Chapter VIII (4)

In answer to your kind letter of 18th February, just to
hand, I am happy to inform you that we are quite well, and
doing well. The heat during the day is very trying at
present. As for the trifle we sent you last, do not mention
it. We both of us are only too happy to be able to
contribute a little towards your comfort in your declining
days. Send nothing in return but your photos, and as long as
it pleases God to give us health and strength, we will keep
on repeating the dose as you require it. At your time of
life, you want a little nourishment: and it is only a debt
of gratitude that I am discharging, and all _we_ ask (for
_we_ both pull together in the same boat) is for you to
accept it as a mark of love and gratefulness. It will, I
hope, help to bind up some of the wounds that the writer, as
a thoughtless boy, gave your poor hearts. It's an old saying
that a wild colt makes a good horse. I am thankful to say
that I have a partner that is worth her weight in diamonds,
and I must tell you we are going on very nicely. We have not
yet been married four years, and now we muster five little
ones. She has just made me a present of two--a boy and a
girl. My Captain told me a few days ago he thought I had an
eye to business; as I think I told you we get 5s. per month
out here, from Government, for every child until they are
sixteen years of age. I have the canteen here for my
detachment of three companies. They had to leave us here, as
the barracks at Ferozepore would not hold us. We are so
strong (near 1,600 bayonets). This detachment is near 500
strong. We are about two miles from the barracks we occupied
in 1858. I am heading them every toss. As far as I can see,
I prosper in everything I put my hand to. We have some very
rich officers, and as drill-sergeant and acting
sergeant-major, I have the training of all young officers. I
have a lot of trouble with them, and am often hard at work
when others are taking it easy. I often get handsome
presents from them. I have remarkably good health, and I do
not abuse it. We have been out here nearly five years, and I
do not know the taste of any drink stronger than tea or
coffee. My Colonel has very kindly offered me a commission,
but I felt almost compelled to decline it, looking at my
_little big_ family and a strong, healthy wife, not yet
twenty-five. I thanked the Colonel for his kindness; but on
account of my family, requested him to kindly allow me to
remain as I was. Had I been single, I would have jumped at
the Colonel's kind offer. But I am satisfied: as I have made
my bed, so I will lie on it. It is not all pleasure to be an
officer, with a smart coat and almost an empty pocket. I am
sorry to have to inform you that cholera has made its
appearance here. The Artillery and the 19th Regiment are
losing a number of men daily. Thus far, we have only had one
fatal case--a sergeant of my company, cut off in
three-and-a-half hours with it. Our Commander has left all
to me. I have got up all kinds of sports for the men,
mornings and evenings--anything but drink, to keep up their
spirits. Our General called upon me this morning for a copy
of the programme of the sports. He is not a teetotaller,
and enquired if I had plenty of rum on hand. He went with me
and inspected the canteen, ordering an extra tot of grog for
all hands at once, which they had. The men turned out as
fast as their legs could carry them when I sounded the grog
bugle, and cheered the General heartily. My wife has gone up
to the hills with our little ones, so I am at present a
grass widower. I am glad they are off the burning plains.
The climate up there is lovely. I hope to start shortly with
our eldest boy for the school at Kussoulie; but I shall not
leave until all danger is over as regards the cholera. I
find a lot of alteration in this place since 1858. The old
native huts or barracks have all been thrown down, and
beautifully laid-out gardens have taken their places. Yes,
it is true I was robbed a second time in Peshawur; but I did
not like to upset you by telling you. But since you have got
hold of it, I may as well tell you that the second time it
was a Khybereen. I lost upwards of 1,400 rupees--public and
private--my watch (a good English lever), and gold Albert;
my wife's gold watch and long chain, and a lot of other
trinkets and clothing belonging to myself, wife and
children. The fellow was traced to the mouth of the Khyber
Pass. The whole of the troops in garrison were on parade at
the time; so I think I have cause to remember that lovely
spot. Since then, I have made it a point not to keep much
money in the house; but I was not the only victim of our
regiment up there. They walked off with our Sergeant-Major's
large box; it took at least two to carry it. There were over
3,000 rupees in it, most of it public money. There was a man
on sentry close by at the time, but they managed to attract
his attention in another direction, and then walked or crept
in and slipped out at the back with it. Next morning it was
found broken up: the books and papers were left, but the
cash had gone. Now that I am writing upon the tricks of
these nice gents, I will give you a few more. The 93rd,
whilst on parade, had on one occasion nearly all their
medals stolen, and were never heard of more. The Artillery
had a small guard of three men and a corporal, on their
canteen: they walked off with all their carbines, swords,
and long boots, including the sentry's (for he was drunk),
and then had the cheek to try and take away a six-pounder
horse artillery gun; but they had to drop that. It turned
out that they were chased, and could not run with it. We had
a native policeman to watch our targets. One morning our
Instructor of Musketry found the poor fellow's head stuck
upon one of the targets; he had evidently stood in their
way. They said we should find them more daring at Nowshera,
and true enough, we did.

