirkaru dominions, as they were hostile, so we three pushed on to Chirkaru. My horse had no shoes, so we had to go slowly, and it was dreadful work to keep awake. Townsend' s horse, that night, gave me a 19 kick on the right foot, outside, just below the ankle-bone. One nail only struck it, the circle of the hoof, thank God, struck below. It was a most stunning smash, but nothing was broken, and the pain soon subsided. We got to Chirkaru as day broke. We had been told that the collector of Mahoba staid there always at night, and rode to his office during the day, and the Lagassu Rajah had urged us to go there. We were greatly disap- pointed ; he was not there. We were kept outside, waiting till the Rajah allowed us to be admitted. We were then taken to a fine but dirty house, on the edge of a lake, and told not to let ourselves be seen. Townsend and 1 went to sleep. The Major received some sort of a minister, who actually asked us to walk off, for fear the rebels should punish the Rajah. He at last agreed to our staying in the house, keeping quiet. A guard was placed at the door, to prevent our shewing ourselves. We got some wretched food, worse served, and the servants were too familiar. About noon, news from Agra came. We were not told what, but they wrought a marked change in the people about us. I got my horse shoed, and some clothes made ; and we were sent away at sunset in a carriage with four horses, and a guard. We found our party at Mahoba all well. The officers were in the Collector's house. All the bandsmen and their families, except two, had arrived safe. A Serjeant Kirchoff and his wife, who had been employed under Mr Burgess, also came in from near Jhansi. A Mr Sturt, a very dark half-caste, em- ployed in the salt department, had also joined. He came from Jhansi dis- guised as a native. I was told, when I joined, that the Sepoys had been much disconcerted at my absence and that of the Major. They knew that the Major had gone off through fear of them, and understood that he was somewhat deranged ; but they feared that I suspected them too. The men were fond of Kirke ; and one of the native officers, seeing that he was not quite right in his mind, quietly told three or four of the men not to lose sight of him. The Major, noticing that they kept by him, thought that they meant to shoot him. The men could hardly be made to march on towards Mahoba under Ewart, wishing rather to go in search of the Major ; and a story had come in that we had been murdered, which greatly distressed them, some of them actually weeping. They were, however, quieted, and were very glad when we joined again. The tales that had reached the Lagassu Rajah, both]about affrays in the main party, and that I had been massacred, were all aUke false. We all slept among the men. Next morning they shewed me greater attention than they ever did before. Three brothers in my company, Sikhs, had come with us, and the eldest got me water to bathe with, &c. , and the other two saw to my horse. I had no servant, and was dependant on the men for everything. All the officers found them more polite and considerate than they had ever been before. We had hoped to hear from Banda next day, the 16th, about a fort the Magistrate was getting ready for defence ; but as no answer came, I wrote to him, and to the officer commanding the three 20 companies stationed at Banda, of the 1st N.I. Our plan was to pass on through Banda to Allahabad. No answer came on the 17th ; but reports arrived of these three companies having mutinied, and of the massacre of the Europeans. So we changed our plans, and resolved to make for the Fort of Chunar, via CaUingur. This route took us out of the way of Sepoys, whom our men had been most anxious to avoid, just as if they were con- scious that they could not resist revolting, if pressed to do so. They there- fore liked the change of direction much. The Major had agreed to lie by and rest, leaving everything to me. We had proof during the 17th, that the power of the Collector was gone, and at night a survey station bungalow was burnt, the signal of revolt ; and he said that he would leave Mahoba when we did. He wrote to the Chirkaru Rajah for a loan of 1000 rupees, and a pass. At 11 p.m. we moved off. We had twelve hackeries, one for our mess, the others for women and children, and such as could not walk. There was no keeping them together ; and do as I could, the line extended to more than a mile. We never could have defended it, and I fgared an attack. Lighted matchlocks was the way of the country people, and there was no reason to hope they would not at- tempt to plunder. However, thank God, they did not ; but the guide or some one, took us off the best road. A little after sunrise, we came to a village, Banda Johwpoor, at which T halted the party till I should see the way through it. I found crowds of men, with big bamboos, at every corner. They seemed to think us rebels. The road seemed almost impassable, and I went back to tell the party not to come through. Some one had said that I had sent word back to come on, and I found the party so far through, it was better to go on. We encamped under some trees, opposite a pass or cliflF, across a range of hills about 250 yards ofif. Some matchlock men were in the ravine, and on the hills. We thought they were guards, and let them alone ; and made the most we could of the bare ground and the mess stores, for rest and refreshment. The 1000 rupees came in from .the Rajah, and were distributed. Mr Came, the Collector of Mahoba, came too. The Ra- jah had declined to entertain him ; a nice ally. About noon, a little wretch from the hill, came in to say, we must give him 1000 rupees, or he would not let us pass. I told him to walk his chalks, and the men to get ready to enter the pass at four. To my horror, and that of all the Europeans, about two hours after, one of the native officers proposed that we should pay money to the little wretch we had seen before, for an escort to Callingur. This was awful ; but it was the wish of the men, and we felt they must have their own way, or they would leave us. Moreover, it might be, that this little vUlain might have power to raise any number of villagers upon us. Mr Came, who knew the country, and was a wise man, wished the money to be paid. He offered to pay 200 rupees, out of a thousand ; so we agreed to give 1000, for an escort to CalKngur. It was manifest that we, with so many women and children, must have some escort, and our men seemed little fitted to afford one, so 700 rupees were paid down in advance. The men first paid 21 300, which shewed what they wanted. The wretches afterwards pretended it was the officers' doing. There is no trusting a native. The Major was against the money being paid ; but it was out of the question to try to force the disorganised remains of a mutinous regiment into a danger they asked to get out of. We went to sleep after posting guards, and I never needed sleep more. We were awoke about two, by a most horrible noise in the camp. Every one started up, and tried to look into the darkness, full of the thought that our money-bought friends were attacking us. The Sepoys — they are no soldiers — began letting off their muskets at random. Every Se- poy needs a European officer on each side to keep him right. They get out of control the instant confusion or an alarm begins. They are only fit to es- cort baggage and stores about the country in time of peace. A more horrible scene never was, and it was all about a loose horse. We got quiet restored, and lay down again. At daybreak, we looked out for our friend, and sent for him, and the men and camp were getting ready for a move, when bang went a matchlock, and a ball whistled among us. The men began to fire in the air, or at the hill, without any aim, and without seeing any one. I could not stop them, and neither could any one else. The bullets began to come in, and Sepoys to walk off. A few remained close to camp, with Capt. Ewart, Lieutenant Townsend of Artillery, and myself. We stuck to the trees, and fired from behind them. Only seven or eight men staid with us. The Major became himself again, and tried, with the Adjutant and Franks, to bring the men forward, but they would not halt for more than a moment. Off they went, seventy of them from about thirty matchlocks, (I know not how many men besides had spears and swords, «fec. ) The matchlocks, it is true, told where the musket was of httle use ; but this was just a reason for closing, instead of moving off. I stuck to the tree for a good while, till these abominable Sepoys had got a long way off. They sHpped past the of- ficers, who rode on a-head, again and again, and tried to make them halt ; but off they posted, utterly regardless of the women and children they left behind. While at the tree, poor Townsend suddenly said, *' I