Futtehgurh, Jan. 30th.

Mr. Raikes tells me that he wrote to you immediately after the action at Shumshabad, lest you should be made unhappy by report. This was most kind and thoughtful of him; and I do hope, therefore, that among so many kind friends you will have been spared any unnecessary pain. Everybody is very complimentary; even men I never spoke to before. A flattering rascal told me he considered it an "honor (forsooth!) to shake even my left hand." I might become too proud with so much notice, but the memory of 1854-55 is ever before me. The Commander-in-Chief has been unable to move as yet, for many reasons, but I fancy we shall march ere long. I am wonderfully well, and the big wound is actually closing already! is not that famous?

January 31st.—I have been busy until post-time with looking over poor Mac's things, and taking an inventory of them for his mother. I am sure you will write to her as soon as we can ascertain her address. We march on towards Cawnpore to-morrow morning; it is a grief to me to be disabled ever so little just at this time, but in a very few days I shall be all right again.

January 31st.—The Chief wont let me go on just yet, though I really am perfectly able to do so. I am not a bit the worse for these wounds, beyond the temporary inconvenience and disgust at being hors de combat in such times as these. I look forward with the utmost pleasure to seeing our friend Napier at Lucknow; I wish we could hear from him. Inglis's despatch is, as you say, most touching, and his conduct most admirable, as well as hers. I always thought her a fine character.

February 1st and 2d.—I am really doing very well, and the wounds are healing wonderfully fast. In ten days I hope to use my arm; they threatened me with six weeks! I have indeed cause for gratitude, not only for my preservation from greater evil, but for this rapid recovery; happily I was in good health at the time, and these wounds depend almost entirely on the state of the blood. I shall remain here until the day after to-morrow, and then accompany Brigadier Walpole's brigade to join the Chief at Cawnpore. Colonel Burn drives me along in a buggy; for though I can ride, it is not advisable to run the risk of a shake. Every one is most kind; Sir Colin markedly so. We are to have prize money for Delhi after all; this will please as well as benefit the army, the soldiers not being over-well contented with the six months' batta, thinking that was all they were to get. It is hardly, perhaps, to be expected that the masses should be satisfied with the mere consciousness of having done their duty through such months of suffering as those before Delhi.

A soldier wrote upon the walls of the Delhi palace (alluding to Lord Canning's foolish order about six months' donation of batta, which is but thirty-six rupees and some odd pence for each man):—

"For the salvation of India, the British soldier gets thirty-six rupees ten annas, or one rupee one anna per battle;" adding:—

Would you credit it? The Calcutta wiseacres sent up orders to institute a strict inquiry who wrote this jeu d'esprit. What nuts for the rascal who did it to see how deep his hit had rankled!

February 3d.—I am overwhelmed with letters of congratulation, which I can only acknowledge by a few lines in this sinister writing. Light has written very warmly, also Lord William; you must thank them both for me at present, as we march for Cawnpore early in the morning. So I shall be at the capture of Lucknow after all! and after that may God restore us to each other to part no more!

Camp, Jellalabad, on the Grand Trunk Road, February 5th.—We shall be at Cawnpore in four days more, I trust. Nothing can be more favorable than the state of my wounds, and I have felt scarcely any inconvenience from travelling. I am fortunate in having Colonel Burn for a travelling companion; pleasant, intelligent, and warm-hearted. He drives me in his buggy, and we breakfast together al fresco. Fancy the Carabineers of poor Captain Wardlaw's squadron sending a deputation, headed by a sergeant, to say on the part of the men how grieved they were that I was hurt, and to express their hope that I should soon be well and in the field again. I confess these things are more gratifying to me than any mention in despatches.

Camp, Meerun-ke-Serai, February 6th.—We had a very trying march this morning, a gale of wind bringing up clouds of dust and grit, which cut one's face and eyes to pieces. I half wished I was a lady to wear a veil! We overtook Maunsell, of the Engineers, who was so badly wounded at Delhi, poor fellow; he is quite recovered, but his handsome face a good deal disfigured by the wound in his forehead. The Governor-General is at Allahabad, and I believe Sir Colin is gone on to meet him. I am doing well, and getting more handy in the use of my left hand, but 'tis a cruel nuisance having only one to resort to. The weather is getting warm very fast in these parts, and I fear we shall have the hot weather on us very soon. However, as soon as Lucknow has finally fallen, I shall make every effort to get away to organize and discipline my regiment, and for rest and home for myself.

