Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

Again, on June 12th, we are at it:--

"A sharp fight for four hours, ending as usual. They have
never yet been so punished as to-day. The Guides behaved
admirably, so did the Fusileers as usual. I am vexed much at
the _Lahore Chronicle butter_, and wish people would leave
me alone in the newspapers. The best butter I get is the
deference and respect I meet with from all whose respect I
care for, and the affectionate enthusiasm of the Guides,
which increases instead of lessening."

But this daily repulsing attacks cannot be allowed to go on: cannot we have something to say to attacking them? So the general thinks, and sets Greathed, assisted by me and two more engineers, to submit a plan for taking Delhi.

"We drew up our scheme and gave it to the general, who
highly approved, and will, I trust, carry it out; but how
times must be changed, when four subalterns are called upon
to suggest a means of carrying out so vitally important an
enterprise as this, one on which the safety of the empire
depends!"

Simple but "perfectly feasible" plan of four subalterns: blow open gates with powder, and go in with bayonet, and that there may be no mistake about it, I volunteer to lead the assault (wholly unmindful of that assurance given to a loving heart in the hills that I am _not_ exposing myself) and fix on a small building in front of the gate as the rendezvous, which is now called "Hodson's Mosque."

General approves, and orders assault for the morning of June 13th. Alas for our "perfectly feasible" plan!

"We were to have taken Delhi by assault last night, but a
'mistake of orders' (?) as to the right time of bringing the
troops to the rendezvous prevented its execution. I am much
annoyed and disappointed at our plan not having been carried
out, because I am confident it would have been successful.
The rebels were cowed, and perfectly ignorant of any
intention of so bold a stroke on our part as an assault; the
surprise would have done everything."

Next day there is another fight. A council of war. Our plan is still approved, but put off from day to day. Abandoned at last, we are to wait for reinforcements. Poor "feasible plan!"

"It was frustrated the first night by the fears and absolute
disobedience of orders of ----, the man who first lost
Delhi, and has now by folly prevented its being recaptured.
The general has twice since wished and even ordered it, but
has always been thwarted by some one or other; latterly by
that old woman ----, who has come here for nothing
apparently but as an obstacle; ---- is also a crying evil to
us. The general knows this and wants to get rid of him, but
has not the nerve to supersede him. The whole state of
affairs here is bad to a degree."

And here I am (June 19th), with fights going on every day, knocked down with bronchitis and inflammation of the chest, "really very ill for some hours." "The general nurses me as if I were his son. I woke in the night and found the kind old man by my bedside covering me carefully up from the draught." But on June 20th (bronchitis notwithstanding) I am up and at work again, for the Sepoys have attacked our rear to-day, and though beaten as usual, Colonel Becher (Quartermaster-General) is shot through right arm, and Daly (commanding Guides) hit through the shoulder. So the whole work of the Quartermaster-General's office is on me, and the general begs me as a personal favor to take command of Guides in addition. I at first refused, but the general was most urgent, putting it on the ground that the service was at stake, and none was so fit, &c. &c. I do feel that we are bound to do our best just now to put things on a proper footing; and after consulting Seaton and Norman, I accepted the command. How ---- will gnash his teeth to see me leading my dear old Guides again in the field.

And so we fight on, literally day by day, for now "our artillery officers themselves say they are outmatched by these rascals in accuracy and rapidity of fire; and as they have unlimited supplies of guns, &c., they are quite beyond us in many respects. We are, in point of fact, reduced to merely holding our own ground till we get more men." Still we don't feel at all like giving in.

"The wounded generally are doing well, poor fellows,
considering the heat, dirt, and want of any bed but the dry
ground. Their pluck is wonderful, and it is not in the field
alone that you see what an English soldier is made of. One
poor fellow who was smoking his pipe and laughing with the
comrade by his side, was asked, what was the matter with
him, and he answered in a lively voice, 'Oh, not much, Sir,
only a little knock on the back; I shall be up and at the
rascals again in a day or two.' He had been shot in the
spine, and all his lower limbs were paralyzed. He died next
day. Colonel Welchman is about again; too soon, I fear, but
there is no keeping the brave old man quiet. Poor Peter
Brown is very badly wounded, but he is cheerful, and bears
up bravely. Jacob has 'come out' wonderfully. He is cool,
active, and bold, keeps his wits about him under fire, and
does altogether well. We are fortunate in having him with
the force. Good field-officers are very scarce indeed; I do
not wonder at people at a distance bewailing the delay in
the taking of Delhi. No one not on the spot can appreciate
the difficulties in the way, or the painful truth, that
those difficulties increase upon us."

