Our motto out here must be: "We will surrender India only

with our lives." "Nought shall make us rue, if Britons to

themselves will act but true." Shoulder to shoulder we may

die; but so long as India is held in the hands of true

Britons, they will never yield. I trust this will find you

all quite well. But before I close I have a secret to tell

you: before this reaches you I shall most likely have taken

a _rib_ to share my joys and sorrows. It will be like all

the remainder, "for better for worse." I feel confident that

her sweet temper will cheer me in prosperity, and soothe me

in adversity, and that her tender, loving heart will lighten

the burden of life. I always look on the bright side, as I

think you know. I never go half way to meet troubles; I have

learnt by a little rough experience that the best way to

surmount difficulties is to face them manfully. This is a

world of ups and downs, and I feel I want a helpmate.... I

have often thought of your advice to me as a very young man,

before I took the Queen's shilling: "Never to think of

taking a wife until I could support one comfortably." I can

now see my way clear before me, although it's not all gold

that glitters. Mine has been love at first sight--our

courtship has been short--so we will tie the knot first, and

court afterwards. But I must bring this to a close. You may

inform Miss H---- that she has played with the mouse until

she has lost it. Please tend my kind regards to all old

friends,

And believe me,

My Dear Parents,

Your affectionate Son,

T. GOWING,

Drill-Sergeant Royal Fusiliers.

Meean-Meer, (Punjaub),

10th November, 1858.

My Dear, Dear Parents,

Once more a line in health, trusting this will find you the

same. This is a changeable world we live in. It will not, I

expect, be news to you to inform you that one of the

strongest Companies this world has ever seen--that started

with but small prospects of success, but gradually rose to

be Rulers of a vast population and a mighty empire, much

larger than the whole of Europe in area and population--has

passed away. The great East India Company is now a thing of

the past, and we are no longer under their control. By

proclamation, Her Most Gracious Majesty, Queen Victoria, is

now the supreme Ruler of India. There has been a lot of pomp

and show all through the country. The Natives seem to be

delighted at the change. They appear to have confidence that

they will have justice under the "Buna Ranee."[25] One

portion of the proclamation must have its effect upon the

poor deluded wretches that are still holding out under the

Napaul Hills and Central India. The Royal clemency is

extended to all offenders, except those who have been guilty

of murdering poor defenceless women and children. In

accordance with the laws of God and civilized nations,

justice demands their lives--"a murderer shall die." The

Natives cannot understand how it is possible that we can

forgive men that have rebelled against and fought us, time

after time. Their wonder is that when we were but few, we

destroyed all that came in our way, and now that the whole

country is bristling with British bayonets, and the enemy at

our feet, we forgive. This is a little beyond their

comprehension. The Mohammedans, they say, would not do that.

They do not understand mercy to a fallen foe. Hundreds of

thousands of them have yet to learn that, as Christians, we

are taught to be merciful to our enemies. I find by the

papers that hundreds, yea, thousands of these poor deluded

wretches are coming to the various camps and stations and

laying their arms at our feet. We may rejoice that this

terrible war is now nearly over. As a soldier, I think I

have already had enough of war to know the value of peace,

and I have no desire to show a bellicose spirit. The man

that's fond of war is a lunatic. I know well that at times

it is a necessary evil, and duty--stern duty--must be

performed. A statesman who hurls his country into war

without straining every nerve to avert it, is, to say the

least of it, an unwise man, so we hail Her Majesty's

proclamation with joy. It will be the means of saving

thousands of precious lives. I find that in one province

alone (Oude) 350,000 arms of various kinds have been given

up already; the Mutineers have been pardoned and have gone

to their homes. As far as I can see by the papers from home,

they have put a lot of colouring upon the state of things

out here, and made them appear to the public much worse than

they really are; that's needless, but truth will stand

sifting. An honest account will go best when plainly told.

I could fill sheet after sheet with what, out here, is

called bazaar talk, but only about two per cent. of it is

reliable, and sometimes not that; but it often finds its way

into the country papers, and home papers copy, and most of

it is swallowed as gospel. It's now getting very pleasant

mornings and evenings. I still keep on with my drilling, and

am happy to inform you I have got another step up the ladder

of promotion--colour-sergeant and pay-sergeant of a company.

It gives me a lot of extra work; but I do not mind that at

all, so long as I can give satisfaction to my commanders. It

gives me near two shillings per diem more. I wanted to

resign my drill-sergeantship, but the Colonel would not

listen to me; so I am often at work with my pen when others

are enjoying themselves, or asleep. I have much pleasure in

forwarding you a small draft to get you a little

nourishment. Please to accept it in the same spirit in which

it is sent; and if you do not require it, bank it against a

rainy day. I must now bring this to a close, and believe me,

My dear Parents,

Your affectionate Son,

T. GOWING,

Colour-Sergeant Royal Fusiliers.

Rawul Pindee,

28th July, 1859.