February 8th.—I go on into Cawnpore in the morning, making two marches in one; my arm has not been going on quite so well the last three days, owing, the doctor says, to the sharp wind. The wound on the thumb is nearly closed, and I shall be all right, I hope, after two or three days' quiet at Cawnpore. The getting up in the cold mornings is very trying, now that I am unable to ride or walk to get warm.

Cawnpore, February 10th.—I got here in good time yesterday, but was kept constantly at work fomenting this tiresome arm, which had got somewhat inflamed from the effects of the journey. To-day we cross the river, and encamp a mile or two on the other side, and there I hope to halt for a few days. I found letters here from Calcutta, and have had a visit from Charles Harland, who is as jolly and hearty as ever. Our friend (Napier) is Chief Engineer with the force, and a Brigadier to boot. I hope to see him in a day or two. I have not been to the Chief's camp yet; it is a long way off, and my arm has prevented me doing anything. I shall be very thankful when it is well, if but to use it for writing,—this left-handed calligraphy is sad slow work.

Camp on the left bank of the Ganges, February 11th.—I came across the river late in the evening, and am very glad I did so, as the air is much purer, and there is no dust. My arm is already better for the rest, and I hope soon to be able to begin to use it. Do not buoy yourself up with hope of honors for me. I shall be a Brevet-Major, and nothing more I expect. It seems the authorities here never sent home a list of men recommended for honors; and the home authorities have been waiting until they get one. "Hinc illæ lacrymæ!" And we shall all suffer by the delay in more ways than one. But we are certainly to have prize money, and this, with the batta, will take us home this time next year if not sooner. Dear, dear home, sadly changed and contracted since I left it, but home still, and dearer than ever since the dearest part of myself will accompany me.... All old home memories were so vividly revived yesterday by Charles Harland's visit, and an extract he read me from a letter from his brother, describing the enthusiasm of the old people at Colwich,[68] when the news arrived that the King of Delhi was our prisoner, and how they came to inquire whether it was really their "Master William" who had done it? Bless their innocent hearts, where was they riz? as —— would say. I am sadly at a loss for a second in command, and do not know whom to ask for, as officers are so scarce. I have twice made an attempt to ask for Reginald to join me to do duty, but my fears for you have made me hesitate; and the lesson of the other day has taught me the fearful risk the dear boy would run in an irregular cavalry regiment, with such work as mine. Still, if you and he wish it, I will ask for him.

February 12th.—Here I am, you see, writing (such as it is) with my right hand once more. I am, indeed, wonderfully better, and hope to be on horseback in a few days. The scar on my arm is a very ugly one, and will mark me for life; but then, as I am not a lady to wear short sleeves, it does not signify. I was much disappointed this morning to hear from Colonel Bevin, who came out to see me, that Napier had been through our camp this morning, not knowing I was here! He is in Cawnpore, and the doctor wont let me go and see him to-day, and we march on towards Lucknow to-morrow. It will be some days yet before the whole force is collected at Alumbagh. Captain Peel has just gone by with his sailors and their enormous ship-guns, 68-pounders! I have little doubt but that Lucknow will be in our hands before another month is over; and then I shall do my utmost to get my regiment sent back to Umbâla to be formed and drilled, which it wants badly. I only wonder it does as well as it is. I could hardly take any other appointment, or even go home, until I had completed this task; and I like my regiment, and what is even more to the purpose, the regiment likes me, and would follow me any and everywhere, I do believe.

Camp, Oonao, February 13th.—Only a short letter to-day, as I have been writing a right-handed one to "O.," to satisfy the dear anxious hearts at home. I am able to use my arm, but very gently, and shall ride to-morrow. Oh, the pleasure of feeling myself on the outside of a horse again!