One of our pay-sergeants, on getting up one morning, found
two large stones, larger than his head, by the side of his
bed: his three arm-chests, with about twenty stand of arms
and accoutrements, gone. The chests were found about a mile
from the barracks, but empty. Just as our left wing were
leaving Nowshera, the camp being pitched ready for the men
to go into, but not occupied--it was almost square--a heavy
sand-storm came on during the night, and in the midst of the
storm, they walked off with one of the large tents, although
there were six sentries with loaded rifles all around the
camp. With reference to the sergeant, he was made a prisoner
for neglecting to chain his chests to the wall, according to
order. He was a good-hearted, witty fellow. He was brought
before our Colonel on a charge of neglect; the Colonel, who
knew well what an honourable, straightforward man he was,
said that he was astonished to see the prisoner before him
on such a charge. In defence, the old veteran said that he
generally slept with one eye at a time, but these fellows
had, he must acknowledge, caught him napping. The Colonel
let him go. But before I close this I must tell you that our
Government do not lose much by them for all that's stolen: a
heavy indemnity is laid on all the surrounding villages. As
one victim who never got a farthing back, I was only too
glad to get out of the Peshawur valley. There were only
about fifty men in the whole regiment that escaped the fever
and ague, and I am one of them. But I must bring this short
note to a close,

And believe me,
My dear Parents,
Ever your affectionate Son,
(Our united extra love for Mother),
T. GOWING,
C.S. and A.S.M.,
Royal Fusiliers.

P.S.--The following is too good to be kept back: at
Peshawur, one of our staff-officers had a beautiful charger,
a very valuable horse. Some of his friends told him he would
lose it some night. He laughed at them; he had three men
told off specially as a guard for his stables. One morning
last winter there were all sorts of rumours going about that
the General's horses had been stolen. It turned out that an
old man had set himself down to have a smoke with his
hubbybub;[27] two of the guard joined him, and the third at
last thought he would have a pull. Almost as quick as
thought, the three men became unconscious. The old man at
once gave the signal, when in came the men, stole this
beautiful horse, with three others, saddled them, and
mounting with all the guards' arms, and ammunition, were
away quickly. It was found that the guard had been dosed.

T. G.

Meean-Meer, 20th September, 1862.

My Dear, Dear Parents,

Once more a line, in the best of health, trusting this will
find you enjoying the same blessing. I told you in my last
that I felt lonely. I have given Corporal Woods a little of
my mind. What is the use of upsetting your minds for
nothing. It is true I got a touch of the cholera in June
last--the doctors only called it a touch--but if that's only
a touch, I pray that it may never touch me again. Another
wrote to my wife, informing her of it. She, poor thing, was
almost distracted: and the only thing that appeased her mind
was frequent telegrams informing her that I was alive and
had got over the worst of it. It gave me a good shaking, but
not being in the habit of drinking spirits, brandy cured me.
The doctors informed me that had I been a rum drinker, the
brandy would not have had the effect. I have no objection to
Wood writing to his friends; but, as I told him, he might
have waited to see the result before sending the news 15,000
miles away, almost amounting to one's death. Well, thank
God, I have got over it, but I have had another fight for
life since then. I think it will somewhat amuse you, so I
will tell you all. I have put Johnny into the school at
Kussoulie, in the Himalaya Mountains: it is about 350 miles
from here. We travelled by bullock cart (Government),
changing bullocks every ten miles, travelling night and day.
We found it very hot and sultry in July, but still we pushed
on. All went well until we came to the banks of the Sutlej,
a broad and rapid river which, owing to the melting of the
snow on the hills, had overflowed its banks. The point at
which we had to cross was over six miles wide, the current
running from ten to twelve miles per hour. I obtained a good
supply of food, lemonade, and other refreshments from the
81st, stationed in a large fort on the banks of the river.
Cart, bullocks, and all, were put into a large Government
boat, and off we started.