My Dear, Dear Parents,

Once more a line in health. This is one of the most lovely,

yea, delightful places I have ever clapped eyes upon. The

climate is quite refreshing when compared with the burning

plains of Meean-Meer. We are just at the foot of what are

called the Murry Hills, or Himalaya Mountains. They rise

majestically all along our front, and we get a beautiful

refreshing breeze morning and evening. I should not mind

completing my time here. I am afraid it is too good to last

long. Well, in reference to our march from Meean-Meer. We

started on the morning of the 5th April. Nothing particular

to note until we came to Wozerabad, the Birmingham of India.

As far as I can see, a Native will do anything with a

pattern. I was astonished, on going through their bazaars,

to see the number of arms for sale. I bought a large dagger,

and a knife with all sorts of blades in it. I find our

Government have bought up the greater portion of the

fire-arms. They are a most war-like race of people about

this part of the country, but their teeth have been drawn.

They are on our side, and so long as they can see that we

are still the conquering race, they will go with us against

all comers. On arriving at the Jelumn, we found it a

rushing, mighty torrent, very wide. We crossed it on a

bridge of boats on the northern bank. We found a very pretty

station, but empty until our arrival. Our other wing

rejoined us here. The Head-quarters remained at Jelumn, and

five companies were ordered on here. I was appointed Acting

Sergeant-Major of the wing. After the first day's march we

bade good-bye to all roads and bridges. We struck into a

hilly country full of little streams; some about 30, others

near 200 yards wide. We had to land on the other side the

best way we could--many of them very dangerous places to get

over in the dark--with a line of Natives with torches to

mark the fords. We had as many as sixteen of these nice

places to go through, in as many miles. We found the Natives

all the way up country remarkably civil; they knew well it

would not do to be otherwise. Although the Mutiny is now

nearly all over, the country is still under martial law, and

our Government are determined to stamp rebellion out with a

strong hand, well rewarding all those that remain faithful.

The Sikhs, Afridis, Ghoorkas, and Beloochees have stood by

us well; and they will now reap their reward in the shape of

good pensions.

Some of them have had little or nothing to do, but they have

completed their portion of the contract with our Government.

Sir John Laurence may well be called the saviour of India,

for he _is_ the man that saved India. Yes, it was a daring

master-stroke on his part. He had spent all his life out

here. No man breathing knew the Native character better than

Sir John. When the mutiny broke out, Sir John was Governor

of the Punjaub. It had only been conquered eight years.

Thousands of Sikhs all over the Punjaub, then as now,

carried the wounds received from the dreaded Feringhees. But

Sir John, knowing that we were playing for heavy stakes, at

once called upon the chiefs of the Sikhs to rally round the

British standard. He requested them to furnish him with

100,000 men; they did so, and arms were at once put into

their hands. In the name of our Government, Sir John

promised them, if they would serve our Government faithfully

for two years, or until the revolt was crushed, a pension

for life, according to rank; while for all those who fell in

action, or died of wounds or disease, their nearest

relatives should reap the reward. All animosity was thrown

on one side, the temptation of the sacking of Delhi and

other towns that had revolted being ever before their eyes.

Now that it is all over, our Government are faithfully

discharging Sir John's promise, and thousands of these

stalwart men are returning to their native towns and

villages--all loud in their praises of the Big Lord Sahib,

as they call our Government. In many cases their sons are

off, only too happy to take their fathers' places. I find

that all Natives are now enlisted to serve us in any part of

the world we may require their services. There are no better

men in the world than the Ghoorkas, Sikhs, Afridis, and

Beloochees. If we required 400,000 or 800,000, we could have

them in less than one month, and officer them by some of the

wildest boys of our much-beloved Isle. They will go

anywhere, particularly if they are mixed up with some of our

battalions. Should ever the Russians make an attempt on

India, they will find a handful. As far as I can find out,

the Mutiny was not brought about by anything that has as yet

been laid before the public. There has been a system of

bribery all through the service, and the whole scheme of the

East India Company was rotten to the core. Such a system of

bribery from the highest, one would think, had been handed

down from Clive and Hastings. As far as I can see, all the

Native of India wants is justice; and under their old

masters, the much-lauded East India Company, they had a lot

of law. But justice was scantily eked out, unless the

unfortunate client could stump up well that which makes the

world go smooth, and covers a multitude of sins. From such

cases as the following, now beginning to leak out, you may

form some judgment of the laws of the East India Company,

there being one law for the Native and another for the Lord

Sahib, both of whom, remember, being under our

much-respected flag of liberty. A European, in chastising

one of his servants, killed him. Of course his counsellor

(that is, if it was brought to light at all) would represent

to the court in most eloquent language that his client had

been grossly insulted; or if there was no other loop-hole to

escape from--his client, a most peace-loving, fatherly

Christian, in the heat of passion, knocked the deceased down

with his fist or stick, not thinking for one moment of doing

him an injury, but just to teach him better manners. But he

died, it must be acknowledged, from the treatment of this

peace-loving fatherly Christian. He gets off, or escapes the

law by a fine of from 500 to 1000 rupees--£50 or £100.