February 14th.—Your telegram has been going the rounds of all the camps before it found me out. Indeed, you must not be anxious on my account, or listen to the wild reports which are always rife. Be sure, if anything were amiss, there are plenty of our friends here to send you the truth. I could not dream of your coming to Cawnpore. I would not hear of it even at Futtehgurh, for, though your nursing and presence would be infinitely precious to me, a camp is no fit place for you. I am, indeed, going on wonderfully, and but for the attack of inflammation I spoke of, and which turned out to be erysipelas, I should have been quite well before this; and as it is, I am actually nearer to a total cure than the men (Sikhs even) who were wounded the same day. My abstinence from spirit-drinking has stood me in good stead.

February 15th.—No letters again to-day! I wish the Commander-in-Chief would come out from Cawnpore, and there would be some chance of better postal duty. He is said to be waiting until the convoy of ladies from Agra has passed down, lest anything should occur to disturb the road where he had crossed into Oude with the army,—a not unlikely thing to happen. I have just seen a notice of my birth, parentage, and education, and services, in the Illustrated News, as also Seaton's account of the capture of the Princes. Strange to say, the former is not wrong or exaggerated in any principal point. The latter is also in the Evening Mail, and I have the honor of appearing in big print in the leading article. I see also a letter signed "A Civilian;" not a bad résumé in its way. I can cock and fire a pistol with the right hand, and am constantly working the arm about to prevent its growing stiff; and I want to show how much the will has to do with getting over these things.

Oonao, February 16th.—I have this morning succeeded in exhuming four letters from the bottom of about a hundred-weight of correspondence addressed to all parts of the world; the bag was sent up here in the night for people to find their letters as they could. Mine have made me so happy. This has been a red-letter day too, for I have at last seen our friend Napier. He rode out here with Sir Colin, and I need not say how thoroughly delighted I was to see him once more. He is looking better but older than when we parted, but his charming, affectionate manner is as nice as ever. God bless him! I do love him dearly, as if he were indeed my born brother. A note from him arrived while he was here; it had been three days going ten miles! Sir Colin was most kind and cordial, and prophesies I shall soon be Lieut.-Colonel. I told him I feared there was small hope of that, unless my majority could be counted as for the Punjaub campaign, as Lord Dalhousie promised, but that it had not been put on record. He immediately said, "Oh, I'll do that with the greatest pleasure; let me have a memorandum of your services, and I'll do all I can for you, and I hope soon to shake hands with you as Lieut.-Colonel, C. B., and Victoria Cross to boot." I confess I liked this, because it was spontaneous; it is not the first time I have heard a whisper about the Victoria Cross, and I confess I do care most for this; I would rather have it than be made a duke. My arm is going on admirably, and you may be quite satisfied about me now I am near our friend; he will always do what is kind, that we may be quite sure of, and all that is best and tenderest too, where you or I are concerned. I shall try to get away immediately after Lucknow is taken, but I fear every man may be needed for some time, even after that much-desired event takes place.

Camp, Oonao, February 17th.—I grieve deeply at your anxiety, and can scarcely understand your "terror at the very name of Cawnpore and Lucknow," except for what has passed. I am not nearly so much exposed to peril here as at Delhi; the place, too, and time of year are more healthy; so continue to "hope on," bravely now as ever, until the end, which must be very soon.... I am going to spend to-morrow in Cawnpore with Napier, and have a big talk. The delay in the brevet is an accident, not owing to the home authorities. It has gone home now, and my name is in it, Sir Colin told me.

Cawnpore, February 19th.—I shall ride back to Oonao early to-morrow morning; the temptation of Napier's society was irresistible; it is such a pleasure to see him again. There will be no move hence until the 23d, I think, though it is getting rapidly hot in this hateful place; but on the other side the river it is cool, and Lucknow is even more so, I hear. Osborn Wilkinson has been here, and has gone on towards Alumbagh. I shall try and get him for my regiment, if but to do duty; he is a fine fellow and thorough soldier.

Oonao, February 20th.—I rode out from Cawnpore this morning; Colonels Napier and Lugard accompanying me for some miles,—the latter only arrived yesterday; he is to command a division as Brigadier-General, I am glad to say. Our friend is nicer than ever, and looking well.

February 21st.—As far as I can learn, we (i.e., my Horse) shall have but little to do with the actual capture or assault of Lucknow, and I fancy our duty will be protecting the flanks and rear of the army from incursions of the enemy's cavalry, &c. General Lugard came out this morning to take the command. I hope Napier will soon follow. I am very anxious to get on and get the affair over.