It was tedious work, crossing such a current. We had four
Natives to man the boat. As far as I could see, they
understood their business. I watched them for some time, and
then got into my cart to have a nap. I was informed we
should be four hours, at least, crossing. Whilst I was
asleep, Master Johnny amused himself by throwing all the
food we had overboard, to feed the fishes. On arriving
safely on _terra firma_ once more, I asked my generous son
to hand me a biscuit and a bottle of lemonade. I got the
latter, but Johnny said he could not see any biscuits in the
box. I told him to look again. The answer I got was: "I
cannot see any biscuits, dada." I was rather annoyed, but I
found the child was right. We had then about 140 miles to
go, without food, and no sign of habitation--a nice look
out. We travelled all that night, and until about 5 p.m.
next day. As I was walking behind the cart, I noticed the
child crying; I inquired what was the matter, when he, poor
boy, burst out the louder, saying he was hungry. I could not
stand that, so, mounting on the top of the cart, I espied a
native village about a mile from the road. We drew the cart
up under some trees, and telling the driver to take his
bullocks out, and stop there to take care of the child until
I returned, promising to reward him, I armed myself with a
brace of revolvers, loaded, took some empty bottles to hold
milk, and with a good strong stick, off I went across the
paddy fields, up to my ankles, and sometimes knees, in mud
and water, until I struck upon a good path. As I approached
the village a number of dogs came at me. I kept them at bay
with stones and my stick as long as I could--shooting the
most troublesome one, when the remainder were called off. On
turning a corner I came upon a number of native women
(almost in a state of nudity), milking cows--the very thing
I wanted. I walked up to them and saluted them with,
"Salam:" then mustering my best Hindustanee I told them that
I required milk. (Now, mind, don't you laugh). "Hum-dood,
Manta-hi"--that I would pay them for it. "Hum piea dada hi."
They all looked at me with contempt, exclaiming, yea,
screaming, "Jow thome Feringhee sour"--"Go away, you English
pig." I could not stand much of that; I tried once more to
make peace with them by telling them I was no thief, that I
wanted milk for my hungry child and myself, and that I would
pay them what they asked. The following is as near as I can
come at it: "Decco thunb hum loot wallah nay hi Hum-dood
Manta-hi, hommoea babba both bokha hi," and, to my
astonishment, they with one voice screamed out, and sent me
to the lower regions--a very hot place for an English
pig--"Jahanham jow tomb Feringhee sour." Flesh and blood
could not stand that: I was not to be done by a lot of
fanatic women. So I at once walked up to one of them, and
taking the vessel that she was milking into, drank heartily,
throwing down four annas (sixpence) for it. Hereupon they
all at once jumped up and ran into the village, shouting as
though I had killed or kissed some of them. They had not
been gone long when they returned with seven men, armed with
"lathies"--long sticks with lead let into the end, and
brass-headed nails all around from the top, extending about
two feet. The women were behind the men, shouting like mad,
pitiless creatures, for the men to "Maro, Maro, Ko
Feringhee"--"Kill, kill the Englishman." It was no use my
trying to run, but I must face the lot. Now for the "tug of
war." On they came: the first man rushed at me, delivering a
terrible blow at my head; being a fair swordsman, I warded
it off, and delivered the six-cut right across his face,
when down he went: he had had enough. Another came at me; I
warded off his blow, and delivered a point from the hip
right into his stomach, which doubled him up and made him
pull all sorts of wry faces, and down he went. Others rushed
at me. Only one hit me, but I warmed him for that, right and
left. In less time than it takes me to tell you, I had them
all rolling on the ground: they had each of them received
some heavy blows; it was life or death with me. When the
women found that the "English pig" was too many for them,
they, with one exception, ran back into the village,
screaming again. I at once broke all their sticks and threw
them into a pond close by, and by way of refreshment, took
another good drink of milk, and filled my bottles. I was
just about to walk off, when I noticed some men coming after
me, with a number of women and dogs, encouraging them to
kill me.

I knew well it would be no use me trying to get away, so I
made up my mind at once to die hard. My chief thought was
about my poor little boy. Rushing to a good-sized tree I
stood on the defensive, with my back to the tree, men,
women, and dogs pursuing. The first man who came at me was a
powerful-looking fellow, a sort of champion or bully. I
believe they thought he would be more than a match for me;
right manfully did he come at me, but I punished him so
severely about the head and legs, that he lay groaning on
the ground, rubbing his head and legs, whilst the blood
flowed freely from the side of his head. Others then came on
to the attack, but were met with terrible blows, right and
left. At last my stick broke: I dashed the pieces I had in
my hand into the face of the fellow nearest me. When the
women saw I had no stick, they commenced to shout again:
"Maro, Maro, Ko Feringhee." Now for life or death, I
thought. Out came the two revolvers. A brute of a dog that
had given me a lot of trouble got the first shot right
between his eyes, when down he went without a groan. I then
fired through one of their huge turbans. It had the desired
effect. I did not wish to take life, and told them so, but
if they did not let me alone I would kill the whole of them.
I then rolled over another dog, one of their pet dogs. This
last shot appeared to decide them. The women called their
husbands away, begging me, on bended knees, not to kill
them. A Native has an utter dread of a revolver. They say
that it is "jaddowed" (bewitched), and that it will fire as
often as you like. I still found the dogs very troublesome,
and had to shoot another. I made the villagers drop their
sticks or send them home, and then made peace with them. I
got all the milk I required, and "chupatties" (thin cakes of
unleavened bread). Two men went to the road with me,
carrying the milk and cakes. I told them I should report
them; they begged me not to do it, or they would be heavily
punished. I found the child crying bitterly for his dada.
The milk and cakes, however, soon put him right, and off we
went jogging along again. I found it exceedingly pleasant at
Kussoulie, up about 8,000 feet. We have a large depôt up
here, and the men look remarkably healthy. I took Master
Johnny straight to the school, situated on another hill, and
duly handing him over, left him for two days. My wife and
little ones were up here, so I spent two days very
pleasantly with them, and then went and bade the boy
good-bye. The school, so far as I could see, is kept very
clean, and the children are well cared for. I found him
making himself quite at home with the other children. I
think I shall send Master Arthur there as soon as I can: it
will do him the world of good to get off the burning plains.
If ever you see Johnny you will, perhaps, remember the
narrow squeak I had while taking him to school. It was the
determined front I showed that struck them with awe; they
could see I meant mischief. It will not do to stop to count
Indians, but go at them determined to conquer or die. I
expect to join headquarters at Ferozepore next month. This
is my third attempt at this letter. Please excuse all
imperfections.