am hit," and fell on his face, and writhed about, turning over and over twice or thrice. T lifted him up, when he got quiet, and saw that he was shot close to, or in the heart ; his head was thrown back, and life was gone. I took his sword away, and left the body, with a prayer that it might rise soon in the resur- rection. He was a fine-hearted young fellow, and very brave. He had charge of his battery for more than a year, and had done the duty well, though, when he died, he had not finished his third year's service. He was an honourable and very agreeable man. He was a member of the 12th mess from the day he came to Nowgong ; and we all thought him a great acquisi- tion, and now are very sad over his early death. The mass of Sepoys were how a long way off, and my little rear-guard was gone too, so I walked after them. One Sepoy staid at another tree some time after I and the others had gone ; he did so as a sort of brag, T suppose. I never felt the inefficiency of 22 the musket till that day ; shots from clumsy village-made matchlocks were coming among us with awful force, while our shots fell half-way. We need the new rifle gun, especially as the men do not seem to like close quarters — The ruffians kept following us, sending shots in every now and then, but they hit no one. Some of the women and ladies were in two carts, but the Sepoys posted on, and they fell behind. I could not keep the few men, that did duty for a rear-guard, far enough in the rear. The men thought the women and children a nuisance, and wished them to be left behind. The officers alone were the objects of any care to them. The carts were soon abandoned, as they could not keep up ; and the poor ladies, and women and children, without shoes, or with very bad ones, had to walk through thorny bush land. It was a horrible business, but as I kept in the rear, and stopped with some of the men, now and then, to face the miscreants that followed, I saw little of the horrors for a good while. We came, after an hour and a-half, to a high pile of blocks of rock ; such piles are common in Bundelcund. We stopped there and rested, while Mr Sturt went to a village to make some enquiries. I do not exactly know what he was sent to do, for I was in the rear when he was sent. The men of the village turned out, and he soon came back on foot, saying the wretches had tried to take his pistols, and had struck him on the back ; his horse was lost. I know not whether he got oflF, or fell off it. A tire was soon opened on us. The rocks afforded ample shelter, but some cowards led the rest off. Some of the men actually wanted the leaders shot ; but no one shot them. Thank God, the dacoits would not leave their own and enter the British territory, and the villagers did not take up the chase, though all were unfriendly, and anxious to have plunder. I had Townsend's horse with me— it was a very strong one— and I took up three children on it before and behind me, and made a very fat woman, who would have hidden an elephant under her vast proportions, take hold of my stirrup leather. There was another woman, Mrs Langdale, wife of the writer of the station office ; she was about as fat and unfit to travel as the other ; and her husband (once a serjeant of the 14th Dragoons) was not much inclined to help her ; he did very httle for her. I had now got among the bandmen's wives and children, whocould notkeep up with the main body, and it was most distressing. I could not carry more than three children, and yet there were many, old and young who needed help. The Sepoys who stuck by me, were anxious that I should push on, and abandon those about me. They look on half castes with intense disgust, and the idea of being brought into danger for them was most distasteful. They thought the two English ladies an encumbrance, and these they began to look on with hostility. They wished to save their officers, and were willing to risk much for them ; but for the others they cared little. Of the seven men with me, two were Ha- vildars, one from each of the two companies I had charge of ; one, Doorga Miper, a high Brahmin, brother to the two men said to have shot Captain Dunlop — a tall strong fellow, and a forward bold man, that I had some months ago to be continually putting down ; the other was a quiet, soft sort of 23 man. The former told me, in a sullen tone, to leave the children and women. He evidently thought it very hard that I should keep him and the Sepoys back, and I half feared they would leave us ; but 1 could not think of leaving any, and, thank God, none of the men left us. I had not long left the rocks, when I came upon a high caste Brahmin native officer, who had been shot in the abdomen. I had put him on my horse long before, and now found him under a bush unable to proceed. A naick and some men were with him ; and, being a Brahmin, they had only to carry him to a village to ensure his safety, so I passed on. I sent Captain Ewart on to advise that we should make for Chutterpore, and not for Mahoba, and to bring word as to where the corps was, for it was out of sight. He reached it, and could not get back to tell us the result of his errand. The main body was long out of sight, and there were no stragglers to mark the road they had taken. Vil- lagers said they had gone to Mahoba, and we pushed on for it. It was a most painful business, to see the women and children struggling to keep up. I lost sight of the two fat women, and a very old one. I do not know when they disappeared. I believe one of them died of a covp de soleil. The hus- band of the other was there to look after her ; but he left her, being unable to get her along ; so he afterwards told me. About one p. m. , we came to Mahoba. I was disappointed to find, under some trees outside, the arms and accoutrements of five men ; and I feared that the whole of the men would follow the same course, but few did. The sepahis of the Chirkaru Eajah were posted outside and inside Mahoba. I feared they would fire on us ; but they did not. They would not let us enter ; but they let us pass on. Doorga Sing went and spoke to them, and was told, that Mr Carne, the Deputy-Collector of Mahoba, had come so far with our main party, and had then taken a guard of the Rajah's and gone tft- Chirkaru. The Rajah must have received him ; but I can only speak frdm probabilities. I stopped at a well, under some Mango trees, and there we all got water and some Mangoes. Several of the women were with me then. My friend, Doorga Sing, was getting more and more savage. I felt that the men would do as he did ; but I brought on the children. After a ten minutes' halt at the well, I pushed on, and so did the rest. The villagers had been kept, by Providence, from touching any one, which is most re- markable, for the feeUng throughout the country was that our rule was at an end ; and in every direction the strong robbed the weak, of whatever class, or age, or creed. After a mile and a-half, 1 came to the beginning of a long hill which the road skirted, and at that point of the road there was an empty poUce station. I saw the, artillery sergeant ride up from the front to it, on my horse that I had put the wounded soobadar on, and get off and reel into the house. He said he wanted water for Mrs Smalley, who was dying ahead. The serjeant was a strong, active, healthy Scotchman, and the way he reeled off the horse, and staggered into the house, to he down and await whatever might befal, told of awful exhaustion and of great disasters ahead. The vagabond had 24 been drunk in the morning, and had galloped my horse backwards and for- wards, in the wildest way, till he got sober and worn out. This I did not know for long. I merely saw the result — the exhausted state the map was in, that led him to take shelter where his death seemed certain. It was a disheartening sight. There was no water at hand, so I pushed on, and soon found Mrs Smalley by the roadside, lying dead or insensible, and her hus- band and baby beside her. All the rest had passed on. I had no water to ofifer. Mr Smalley said she had walked from the spot the carts were aban- doned at, tni she came to where I found them both, and there she had begun to stagger and reel about the road, and then lost speech and consciousness. A moan escaped Mrs Smalley as I looked at her, so I put down one child, and gave it, I think, to ;Mr Langdale, my writer, who came up on my horse, which the artillery Serjeant had left, and I took Mrs Smalley up before me, and carried her for some time. It was a difficult job to do so, as the poor woman (if alive) was unconscious, and the body was always sHpping off, and most of the weight was thrown on my right arm. At last I thought that death must have come, as the eye-balls were drying, and other symptoms appeared, and I had a consultation about it. It was settled that she was dead, so