I am rather out of sorts still myself, also. It is a burden to me to stand or walk, and the excessive heat makes it difficult for me to recover from that sharp attack of illness. "The doctors urge me to go away for a little, to get strength--as if I could leave just now, or as if I would if I could." ... So I am in the saddle all day, (June 24th,) though obliged occasionally to rest a bit where I can find shelter, and one halt is by Alfred Light.

"It does me good to see the 'Light of the ball-room' working
away at his guns, begrimed with dust and heat, ever cheery
and cool, though dead beat from fatigue and exposure. How
our men fought to-day; liquid fire was no name for the
fervent heat; but nothing less than a knock-down blow from
sun, sword, or bullet, stops a British soldier."

My glorious old regiment! how they have suffered in this short three weeks; Colonel Welchman badly hit in the arm, Greville down with fever, Wriford with dysentery, Dennis with sunstroke, Brown with wounds.

"Jacob and the 'boys' have all the work to themselves, and
well indeed do the boys behave--with a courage and coolness
which would not disgrace veterans. Little Tommy Butler,
Owen, Warner, all behave like heroes, albeit with sadly
diminishing numbers to lead. Neville Chamberlain is come in,
who ought to be worth a thousand men to us."

Those rascals actually came out to-day (June 25th), in their red coats and medals!

"We are not very well off, _quant a la cuisine_. I never had
so much trouble in getting anything fit to eat, except when
I dine with the general. Colonel Seaton lives in my tent,
and is a great companion; his joyous disposition is a
perpetual rebuke to the croakers."

And so too was your own, my Lieutenant, for we have fortunately a letter from a distinguished officer, in which he says,--

"Affairs at times looked very queer, from the frightful
expenditure of life. Hodson's face was then like sunshine
breaking through the dark clouds of despondency and gloom
that would settle down occasionally on all but a few brave
hearts, England's worthiest sons, who were determined to
conquer."

But this siege does set one really thinking in earnest about several things, and this is the conclusion at which our Lieutenant arrives:--

"There is but one rule of action for a soldier in the field,
as for a man at all times, to do that which is best for the
public good; to make that your sole aim, resting assured
that the result will in the end be best for individual
interest also. I am quite indifferent not to see my name
appear in newspaper paragraphs and despatches; only content
if I can perform my duty truly and honestly, and too
thankful to the Almighty if I am daily spared for future
labors or future repose."

But here is another coil this June 27th:--

"There has been an outcry throughout the camp at ----'s
having fled from Bhagput, the bridge which caused me so much
hard riding and hard work to get, some time ago."

He has actually bolted, on a report of mutineers coming, leaving boats, bridge, and all. By this conduct he has lost our communication with Meerut, and that too when our reinforcements were actually in sight. The consequence is that I have to go down to Bhagput to recover boats, bridge, &c., and reopen communication, which is done at once and satisfactorily; and by July 2d we are quite comfortable, for I have set myself up with plates, &c., for one rupee, and Colonel Seaton's traps and servants will be here to-day ... except that we are somewhat vexed in our spirits, for

"---- has been shelved and allowed to get sick, to save him
from supersession. I do not like euphuisms. In these days
men and things should be called by their right names, that
we might know how far either should be trusted.

"_July 5th._--General Barnard dies of cholera after a few
hours' illness. Personally I am much grieved, for no kinder
or more considerate or gentlemanly man ever lived. I am so
sorry for his son, a fine brave fellow, whose attention to
his father won the love of us all. It was quite beautiful to
see them together."