And believe me,
My dear Parents, as ever,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING,
C.S., A.S.M.

Camp Nowshera, 24th March, 1864.

My ever Dear Parents,

Once more, a line from this troublesome part of Her
Majesty's dominions. You will have learnt from my wife's pen
that I have, thank God, escaped the ravages of war once more
without a scratch.

I did not like to write you when things looked so ugly. The
war cloud has passed. I have passed through it: and now I
will tell you a little. The Afghans, without any warning
(_i.e._, declaration of war--just as the Sikhs did in 1845)
invaded our territory, carrying death and destruction into
all our frontier villages. All that they could lay their
hands upon were destroyed, old and young, male and female,
rich and poor, and the cattle walked off with, for no other
crime than that they were British subjects. You may be sure
our Government would not stand that, so a small army was at
once sent against them, to punish them and to teach them
better manners. The Fusiliers were in camp at Meean-Meer,
awaiting the Governor-General. We, as a feather in our cap,
had been selected by the Commander-in-Chief, Sir H. Rose,
K.C.B., to escort his lordship all through India. Our women
and children were left behind, with all delicate men. Our
Colonel's lady accompanied us, and took Mrs. G. as her
lady's maid. We sent two companies from Ferozepore to escort
his lordship from Simla here, but his lordship took another
route. He died, and was buried in the hills. We expected
then to have returned to our station, Ferozepore, but,
instead of that, were ordered into the field. The small
force our Government (penny-wise and pound foolish) had sent
against the Afghans were overwhelmed. It is bad policy to
despise your enemies. Our little force could hardly hold
their own: in fact, were hemmed in on all sides by an
overwhelming, brave race of men--rather a humiliating
position for the conquering race. News in transit out here
(bad in particular) will lose nothing. Meean-Meer is near
600 miles from the seat of war, and the news was flying
through the Native bazaars that our army in Afghanistan had
been utterly destroyed. It was represented to be as bad as
the disaster in the Bolan Pass, in 1840--not a man had
escaped, and that the conquering Afghans were marching on
Rawul Pindee. We were ordered off at once, with a number of
other regiments, both horse, foot, artillery, Natives and
Europeans, and to force-march, we often covered thirty-two
miles in twenty-four hours; so it was no child's play, with
a heavy load of ammunition to carry in a climate like this
in the month of September. But, dear parents, the honour of
our glorious old flag was at stake, and it is then when the
true Briton comes out in his true colours. A brave man can
die but once, but a cowardly sneak all his life long: and I
do believe that Pat has a jealous eye for the honour of that
flag he loves so well. We were off to measure our strength
with the Afghans. All went swinging along as merry as
wedding bells. We had a lively time of it; singing faces
were in requisition. I feel I must give a sample of one song
we had; but you must not laugh. The man was called upon to
sing by our much-respected Colonel. He said he would sing if
the good lady would ride on out of the way. The Colonel
gave his lady a hint, and she galloped on ahead. We all
thought we were going to hear something nice. We were
requested not to laugh, but to come in in chorus. I hardly
need say this youth was from the Green Isle. The song:--

"I was at the Battle of the Nile,
All the while,
At the battle of the Nile,
I was there all the while."

(Chorus)--"At the battle of the Nile, boys,
I was there all the while;
All the while I was there,
At the battle of the Nile."