I took up a child, and left the body by the roadside. A little far- ther on I came to a golosh of Major Kirke's, which I picked up. It was big enough for my right foot, swelled and bandaged as it was, and then I walked again for the rest of the day. I think I had begun to walk before this, to let the Serjeant-Major's associate (Mrs Tiernay, mother of his wife) ride. The Serjeant-Major's death was an awful scene. He was a man of the Falstaff order ; he had no hat on, only a thin cloth covered his head ; he had got on thus far on foot, with the exception of a short ride on a horse, which I am told he was thrown from. I saw him aU the way. He was terribly overcome by the heat ; but he disgusted me by the spiritless way he behaved. He actually gave his sword to his little girl to carry, and moaned and howled when I told him he should be ashamed of himself, so I took the sword. It would have done for GoUah. About 2 P.M., we came to a village where some of the villagers seemed hostile, but they let me and others pass quietly, and we went on 200 yards to a well, where we got water. We had just reached it, when we saw some of the villagers move towards the road, which passed very near the last- named village, and then came a bellow from the Serjeant -Major, who was hidden from sight by bushes, and screams from Mrs Laing and her two chil- dren, who were running away from the road towards us. No one was to be seen hurting them, and no one following. The Sergeant-Major soon emerged from the bushes in great distress and alarm. The woman and children said a villager had struck him. I got off my horse here, I now recollect, and put the bandmaster, and Mrs Tiernay and her daughter on him, and made Mr Langdale, the writer, take Mrs Smalley' s child and Mrs Tiernay' s boy, and we and others went on. Mr Smalley could walk no further. He had no shoes, and his feet were blistered. I had to leave here two little drummer children 26 to some drummer's care, to bring Mr Smalley and his little child on. We had not been overtaken by the Serjeant-Major, and I had no intention of waiting for him, for there was no chance of saving him, and there was good hope of saving those about me. His little girl, that he had made to carry the sword, wept and cried for him, poor thing, but we could not wait. Our pace was a alow walk, and not hurried, so that it gave a fair chance to all. We had not gone far ere I saw the poor man fall down an awful thump on the road. He rose and fell again, then rose, staggered, and fell several times. It struck me that blood to the head was the cause ; then he could only get up on his knees, and when I last looked he could only raise his head. Poor man, I hope he died soon. It was a horrible sight this, the more so, that we could not even stay with him. Shortly after this I came to the Major's golosh, and from that time had more use of my right foot. In about forty minutes' time I reached the main body. Stragglers, I met on the way, told me that Major Kirke had died, and been buried. His death terribly disheartened the men. Reward for recognition of their fidelity seem bound up in his life, and when both had been much tested, it had passed away. My coming in sight cheered them greatly. I believe several ran out to meet me with water in their hands. Each Sepoy has a little lota of brass, and a string to draw water with. We rested awhile, and then moved at a slow pace. We got the men to form two loose crowds, one in advance of, and one behind the officers and women and children. As to falling in, I could not get them to do that ; they were thoroughly disorganised, yet they were bent on pro- tecting us. I assured them that I had as much power as Major Kirke to reward them, and they picked up their spirits as we went along. All the officers were kind and glad to see me, as they feared I was lost ; and it was a pleasure indeed to be so kindly treated, and to find all but the Major alive. The men proposed that when we met bodies of insurgents, they should say they had made us prisoners, and were taking us, by order of the King of Delhi, to be murdered at Banda. We agreed, and got quietly past a swarm of villagers or rebels with matchlocks. We handed our swords to the men, and made them hold the horses' heads, and surround us. I thought they made too little show of keeping us prisoners ; but after being really a pri- soner, I learned that they were doing enough to satisfy natives' idea of guarding. About 3 P.M. we stopped at a well, a mile from Kabrai, a big city, and the men nearly left us there. Doorga Sing spoke very dictatorially to me Authority was gone from the day of the mutiny. A feeling of fidelity and of self-interest were our only hold upon the men ; but they feared the city Klabrai, and wished us to go and hide in the jungle, saying they would join us at night, a proposal I did not at all like. I did not say no to it ; but said, *' why not go through the city with us as prisoners ?" Doorga wanted to be rid of us. The children and women were too numerous for the ruse to take ; but fidelity carried the day. There was in camp a native watchman, who had come from Nowgong with some public money concealed about him. 26 which his master, a native overseer of public buildings, had buried with his help. He had dug it up, and then made off. We had got word of this two days before (i.e., on the 17thj, and had made the man disgorge 200 rupees and a ring. This man was pitched on at last by the men to go to the city, and say the men were rebels, and were going by the King of Delhi's orders to Banda, that the officers, &c., might be killed there. They said, that the chances of the ruse answering in that big city were so slight, that we must keep our swords about us, and be ready to make the most of them, as they could not defend us. We had to win over the messenger by a promise to give him as much as we took from him. We promised him 500 rupees. He had a good villanous countenance, that helped his tale out. It alone was worth the money. He carried a murderous iron bar, that also helped out appearances, so we sent him off. Things seemed very gloomy, and we were obliged to look upwards for a ray of light. A drummer's wife was moaning loudly here, and was said to be dying. It was a melancholy assembly. After half an hour we moved on, and soon the town came in sight. The dak bimgalow was untouched by fire, which was a strong argument in fa- vour of the city being faithful to Government, and we made the most of this with the men. We all stopped at a well, while the city people were being humbugged. We were glad when we were told to move on, and that aU was right. The men surrounded us, and we passed through the city as pri- soners ; not a man suspected we were not. Our position was a strange one. The natives were quiet. Many praised and congratulated our men, who put on the air of conquering heroes, who did not think very much of the praise of quiet citizens. I am glad to say for the city people, that none abused us in any way. One man, standing almost naked on a raised platform, drew his sword, and held it up aloft as we passed, in a very fine attitude. He was quite a study for a painter. It was an admirable declaration of the na- tion having drawn the sword to free themselves. I had no idea a Hindos- tanee coidd assume so grand an attitude. All went well. We were taken outside the city (a very large one) to an eminence on which were trees, under which we sat down, with sentries with fixed bayonets around us. The city got a peremptory order to send the Sahibs fresh water, and cakes, and fruit, and sweetmeats at once ; and they obeyed the order liberally, and expedi- tiously. Grass was given us to lie on, and our horses were fed and watered. I heard one of the men say to one of the city people, " they are great men, we must give them an entertainment ere we kill them." I was pleased that the other had the good taste to approve. Few men have been in such a si- tuation. The whole city came out to see us. Some rejoiced at our fate, and praised the Sepoys. One man said our rule was good and just. None were insulting, and none practised any reserve or concealment. I do not think that on the whole they wished our death. Two villanous Mussulmans, on ponies, wanted to have us walked off at once — zealous, pious fellows. Others, I believe, thought it very hard that the city should not have the pleasure of seeing just one or two heads taken off. 27 By 6 or 7 p.m. all had satisfied their curiosity, and had left us ; and then the Sepoys came and told us that the secret was out. A Sepoy of the 12th had been caught at Mahoba with stolen property about him. We told the Collector to imprison him, and he sent him to prison ; but he was rescued by the way, and had come to this city Kabrai. The men said that he, Hajarce Sing, had told the city that the officers