And so we plunge on day after day, the rain nearly flooding us out of camp. Will the ladies in the hills make us some flannel shirts?

"The soldiers bear up like men, but the constant state of
wet is no small addition to what they have to endure from
heat, hard work, and fighting. I know by experience what a
comfort a dry flannel shirt is.

"_July 12th._--Three hundred of my new regiment arrive; very
fine-looking fellows, most of them. I am getting quite a
little army under me, what with the Guides and my own men.
Would to Heaven they would give us something more to do than
this desultory warfare, which destroys our best men, and
brings us no whit nearer Delhi, and removes the end of the
campaign to an indefinite period."

Another fight this 14th July, one of the sharpest we have yet had, and we who have to lead were obliged to expose ourselves, but really not more than we could help; and how the papers can have got hold of this wound story I can't think, for I didn't tell it even to you. The facts are thus:--

"A rascally Pandy made a thrust at my horse, which I
parried, when he seized his 'tulwar' in both hands, bringing
it down like a sledge-hammer; it caught on the iron of my
antigropelos legging, which it broke into the skin, cut
through the stirrup-leather, and took a slice off my boot
and stocking; and yet, wonderful to say, the sword did not
penetrate the skin. Both my horse and myself were staggered
by the force of the blow, but I recovered myself quickly,
and I don't think that Pandy will ever raise his 'tulwar'
again."

But, to show you that I did no more than was necessary, I must tell you what Chamberlain had to do, who led in another part.

"Seeing a hesitation among the troops he led, who did not
like the look of a wall lined with Pandies, and stopped
short, instead of going up to it, he leaped his horse clean
over the wall into the midst of them, and dared the men to
follow, which they did, but he got a ball in the shoulder."

I must positively give up the Quartermaster-General's work; head-quarters' staff seems breaking down altogether. General Reed goes to the hills to-night; Congreve and Curzon have been sent off, too; Chamberlain and Becher on their backs with wounds.

"Colonel Young, Norman, and myself, are therefore the only
representatives of the head-quarters' staff, except the
doctors and commissaries. I am wonderfully well, thank God!
and able to get through as much work as any man; but
commanding two regiments, and being eyes and ears to the
whole army, too, is really too much."

Again, to-day (July 19) a sharp fight; Pandies in great force--driven pellmell up to the walls; but how about getting back.

"We were commanded by a fine old gentleman, who might sit
for a portrait of Falstaff, so fat and jolly is he, Colonel
Jones, of 60th Rifles."

Jolly old Briton, with the clearest possible notion of going on, but as for retiring, little enough idea of that sort of work in Colonel Jones.

"The instant we began to draw off, they followed us, their
immense numbers giving them a great power of annoyance at
very slight cost to themselves. The brave old colonel was
going to retire 'all of a heap,' infantry, guns, and all in
a helpless mass, and we should have suffered cruel loss in
those narrow roads, with walls and buildings on both sides.
I rode up to him and pointed this out, and in reply received
_carte blanche_ to act as I saw best. This was soon done,
with the assistance of Henry Vicars (Adjutant 61st) and
Coghill (Adjutant 2d Bengal European Fusileers), both cool
soldiers under fire, though so young, and we got off in good
order and with trifling loss, drawing the men back slowly,
and in regular order, covered by Dixon's and Money's guns."

This colonel, too, with no notion of retreating, is a candid man; goes straight to the general on his return, and begs to thank our Lieutenant, and to say he hopes for no better aid whenever he has to lead; unlike some persons under whom we have served.

"The general has begged me to give up the Guides, and not
the quartermaster-general's office. You, at least, will
rejoice that it greatly diminishes the risk to life and
limb, which, I confess, lately has been excessive in my
case."

News of Wheeler's surrender--of the massacre four days later (July 26), and our blood is running fire. "There will be a day of reckoning for these things, and a fierce one, or I have been a soldier in vain." Another fight on the 24th, and Seaton down with chest-wound, but doing well; "he is patient and gentle in suffering as a woman, and this helps his recovery wonderfully." ... Thanks for the flannel waistcoats; but as for you and Mrs. ---- coming to camp as nurses, no.