February 22d.—There is not a particle of news of any kind. I had an attack of fever last night, but it is gone this morning, and I am all right again; the wound on my arm is quite closed, and the last bandage discarded; the thumb is still very stiff, and the joint much enlarged. My wounds have healed with unprecedented rapidity; and I cannot be sufficiently grateful that I am so soon enabled to return to my duty. Dear Douglas Seaton has been very ill again, and unable to leave England, as he intended, poor fellow. I believe half his illness is caused by fretting at being away from his regiment now it is in the field; but he never could have stood the trial of those months before Delhi. The Commander-in-Chief tells me that, despairing of getting the list of recommendations for Delhi from India, the Duke of Cambridge is making out a list himself from the despatches, to be corrected hereafter if any omissions occur. The next mail may, therefore, make me a Major, as I was mentioned even in Wilson's despatches. God grant I may be able to get home; that is my great desire now.

February 23d.—It is midnight, and we march for Alumbagh at 4 a. m.; so I write a line at once to say I am doing well, and will send a telegram if anything occurs, which I do not expect yet. There has been a big fight, within a few miles of us, between the force under General Hope Grant and the rebels, and there was a bigger on Sunday at Lucknow with Sir James Outram's force. I have got hold of a strip of newspaper this morning, with Brigadier Hope's Shumshabad despatch, in which I figure so prominently that I am inclined to indorse it "Hope told a flattering tale," and send it home to the dear girls. The convoy arrived this morning (i.e., the ladies, &c.) from Agra, so I hope the Chief will move soon. I was out all the morning with General Lugard, and was surprised to find how hot the weather is getting (in the sun) even here; but I am quite well—quite.

... I have only to add that in gratitude for the many and unspeakable mercies which I have received during the past year, and also as a token of most affectionate regret for Sir H. Lawrence, I shall thank you to note the increase of my subscription to the asylum to 100 rupees per annum.

Camp, Alumbagh, near Lucknow,
February 24th.

We arrived here last night at dusk, after a terribly dusty march of thirty-six miles. To-day we had a bit of a fight. The Pandies, ignorant of the reinforcements which had arrived, had as usual come round one flank of the camp, so we moved out and caught them as they were trying to get back again, and took two of their guns. By "we," I mean my own men and the Military Train men from home. Young Gough, my adjutant, was wounded, and had his horse shot. I was luckily in the way, or it would have gone worse with him;[69] my own horse too (pretty "Child of the Desert") was wounded, and I was obliged to mount a sowar's horse. Gough will be laid up for a month, I fear; it is a flesh wound in the thigh. I do not think Master Pandy will try the same trick again. We have been out so long that there is time for no more to-day than this assurance of my safety.

Alumbagh, February 25th.—I have been calling on Sir James Outram this morning, and had a most pleasant interview; the brave old warrior greeted me most cordially, professing his satisfaction at having at last met one of whom he had heard so much, &c. &c. The pleasure was certainly mutual, for I have long wished to meet him. He made many inquiries about you also, and asked whether you had not been in the hills during the panic, and helped the refugees, &c. How proudly I could answer all his praise in the affirmative. He also asked my opinion of Lord William's administration, and I was glad of the opportunity to testify in his favor. Altogether this good old soldier's compliments were pleasing to me, particularly as he was not one of those who in my time of trouble passed me by on the other side.

The enemy is quite quiet to-day. I fancy we were too much for his philosophy yesterday. Fancy the Queen Regnant coming out on an elephant to meet us, to encourage her wavering followers! I wish the Chief would make haste and finish this business, it is getting cruelly hot already.

27th.—All quiet still with the enemy. A packet of letters has arrived, and brought me all the comfort I am capable of receiving in this torturing absence; would it were over! I hear the Chief has crossed the Ganges and is coming on here. I believe we had some κῦδος for the affair of the 25th, though beyond being exposed to a very galling fire, I did not think much of it myself. Gough's wound is a serious misfortune to me just now; a gallant, go-a-head boy like him is not to be easily replaced, any more than poor Mac is. I myself am laid up with a sore leg; I would not nurse it at first, and now it is so painful I cannot mount my horse or even stand without pain, so I shall go into the next scrimmage on an elephant! Dr. Brougham, however, says it will be well in four or five days. I did not know Greville was going home so soon, I hoped to have shaken him by the sain hand once more before we parted for so long.