were not prisoners, and that the men had no orders from Delhi ; and besides this, that the Regimental Moonshee, who had been looking dangerous for some time, and another Mahommedan, a native officer, had taken away the Christian Bandsmen and Drummers to the city. I feared they were taken to be killed, but now I fear they went to offer to become Mussulmans, and take service — a worse fate. They had deserted us, children and all, without a word. They could easily do so, as we could not see the ground at the foot of the long mound, like a railway track, we were on the top of. These men said they could do no more, and that we must walk off at once towards Banda, and either ask the Newab to protect us, or avoid him, and go where God and hope might lead us. They said the country was too hostile for them to defend us, and that they must now try to save themselves. As it turned out, had they gone on with us it would have been well for them and us. We tried to persuade them to do so, but they would not, and quietly went away, so we made ready to go. One man gave me a lota ; another, Doorga Sing, Halvidar, gave me a string for it, as the water was our great want, and we all prepared to go. There were myself, Captain Ewarfc, Lieutenant Barber, Lieutenant and Adjutant Jackson, Lieutenant Remington, Ensign Franks ; Dr Thomas Mawe, and his wife and child Lotty, two years and nineteen days old ; Henry Kirke, the Major's eldest son ; Mr SmaUey, the Bandmaster, and his baby (a boy) ; Ser- jeant ELirchoff, canal department, and his wife ; Mr Langdale, my MTiter ; Patrick Johnson, the Adjutant's writer; Mrs Tiernay and her two children; lastly, Mr Sturt of the Salt Excise, and the Artillery Serjeant, who came up just as we left. I did not see him. Some one told me he had come. Mr Sturt started off alone, dressed as a native, thinking that his best chance. Mi Langdale was not to be seen. He must have gone with the Band, I think. Patrick Johnson suffered from a rupture, and could not walk, and determined to go into the city and make as good terms as possible. He was a faithful fellow. The officers could not have taken him , and he did not make any attempt to force them to do so. He urged us to go. He might have gone with the other men (he was once in the Band), but stuck by us. He could neither help us, nor we him. We made over Mrs Tiernay and her child to him. We could do nothing else for them. It was not likely they would be touched, being smaU fry, and the city being Hindoo. So as nothing else was possible, we left them. I gave Dr and Mrs Mawe Mr Townsend's horse, a very strong one. I had taken possession of it, and both got on it. I gave Mr Smalley my own for himself and child. He had no soles to his shoes, and his feet were much blistered. I started on foot with one boot on the left foot, and a golosh over my bandaged and swollen right one. The wonder is that the kick caused almost no pain ; thorns and blisters caused a little. I felt, thank God, so strong. Mr Jackson, Mr Barber, Mr Kirke, Mr Franks, and Mr Eemington had each a horse. Mrs Kirchoff was , on a horse ; her husband was on foot. Poor man, he was very tired and foot sore. None of us had on decent shoes, that we could walk in. We started about 10 P.M. One Sepoy, a dark man of my Company, offered to go with us. We sent him away, and I told the others of my Company not to take service against the Government, but go home and be quiet till the ship righted. I must say the fidelity of these men was amazing. In no other Regiment did men do as these did ; and they only left us when they were afraid, and could not help us, because they were so demoralised and dis- organised by panic, &c. A great number were Brahmins, three out of the four native ofl&cers were ; the fourth was a Mussulman. The night was just light enough for us to see the road, and we were glad not to find it guarded. We went along quietly and steadily, passing villages, and answering that we were travellers. All were guarded, and all knew we passed. In each we caused a terrible stir ; but as we pushed on at a quick walk, without running away, we got clear, and were not pursued. I took to the fields on these occasions, and kept parallel with the road, so as to escape notice if we were pursued ; but we were not. There was a terrible to do at one very large village. Drums were beat, and men turned out. We lost our way there, but escaped. Our only chance was flight, of course, and pistols and swords if overtaken. We had had a most fatiguing time of it for the last twenty-four hours ; indeed, ever since we left Mahoba, on the evening of the 17th ; and as we stopped and lay down in a very tired state under some trees, about two a.m. of the 20th, I made a search for water ere lying down, and found none. It was painful work, for though Barber had now and then given me a Uft behind him, and Ewart and young Kirke each by turn gave me up the saddle for a while, my feet were very ■ore. We awoke at dawn, all suffering much from thirst, and several (I for one) started off to find water. After a long search, we found none ; came back again. The light then showed us a well close to the trees ; it was not concealed by anything, still the masonry and the ground were so much of one colour, that till the light was distinct we did not see it. We all drank, and our spirits rose. I bear fatigue well, and do not feel privations much. The others were terribly ill off for water, and desponded. They wanted us to give ourselves up, and get at least some water ; anything was better than this. I said to myself we must get water first, and then consult. The water was a good counsellor, and all said " push on." Day was beginning, and men coming, so we saddled and were off. A wretched coolie had been offered five rupees to shew us the Banda road. He dared not, but told other men of the offer. Mr Barber unwisely said he would give 1000 rupees to be taken to Calcutta. I fear it was thought he had the thousand with him, for those villagers pursued us with a vigour and couyage that was very much wasted on five rupees, if that was all they wanted. Barber let two get up 29 to him, and he stopped and talked to them. He should have known, as well as we did, that men with bamboos, made expressly for affrays, ought not to be trusted. It ended in him getting a clout from one, and galloping after us. It was well he was not knocked off, for the bamboos were very heavy, and the men used them well, throwing them at us. When they began to pursue and to shout, Ewart went back and fired at them. Unfor- tunately he missed, and the villains gathered others with loud cries of Sahiban, I.e., " the gentlemen." Things were getting serious. Serjeant Kirchoff was on foot, and people collecting. I had Mr Smalley behind me, and Dr Mawe's child in my left arm — not good fighting order. I told Ewart to come with me to the rear, and keep the villaina at bay till Kirchoff got his wife behind some one, and he mounted her horse. The three did so twice, and gave plenty of time ; but it was not made use of. I puUed twice, and missed once, and missed fire once. The party were now moving on rapidly, and poor Mrs Kirchofi" was holding her husband's hand trying to drag him on, and appeaUng most piteously to us. I put a new cap on, and went to the rear again. Mrs Kirchoff had been dragged off by her husband, and was lying on the ground. A party of two horsemen and some ten men, all armed, were coming from the road to join against us, and villagers were coming up by the score. Young Kirke was greatly embarrassed by a double-barrelled gun, and Little Smalley, whom he had charge of. It was a most disastrous position, and I thought we had only to fight it out and die. I wished to get off and fight on foot. Thank God it was not easily done, and I did not. I could not use my sword with Mr SmaUey behind me, and a baby on my arm. I had only one ball in my pistol, and though I had just put on a new cap, it was a question if it would do any good. Henry Kirke had in the morning of leaving, caused by his own indulgence in sleep, left a brace of double-barrelled pistols in a belt, with a pouch of ammunition, and taken a useless double-barrelled gun. Ewart and I went again up to the villains. Our bad shots had given them courage, still it was amazing that men with sticks should brave pistols. This time a man with a spear met me. I kept two opposite me at bay for a good while by pointing the pistol. At length bamboo No. 2 came at me. It, like one before it, went over my head. I fired, and the horse wheeled round, and a second after, ran off in the wildest way. My bridle was a bit of thin cord ; I had no curb chain. That drunken feUow, the ArtiUery Serjeant, had destroyed the bridle. I had little Lotty in my arms, and had hard work to keep her there, and to prevent the horse falling ; for the ground was full of