"Unless any unforeseen emergency should arise, I would
strongly dissuade any lady from coming to camp. They would
all very speedily become patients in the very hospitals
which they came to serve, and would so willingly support.
The flannel garments are invaluable, and this is all that
can be done for us by female hands at present.... You say
there is a great difference between doing one's duty and
running unnecessary risks, and you say truly; the only
question, what is one's duty. Now, I might, as I have more
than once, see things going wrong at a time and place when I
might be merely a spectator, and not 'on duty,' or ordered
to be there, and I might feel that by exposing myself to
danger for a time I might rectify matters, and I might
therefore think it right to incur that danger; and yet, if I
were to get hit, it would be said 'he had no business
there;' nor should I, as far as the rules of the service go,
though, in my own mind, I should have been satisfied that I
was right. These are times when every man should do his
best, his utmost, and not say, 'No; though I see I can do
good there, yet, as I have not been ordered and am not on
duty, I will not do it.' This is not my idea of a soldier's
duty, and hitherto the results have proved me right."

_August 3d._--Rumor that Sir Henry is dead at Lucknow. The news has quite unnerved me. 5th.--Nana Sahib, the murderer (you remember the man at the artillery review, a "swell" looking native gentleman, who spoke French, and was talking a good deal to Alfred Light), has been beaten by Havelock, they say has drowned himself.

"I hope it is not true; for it is one of my aims to have the
catching of the said Nana myself. The hanging him would be a
positive pleasure to me.... Nicholson has come on ahead of
our reinforcements from the Punjaub; a host in himself, if
he does not go and get knocked over as Chamberlain did.

"General Wilson has been down for some days, but is now
better, but nervous and over-anxious about trifles.... These
men are, personally, as brave as lions, but they have not
big hearts or heads enough for circumstances of serious
responsibility....

"_August 11th._--Talking of jealousies, one day, under a
heavy fire, Captain ---- came up to me, and begged me to
forget and forgive what had passed, and only to remember
that we were soldiers fighting together in a common cause.
As I was the injured party, I could afford to do this. The
time and place, as well as his manner, appealed to my better
feelings, so I held out my hand at once. Nowadays, we must
stand by and help each other, forget all injuries, and rise
superior to them, or God help us! we should be in terrible
plight."

_August 12th_.--A brilliant affair under Showers; four guns taken. Brave young Owen wounded, "riding astride one gun, and a soldier with musket and fixed bayonet riding each horse, the rest cheering like mad things. I was in the thick of it, _by accident_."

By this time, Pandy, having been beaten severely in twenty-three fights, has had nearly enough of it, and is very chary of doing more than firing long shots, so there is no longer so much need of our Lieutenant in camp. He may surely be useful in clearing the neighborhood and restoring British rule and order; so we find him starting for Rohtuck, on 17th August, with three hundred men and five officers,--all his own men, and first-rate,--and Macdowell, two Goughs, Ward, and Wise. On the 18th the inhabitants send supplies and fair words, but there is a body of a thousand infantry and three hundred horse close by, who must be handled. Accordingly, they are drawn into the open by a feigned retreat, and come on firing and yelling in crowds.

"Threes about and at them;" five parties, each headed by an officer, are upon them. "Never was such a scatter; they fled as if not the Guides and Hodson's Horse, but death and the devil, were at their heels." Only eight of my men touched. This will encourage my new hands, utterly untrained.

Another skirmish, and now--

"In three days we have frightened away and demoralized a
force of artillery, cavalry, and infantry, some two thousand
strong, beat those who stood or returned to fight us, twice,
in spite of numbers, and got fed and furnished forth by the
rascally town itself. Moreover, we have thoroughly cowed the
whole neighborhood, and given them a taste of what more they
will get unless they keep quiet in future.... This is a
terribly egotistical detail, and I am thoroughly ashamed of
saying so much of myself; but you insisted on having a full,
true, and particular account, so do not think me
vainglorious."