Now just note how justice was doled out to the Native, viz.,

if he is a poor man. His Sahib hit him, and he returns the

compliment, and being a powerful man, he gives his old

master a good pounding. Well, the Native is duly handed over

to the law, and if he gets off with ten years'

transportation, with heavy irons, he's a fortunate man. As

for the Native army rising, I am not at all astonished at

it. They have been treated worse than the brute beasts of

the field by those they had to look up to, or to whom,

according to military law, they were compelled to show

respect. The whole system of treatment to which they have

been subjected for years was tyrannical; and the Bengal

Army, to say the least of it, has been worried into

insubordination and, depending upon their strength, broke

out into open mutiny. The upshot of it has been the smashing

up of the strongest Company that has ever existed under the

old Jack or any other flag. Already we begin to find the

country gradually settling down, and I do not think we shall

have much more trouble with the mutineers. I find by the

papers our Government are determined to root out all

evil-doers, and all law-abiding subjects shall be protected

from the lawless and have justice; that the same laws that

govern the European shall in future guide, govern, and

protect the Native. And a strong Government has announced

that tyranny and bribery shall be stamped out with the

strong arm of the law; and that all, from the highest to the

lowest in India, shall enjoy liberty of conscience, shall

worship God according to the dictates of their hearts, at

their own shrines or places of worship, and none shall

interfere or make them afraid. This order or decree has been

translated into all the different languages spoken in India.

We already see the effect for good upon the Natives, and I

dare prophecy that it will bind the teeming millions in love

to our glorious old flag. We have a regiment of Mutineers

here, and they are permitted to go where they like about the

station. As far as I am concerned, I have a handful--as much

as I can get through, with the extra duty of Acting

Sergeant-Major, looking after the canteen, "not at all a

bad job" I can tell you, and then my Company's work. But I

must say I have some of the sweets, and say nothing about

the canteen. A good-tempered, pretty girl to call my own;

and, as far as I can see, change of air or new bread is

affecting her wonderfully; but all's well that ends well. I

must bring this note to a close; I have had two or three

goes at it. Trusting this will find you all enjoying the

best of blessings. My wife joins with me in love,

And believe me,

My dear Parents,

Your affectionate Son,

T. GOWING,

C.S., A.S.M. Royal Fusiliers.

P.S.--Do not publish this, but keep it. I have hit out a

little too plainly; but facts are stubborn things, and

stronger than fiction.

T. G.

Peshawur, 25th November, 1859.

My Dear Parents,

Once more, a line or two in answer to your kind letter, just

to hand. As for the small amounts I have sent you from time

to time, do not mention it, but rather thank Him who is the

great disposer of all. I feel it a pleasure and a duty to

contribute a little of what this world mostly prizes towards

your comfort: and my fine bouncing rib encourages me. And

kindly tell me what a man will not do for a warm-hearted

pretty girl, with her arm around his neck, and her sweet

lips close to his: "O do send poor mother a little this

time; we can spare it." Please send your photos, with the

next letter, in cabinet size. We will send ours by the next

mail, as I find there is a good photographer in this

station. Our No. 1 is a whopper--a strong healthy child; I

hope he will make a man in the world some day. This is a

lovely looking station, but it has a cruel name for thieves

and murderers, fever and ague. It is much colder here than

in any place in which we have been. The Himalayas are on our

right, left, and front. We are all served out with an extra

warm coat, padded with wadding; and we require them nights

and mornings. Now for a little news about our march up here.

We marched out of Rawul Pindee on the 20th October with a

regiment of Native cavalry--a portion of Hodson's

Horse--that have fought so desperately for us all over the

country. I find they are fine-looking men, with a lot of go

in them. They have some wild spirits as officers to lead

them. We had likewise a regiment of Native Infantry, and a

battery of Horse Artillery with us. We escorted up here more

money than I ever saw in my life before. We had some 600

camels and a great number of elephants, carrying bags of

rupees, 1,000 in each bag.[26] A camel can carry four bags.

The elephants were used to carry tents and other heavy

baggage. It was all a job to load up the money; we had

thirty lacs to load and unload every morning. The string of

camels and elephants made a great show; for we had close

upon 300 of them with us. Then came all kinds of vehicles,

country carts, &c., many of the wheels of which were

octagonal, or any shape you like but round; some hundreds of

tattoos (small ponies), shaggy looking, but strong, most of

them belonging to the grass cutters, for the cavalry and

artillery. Then came all the rag-tail of the native bazaars,

native women riding on poor puny donkeys; these poor

creatures are not much larger than a good-sized Newfoundland

dog. Goats by wholesale: and as for monkeys and parrots,

these were perched upon the top of the baggage in swarms.