And so this youth kept it up, with about 1,200 men joining
in. The Natives all along the line of march had heard the
bad news: they must have thought we were a jolly lot. This
is just a sample of how we got over our long marches. I had
the honour, as acting sergeant-major, of leading. We had not
a man fall out the whole way. I had promised this youth my
go of rum when we got in, if he would sing a good song. As
soon as it was all over, our Colonel turned in his saddle
and called out, "You must not forget your promise,
Sergeant-Major." The man called out in good mellow Irish,
"By my soul, then, I shall not forgit it, Colonel dear."
Mind, I was in charge of the canteen, so he was likely to
have a good tot. Although it was heavy work to be marching
night and day, the excitement kept us well on the move, for
bad news kept coming in. As we approached Nowshera we began
to meet traces of hand-to-hand encounters--wounded officers
and men with sword cuts. The wounded informed us that the
enemy were very numerous, and as brave as lions, many of
them quite fanatics, despising death so long as they could
close with you. We had our old friends the 93rd Highlanders
with us. It is a splendid regiment, and I had not the
slightest doubt about the result. With the reinforcements
that were going up, one could see our Government meant to
make short work of the enemy. We turned off to the right at
Nowshera, and bid good-bye to all roads and bridges; but
nothing could stop our fellows. We had several regiments of
Ghoorkas with us, and we soon found that they had plenty of
fight in them. We had a lot of rough marching after we left
the plains of India; but still, on and on, up and up, we
went. Some of the hills took the singing out of us. In many
places we had nothing but a goat's path to get up, and could
only go one at a time, but still, on we went. We found our
people strongly entrenched, with the enemy nearly all around
them. The Swatties are a brave race of people, big,
raw-boned, stalwart men, and we found a number of the very
worst of the Mutineers mixed up with them. They had nothing
to look forward to but death. They knew well that if taken
they would be shot, and they fought with desperation. Some
of the encounters we had with the foe involved desperate
fighting, hand to hand, foot to foot, knee to knee--no
quarter asked or given; and but for the superior weapons,
with the heavy odds against us, it would have been uphill
work with us. Our artillery (and we had nearly eighty guns
with us) simply mowed the huge masses of the enemy down by
wholesale. We repeatedly found them as brave as lions; they
frequently stood to be mowed down, or came on to certain
destruction. Then they would get volley after volley of
musketry or be hurled or pitchforked from the field with the
bayonet. But to go into all the fights would be impossible.
We found the little Ghoorkas perfect devils in the fights,
but some of our crack Sikh regiments trembled before the
foe, while we and the Ghoorkas brought them up and made them
face the foe or us. They chose the enemy, and were nearly
annihilated. In one of the fights, our Ghoorkas, we found,
had killed all they met--both women and children lay all
around, dead. Our gallant old General, Sir J. Garveck,
K.C.B., would not stand that. As soon as the fight was over
and the enemy routed, we formed up and faced the Ghoorkas. A
strong force of artillery, with cavalry, were with us, the
71st, 93rd, and 101st. The General at once demanded the men
to be given up who had murdered the poor women and
children--or instant death. Resistance was out of the
question.

Fifteen men were given up by their comrades. They were tried
by court-martial, and five of them shot on the spot; the
others were transported for life. The General said he would
not command murderers: we were fighting a fair stand-up
fight against men. This stopped it. At last, after other
heavy fights, the enemy threw up the sponge, and begged for
mercy they were strangers to--for all who had fallen into
their hands, whether Europeans or Asiatics, had had to die.
Our chief demanded all the Mutineers to be given up. We
found they had got into an old mud fort, but in a very
strong position. The arms were given back to a portion of
the foe, and they were made to storm the fort and destroy
every man. Some five regiments of infantry and about
twenty-four guns went with them, with two regiments of
Native cavalry, to see the order carried out. Remember,
these men were all murderers from the Mutiny, so I think we
can say that we put the finishing touch upon the Mutineers,
as the Highlanders did on the Russians at the Alma. Well,
thank God, it is all over: we have struck terror into
thousands, yea, hundreds of thousands of lawless Afghans. As
soon as the last shot was fired and the enemy was at our
feet, I wrote the following short note (in blood, for we had
no ink) to my poor wife: "The fight all over; enemy beaten
at all points. I am, thank God, safe and sound.--T. G." We
marched into the plains of India 24th December last. We had
a very long march to finish off with. They said it was
thirty-four miles; but we had no mile-posts, and if measured
it would have been found a good forty and a wee bit. Now for
a bit of a spree before I close this long letter. It is a
bit of red tape trampled upon. On marching into Permula, at
the foot of the mountains, our Colonel sent for me,
inquiring as to whether the canteen had come in. I informed
him it had not, and from what I had heard, did not expect it
for some time to come. Our Colonel is a very feeling
man--just the sort that the Fusiliers would follow through
thick and thin. "Well, Sergeant-Major," said he, "something
must be done." As quick as thought I sat me down on the
stones, took a leaf out of my pocket-book, and made out (in
pencil) an urgent requisition on the commissariat for fifty
gallons proof rum. The Colonel read it and signed it at
once. I then called out for ten men of my own company to
follow me. I had been told to look alive; so off I started
with my men to the commissariat stores close by, armed with
the requisition. On inquiring for the conductor, I was
informed by a Native policeman that the Sahib was taking his
dinner and could not be disturbed. His tent being pointed
out to me, I went at once to it, and inquired through the
chick of the tent if the conductor was in. A voice from
within answered me in the affirmative. "And what the d--l do
you want?" and "Go to h--l out of this." I said I had just
completed one long march, quite enough for one day; and that
if he did not know what common civility was, I would teach
him. And then, without any more talk, I walked into his tent
and handed to him my requisition. After looking at it for
about a minute, he said, with all the authority of a lord
high admiral: "Sergeant, I shall not issue anything upon
that dirty bit of paper." I could hardly keep myself within
bounds. My knuckles began to itch, as the Yankees say. I
called him some nice name--not a gentleman. I found he was
closely related to that notable firm, Day & Martin. I gave
him to understand, in plain English, that if he did not give
me the rum, I should take it. He got into a violent temper,
rushed out of the tent, called or whistled up a large,
ugly-looking dog, and five or six Native policemen. I found
my gallant friend a perfect swell--patent leather shoes,
white ducks, black cloth vest, with red neck-tie, kid
gloves, white linen shirt, _and a black face_. And one would
think, by his conduct, that his heart was the same as his
face towards us. But I was not to be easily done. One of my
men came up and informed me that they had found the rum. I
again asked if I was to have the rum in accordance with the
requisition. Throwing the paper at me, he told me to go to
the d--l. I could stand no more of that, so I landed my
bunch of fives right between his eyes, and followed it up
with one, two, three more. His dog and the police came to
the rescue; but the dog was the only one that showed fight,
the police thinking discretion the better part of valour. I
then proceeded to take what I wanted--a barrel of proof rum.
I found our Colonel had got out of patience, and we met him
and the General coming to see what was keeping me. When I
explained all, and how that I had had to fight for it, the
Colonel and General laughed heartily. The Fusiliers were not
to be stopped quite so easily. Ha! ha! I was reported for
striking the conductor, but got over it with flying colours;
the General saying I ought to have given him a little more,
and that he hoped the lesson the conductor had had in the
art of self-defence would teach him to keep a civil tongue
with Britons.