Alumbagh, 1st March.—Nothing of public importance is occurring. I am still unable to ride, so I do regimental work. I dined with Sir J. Outram (he is the General commanding here) and with Colonel Haggart, 7th Hussars, last night; the former is quite affectionate in his manner to me. He would quite charm you, and were I not out of love with vanity, would spoil me; but I confess the respectful homage of the soldiers is pleasanter to my spirit than the praise of great men. I study to be quiet and do my own business without elation and pride, satisfied with the testimony of my own conscience that I strive to do my duty.

March 2d.—The Commander-in-Chief arrived with a large part of the force this morning, marched straight through our camp, and at the enemy (who of course ran away), and occupied the Dilkoosha, a large garden-house and park near the city. My unfortunate leg prevented my sharing in the fray, I grieve to say, and I am actually in a fright lest he (the Chief) should take Lucknow before I am able to ride!

Alumbagh, March 6th.—I had time for but the merest line yesterday, written from Dilkoosha, where the Commander-in-Chief is encamped, and whither we were erroneously brought yesterday to return here to-day. I had a long talk with Sir Colin, who was even more than commonly kind and cordial. I am not very well, I am sorry to say; this leg troubles me, and is the effect of the erysipelas which attacked my arm in consequence of the wounds closing too quickly. The truth is that I lost about a pound and a half of blood when I was wounded, and having had two slight bouts of fever since, I am not so strong as I would be; however, I am getting on, and am dosed with steel, quinine, and port wine ad lib. My arm is pretty well, but the wound opened again partially after the 25th, and I have been obliged to submit to bandages, &c.; still I hope three or four days will set me all right again, though I fear the arm will never be quite straight again, or the thumb quite flexible. I shall have to go home for rest to my body, if not for comfort to my heart. I have seen Osborn Wilkinson; he is as nice as possible, and he is now Deputy Assistant Quartermaster-General to the Cavalry Brigade, to which my Horse is attached, so I hope to see more of him than of late. I breakfasted yesterday at head-quarters with Napier, and grieved to see that he looked worn and troubled. I fear his health is very precarious.

Camp, near Lucknow, March 6th.—... I grieve that you should be anxious on my account; the same merciful Providence which has so wonderfully preserved us both through so many and great dangers, will, I earnestly pray, continue the same gracious guardianship; yet I strive to be prepared for all....

I had to march again this morning; a message from Sir Colin last night to the Brigadier having directed him to put me in charge of the line of communications with Jellalabad, the Alumbagh, and his camp. So I had to bring my men up here, half-way between the two camps, and to make arrangements for insuring the safety of the roads, and protecting the convoys on which the existence of the army depends. The worst part of it is I cannot ride, and have had, for the first time in my life, to do outpost duty in a dog-cart! driving across country to post videttes and picquettes, &c. What with this continued movement and the rest which I am compelled to take recumbent, I have had no time for writing as I fain would do. I have heard from Reginald; he is so earnest in his wish to do duty with my regiment, that I have asked for him. May God preserve the dear boy from all evil! I shall never forgive myself if harm comes to him. There is no decided move at present; the net is gradually closing round the enemy, some of the Goorkhas and Brigadier Frank's column having already arrived. You must not expect more than a Majority for me yet, though I have good reason to believe that more will come.

March 8th.—I went up myself to-day to the head-quarters' camp, to look for letters and see our friend, but failed in both; but I breakfasted and had a long chat with that pleasantest of persons, Lugard, now Sir Edward, and while there I had a letter from Norman to say that Reginald had been appointed to do duty with my Horse. I can but think he is too young; but if he must see hard service so early, better with me than elsewhere. God grant it may be for his good. I am looking for the end with an eager longing for rest which I cannot control. Dear Sir Henry used to say I was ambitious, and I know I was proud and thirsty of success; but now all desires for the future settle down into the one thought of home.