The whole of this medley goes swinging along beside the road

or track; as for dust, we were not short of that. We found

but few bridges all the way up, and as we came to the

streams, which were very numerous--some of them ugly places

to get over--we had to land on the other side the best way

we could; and a nice lot of beauties we looked, but as all

were alike, we could not laugh much at each other, except in

a few cases where the men had had a roll in the water, or

got into a hole of about seven or eight feet, and had to be

pulled out. I managed to pop into one of these nice holes

one morning, quite over my head; they pulled me out, and of

course, had a good laugh at me. But laughing is sometimes

catching. At some of the streams there were a number of

villagers who offered their services to carry anyone over

for about two annas--threepence. Then came the sport. Many

of these Natives were tripped up, and both Native and

European would have a roll or flounder for it; all would be

taken in good part. As for game of all kinds, they will

hardly get out of your way, and one with a fouling-piece can

soon have a good bag. There is a very strong force kept at

this place. It is close upon the borders of Afghanistan, and

our people are not going to be taken short with them; for

they are a treacherous lot and know no law, but might is

right with them. We found one of our sentinels this morning

lying dead at his post: his rifle and accoutrements were

gone, and he, poor fellow, had been stabbed in the heart. I

will be bound our fellows will pay them out for that

yet--it's only lent. We must keep a sharp look-out. I never

attempt to go out here at night without my loaded revolver.

I am happy to say we are both of us keeping our health well.

I think I told you in my last, a commission was offered me

in a Native regiment, but I declined it. I shall stop with

the old Fusiliers. Trusting this will find you all quite

well,

Believe me, as ever,

Your affectionate Son,

T. GOWING,

C.S.R.F.

P.S.--Wife sends her love to all. Will drop a line next

mail.

T.G.

Peshawur, April 14th 1860.

My Dear Dear Parents,

Once more, a line in health from this sickly station. This

is, I think, about the worst place we have on all the plains

of India--they may well call it the Valley of Death. There

is a kind of fever here that brings the stoutest down to

the brink of the grave in a very short time. Thank God, I

have escaped it thus far. And again, unless we are well on

the alert, we do not know when we may get up and find our

throats cut, for no other crime than that we are "Feringhee

sowars"--English pigs. We are surrounded by the scum of the

earth--cringing cowards. They will not face our men, but as

far as I can see, they take delight in murdering with the

dagger, in the dark, any they can pounce upon; but a number

of them have already met a traitor's death. I find, by your

last, that you are mistaken about Santa Topee. He was not a

brother, or in any way related to that fiend of a Nana

Sahib, but his right-hand man. He was a black-hearted

monster of the deepest dye, but he has met a traitor's

death. Hanging was too good for him. To recount his

bloodthirsty deeds to poor defenceless women and children,

would make your blood run cold. If our laws would have

permitted it, he ought to have been tried by a judge and

jury of women, and I do not think he would have died in two

minutes, for he was a wholesale murderer.

As for that blood-thirsty monster, Nana Sahib, he has thus

far escaped the sword of justice. One million of money has

been offered for him, dead or alive, by our Government; and

as large as India is, if he is alive, he will have to keep

very quiet. But the general opinion is that his form no

longer disgraces this earth--that he has destroyed himself,

or was killed in some of the encounters with our troops on

the Nepaul frontier. He knew well that his doom was almost

instant death, had he fallen into our hands. The Afghans

have become wonderfully civil of late. They have found out

that the "Feringhee ray"--English reign--is not all over out

here, and that civility is much cheaper than shot, shell,

cold steel, or a rope. As for a Native army, we _must_ keep

up one, or send out at least 50,000 more men, to hold this

vast country. The old Bengal Native Army has been almost

destroyed. There are a few regiments that have remained

loyal, and the places of the others are filled up with

Punjaubees and Afridis--inhabitants of the lower range of

the Himalaya Mountains. One would almost pity some of the

old mutineers that escaped the ravages of war. We have a

number of them here. They tell us all sorts of tales as to

what brought about the Mutiny. But, so far as I can find

out, they were badly treated--buffeted and knocked about by

their officers--and it was no use complaining. The fact is

this, with at least thousands of them, it had been

prophesied that we should hold the country for one hundred

years, starting from Plassey (1757); that none could stand

against us; then we should have to bow to them and eat the

dust. But they have found the sons of Albion, side by side

the heroic boys of Ireland, bad hands at eating

humble-pie--that we are still the conquering race, and

determined to hold what has been handed down to us. I find

the country generally is settling down under the sceptre of

Her Most Gracious Majesty. All those that have been faithful

to us are now reaping their reward; and that will have a

wonderful effect upon the Native mind. All through those

dark, troublesome days, with treachery all around, there has

been a silver line running. Some have proved faithful until

death, although of the same creed and caste with the others;

and while in the midst of the ranks of these blood-thirsty

villains, have come out boldly, ranged themselves by our

side, and fought desparately for us. These men are now

reaping their reward. I have much pleasure in forwarding

herewith our photos. You will find a corner for them in the

album, I think. Hope you will like them. It's not a good one

of my better half, as her attention was upon the child. Must

bring this to a close,

And believe me,

My dear Parents,

Your affectionate Son,

T. GOWING,

C.S.R.F.