So I think you will say the Afghans had not taken all the
fight out of me. But I am getting tired, and must bring this
to a close. We shall, all being well, be at, or close to our
station, Ferozepore, about the time this reaches you.
Please to accept the enclosed £--, as a further mark of love
from as both.

And believe us to remain
Your affectionate Son and Daughter,
T. and B. J. GOWING,
Royal Fusiliers.

P.S.--Mrs. G. is here with me, and we are as happy as the
day is long.

T. G.

Ferozepore, 28th September, 1864.

My Dear Parents,

Once more, a line from this dusty station, in the best of
health. We are coming close up to the end of a very hot
summer. I have had another trip up to the hills with Master
Arthur; it will do him the world of good. This is a very
pretty station. There are large gardens, beautifully laid
out. The River Sutlej is about one mile from barracks. There
is a large fort on the banks of it. We keep about 150 men in
it. Our men still look very brown from the last outing we
had. The Fusiliers got a lot of soft soap in general orders
for their conduct in the late Afghan campaign. We are to get
a medal, and I do not know how many bars, for it some day. I
must give in: there is a sand-storm coming up. The doctors
say they are very healthy; they may be, but they are very
unpleasant--enough to blind one. Well, it's all over; it
lasted about an hour: we are almost smothered with sand.
About a month ago, we had a flight of locusts; they played
"old Harry" with everything green about the place, stripped
every bush and tree. There must have been millions of them.
The whole heavens were black with them. Our men turned out
to kill or frighten them. The Natives caught as many as they
could. I have some of them in a bottle. I find the Natives
make curry of them. Well, we have plenty of fun here. Our
Colonel has given the men permission to keep horses, tats,
ponies, &c. It is very amusing to see our men out by
hundreds, practising to ride. They look very smart. Most of
them have flannel trousers, in all the colours of the
rainbow. I expect they will soon be calling us the 7th
Flying Horse, the 7th Dragoons, or the 7th Flannel-bellies.
It's enough to make a pig laugh, to see some of them trying
to hold on to the saddle, the mane, the tail, or anything
they can, belonging to or fastened to their quadrupeds. It
is as good a thing as they could have; it keeps their mind
employed and gives them good healthy exercise, and they all
look healthy and well. Please to accept the enclosed as a
further mark of love, and pass no compliments about it--this
is from my rib. Well, dear parents, I hope you will not
blame me for the step I have taken. I thought of coming
home. I know well you would have liked to have seen me and
mine; but you must remember my cap does not cover my head.
We muster six little ones; and I do believe there will be an
increase before this reaches you. Whether the number will be
brought up to eight, I do not know; and there is something
else about it--so long as I have my health and can keep
them comfortably, I do not care. Well, you will say, "What
have you done?" I have re-engaged to complete twenty-one
years. Had I come home, I should have thrown eleven years
away for nothing; and I think I have had ten years of it
pretty rough, so I made up my mind to go in for a pension.
You see, our house is getting rapidly filled; whether it is
the change of air, I must leave you to surmise. At all
events, the bargain was made in '58 for no grumbling, and we
pull along pretty well. If I find my old chum wrong-side
out, or her temper or monkey up, I just light my pipe and
walk over to our mess. In an hour I am back again, and the
storm is all over. The old Book is right: "A soft answer
turneth away wrath." I think we could claim the flitch of
bacon: we are near six years married, and have not had one
cross word. You ask me about the price of food, clothing,
&c. Well, good flour is 3d. per stone. I will give you the
prices in English money, you will understand me better.
Potatoes almost for nothing, 1d. per stone; eggs (large)
sixty for 1s.; fowl (large) fit for the table, 4d.; beef,
1-1/2d. per pound (prime); mutton, 2d. per pound (prime);
rabbits, in the season, 2d. each; all kinds of fresh fish
for a song; fresh pork, 3d. per pound. Anything from home is
very dear, such as Cheshire cheese, 3s. 6d. per pound; hams,
from 2s. 6d. to 4s. per pound, and they will not cut them.
The cheeses are in tins of from four to twelve pounds. Beer,
for the non-commissioned officers and privates, 6d. per
quart; but if an officer requires ale, he must drink Bass's
or Allsopp's, at 2s. 6d. per bottle. Brandy, from 8s. to
12s. per bottle; gin, whisky, port and sherry, from 6s. to
10s. per bottle. Clothing for ladies and children is very
dear, more than double the price at home, so I hope that you
will attend to the order my rib sent you: Snowdon, or
Chamberlain's people would only be too happy to comply; get
a sample of what they will send. Again, as regards drink.
Country drink is very cheap. They call it Darro; it is as
strong as our brandy, and is sold in the bazaars at 2d. per
bottle. This is the stuff that kills our men. After drinking
it for a time, they become quite stupid, and go off like the
snuff of a candle, or are sent home invalided, fit for
nothing. I have never tasted it yet, and will not, whilst I
am in my right mind. I am sorry to have to inform you that
cholera, in its worst form, has broken out, and is raging in
Cawnpore, Lucknow, Allahabad, Delhi, and Umballa. I hope it
will keep from us; we have been very fortunate since '62. I
will send the photos next mail. My kind regards to all old
friends,