March 9th.—I grieve that report should cause you fear and anxiety whenever there has been a fight, particularly as the chances are against my being in it. You should remember that our force extends now round three sides nearly of Lucknow. The extreme right of our position, or rather camps, being at least nine miles from the left; so that engagements occur at one part which those at the other never perhaps hear of till next day! This was the case with the Dilkoosha affair. The Chief passed our camp on the left, moved on some miles, and occupied "Dilkoosha" (a fine palace, three stories high), and the ground up to the banks of the Goomtee, almost without opposition. I was never within miles of him. Indeed, I have not been on horseback since the 25th, as I am forced to save myself for emergencies. If anything important occurs, be sure I will send a telegram somehow. I have written to Reginald, and sent him a copy of the General Order appointing him to do duty with my regiment. I have also got a Lieutenant Meecham, of the Madras army,—a great artist and good-looking fellow, and, what is much more to my purpose, a fine soldier I believe. I have also asked for young Blackburne, whom you may remember in the 20th Native Infantry at Peshawur,—a friend of Edward Loyd's. He is much "come out" since then. I do hope Hugh Gough will soon be well; I do ill without such a dashing fine fellow.

In the affair of the 25th we were leading, and took the guns,—i.e., we fairly captured one, and drove the enemy away from the other, and kept them at bay until the "train" came up and secured it. I was not altogether satisfied with my men in this part of the affair. They hesitated, and let me go ahead unsupported except by Nihal Singh; old Mahommed Reza Khan, and one or two others, with Gough, being near. The consequence was that the enemy concentrated their fire on our little party. However, the Europeans of the Military Train hesitated to do what I wanted my men to do, and they behaved very well immediately afterwards. There has been a great fuss about the matter; Sir Colin having taken great and very just offence at its being reported to him that the cavalry were "led" by Colonel ——, a staff-officer.... He got wounded, and then was officially reported to have "led the cavalry," whereas we had Brigadier Campbell (a capital officer), and Colonel Haggart, of the 7th Hussars, present, besides the officers commanding regiments, "quorum pars fui." Sir Colin denounced Colonel ——'s "leading" as "an insufferable impertinence," called me up, and asked me before them all, "Were you present with your regiment on the 25th?" and on my saying, "Yes," he cried out, "Now, look here; look at my friend Hodson here, does he look like a man that needs 'leading?' Is that a man likely to want 'leading?' I should like to see the fellow who'd presume to talk of 'leading' that man!" pointing to me, and so forth. I nearly went into convulsions; it was such a scene....

The Martinière was taken to-day without loss except poor Captain Peel, who, I grieve to say, is wounded.

March 10th.—The mail is come with my Majority. The brevet has given general dissatisfaction. Some of the double honors are marvellous; but it should be remembered that these promotions are given sponte suâ by the home authorities, no recommendations having gone from hence till lately. I am content myself, having no interest. It proves they perceive I have done something, or I should not have this beginning; and it is satisfactory to find that it is universally considered that I have been shabbily used. Better this by far than to have people lifting up their eyes and saying I had got too much! Inglis is justly rewarded, and some others. I dare say more will come with time. I hope devoutly that when Lucknow falls I shall be released. We shall know in a few days,—for even while I write Lucknow seems to be "falling" fast. Immense progress was made yesterday, with not more loss than some 18 or 20 wounded, and I hear to-day they are going ahead again. Pandy has quite given up fighting, except pot-shots under cover, and runs at the very sight of troops advancing. I stood on the top of the Dilkoosha palace yesterday, and watched the capture of as strong a position as men could wish for (which at Delhi would have cost us hundreds) without the enemy making a single struggle or firing a shot. At this rate Lucknow will soon be in our hands. We (of the cavalry) are kept on the qui vive watching the southern outlets from the town to prevent escape, and I expect to see Lucknow taken without being under fire again. Well, it must be confessed that I have had my share of the dangers of the war, and whether I receive honors or not, I have the testimony of my own conscience that I have done one man's work towards the restoration of our power in India.... I have been occupied to-day in trying to get the Victoria Cross for the two Goughs. Hugh certainly ought to have it.[70]

March 11th.—Just as I sit down to write comes an order to move our camp towards Alumbagh again; Jung Bahadoor having at last arrived with his army and taken up ground between me and the enemy.... If anything occurs, I will get Colonel Napier or Norman to send you a service telegram....