Next come orders, but sadly indefinite ones, to look out for and destroy the 10th Light Cavalry, who are out in the Jheend district:--

"He must either say distinctly 'do this or that,' and I will
do it; or he must give me _carte blanche_ to do what he
wants in the most practicable way, of which I, knowing the
country, can best judge. I am not going to fag my men and
horses to death, and then be told I have exceeded my
instructions. He gives me immense credit for what I have
done, but 'almost wishes I had not ventured so far.' The old
gentleman means well, but does not understand either the
country or the position I was in, nor does he appreciate a
tenth part of the effects which our bold stroke at Rohtuck,
forty-five miles from camp, has produced. '_N'importe_,'
they will find it out sooner or later. I hear both
Chamberlain and Nicholson took my view of the case, and
supported me warmly.... I foresee that I shall remain a
subaltern, and the easy-going majors of brigade,
aides-de-camp, and staff-officers will all get brevets."

Too true, my Lieutenant.

"The Victoria Cross, I confess, is the highest object of my
ambition, and had I been one of Fortune's favorites, I
should have had it ere now."

True again.

"But, whether a lieutenant or lieutenant-general, I trust I
shall continue to do my duty to the best of my judgment and
ability, as long as strength and sense are vouchsafed to
me."

We trust, and are on the whole by this time prepared to hazard a prophecy, that you will so continue, whether lieutenant or general.

_August 26th._--A glorious victory at Nujjufghur, by Nicholson. I was not there. Ill in camp; worse luck.... Scouring the country again till August 30th, when I have to receive an emissary from Delhi to treat.

Sir Colin Campbell is, they say, at Calcutta, and Mansfield, as chief of the staff; so now we may get some leading.

We are in Delhi at last (September 15th), but with grievous loss. My dear old regiment (1st Fusileers) suffered out of all proportion.

"Of the officers engaged only Wriford, Wallace, and I are
untouched. My preservation (I don't like the word _escape_)
was miraculous." ...

Nicholson dangerously hit; ten out of seventeen engineer officers killed or wounded.

... "'You may count our real officers on your fingers now.'

"_Sept. 16th._--I grieve much for poor Jacob; we buried him
and three sergeants of the regiment, last night; he was a
noble soldier. His death has made me captain, the long
wished-for goal; but I would rather have served on as a
subaltern than gained promotion thus.

"_Sept. 19th._--We are making slow progress in the city.
The fact is, the troops are utterly demoralized by hard work
and hard drink, I grieve to say. For the first time in my
life, I have had to see English soldiers refuse, repeatedly,
to follow their officers. Greville, Jacob, Nicholson, and
Speke were all sacrificed to this.

"_Sept. 22d._--In the Royal Palace, Delhi.--I was quite
unable to write yesterday, having had a hard day's work. I
was fortunate enough to capture the King and his favorite
wife. To-day, more fortunate still, I have seized and
destroyed the King's two sons and a grandson (the famous, or
rather infamous, Abu Bukt), the villains who ordered the
massacre of our women and children, and stood by and
witnessed the foul barbarity; their bodies are now lying on
the spot where those of the unfortunate ladies were exposed.
I am very tired, but very much satisfied with my day's work,
and so seem all hands."

This is Hodson's account of the two most remarkable exploits in even his career. We have no space to give his own full narrative, which he writes later, upon being pressed to do so; or the graphic account of Macdowell, his lieutenant, which will be found in the book, and it would be literary murder to mutilate such gems. As to defending the shooting of the two princes, let those do it who feel that a defence is needed, for we believe that no Englishman, worth convincing, now doubts as to the righteousness and policy of the act, and probably the old Radical general-officer and M. P., who thought it his duty to call Hodson hard names at the time, has reconsidered his opinion. Whether he has or not, however, matters little. He who did the deed, and is gone, cared not for hasty or false tongues,--why should we?

"Strange," he says, "that some of those who are loudest
against me for sparing the King, are also crying out at my
destroying his sons. 'Quousque tandem?' I may well exclaim.
But, in point of fact, I am quite indifferent to clamor
either way. I made up my mind, at the time, to be abused. I
was convinced I was right, and when I prepared to run the
great physical risk of the attempt, I was equally game for
the moral risk of praise or blame. These have not been, and
are not times when a man who would serve his country dare
hesitate, as to the personal consequences to himself, of
what he thinks his duty."