And believe me, as ever,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING, C.S. and A.S.M.,
Royal Fusiliers.

P.S.--Wife will drop a line next mail. Keep up your spirits,
mother. All is well that ends well.

T. G.

P.S. 2.--Before I send this off, I feel that I must give you
a little _tit-bit, a relic of the Mutiny_. Just after I had
laid my pen down, a respectable looking Native came to my
door and handed to me a paper to read (he did not speak). I
read the document. It stated that he had been a Sepoy, an
unfortunate man; that he had through bad advice, thrown in
his lot against us, and fought us at Lucknow: that he was
wounded there in a remarkable way by a musket ball: that the
shot went in at his mouth, carried away his tongue, and
passed out at the back of his head; and that, if you wished,
he would take a plug out, open his mouth, and you could see
right through his head. I looked at the man, and said
"coolo" (open). He did so, and, true enough, I could see
right through. I gave the fellow a rupee. His petition
further stated that the man had belonged to a regiment that
had not hurt their officers, women, or children; but went
over to the enemy and fought for heavy stakes and lost all.

T. G.

Saugor (Central India), 25th September, 1869.

My Dear Father and Mother,--

This is a world of troubles and sorrows; my heart is almost
too full to say much. Since my last from this place, it has
pleased an All-wise God and Father again to lay the hand of
death upon our once happy circle. I told you in my last that
cholera, in its worst type, had broken out among us and the
Artillery, and that we were burying the poor fellows without
coffins--sewed up in blankets, twenty and twenty-five a-day.
As you know, this is not my first experience of that fearful
scourge. But, dear parents, the heavy blow that I have
received is enough to give one a stroke of apoplexy. My poor
heart is near bursting with grief. The stroke has been so
sudden that I can hardly realise it. But it is the stroke of
One who is "Too wise to err; too good to be unkind." So we,
poor short-sighted mortals, must bow to His all-wise decree.
Six of my dear children have been called away to the bright
realms above, all in a few hours. On the morning of the 15th
inst., they were all well. Eight dear little ones, wife, and
self sat down to breakfast, all hearty and well. Before the
breakfast was over, little Freddy complained of a pain in
his body. I took him on my knee, but that did not cure him.
One of our doctors was passing at the time; I called him in.
He ordered the child off to the cholera hospital at once.
Mother went with him. But, dear parents, I cannot dwell upon
it. Before four o'clock, six of my fine boys and girls had
passed away into the arms of Him who does all things well.
We shall never hear their sweet prattling tongues any more:
all is silent in the tomb. Before six o'clock p.m. on the
15th, they were all laid in one common grave, wrapped in
sheets, without coffins. Three of them the same morning,
about five o'clock, were singing the following hymn in
bed:--

"I'll praise my Maker with my breath;
And when my voice is lost in death,
Praise shall employ my nobler powers:
My days of praise shall ne'er be past
While life and thought and being last,
Or immortality endures."

Their mother and myself stood at their bedroom door,
listening to their sweet voices. We little thought that
they would so soon be numbered with the clods of the valley.
But further, I am sorry to have to inform you that my poor
dear wife was pronounced dead by one of our doctors, and
carried to the dead-house, or mortuary, about 2.30 p.m. on
that fatal 15th. Thank God, however, life was found in her:
she was carried back to hospital, and is still alive. She,
poor thing, does not yet know how she has been bereaved; the
doctors having given strict orders that she must not know it
for some time to come. I am thankful to say that she is
rapidly improving. But I sometimes feel that I cannot live:
all, all are gone that we loved so well. Out of our heavy
family we have lost eight dear little ones, snatched from us
in this, to all appearance, _paradise (?)_ on earth. A dear
old friend said to me this morning, when I told him the
blows were more than I could bear; "My boy, your partner is
left to you; it might have been worse." Then, grasping my
hand, he said, "Look to your father's God for strength, look
to the strong for strength." My dear parents, I feel it is
there I _must_ look. My officers, from the Colonel
downwards, are very kind to me. The Colonel and his lady
called this morning to sympathise with me in my sore trials.
I cannot say more at present. Will write again in a short
time if I am spared. Good-bye, and may God bless you all.