"We struck our tents and were saddled, waiting for him till it became so dark that we were forced to go without him, and reached our ground after sunset. I had gone to the post-office and was five minutes behind the regiment. When I came up, I found that Hodson's orderly had come in great haste, saying that his master had sent for me, but with no other message. He said that his master had been hit when advancing with the troops on the Begum's Kotee on foot.

"I mounted and rode off with him at once. From the darkness of the night and the difficulty of passing the Goorkah sentries, I did not get to Dilkooshah till 9 p. m. There no one knew where he was. I then went on to the artillery mess and learnt that he was in Banks's House which I reached about 10 p. m. I found him in a dooly and Dr. Sutherland with him, whom I at once relieved, and learnt the following particulars from him and from the orderly who remained with Hodson, and who had been by his side when hit. He had arrived at Banks's House just as the party going to attack the Begum's Palace were starting, and fell in with them. The place had been taken before he was wounded. When the soldiers were searching for concealed Sepoys in the court-yard and buildings adjoining, he said to his orderly, 'I wonder if any of the rascals are in there.' He turned the angle of the passage; looked into a dark room, which was full of Sepoys; a shot was fired from inside. He staggered back some paces and then fell. A party of Highlanders, hearing who had been hit, rushed into the room and bayoneted every man there.

"The orderly, a large powerful Sikh, carried him in his arms out of danger, and got a dooly and brought him back to Banks's House, where his wound was looked to and dressed.

"He was shot through the right side of the chest, in the region of the liver, the ball entering in front and going out behind. There had been profuse bleeding, and I saw that the wound was most likely mortal.

"He was very glad to see me, and began talking of his wound, which he thought himself was mortal. I lay beside him on the ground all night, holding his hand, on account of the great pain he suffered. He was very weak when I arrived, but by means of stimulants rallied wonderfully, and slept for an hour or two during the night. At daylight he was much better, his hands were warm and his pulse good, and I had hopes that, if the bleeding, which had ceased, did not return, he might recover. He drank two cups of tea, and said he felt very well. His account of his being wounded agreed with the orderly's.

"About 9 a. m. I had the dooly lifted into a room, which I had had cleared out, where he was much quieter. At 10 a. m., however, bleeding came on again profusely, and he rapidly became worse. I told him that recovery was impossible. He then sent for General Napier, to whom he gave directions about his property and messages to his wife. After this he rapidly sank, though he remained sensible and was able to speak till a quarter past one, when he became too weak; and at twenty-five minutes past one died.

"His orderly[72] actually cried over him, he was so attached to him.

"He was buried that evening by the Rev. Dr. Smith. The Commander-in-Chief and his staff were present."

"I regret bitterly now, that I did not insist on your dear husband going back, but you know how impossible it was to check his dauntless spirit."

... "He lay on his bed of mortal agony and met death with the same calm composure which so much distinguished him on the field of battle. He was quite conscious and peaceful, occasionally uttering a sentence:—

"'My poor wife,' 'My poor sisters.'

"'I should have liked to see the end of the campaign and gone home to the dear ones once more, but it was so ordered.'

"'It is hard to leave the world just now, when success is so near, but God's will be done.'

"'Bear witness for me that I have tried to do my duty to man. May God forgive my sins for Christ's sake.' 'I go to my Father.'

"'My love to my wife; tell her my last thoughts were of her.' 'Lord, receive my soul.'

"These were his last words, and, without a sigh or struggle, his pure and noble spirit took its flight."

"Martinière, March 13, 1858.

"Madam,—It is with a sentiment of profound regret that I am compelled to address you for the purpose of communicating the sad news that your gallant and distinguished husband, Major Hodson, received a mortal wound from a bullet on the 11th instant. He unfortunately accompanied his friend Brigadier Napier, commanding Engineers in the successful attack on the Begum's Palace. The whole army, which admired his talents, his bravery, and his military skill, deplores his loss, and sympathizes with you in your irreparable bereavement. I attended your husband's funeral yesterday evening, in order to show what respect I could to the memory of one of the most brilliant officers under my command.

(Signed) "C. Campbell,
"Com.-in-Chief in East Indies."