holes and dangerous. I loathed running away this way, but was quite powerless. At other times, with a complete double bridle, and both hands, I could not stop this horse ; so I had no advantages. Mr Smalley was bumping along behind me. Mr Franks was galloping alongside on a mare, closely followed by Mrs KirchofFs horse. At last we came to the brink of a nullah. I felt sure the horse would leap down ; but, thank God, I got him to turn and stop. Franks was pistolling his piirsuer, that had 30 forced him away from the fight. The brute took a ball in the head and another in the chest with indifference. Lieutenant Remington was beside us. Seeing our horses go off, he thought it was a case of " sauve quipeut,^' and did what he thought the rest were doing. We must have run thus three miles, for none of our party were in sight, and I now know they had not broken up. I had thought the case so bad that I had wished to get off and fight on foot. My horse's run off had prevented me, and I accounted for none of the party being seen by me by their being cut up. I thought that one or two might have got off on their horses. I felt that we could bring no help. I had no bullets for my pistol. I had only a sword, Mr Smalley had none, and I had a child to carry. The only pistol, Mr Franks had. My horse, I now learned from Mr Franks, had been wounded in the right hough by the spear pointed and thrown at me. The pain had set him off. He carried the spear some distance with him, Mr Franks says. He was now weak and stiff in the leg, and had lost much blood. We had nothing for it but to push on ; and we did so, avoiding villages whose occu- pants we feared. They were sure almost to plunder, if they should not murder us. On our way we saw a strong force, headed by horsemen, and were greatly reUeved when they did not pursue us. We had sighted a big musjid, which I felt sure pointed out Banda ; and we moved away to the north for five miles or so, intending to cross the Cane river (that it stands on) far to the north. At length, by 12| or 1 p.m. of the day (the 20th), we found the heat, and thirst, and hunger too much. Little baby was like to go mad. She would not keep quiet under the little shelter my shirt, that I drew over her, af- forded, and so we went up to two or three huts by themselves, with prayers and misgivings in our hearts. The people (all Choukadars) said they would give us shelter and food, so we got off and lay down in their hut. I thought we were merely being kept till people gathered, but God put it into the people's hearts to befriend us. We got sleep and drink, and good scones or cakes in abundance. Our horses got food and water too. I would not have turned in here, but Remington and Franks could not stand the heat longer, and they went first, and I had to follow. It was well they were so desperate. Our host, FerukhKhan, a one-eyed Choukadar, (may his name of "prosperous" be a fitting one), bade us go before sunset, as he feared our being caught and killed in his house. We asked our way to Chunar, and he pointed us to Cawnpore, which way we took. Till it grew dark we looked in vain for a well he spoke of, but came to a nullah, in which was some water, for which we were very grate- ful. I washed my horse's leg, but could make no impression on the thickly clotted blood. We had brought a lota from Ferukh Khan, and now we filled both, and made for a few trees across the nullah. I had great difficulty in getting my horse out. He shrank from any ascent that threw a strain on his hind legs. Mr Franks had very kindly relieved me of Mr Smalley, and taken him up on his mare, the day before, when he began to show weakness in the wounded leg, and now I was on foot. At last I got him out, and we 31 reached the trees. I uttered aloud, as we lay down, as much of the litany as I recollected, and the others joined in it. Little Lotty was laid on my shoot- ing coat, and we had a good sleep. Next morning, as light came, we found the well just beside us. We cleaned our lotas, and drew abundance, giving the horses drink out of my hands, as the biggest pair. We then resumed our anxious way, seeing a traitor in every man that came in sight. My horse, once I was on his back, went better than the afternoon before. Little Lotty was in my arms. I took off my coat to show my white shirt, and have people to think I was a native, and I set Lotty on the coat. Mr Franks took Mr Smalley up. Mr Remington had his horse to himself. After awhile we got into an awful nullah, or collection of ravines. I dropped my coat with a day's food in it, and could not get it again. Getting on and off was an awful shock to my horse. It required too that some one should take Lotty, so that the coat was left, with many regrets. We were now on the banks of the Cane. They were 100 feet high on one side, and the water was that length off. We were very thirsty, but dared not go down to drink. We just then discovered Ferukh Khan's mis- take, and that we must turn back, as Cawnpore was the centre of a circle of plunder and rapine, the awful nullah to cross again, and villages to pass again that we had doubtless set a talking and put on the look-out. Swarms poured out from two villages, but we cantered ; and the men felt it was not likely to end in much profit, so they gave up the chase. About noon we came to a fine tope. We could not see into it, so we hoped it would screen us and our horses from sight. A nullah, with some water, was beside, and we and our horses got a drink ; and then we lay down in the tope, some keeping awake to watch. First a wretch of a boy came, and then two men, with massive bamboos and iU-favoured faces. We offered them money to bring us food, and grain, and grass. We had no better way of inducing the men to be silent. We did the same with the lad, meaning to make off when they gave us the food, if anything excited suspicion. I believe both meant to be true. If they had gone away empty, they would have told on us, to a certainty. They were hardly gone half-an- hour, when we were aware of some thirty men, with matchlocks, &c. , having got close to us, concealed by a hoUow and some bushes. The rest got on their horses, and began to move off. I got mine ready, brought him beside Lotty, and then determined to let myself be taken. I could not have got on with Lotty before me, and have then escaped with a lamed horse. I might have just provoked a matchlock ball, so I took Lotty in my arms and stood still. The others stopped too. The men said they meant to give us food, &c., and then to show us the road, and would do us no harm, and made me mount. They put Lotty in my arms after I was mounted, and off we all set for a village. I felt sure we were about to be murdered in public. I thought and hoped we would be taken to the Newab of Banda, to be killed before him. Various villagers had warned us that all who went there would be killed. One abominable old man signed with his hand, that my head 32 would be chopped ofif, and he told me by his face that he thought I deserved it, and that he would, as a religious man, rejoice in and be benefited by the spectacle. When we got to the centre of the village, another devout Mus-, sulman, a man whose horse, saddle, dress, &c., made me think him a rebel trooper, welcomed us with suppressed fervour, and muttered " well done." All around us were Mahommedans, the people we had most reason to fear. They were aU greatly gratified at sight of four unbelievers in their power. Some attempts were made to rob us ; but there was an ominous formality, that seemed a hypocritical pretence of justice and deliberation. A tom-tom was sent for, and we were desired to listen (that's the word) to Zunowar Ali being proclaimed King of Delhi and India. I could not help saying, "For how long f' and was glad I did not suflFer for it. The cavalry saint was very busy, having meetings and committees that deliberated, or pre- tended to do so, in different places. We got plenty good wheatmeal cakes, and some curry and pulse, and some water ; and one soft-hearted woman sent Lotty some jam. The woman sent us all, I am sure, though she only got credit for the jam. At last we were told to gi\«« up our swords, and we did so. Death seemed certain ; but I felt that we might be spared by some miraculous change of circumstances. I was glad when told we were to go to the Ne- wab. He might think it tmsafe to kill us. At the worst, some hours were gained, and I would rather die in a big city than in an obscure village. We were put on our horses, and then plundered. I had nothing to lose, but an £8 watch, and eight rupees. I had on a short shirt, and a pair of white trousers, one boot and sock, a golosh on the other foot, and a leather hel- met. The others were in the same condition when plundered, but they had more to lose. Mr Smalley, I am glad to say, saved his wife's marriage