l fkdididh I J OR, THE mssmo WlLL Wyatt" ,.m-v Ems mm 3938338894252 @368 D €353 W3 9396®3®9 98 51 CHAPTER x111. dislodge. . The 25th September, 1857, is a] Amongst the European infantry day that Englishmen will not forget- For eightyâ€"eight days the. heroic lit- tle English garrison of Lucknow had cognized as the smart, inf; young Officer of Jessies dugucr- defended their position against a lea- reotype; his face was blackened by, guer of overwhelming numbers, hav- smoke and stained with his own. “‘8' ï¬rms. Pl‘0\'iSl0u-‘=. I1 Sll‘Oan PGSl- blood, his sword ran with that of lion in their native land, and all ithe enemy, his right hand was red the resources of military traininglnml his sleeve soaked with it, his and skill; they had maintained theirfbmnm came in short gasps, a burn- frail, unfortified, unsheltercd posi-ling thirst consumed him, his limbs Lion with a courage and constancy trcmmed, and a red mist swam be rarely equalled, though perhaps sur- tore his failing eyes; with his pal-ch- Passed 1 by the heroic defence Of‘cd lips compressed and his teeth Cawnporc; and even that of Arab. clenched, his one hope was that he Cawnpore was lnore heroic, he- might not fall till he reached the cause conducted under still more des- Residency, if indeed it might be perute and, as it proved, fatal, con- reached after so terrible a struggle. ditions, behind oven frailer lntrench- He had the good fortune to serve ments than those of Lucknow. For under that brave and beautiful soul. at Cawnpore the women had no roof who, "in gratitude for and in ad- but the sky, under incessant fire, and brilliant deeds of miration of the no couch but. the bare earth; the arms achieved by General Havelock. garrison were only upheld by the cheerfully waived his rank in favor noble hope 0f saving LuCkhOW byiof that of’l‘lcer"â€"tcnderingr his mill- their prolonged resistance. tary services to Brigadier-General Stimumted, Pal‘aGOXiCfllly as it Havelock as a volunteer, though ofï¬- may appear! equally by hope and cially appointed to the command of despairâ€"howl 0‘ being TOIiOVEd by 11 both Havelock and the expedition. force they knew to be in the neigh- Philip felt that it was indeed an borhOOd, despair 0f meeting mowihonor to serve under two such rare mercy at the hands 0f their GHOIDiOS, and chivalrous soldiers, in an opera- ShOU-ld they yield. than the tragedy tion so fraught with peril and honor 0‘ SCOUIDOX‘B 16d thern t0 OXPGCt; Outraln's force never forgot. Cawn- for an ominous silence was the sole pore, that word so overâ€"weighed intimation they had ever had of the with agony and infamy, with hero- fflto 0f CaWnDOX‘C; the defenders 0f ism and cruelty, with pity and hor- Lucknow rose on the 25th, to go ror. They had not, like Havelock's through one more day of terrible, tragic monotony, and saw the sun once more turn westward over their wearied force diminished now by one- third, while the awful iron tempest still crashed mercilessly upon their riddled and halfâ€"ruined buildings, and filled every open spot with dust. Night and day those devoted men had fought and toiled in their un- sheltered intrenchments, scorched by the fierce summer of India, drenched by its tropical rains; they buried their daily tale of dead, they nursed their sick and wounded, they did all 'the ofï¬ces of daily life under an incessant ï¬re of musketry, shot and shell, varied by stinkâ€"pots and car- cases, and only slackening a. while from time to time to be renewed; with ï¬erce!" rigor. The sick, crowd- ed on the lowest floor of the hospi- tal. were not secure from the occas- ional round shots; the only really safe places were damp, dark cellars, in which some of the ladies and chil- sight of the tragic Beebeegurh, ankle deep in the blood of Christian woâ€" men and children, and the yet more tragic well. over the ghastly con- tents of which they had cried aloud; but the whole relieving force, as they hewed their way through the living wall of darlefacetl, white-dresâ€" sed foes under the concentrated ï¬re of the street, trusted that they were saving the Lucknow garrison from the fate of Cawnpore. - Philip carried Jessie's daguerreoâ€" type, takenat the same time as his own and the cause of as much laughâ€" ter, in his breast pocket; early in the day a musket ball struck and shattered the outer half of the case, starring the likeness out of all rc- cognition and saving his life; later on he received a fleshâ€"wound in the leg and a ball grazed his forehead; else he was unhurt, though nearly exhausted. Suddenly, in the midst of all the fury and agony, a sweet die“ were tcrowged ,day ang night vision of Jessie, safe in green and a long ra s an mice, an w ere f ‘ f . - children rapidly sickened and died, peace “1 England’ 13:15th be me . _ ‘ . and he heard her voice above and Otheri cmldren Wele bom‘ All Ithunder of the guns, the shouts, the the‘long’lhc‘t doâ€? Ofï¬cer? faan mend’ ; moans, the awful tumult. Was she ï¬lm" tOrHOSS gea‘en‘fddbil .t‘li‘erb a? .praying for him '2 Poor child, he ysen 9‘ ' 8." ‘Cove‘e W1 01 SNthought, she would soon have no fought, rushing from battery to bat- , . - _ tar b th . t f t brother to pray for, though her pic 3" ecause‘ ey weâ€: 00 CW 0 ture had saved his life once. that