P.S.--I enclose a letter from my rib; and from her long

stocking she has desired me to forward you a nice little

present of £----. This is the first from her, but if we are

spared it will not be the last.

T. G.

Peshawur, October 26th, 1860.

My Dear, Dear Parents,

I think I told you that Rawul Pindee was a perfect paradise

upon earth, contrasted with this infernal hole. For if ever

there was a hell upon earth, or a hell-doomed place, this is

the spot. We are infested with the scum of the

earth--thieves and murderers all around us. It's no use

trying to tame them or to take them prisoners; they will not

be taken alive if they can help it, and the only way to stop

their little game is to shoot them. There is nothing too hot

or too heavy for them to walk off with. They will creep on

hands and knees right into the men's barrack-rooms, and

steal their rifles and accoutrements, ammunition, etc. They

are in a state of nudity, greased all over, and armed with a

large dagger. Should anyone try to stop or take them, look

out for the dagger. We have already had several men killed

by them. I think I have encountered the enemies of our

country as often as most men of my age. It's far better to

have an open enemy to deal with, than such brutes as we are

infested with. They come around the barracks during the day,

under the pretence of selling all sorts of articles; at the

same time they are taking stock of what they will return for

at night, under a different garb. I think I told you before,

that there are no walls around the barracks out here--at

least, we have not met any yet. An order has been issued to

challenge and fire at once, if not answered; but that has

been found ineffectual--several men having lost their lives

simply by challenging them. So our men have reversed the

order,--fire first, then shout out, "Who comes there?" You

will say, "that is murder well out." Well, it has been

brought in day after day as justifiable homicide; for in

every case, that deadly weapon, the dagger, has been found

by the side of the would-be murderer. We have had nearly

twelve months' training with these gents, and the Fusiliers,

the 93rd Highlanders, the 98th and 19th Hussars or

"dumpypice," (as we have called them on account of their

diminutive stature), have pretty well thinned them out, one

would think. Mind this has been going on since we took

possession in 1849. The Afghans then were supposed to be our

allies, but in fighting the Sikhs, on the field of Goojerat

(21.1.1849), thousands of these nice allies were found in

the ranks of our enemies. The Sikh boundary on their

north-west was the river Attock, and as a punishment to the

Afghanistan Ruler, our people annexed to our dominion the

whole slice from the Attock to the mouth of the Khyber Pass,

Peshawur becoming our frontier station. Well, since then,

hundreds of them have been shot; but still they are as

daring as ever. It is not safe to lie down to sleep without

a loaded revolver under your head. In the summer-time, it is

so hot that the doors must be left open to admit air. One of

our sergeants caught a fellow very cleverly a short time

ago. He had a large hole dug in front of his door, put a

slab over it, had it well secured during the daytime, so

that it would not tilt, and at night set his trap. We often

laughed at his contrivance. He has a very natty little

housewife, and his front room always looked the picture of

comfort. He had his rifle and sword so placed, that anyone

coming up to the door, during the daytime, could see them.

He had not very long to wait before he got his reward, in

the shape of a wild-looking savage monster, armed with two

murderous-looking daggers. This hole or well was about ten

feet deep, with a sort of man-trap at the bottom. The

sergeant's quarters were not far from mine. I heard the row,

and of course I must go to see the fun. His batman or

servant is an Irishman. The first salute I heard was: "You

murdering villain, an' how the d--l did you git in thir?

Arrah! sergeant, dear, the d--l take me if it is not the

same identical blackguard that was selling Afghan cats here

yesterday!" We managed to get him out with ropes, but he

struck out left and right with his daggers, and before we

could disarm him, he got a tap on the head with the butt-end

of the rifle, and a taste of the bayonet he was looking

after (from the owner). This fellow was transported for

life. I have bought one of the daggers for 20 rupees. The

sergeant got 200 rupees from the Judge for his ingenious

trap, and I think he had the laugh at us. So you see we are

in the midst of a nice lot. The noted Khyber Pass is just in

front of us, about five miles from the barracks--and this is

where most of these gents hail from.

About a month ago, my master-cook came running to me early

one morning to report that the whole of the Company's

cooking utensils had been stolen during the night; and as

they are all made of copper, they are worth a trifle. It is

a pity they did not send a note to inform us where they had

taken them; so that we might have sent them something to

cook, if it was only coffee, for it's beginning to get cold

on the hills now. By the bye, we can see snow here all the

year round, although it's enough to roast one in the valley.