"When the part of the service came where the body is lowered into the grave, all the old warrior's courage and self-possession could no longer control the tears,—undeniable evidence of what he felt. 'I have lost one of the finest officers in the army,' was his remark to General Napier."

"One of the ablest, most active, and bravest soldiers who have fallen in the present war."

"I look round and can find no one like him. Many men are as brave, many possess as much talent, many are as cool and accurate in judgment, but not one combines all these qualifications as he did."

"At this point fell, mortally wounded, Hodson of the 1st Bengal Fusileers; Hodson of Hodson's Horse; Hodson, the captor of the King of Delhi and the princes of his house. Few of the many losses that have occurred during the operations consequent upon the mutinies, have caused such universal regret throughout India as the death of this excellent officer; and among those in England who have read of and admired his exploits, not only his comrades of the Sikh battle-fields, but many an old friend at Rugby or at Trinity will mourn that his career has been thus early closed."

"The country will receive with lively regret the news that the gallant Major Hodson, who has given his name to an invincible and almost ubiquitous body of cavalry, was killed in the attack on Lucknow. Major Hodson has been from the very beginning of this war fighting everywhere and against any odds with all the spirit of a Paladin of old. His most remarkable exploit, the capture of the King of Delhi and his two sons, astonished the world by its courage and coolness. Hodson was, indeed, a man who, from his romantic daring and his knowledge of the Asiatic character, was able to beat the natives at their own weapons. We could better have spared an older and more highly placed officer."

"From a Lucknow letter which we publish to-day our readers will learn, with sorrow and regret, that that most able and gallant officer, Captain Hodson, who has distinguished himself on so many occasions since the breaking out of the rebellion, and whose services have been of so brilliant and valuable a character, has been killed at Lucknow. As a leader of Irregular Horse, or indeed as a soldier of any of the non-scientific forces, Captain Hodson was almost without an equal. He was one of those squadron leaders which the Indian army can alone rear up. There are few men who would have managed the capture of the ex-King of Delhi as this departed hero did. On that occasion his force was small compared to that he had to cope with; but the determined daring of the man made up for the disparity, and the old King came out of his fortification—for a strong fortification it was—and surrendered. So also with the capture of the King's sons, who also surrendered themselves, but whom Hodson found rescued when he reached them, after having completed the disarming of their band. That was a moment to test a man. But he of whom we write was equal to the emergency. The carts in which the princes were, were retaken immediately. Still the aspect of the armed Mahomedan crowd around—growing every moment more numerous—was dark and threatening. It was a situation which required prompt decision, and promptly did the British leader decide. He saw that it was necessary that his prisoners should die, and resolved himself to become their executioner: a wise resolve, for, probably, had he asked one of his own Mahomedan troopers to kill the sons of the Mogul, a refusal would have followed, and that refusal might have been acted up to by all. He adopted the wiser course, harangued his men, ordered the prisoners to take off their robes in the cart, and shot them with his own hand. Had the prisoners been allowed to leave the cart, their bodies would have been left behind; for to touch them would, by the troopers, have been considered defilement, and, left behind, they might have been fanatically paraded through the country as an incitement to a fresh rising. Besides, it was necessary that their remains should be exposed at the Kotwallie in Delhi with something of the indignity they themselves had caused to be inflicted on the murdered victims of the 11th of May."

"Hodson, splendid fellow, died the following day, most deeply regretted by all ranks in his regiment. He indeed was a brave soldier, a clever and truly esteemed commander. May we not say he was one of the flowers of the 'old Europeans,' and an ornament to the Bengal army?"

"Then fell one of the bravest in the Indian army, an officer whose name has been brought too often before the public by those in high command to need my humble word in praise. There was not a man before Delhi who did not know Hodson; always active, always cheery, it did one's heart good to look at his face, when all felt how critical was our position. Ask any soldier who was the bravest man before Delhi, who most in the saddle, who foremost? and nine out of ten in the Infantry will tell you Hodson, in the Artillery as many will name Tombs.

"I once heard one of the Fusileers say, 'Whenever I sees Captain Hodson go out, I always prays for him, for he is sure to be in danger.' Yet it was not only in the field that Hodson was to be valued, his head was as active as his hand was strong, and I feel sure, when we who knew him heard of his death, not one but felt that there was a vacancy indeed in our ranks."