ring, and a guard one to keep it on. They left me a little volume of the Psalms. After a fight among themselves, that seemed at one time likely to leave us few keepers, our captors set out for Banda. The others were younger than me by a good many years, and they shewed no trepidation, though death stared us as grimly in the face, according to all accounts, as it ever threaten- ed man. The vagabonds kept suggesting our becoming Mahommedans, as the only hope of saving our lives. When we got near Banda the two head men of our captors, both nice-looking men, told me that they would, if it were possible, not let us be taken to the Cotwal, who would kill us, but to the Newab, who would set us free. It seemed to me they had a good deal of diflSculty in getting us to the Newab, but they and party were bold fel- lows. They were determined to present us themselves, some reward being connected with their doing so. They accordingly surrounded us closely, and let no one else get near us ; and then they made their way through a crowd- ed city, in which were several thousands of bigoted Mussulmans, aU full of that piety that thirsts for blood. Our position was remarkable and solemn. At last we reached the palace gate, were taken inside after a parley, and when the mob was shut out, we were told all was well, that we should be 33 taken care of, and sent wherever we pleased. We were very grateful to God, as you may suppose, and to the Newab too, for he run some risk from the multitude of Mahommedans in the city, and from the rebels, should they succeed for a while, or altogether. He soon came to see us. He is a young man of 29, or less, very frank and unaffected, and matter of fact. He has been much with the English, and has no humbug. This is now the 27th, and we have been here since the evening of the 21st. He has called four times, always without ceremony. When Lotty came with me, his wife, the Begum, sent for her, and sent her back with twenty rupees. We were all put into a house in the palace yard. Two table servants were appointed to wait on us ; and we have had meals regularly, with beer, wine, and tea, for which we are grateful. Some of the officers, who sought shelter before us, left clothes, and we have got them. It is rather dreary doing nothing. Till to-day we had no books but one, and that a view book of Egypt, soon enough exhausted. On the 25th, at night, I got this paper. The night we came, the Newab sent off for a lady, whom we were glad to find was Mrs Mawe. She is now much better — sun-blisters less painful. She says that after we disappeared, Mr Jackson's pistol brought down my friend with the spear, and killed him — that the horsemen drew off— that the mob, after a talk over their fellow's body, went away, and the party went on uninjured. Two other men of another party, were afterwards shot attempting an attack. The next day they were by the Cane, and watered their horses in it. Poor Mr Barber had nearly lost his senses, and was watched by Captain Ewart and Mr Kirke. He kept shouting " it's all right, it's all right." They had had no food, and all were in a bad way. While at the river, some villagers came up, and the party made off. Doctor and Mrs Mawe fell together off their horse, the Doctor upon Mrs Mawe, hurting her greatly. The Doctor was then very ill, cramps had been upon him some two hours, and he could not get on, and the rest of the party pushed on. The Doctor lay looking very ill, and she sat down beside him like a good wife. Seeing he was thirsty, she tore the skirt off her dress, and, with some difficulty, made her way to the river, where she steeped it, and then brought it to moisten her husband's lips. He was unconscious when she came back, and died in a minute or two. She had no means of burying the body, so the poor lady left it, and, walking into the river, sat down on a stone. The cool water relieved the blisters and burns, and she sat there tiU some villagers came, who made her walk with great pain, three miles to their village, where they searched her rudely for money. She concealed her marriage ring in her hair, but her husband's watch was torn in three pieces for the gold. At night the IS ewab's men arrived, and next morning she set out in a palkee, and joined her child here. She says that Captain Ewart and the others intended to make for A.llahabad : God grant they reach it. Poor Barber was very weak. He was as thin as a skeleton, and never equal to two days' consecutive work. Ewart had just come from England, seemingly perfectly recovered from epilepsy, which left 34 him on the reiuov'al of some part of the skull. He was strong and stout, but the effect of the sun on his head is much to be feared, Mr Jackson, a model of strength and health, a fine manly fellow, seems to have been suffering, much. Mr Henry Kirke seemed well. Mr Kirchoff is, I fancy, well — accustomed to the sun. His poor wife was not very fit for much seemingly, but she had borne well up until I left her. May the Lord protect them, for their journey was a perilous one. 29th. — Word from Miijor Ellis at Xagode to the Newab that the troops there had mutinied, and that he and some twelve Sahibs had gone to Puu- na, the chief city of the Punna Rajah. Thus the Newab's thoughts of send- ing us to Nagode are at an end — pro tern. The Newab desired me to write to Major Ellis at Punna, to tell that I and others were here, and being kindly treated. The Xewab also asked for a certificate of his having treated us well. Both have been written and sent to the Newab. Very little rain has fallen as yet. If rain would fall, the villagers would be too much occupied in the fields, to pillage as they have been doing, and the roads would be safer. I must now tell you what I hav^ heard of the Jhansi outbreak — such a horrid tale, that one fears to read it. A man, whom I know, who was em- ployed in the postal arrangements, told me on the 13th, that he had been at Jhansi at the time, and that certain Sahibs, whom he named, Jield the Fort till supplies were exhausted, and were then murdered. He named only a few, which threw doubt on his tale. Another man, employed under Bur- gess on the Revenue Survey, told us at Mahoba, that when the mutiny broke out, all the Sahibs made for the City Fort, but Dunlop and Taylor, who were killed early by a discharge of grape directed against them, and some Sepoys, who stuck by them (Dunlop was attempting to reason with the men). Poor Lieut. Turnbull of Artillery, employed under Burgess in the Revenue Survey, was too late, and tried.to hide in a tree. He was discovered, and shot down. He was the warmest hearted of men, and intelligent. Every one liked him. Lieut. Campbell got two wounds from his men, but got into the Fort (this is not very likely). The rest got in ; and, with the aid of some native matchlockmen, held the Fort from the 4th or 5th to the 8th. The gateway was bricked up. The brave defenders baffled their numerous assailants while powder and shot and food lasted ; when they failed, Powys' Halvidar tried to tear away the bricks and get out by the door. Powys shot him in the act, and got two cuts, one in the belly, from the man's brother, who was behind him. This man was shot by Burgess ; Powys lingered two hours. Capt. Gordon was bit in the head, looking over the parapet, and died. I do not know if others were killed ; but the survivors surrendered on a promise of their lives being spared, marched out, and were one and all deliberately mur- dered. Some one promised bfe to aU, on surrender. Major Skene accepted the terms, and made the officer take his hand and march out with him. When outside, he begged, seeing they were going to kill all, to be taken to a garden. They were taken to one, and tied, the men to one rope, the women to another, and then they and the children were all killed by 35 sword or kuife. The people who were there, if none escaped, were Major and Mrs Skene and child ; Mrs Powys and child ; Lieut. F. Burgess, Sur- vey ; Lieut. Campbell, 15th N.L ; Quartermaster- Serjeant Newton of the 12th, his wife, and four young children ; a number of famihes attached to the civil officers ; and Mr Burgess ; some of the Salt Excise Officers. Mr Byves was at the time out with sixty men of the 12th, and forty Sowars, after a free- booter ; and I am told by the man who gave me this account, that he was seen riding to Lallulpore, a Gwalior Contingent Station — a likely place. I do not think his men would let him be touched. God grant they did not. The Lallulpore force is said to have mutinied, but Ryves would not stop among them, but go to Gwalior, where he woidd be safe. 29th. — On reading over what I have written, I must add, that I took, what I heard the native officer of the 14th Native Cavalry say to Major Kirke, to imply or betray a consciousness that some of his men had been talking in the Bazaar mutinously. One