It is the unhealthiest place we have in all India. We have

now upwards of 200 men down with fever and ague. Last

summer, many of our men looked more dead than alive, and

were walking about for spite, to save funeral expenses. We

have just mustered number two. We shall call him Arthur

Henry, after his uncle. Mother and child are doing well. We

have had a slice of luck latterly, and I enclose you a

little present in the shape of an order for £----. Please to

accept it from your wild boy as a mark of love. Before I

close this, I must tell you the latest daring attempt at

robbery. An officer of the 98th had been robbed of all he

had in his room. He had suspicion that some of his native

servants were implicated in the robbery, and was determined,

if possible, to find it out. He accordingly furnished

afresh; and, next evening, allowed himself to be carried

home, apparently _drunk_. He was laid upon his bed, his

native servants attending to undress him. There he lay, to

all appearance helplessly drunk. As soon as he was by

himself he jumped up, took his revolver (loaded), and lay

down again. About twelve o'clock (midnight), a man crawled

into the room, and stood over him with a large dagger, ready

to plunge it into his heart had he moved, whilst others

cleared all out of the room, in the shape of arms, carpets,

&c. As soon as they had got all that they could carry, the

signal was given to the would-be murderer to follow. But no

sooner was he off his guard, than out came the revolver, and

the would-be assassin fell dead. Our cool, resolute officer

at once pounced on the others, killing one, and wounding two

others--one of them his own servant. But I must bring this

to a close. We expect to remove shortly from this "lovely

spot" to Nowshira--18 miles from here. They tell us that we

shall be jumping out of the frying-pan into the fire--so far

as thieves and sand-storms are concerned. This is the third

attempt I have had at this letter. Since writing the above,

I am sorry to have to inform you that I have been robbed of

every farthing I had in the house--both public and private

monies. They have made a clean sweep. But I do not believe

that it's a native of India that has robbed me; for in that

case all would have gone, including clothing, jewellery,

arms, &c.; whereas nothing but cash, and some rum I had

bottled for the christening, have been taken. It was done

whilst I was on a visit to my sick wife and child in

hospital. I was only away from home about an hour and

a-half--from 7 to 8.30 p.m. My servant was found drunk, and,

about 10 p.m., we found some rum in bottles, but no cash has

turned up. I cannot at present send what I had promised. I

have lost in all about £60 (600 rupees), including Company's

money. My captain is but a poor man. We were sergeants

together at Inkermann, and he shall not suffer by my

neglect; for in my absence I ought to have put one of our

police at my door, knowing there was so much money in my

box. Whoever has got it, it will not do them much good, and

I shall get over it in a few months. But I shall keep my

eyes open, and if possible, will bring the thief to justice.

We have plenty of "black ones" to look after. I shall

discharge my servant at once, and take that good-hearted

Irishman who saved my life at the Redan. He is a rough

diamond, I know; but as true as steel, and one that I have a

right to respect for his noble conduct to me, when death was

all around.

No more at present, must conclude, and believe me, as ever,

Your affectionate son,

T. GOWING,

C.S.R.F.

Meean-Meer, 26th May, 1862.

My Dear Parents,

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."

We can mourn the loss of a good, loving earthly father. You,

dear mother, will miss his sweet counsel, his noble, loving,

manly heart. But we cannot mourn him as one whose work was

not done. He has gone to his grave full of years (nearly

83[28]). And you have another consolation, that he died at

his post, like a good soldier--faithful unto death. He tried

to live as he would wish to die, that he might be able to

sing in death--"Looking unto Jesus." What an end! He can now

shout, "Victory, victory through the blood of the Lamb."

There will be no sorrow there, no more pain, no more tears,

but one continual song of praise unto Him who has done all

things well. Again, remember, dear mother, in your

bereavement, what a family of us have gone before, leaving

behind them the record that they were on the Lord's side:

Grandfathers on both sides, grandmothers on both sides,

uncles on both sides, aunts on both sides, my eight little

ones; and now our beloved father has gone to tune his harp,

and to sing for ever of redeeming love. Do not fret, dear

mother; we shall meet again, and be able to sing when time

shall be no more. Keep up your spirits. Again, do not be

uneasy about money; we are not short of a few pounds, and as

long as I live you shall never want for anything that will

help to make the remainder of your days comfortable, so

please rest contented on that score. I enclose a draft on

Gurney's Bank, that will, I think, put all straight, set the

doctors smiling, and leave a good shot in the locker to make

all things comfortable. I should like to have some of poor

father's books; do not sell one. I should advise you to go

and live with Sarah; she could look after your comfort until

I return. If I am spared we will then take you, and do all

we can for your comfort. As for the furniture, sell it, but

do not let the broker rob you. Give it to the poor rather

than be imposed upon; and take the best of the things,

including the books, to S----h. My wife will write you next

mail. I want her to go home, take the children with her, and

look after you. But, no; she likes mother very much, but the

loadstone is at this end. Now, my dear mother, try and keep

your spirits up; looking to the Strong for strength and

guidance through this dark hour of trouble. Give my kind

regards to all kind friends.

And believe me, my dear Mother,

Your affectionate Son,

T. GOWING, Sergeant-Major,

Allahabad Garrison.

Fort Allahabad, 5th April, 1876.