"By Jove, Hodson, they ought to make you Commander-in-Chief for this," shouts the enthusiast to whom the prisoners were handed over. "Well, I'm glad you have got him, but I never expected to see either him or you again," says the Commander-in-Chief, and sits down and writes the following despatch:--

"The King, who accompanied the troops for some short
distance last night, gave himself up to a party of Irregular
Cavalry, whom I sent out in the direction of the fugitives,
and he is now a prisoner under a guard of European
soldiers."

Delhi is ours; but at what a cost in officers and men! and Nicholson is dead.

"With the single exception of my ever revered friend, Sir
Henry Lawrence, and Colonel Mackeson, I have never met his
equal in field or council; he was preeminently our best and
bravest, and his loss is not to be atoned for in these days.

"The troops have behaved with singular moderation towards
women and children, considering their provocation. I do not
believe, and I have some means of knowing, that a single
woman or child has been purposely injured by our troops, and
the story on which your righteous indignation is grounded is
quite false; the troops have been demoralized by drink, but
nothing more."

In November he gets a few weeks' leave, and is off to Umbala to meet his wife for the last time, safe after all, and no longer a lieutenant under a cloud. What a meeting must that have been.

With the taking of Delhi our narrative, already too long, must close, though a grand five months of heroic action still remained. Nothing in the book exceeds in interest the ride of ninety-four miles from Seaton's column, with young Macdowell, to carry a despatch to Sir Colin, on December 30th. The tale of the early morning summons, the rumors of enemies on the road, the suspense as to the Chief's whereabouts, the leaving all escort behind, their flattering and cordial reception by Sir Colin, (who gets them "chops and ale in a quiet friendly way,") the fifty-four miles' ride home, the midnight alarm and escape, and the safe run in, take away our breath. And the finish is inimitable.

"All Hodson said," writes Macdowell, "when we were at Bewar,
and safe, was 'By George! Mac, I'd give a good deal for a
cup of tea,' and immediately went to sleep. He is the
coolest hand I have ever yet met. We rode ninety-four miles.
Hodson rode seventy-two on one horse, the little dun, and I
rode Alma seventy-two miles also."

One more anecdote, however, we cannot resist. On the 6th of January, 1858, Seaton's column joins the Commander-in-Chief; on the 27th, at Shumshabad, poor young Macdowell (whose letters make one love him) is killed, and Hodson badly wounded. They were in advance, as usual, with guns, and had to charge a superior body of cavalry:--

"But there was nothing for it but fighting, as, had we not
attacked them, they would have got in amongst our guns. We
were only three officers, and about one hundred and eighty
horsemen,--my poor friend and second in command, Macdowell,
having received a mortal wound a few minutes before we
charged. It was a terrible _melee_ for some time, and we
were most wonderfully preserved. However, we gave them a
very proper thrashing, and killed their leaders. Two out of
the three of us were wounded, and five of my men killed and
eleven wounded, besides eleven horses. My horse had three
sabre-cuts, and I got two, which I consider a rather unfair
share. The Commander-in-Chief is very well satisfied, I
hear, with the day's work, and is profusely civil and kind
to me."

In another letter he writes:--

"They were very superior in number, and individually so as
horsemen and swordsmen, but we managed to 'whop' them all
the same, and drive them clean off the field; not, however,
until they had made two very pretty dashes at us, which cost
us some trouble and very hard fighting. It was the hardest
thing of the kind in which I ever was engaged in point of
regular '_in_ fighting,' as they say in the P. R.; only
_Bell's Life_ could describe it properly. I got a cut,
which laid my thumb open, from a fellow after my sword was
through him, and about half an hour later this caused me to
get a second severe cut, which divided the muscles of the
right arm, and put me _hors de combat_; for my grip on the
sword-handle was weakened, and a demon on foot succeeded in
striking down my guard, or rather his tulwar glanced off my
guard on to my arm. My horse, also, got three cuts. I have
got well most rapidly, despite an attack of erysipelas,
which looked very nasty for three days, and some slight
fever; and I have every reason to be thankful."