of our drummers had told us of one of the Sowars (I rather think several) telling him that his throat would be cut ; and it seemed to me that the native officers thought his apparently friendly suggestion the best way of making the words seem of no consequence. The Major strained the expression too much, and it never should have been mentioned to the men. The mention of the words attributed to the men were enough to set the Jhansi wing off, on the idea that Nowgong was all ripe for mutiny. I am very sorry for the Major and for his wife. Two sons and a girl are yet unfound for ; I think the lads will, if it please God to give us Bengal again, get commissions. I hope so. Sturt, the Salt Excise Officer, had a wonderful escape. He was ordered to bring his men, who guard the salt boundaries, into Jhansi to help to hold the Fort, and found them all re- bellious. He had about 200 in an old Fort, and fearing they would decamp, he drew his bed across the gateway, and kept them in all night. It is a wonder they did not murder him. He did all he could to enter Jhansi with help, but had to flee for his own life. The heads of the Sahibs murdered at Jhansi were actually being sent round the country in a basket ere he left. He was arrested one night, and was to be inspected at daylight to see if he was a European, but bribed the only sentry that was awake, and got off just before day came. Looking back on the past, I have wondered, and so do others who regard God less than I do, at the especial marks of His care that have very often marked our lives since the rebellion began. The Sepoys letting us go, they being faithful ; our delay at Mahoba, but for which we should have been here when the three companies mutinied ; the luse succeeding at Kabrai ; so many of us escaping coup de soleil ; some of us being captured and brought here ; our delay here. Had we been sent off, as we wished, to Nagode, we should have arrived to find that the troops had mutined, as we learned to-day. What men call accidents have brought us most good. We feel this, and are grateful, and hope that those who have gone towards Allahabad are safe. They run into horrible danger ; 1)ut it is as easy to God to save them at one 36 time as another ; and in those days when man is trying to look so powerful, God shows that He is all powerful. May He do so in this case. I wish, that when you get this, you would run off enough to put in the Times, that the friends of those concerned n^ay learn what has become of them. You can do this better than I. If Mr Franks' father sends for it, please send it him. I am very sorry for Mrs Mawe. Her husband has died under painful circumstances. This is one of those deaths that one has a sort of feeUng, that God did not intend them : that they occurred when He was not aware ; but we know it was not so. He was a very able and very worthy man. He had a very kind heart, in spite of a hard battle with the world. I have told you of his virtues before. I am very glad that his last words were, that " Lotty was with Scot, and he was sure therefore she would be taken care of." I am very glad his last moments were so comfort- ed. Poor Mrs Mawe has suffered terrible pain from sun blisters, that are not well yet. Lotty has a nasty blister on her foot, but the little pet does not mind it. She softens the natives towards us, and so serves us much, as they all pet her greatly. We were to have gone to Nagode to-night or to- morrow. Now that Major Ellis has trf leave it, we must look elsewhere for an outlet. I believe the road to Allahabad will soon be safe, and that station cleared of foes, if it be not so now. I shoidd prefer to go there a fortnight hence, to going to Nagode to-day, as Nagode is to us nowhere. At Allaha- bad there is work, or the means of going to Calcutta for clothes, &c. I am glad to have heard that one or two left at Klabrai were unmolested in these days of uncertain tidings, when all favourable to us is passed on by unwilling and grudging tongues. I think 1 may thank God that all we left there escaped. "We have heard of no murders ; and now I doubt the villagers murdering any one who gave up his money, &c. Liberated con- victs and fanatic Mussulmans are to be feared ; and so are the rebellious corps, which seem to thirst for blood after they have been a short time rebellious. I wish I were in a safe place often ; and yet how can I be safer than wherever God puts me ? I am very sorry to tliink how anxious you and my mother, and the Dicksons, and my friends, Miss Buchanan, Mr Pit- cairn, Mrs Ry ve, will be about me. The pain and suspense in England must be intense. Nothing Hke this ever happened since the world began, save the expulsion of the Jesuits from Japan. The Newab's kindness has been amazing. It is a ticklish thing to shelter us in these times, and he has a small force. He must have much personal influence. He is a young man of 28 or less, good looking, and made for activity. He has no formality or ostentation ; does not seek to make us feel obliged or to magnify himself ; he has been here almost daily to call upon us. Mrs !Mawe saw the Begum, the mother of his son and heir, last night. I am amazed to hear that she was not veiled, but sat in an open room, which the men-servants that wait on us, and others of her own M'ere present in. Yesterday was Sunday. I wish we could have gone to church. We came here on the 21st (with the exception of Mrs Mawe), and have now 37 been here eight days. At first I had no paper, and kept a diary on the walls with the point of a broken cup for a pen. I got paper on the 25th at night, after many requests for it. My only book is a copy of the Psalms, 14 inch square. The Newab has sent us some volumes of the People's Journal. I am sorry he has any work so socialistic and demoralising. 2d July. — We were told at Mahoba, by a man who was present at Jhansi, that the ladies made wheat-meal cakes and bullets for the gentlemen, while meal and lead lasted. When these were expended, the gallant garrison surrendered. He said that one lady offered to grind meal for the rebels, if they would let her live ; and that another offered her throat, fearing, I sup- pose, dishonour. It is now twenty-six days since the Chief and some 6000 Europeans must have reached Delhi. Unless a stockade stopped the way, the Kurnal road led through gardens and old buildings that gave shelter to skirmishers. The insurgents had thousands of men, and doubtless gave the force some trouble there. I hope when the dak opens we shall hear, that long ago, Delhi has been taken, and that the rebels have been taught a terrible lesson. No news of Delhi comes to us, save one improbable story, and I think good news for us must be withheld. It is very painful to live thus in the dark as to great interests, and the position of our countrymen, many of whom are personal friends. I hope England will send out a large force. The Bengal army needed, ere it collapsed, a thorough change in the mode of doing duty. In my day, the commanding ofiicers have reached the men almost solely through the two staff, or directly, very rarely, through the officers commanding companies. Those in their turn, have acquiesced in this system, which gave them ease, and have gone further, and handed over to the pay-halvidar the routine and other work that remained to them ; too often, I fear, taking the pay-halvidar' s version of some complaint or representation the men made. Thus they lost, first, the influence, which the channel of authority would have given them ; and secondly, that which personal kind- ness would have created ; and at a crisis, only three persons had influence, where all should. Commanding officers must do the right thing in the right way, and by labour and patience make every part of the machine work. It takes more time and trouble than the old may ; but it makes the corjis strong, and it increases the influence of the Europeans, and makes them all really useful. We received a message from the Newab about the 27th, that the troops at Nagode had mutinied, and that Major Ellis had gone to Punna (the place I visited in December last). The day before yesterday the head man said that he had not heard of this, that the Newab wished us to go. We said we would rather wait till an answer came to show, wJiether Major Ellis was at Nagode or Punna. 