And believe me as ever,
In health or in wealth,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING, Sergeant-Major,
Royal Fusiliers.

P.S.--Please to accept the enclosed; use it if you require
it, or put it in the bank.

T. G.

Saugor (Central India), 20th October, 1869.

My Dear Parents,

Once more, a line in health, in accordance with promise.
Thanks for your kind letters and Christian advice. I know
well that you are ripe for the Master, and that in a few
short years at most, we shall all be where time shall be no
more. But I am truly happy to learn that your health and
that of poor mother is still good. You must remember, dear
father, that you have passed the allotted time of man by ten
years, and mother by seven years. I know that you must be
drawing on for your diamond wedding, as you married much
younger than I did. I hope the Lord will spare you to
celebrate it, and me and mine with you to cheer you up. I am
exceedingly happy to inform you that my dear partner has
been spared to me; she, poor thing, has been terribly
shaken, and does not look the same woman. Our colonel's lady
kindly undertook, with other ladies, to break the sad news
of the loss of our dear children to her. She bore it with a
Christian fortitude beyond what I had expected; and thanked
God fervently that I had been spared to comfort her, and
that we had yet four left to us. I am bringing my boys from
the school. They will help to fill up the void, or empty
chairs, and cheer us up a little. But bad as our case was,
there was one in the regiment worse. A whole family, of
father, mother, and eight fine boys and girls, all in a few
days. The mother and children died on the 16th September,
and after they had been interred three days, the poor
distracted father bribed the Native in charge of the
cemetery, obtained a pick and a shovel, and digged down to
his poor wife to have a kiss. But it was a fatal kiss for
him, and in less than two short hours he was laid beside
those he loved so well. Our men have subscribed and put a
nice stone over him, with a suitable epitaph. I have put up
a monument over my dear little ones. I am happy to inform
you that cholera has now entirely left us. Some of our poor
fellows who got over it are nothing but wrecks of humanity,
and will all have to be invalided home. Now that it is all
over, I will tell you a little. My poor wife hardly ever
left the side of the poor women and children that were dying
of it, but stuck to them like a true Briton until she, poor
thing, caught the terrible malady from our little Freddy.
And, further, I never left the men, but did all that lay in
my power for them. I pitched the sergeant-major's coat on
one side, tucked up my shirt sleeves, and rubbed the poor
fellows as long as there was a chance of life. Poor Corporal
Woods died in my arms. I promised him that I would write to
his widowed mother in Norwich. I have his watch; he wished
me to send it to his mother. I will do so by this post. Go
and console the poor widow. Mind, this is the same man who
wrote home about me in 1862. The cholera lasted only
fourteen days with us, and in that short time we lost 149
men, 11 women, and 27 children, out of a total strength of
about 340. We have strong detachments out at Nowgong,
Putchmuny, and Jhansie. We had no parades nor drills. What
was to be done? Our doctor asked the colonel to leave me to
him. I found it all through as I have frequently found it
before--in Turkey, the Crimea, in Meean-Meer (in 1862), and
here--that it is almost impossible to keep the men's spirits
up. They get it into their heads that they are going to die,
and die they will. Others fought against it manfully. Some
said they would sooner face the foe, twenty to one; they
might have a chance to sell their lives dearly or to die
hard. But here there was an unseen enemy, with no chance to
combat it. Well, thank God, it is all over, and I am still
in the land of the living, whole and hearty.

My wife joins with me in love; she will drop you a line as
soon as she gets a little stronger. Please to accept the
enclosed from the old girl's long stocking, that has never
seen daylight for years, so far as I know.

And believe me as ever,
Your affectionate Son,
T. GOWING, S.M., R.F.

Fort Allahabad, 15th July, 1872.

My Dear Mother,

In answer to your kind letter, just to hand, with the sad
news of the death of poor dear father. Truly, as you say, he
was beloved by all who knew him. I do believe his enemies
could be put into a very small room, whilst his friends were
numbered by tens of thousands. I know, mother dear, that
you will feel his loss more than tongue can tell; but do try
and console yourself with this fact that he is not lost, but
gone before; that he is now in the midst of that
blood-bought throng that no man can number; that he is now
with Him whose name he tried to extol for fifty-six years;
that he is now with untold millions singing, "Unto Him that
loved us, and washed us from our sins in His own blood, and
hath made us kings and priests unto God," thus helping to
swell the anthem of the skies,

"While heaven's resounding mansions ring
With shouts of sovereign grace."