He is able, notwithstanding wounds, to accompany the forces, Colonel Burn kindly driving him in his dog-cart. Nothing could exceed Sir Colin's kind attentions. Here is a chief, at last, who can appreciate a certain captain, late lieutenant under a cloud. The old chief drinks his health as colonel, and, on Hodson's doubting, says:--

"_I_ will see that it is all arranged; just make a
memorandum of your services during the Punjaub war, and I
venture to prophesy that it will not be long before I shake
hands with you as Lieutenant-Colonel Hodson, C.B., with a
Victoria Cross to boot."

By the end of February he is well, and in command of his regiment again, and in his last fight saves the life of his adjutant, Lieut. Gough, by cutting down a rebel trooper in the very act of spearing him.

And now comes the end. For a week the siege had gone on, and work after work of the enemy had fallen. On the 11th of March the Begum's Palace was to be assaulted. Hodson had orders to move his regiment nearer to the walls, and while choosing a spot for his camp heard firing, rode on, and found his friend Brigadier Napier directing the assault. He joined him, saying, "I am come to take care of you; you have no business to go to work without me to look after you." They entered the breach together, were separated in the _melee_, and in a few minutes Hodson was shot through the chest. The next morning the wound was declared to be mortal, and he sent for Napier to give his last instructions.

"He lay on his bed of mortal agony," says this friend, "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
have seen 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."

"It was so ordered." They were his own words; and now that the first anguish of his loss is over, will not even those nearest and dearest to him acknowledge "it was ordered for the best?" For is there not something painful to us in calculating the petty rewards which we can bestow upon a man who has done any work of deliverance for his country? Do we not almost dread--eagerly as we may desire his return--to hear the vulgar, formal phrases which are all we can devise to commemorate the toils and sufferings that we think of with most gratitude and affection? There is somewhat calming and soothing in the sadness which follows a brave man to his grave in the very place where his work was done, just when it was done. Alas, but it is a bitter lesson to learn, even to us his old schoolfellows, who have never seen him since we parted at his "leaving breakfast." May God make us all braver and truer workers at our own small tasks, and worthy to join him, the hard fighter, the glorious Christian soldier and Englishman, when our time shall come.

On the next day, March 13th, he was carried to a soldier's grave, in the presence of the head-quarters, staff, and of Sir Colin, his last chief, who writes thus to his widow:--

"I followed your noble husband to the grave myself, in order
to mark, in the most public manner, my regret and esteem for
the most brilliant soldier under my command, and one whom I
was proud to call my friend."

What living Englishman can add one iota to such praise from such lips? The man of whom the greatest of English soldiers could thus speak, needs no mark of official approbation, though it is a burning disgrace to the authorities that none such has been given. But the family which mourns its noblest son may be content with the rewards which his gallant life and glorious death have won for him and them,--we believe that he himself would desire no others. For his brothers-in-arms are erecting a monument to him in Lichfield Cathedral; his schoolfellows are putting up a window to him, and the other Rugbaeans who have fallen with him, in Rugby Chapel; and the three regiments of Hodson's Horse will hand down his name on the scene of his work and of his death as long as Englishmen bear rule in India. And long after that rule has ceased, while England can honor brave deeds and be grateful to brave men, the heroes of the Indian mutiny will never be forgotten, and the hearts of our children's children will leap up at the names of Lawrence, Havelock, and Hodson.

To the Memory
OF
SIR HENRY LAWRENCE, K. C. B.
THE TRUE CHRISTIAN, THE BRAVE SOLDIER,
THE FAITHFUL FRIEND,

THESE EXTRACTS FROM THE LETTERS OF
ONE WHOM HE TRAINED
TO FOLLOW IN HIS FOOTSTEPS, AND WHO NOW
RESTS NEAR HIM AT LUCKNOW,
Are Dedicated

BY THE EDITOR.

They were lovely and pleasant in their lives,
And in their deaths they were not divided.