My Dear, Dear Mother,

In answer to yours, just to hand, I drop a line. This, I

hope, will be the last letter from the land of pestilence,

blacks, and bugs. I have had quite enough of it, and so has

my partner. I have found the last three or four summers very

oppressive. Remember, I have had eighteen summers on these

burning plains; quite enough, one would think, to get used

to the excessive heat, or to get acclimatized, as people

call it. But I begin to find that the climate is playing old

hack with me, and the sooner I have a change the better.

Although I have kept to my post throughout, I have continued

for many summers to send my best half up to the hills with

ladies, or at my own expense. Remember, dear mother, I have

served the State for upwards of twenty-two years. I have

more than completed my portion of the contract, and have

tried to do my duty on many a hard-fought field, both in the

Crimea and out here; and if spared a few months more, we

will see what the Government will give me. They must give me

the pension of my rank, viz., the large sum of 2s. 6d. per

diem. I see by the papers there is some talk of increasing

the rate of pensions for all ranks. I hope to be home some

time next month, all being well. The doctor's words have

come true about my poor wife--that she would never be the

same woman again after the attack of cholera. I almost long

to come home. It will be nearly nineteen years since I left

England; and what an eventful time of it I have had--death

all around me, from water, famine, pestilence, shot, shell,

grape, sword, musketry, and the assassin's dagger; yet I

have passed through it all. Truly I have much to be thankful

for. My life of forty-two years (to-day) has been, I must

acknowledge, watched over by an all-wise God, who can see

from the beginning to the end. Mother dear, that is nothing

more than I expected. Some of my letters out here have been

little newspapers. It is no new thing: there is a class of

people in this world that like to pry into other people's

business. I am sorry that you have lost some of my letters,

but do not let that trouble you. I thought they might come

in handy for some of my children, just to let them see a

little what their father had gone through. There are many

things that I have omitted in my diary; and again, I have

neglected it of late years.

And, dear mother, in order to have something nice when we

arrive, please to accept the enclosed cheque for £--. Will

drop a line from Bombay, if possible, and another as soon as

we land. And, as I have escaped thus far, I hope the same

powerful hand and watchful eye that has attended me and

mine, will guide us safe to the land of liberty; and then,

dear mother, we will sing--

Home, sweet home!

I love thee still.

I am only bringing home two of my children--Arthur and Amy.

Keep up your spirits, dear mother. We will meet again, all

being well. Till then,

Believe us as ever,

Your affectionate Son and Daughter,

T. & B. J. GOWING, S.M.,

Allahabad.