7th July. — We were gladdened on the evening of Saturday, the 4th, by the receipt of two letters, one from Major Ellis, pohtical assistant for Bundel- kund at Nagode ; and another from Lieutenant Jackson, who had reached that place on the 29th June, the date of his letter. We were sorry to hear of the death , from the sun , of CapCtwn E wart and Lieutenant Earlier, and Mr Smal- 38 ley's child ; but 1 felt there was little hope of either surviving the exposures and trials they were exposed to, as both were men not fitted to bear exposures and fatigue ; the little child was a baby not yet weaned. Mr Henry Kirke, Serjeant KirchofF, and his wife, had escaped and reached Nagode on the 29th with Lieutenant Jackson. Mr Kirke rode behind Lieutenant Jackson. Major Ellis said, that the Newab would be held responsible for our safety, and that we were to be sent to Adjegurh, whence we would have no diffi- culty in reaching Nagode. What a mercy that the Hindoo Rajahs have been faithful ! A Friend of India, dated the 18th June, came with the letters. The news not very cheering, but though the natives say little, I feel that good news has reached some of them, and that they feel the King of Delhi has not much chance. (Butter or oil has been smeared over this, I am sorry to say. ) Yeterday, my khidmutgar came to me, he's a servant of the Newab. On the 8th, I had set about getting biscuits ready against a flight. On the 10th, when the mutiny took place, I sent my sais (or syce) to fetch them. He got home and told my khidmutgar, who took the box, and went in quest of me to a large village our way properly lay through ; but we avoided it, making a detour. He there heard we h?id gone to Gurowlee, a place the road led to that we first took. He was met by Sowars, who fired at him, and had to drop the biscuits. He was asked where the Sahibs had gone, and said he did not know. My bearer, a very nice lad, was seized on his way from the mess to my house, and asked for my money. All our khidmutgars and bearers were thus treated. The houses were surrounded and plundered by Sepoys, who let no one else plunder. They and their contents were then burned. This accounts for my seeing nothing outside any of them, no re- mains whatever. When the plunder was secured, the wretches set to work to scour the country for the officers ; both infantry and cavalry did so. The Sikhs were the most prominent of the infantry in this villanous search. We had preferred them to the Hindoos. It is a mercy that avarice was the first feeling, and our death the second thought. My khidmutgar said, that he heard, that at the first stage from Nowgong the mess khansaman, or butler, had his hand cut ofi", and that Mr Remington's khidmutgar was killed, why he knew not ; but it appears that they are killing and using awords right and left. He heard that at a town, Mowraunpore, half-way to Jhansi, the shopkeepers gave 11,000 rupees that the place might be spared ; that the money was divided at the time ; if so, it would help the force to break up. He heard that the artillery at this place refused to go on with the others any longer, as they were only plundering, aiid that they fired two guns on the infantry and cavalry, but were persuaded to fire no more and go on. That when the force got to Jhansi they found the mutineers of that place gone, and could not discover where ; that they went to Calpee and plundered it, and then waited two days making enquiries, but could not get tidings of the Jhansi mutineers ; that half the artillery, and all the infantry but the Punjaub men, had gone to their homes. They are bold fellows, and their road lies together past Delhi. The Sowars came from around and be- yond Delhi ; so they arc all likely to stick together. The guns will be a dif- , 39 ticulty, for the bullocks are said to ^et poor attendance, and to die in num- bers. We hope to start this evening, the 7th July, a Tuesday. It has rained yesterday and the day before. The ground will be softened and the people will think ploughs more profitable than plunder. The country will then be much quieter. I hope the millahs are not too full for our jour- ney. The steamers will soon be able to make short cuts np the Ganges ; and I am very anxious to be out of this place. We are ill off for clothes, and are dirty all day ; every thing is nasty, though I am very grateful to God that we have such shelter in those terrible days. I should like to be at work. 16th July. — We got safely to Nagode on the 12th instant. Lieutenant Jackson and Mr H. Kirke went long ago to Eewah. Mrs Mawe left to-day with her child for Mirzapore and Calcutta. Myself, Remington, and Franks, are detained to serve with the 50th N. I. All quiet, thank God. Nagode, 14th July. The other day sixty prisoners got loose from the jail here, by the con- nivance of the civil jail guards. They went at once to the cantonments, with fire in their hands ; but the Sepoys of the 50th Regiment took up sticks and told them to be off. Captain Forbes happened to be in the lines at the time, with a double-barrelled gun. He turned out some of his men, and went to meet the prisoners, who came on headed by a Brahmin, with a multitude of beads round his neck. Forbes shot him dead, and instantly the Sepoys, who had hesitated at first, let fly, and killed fourteen. They would have killed the whole, but for the interference of a civilian. This has committed them to a courss, and shewn that the good men are in the majority. Nagode, 30th July. We are all wondering what the future organisation of the Bengal army will be. I hope that I shall never serve in a native corps again. I have never felt that the Sepoys were good soldiers. They have no real courage. I have always felt that, and have never given credit to the eulogiums people pass upon them. They are easily put into irretrievable confusion. There is no possibility of restoring order amongst them. They talk, or rather roar, and drown all words of command by their babble ; even on parade, a new voice is enough to put them out, and then they are like a flock of sheep. Nagode, 9th August. The Punna Rajah mentions that four strange things have occurred dur- ing the last four years : — First, a saying passed from village to village that the sister should protect the brother — meaning that the weak should have power over the strong — i. e., the natives over the English; second, the women of each village went to the Zemindar of another village and said that they had come to plunder him, and he then gave them some clothes, &c. ; thirdly, came the Chupattas or small cakes ; and fourthly, for the last year, there has been a demand for diamonds, the staple produce of Punna, such as was never known before. , I was joined, two days ago, by a Naick and a Sepoy, who were sepa- 40 rated from us ou the 19th June. They wept greatly. The Sepoy had told the Adjutant, long befiore the mutiny, who the ringleader was. He had suspected that man, but had no proof. Our drummers, and their families, whom we left at Banda, were all well a few days ago, and will soon be here. Mr Carne, the Deputy-collector, is at Chirkaru. He had gone on a-head of us to his house at Mahtobaon the 19th, to get some food ready for us, but was obliged to fly for his life. I passed the place a couple of liours after him, and was just in time, as the Sepoy mentioned above, told me the vil- lagers having seized and plundered him at the time I had just left. The man that speared my horse got his own spear run through him, and thought it hard to be killed with his own weapon. Rewah, 21st August. I hoped, when I left Nagode, to have got past this place, and perhaps to Allahabad by this time ; but as Colonel Hinde, who commands the Rewah Contingent (or Force, as they now prefer to call it — Contingents being in bad odour at present), offered to let me accompany it ; it goes to a spot within 12 miles of Allahabad, and I gladly accepted his offer. The march of the Force has been delayed from day to day, things not being ready, which is just as well, as my leg still gives me a little trouble from the kick of the horse and boils. People at home will blame the oflBcers of the Bengal army for this mutiny. The movement is a rebellion, not a mutiny. The Sepoys are Hindoostanees, who are faithless and utterly ungrateful, and as unfathom- able as ungrateful. They have been led to believe that the English were bent on a forcible destruction of caste, to remove a difficulty in the way of sending them across the sea. Natives will never reaUy trust a European, and no one asked if the tale were true. When men saw at last that it was false, other Hes as great were sent abroad, to intimidate the weak and to excite the bold. Liars always believe lies, and have a difficulty in believing truth, and so all Bengal has gone to the mischief. The fact that the Mis- sionaries have never got scent of this long-concocted conspiracy, shews that the army officers are not to blame, for the Missionaries are allowed to know the natives well. The planters were as little in the secret, though they see so much of the natives, and were so deeply interested in the preservation of order. I have got a stout horse, and a light equipment, and am most anxious to get on and be at work. P. G. SCOT. 1 UMFRIES : PRINTED AT THE HERAtD OWCE, T3Y W. ICfh YB 28290 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY ^*^^\^^ v^^ €,-^^ ■.,. 'n