The following will, I hope, be of much interest to my

readers. They will be able to see at a glance the dates and

principal places at which our unfortunate countrywomen and

children were massacred; and the table shows moreover the

distances our men had to march from Bombay and Calcutta

respectively:--

+-----------+---------+--------------+---------------------------------+

| | Dists. | | |

| Names of | from | Dates of | Some of the Principal Events. |

| Places. +----+----+ Massacres. | |

| |BOM.|CAL.| | |

+-----------+----+----+--------------+---------------------------------+

|Agra +| 848| 839| |44th and 67th N. I. disarmed |

| | | | | and bundled out of fort, and |

| | | | | N. W. provinces placed under |

| | | | | martial-law, May 18th, 1857. |

|Allahabad +| 977| 948| June 5, 1857.|6th N. I. murdered all their |

| | | | | officers, but Colonel Neill |

| | | | | paid some of them off for it; |

| | | | | the remainder bolted. |

|Arrah |1108| 406| |A handful of Sikhs here defended |

| | | | | themselves successfully, |

| | | | | commanded by Mr. Boyle, C.E., |

| | | | | until relieved by the 5th |

| | | | | Fusiliers. |

|Barrackpore|1285| 16| |First shot fired by Mungul Pandy,|

| | | | | March 29th, 1857; 19th N.I. |

| | | | | disbanded, March 31st, 1857; |

| | | | | but the 34th were the |

| | | | | ringleaders. They were shortly |

| | | | | after, disbanded. The Native |

| | | | | officers of this unfortunate |

| | | | | regiment corrupted nearly the |

| | | | | whole of the Bengal Army. |

|Bareilly |1036| 910| May 31, 1857.|Murdered all they could lay their|

| | | | | hands upon, then marched off to|

| | | | | join their comrades at Delhi. |

|Benares +| 950| 428| June 4, 1857.|Colonel Neill with his Fusiliers |

| | | | | turned the tables upon then; |

| | | | | the 10th slipped into them |

| | | | | right gallantly, and they found|

| | | | | out very quickly that they were|

| | | | | playing a losing game. |

|Bithoor | 948| 712| June 1, 27; |It was at this place that the |

| | | | July 2, 16, | monster, Nana Sahib, had a |

| | | | 1857. | magnificent palace, which was |

| | | | | utterly destroyed by Havelock. |

|Cawnpore +| 939| 700| May 11, 1875.|It was at this place that some of|

| | | | | the foulest deeds that ever |

| | | | | disgraced this earth were |

| | | | | perpetrated. Relieved by |

| | | | | Havelock. |

|Delhi +| 880| 976| |Invested June 8th. Assaulted |

| | | | | September 14th. City finally |

| | | | | taken, September 20th, 1857, by|

| | | | | General Sir A. Wilson. |

|Dinapore |1114| 411| |Three fine regiments broke loose |

| | | | | here on the morning of the 25th|

| | | | | July, 1857, and quietly marched|

| | | | | away with their arms, although |

| | | | | our 10th, and two Companies of |

| | | | | the 37th were in the station. |

| | | | | We wanted a Neill here, then |

| | | | | not a man would have escaped. |

|Ferozepore+|1143|1181| |On the 13th of May some 3000 |

| | | | | would-be murderers were |

| | | | | confronted by our 61st, and |

| | | | | almost destroyed to a man. |

|Futteghur |1006| 703| June 7, 1857.|It was at this place that the |

| | | | | 10th and 41st N. I. pitched |

| | | | | into each other over the spoils|

| | | | | and then bolted. |

| Fyzabad |1040| 576| June 7, 1857.|The 22nd N. I. and 6th Oude |

| | | | | Irregular Infantry murdered |

| | | | | all they could lay their hands |

| | | | | upon, and then marched to |

| | | | | Delhi. |

| Gwalior +| 680| 772|June 14, 1857.|All that came in their way, |

| | | | | except women and children, were|

| | | | | murdered; they then marched |

| | | | | marched away. |

| Indore | 377|1030| July 1, 1857.|All were destroyed, male and |

| | | | | female, young and old, that |

| | | | | they could lay hold of. |

| Jhansie +| 602| 725| June 7, 1857.|All perished. The atrocious deeds|

| | | | | of the murderers were equal to |

| | | | | Cawnpore; and a woman, or a |

| | | | | fiend in form of a woman, was |

| | | | | at the head of it. |

| Kurrachee | 572|1360| |All Native troops disarmed, and |

| | | | | made to do duty with the |

| | | | | ramrod; but were soon |

| | | | | confronted with stern justice. |

| | | | | It was at this place that the |

| | | | | Fusiliers landed, the writer |

| | | | | being then (in 1857) a |

| | | | | sergeant. |

| Lahore |1192|1356| |All Natives disarmed by a part of|

| | | | | the 81st and two batteries of |

| | | | | Artillery, in a masterly style.|

| | | | | style. It was do or die. The |

| | | | | odds were about 12 to 1, but |

| | | | | our determination was too much |

| | | | | much for the arch-fiends. |

| Lucknow +| 923| 629| May 31, 1857.|Invested by an overwhelming |

| | | | | force, but gallantly held out |

| | | | | from the beginning of June |

| | | | | until relieved by Sir H. |

| | | | | Havelock, September 25th, 1857;|

| | | | | and then again until relieved |

| | | | | second time by Sir Colin |

| | | | | Campbell in November, 1857. |

| Meerut | 918|1008| May 10, 1857.|It was at this station that the |

| | | | | ball was fairly opened; but |

| | | | | through the incapacity of one |

| | | | | of one man we lost thousands, |

| | | | | for, had the 6th Carabineers, |

| | | | | 60th Rifles, and Artillery been|

| | | | | let loose, not a rebel would |

| | | | | have told the tale. |

| Mhow +| 360|1018| July 9, 1857.|Destroyed all that came in their |

| | | | | way, but stern justice quickly |

| | | | | followed. |

| Neemuch | 865| 850| June 3, 1857.|Destroyed all that came in their |

| | | | | way, then marched in a body to |

| | | | | Delhi. |

| Peshawur +|1525|1616| |All Native regiments disarmed, |

| | | | | and forty of the would-be |

| | | | | murderers blown from guns, June|

| | | | | 11th, 1857. |

| Sealkote +|1465|1391| July 9, 1857.|Here grim justice soon overtook |

| | | | | them. Colonel Nicholson, with |

| | | | | the 52nd destroyed them all, |

| | | | | all, except a score or two that|

| | | | | got the rope. |

| Umballah |1020|1108| |This station was safe. It was |

| | | | | held with an iron grasp by the |

| | | | | 9th Lancers, the 75th, 101st, |

| | | | | 101st, 102nd being close at |

| | | | | hand. |

| | | | |NOTE.--The fighting at some of |

| | | | | the stations, where a handful |

| | | | | confronted a host, was |

| | | | | desperate, but in every case |

| | | | | our men proved the victors. It |

| | | | | was a pity they were not let |

| | | | | let loose at Meerut; it would |

| | | | | have terrified the Gentlemen at|

| | | | | Delhi; the news would have been|

| | | | | all over Bengal in a few days, |

| | | | | and thousands of precious lives|

| | | | | might have been spared. |

| | | | |These nice gents were handled |

| | | | | very roughly at stations |

| | | | | marked.+ |

| | | | | N. I. Native Infantry |

| | | | | C. E. Civil Engineer. |

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