man all at once; and at night the d“. exhausted combatants, ofï¬cers and; ‘ I 7.1. . men without distinction, save that: ’lhe sun san< and the 5m t-comlng darkness fell over the city, its domes and minarets, its dark groves and terraced roofs, over the placid waâ€" ters of the Goomtee winding through the rich corn plain; over the batterâ€" ed but unconquered Residency; and then through all the tumult of the battle, rose the triumphant skirl of bagâ€"pipes and a cheer, a. deep-chestâ€" ed English cheer, low, hoarse, conâ€" tinUOus, thunderous as the long inâ€" cessant roar of the ground swell on a. ragged cost, and like that, growâ€" oflicers worked the hardest, toiled at burying the untended and famished beasts, the carcases of which bred pestilence. They could not furnish fatigue parties strong enough to re- pair breaches and make counter- mincs: they had to grind their own corn by hand; they had not strength to bury their uncofï¬ned dead deep enough to quench the foulness of de- composition; the native followers and servants had deserted; ladies, unaccustomed to stir a. ï¬nger in that enervating climate, had to perform mgmld deepening i†V'Olume and the most menial offices at the most imaJCSty' Many 2" dymg 031' heard trying season, on bad and scanty it and was content, a company of .wan and wasted women and children food, and in crowded, unwholesome; . , dons; an to the ne‘,el._ceusing thum emerging from their damp vaults to def of cannon and rattle of muske_ snatch one breath of air in the, slack- ‘enlng of fire after sunset, and won- try. It was then that Englishâ€" . derlng among themselves when would women, seeing their husbands slain , . V and their helpless children sicken and “1° reheving force Come: .hmrd _ 1‘ die before them, sharing the men’s “Ml an mCl'CdUIousr (1911110113 Joy. hardships‘ tending the Sick, and soon changed to certainty by the braving the tempest of death, show_ uruptlon of the highland soldiers among them, and the snatching. up of the children by their heroic deâ€" I'erhaps the most striking characâ€" inï¬rm-,5; to he kissed ahdï¬l‘ied OVCI‘ teristic of the wasted garrison manâ€" “1‘ the“: “0"10 10)†(It llm'ms‘ flawed ning those battered defences was 199m {10m the fate 0f CRWDDOI‘O; If their excessive \vearincss, for, ex- imllcd along the l‘allks. and heartenâ€" cept at Arab and Cawnpore, never i?d "If “3050 5‘1“ Smuggling without did ï¬ghting men have to to“ like ‘iit :tlyuck tci-ror to the souls 'of the these foreigners, the meanest “S 5 foe, and hl‘Oufliht new life and of whom energy to the exhausted garrison, had hitherto been accustom- _} 1, . ed to be tended like princes by the \\ ‘lO t00\ lt-up- and prolonged the grand note till it hushed every other subject race now besicging thcln. , _ _ . A A The sun still lay bright upon the [Sollmd' P}]{‘,the ml)“; falling '01: hls gilded domes and graceful minarets {11 SE5 “hp he‘ll-(1.1; and I?30100d. springng from the rich foliage of, noning that his lllt'. Hrv lilo so the beautiful city, when the. monotasf‘c:Ct and. pr9C‘ous_t0 1113 Youth. Olly of the stern siege. music was not 91"?“ "1 "am; he, too, atâ€" brokcn by continuous firing from the loud 0"]0 e‘unant Cheer With hls direction of Cawnporc; it grew ever» a.“ Shem-{ml Something (il‘aSllOd 0n nearer and louder, till the hearts of lhls hf’ad' he fen, and th(‘_b9~t“0 1‘33“ the brave and weary garrison were .ed o‘er and away from hls Pl'ostrate thrilled to their depths by the actual 'bod-V‘ sight of English soldiers hewing l Lucknow was relieved at last, with their way through the streets. Those ’the 1053 0f 0"“ a quarter of the reâ€" who saw broke into a cheer that was ,lieVihg force; and though after the taken up and echoed froln end totIirSt “'11 and rapturous emotion of end of the intrenchnient, till the‘um relieved garrison had SUbSidcd, very sick joined in it, and some even “10 I‘k‘liof “'35 found to be but a reâ€" ed that. they too came of heroic strain and knew how to endure. mustered strongâ€, to crawl forth to inl‘ol‘ccmcnt, food and quarters for see the blessed, longâ€"expected sight. ill'thh COUld With difï¬CUltY he PI‘O' ‘Wclcolnc indeed was that sight, but "'ided. the Sequel that the deed Was terrible. for the enemy's 'ï¬m enï¬lad- ;worth the terrible cost. lug the. narrow street was very; How long Philip lay among heavy, arid the English fell at every ,Slain he did not know; he was pro- step. Now the battle was at its.bably protected from further injury fiercest. the relieving force had been iby falling into one of the trenches l the fighting all. the long day. and had cut across the road to impede the to cut their way step by step in .progress of the troops: when he re- everâ€"dilninishing numbers through .gained consciousness he found himâ€" lho besiegcrs, who: they could not, ‘self a prisoner, deprived of his sword i 1‘ was l’hilip Randal, hardly to be re-, innnely Emil-1 Highlanders, been maddened by the, :llllf furnished with the water for . which he craved with delir- ious agony: food was gin-n him and ihe slept a loin; sleep, and on waking (found himself not much worse for fbis; wounds, which were not (loop, ithough their copious blending had llll’lllt'tl to exhaust. him. As for the irrack on the licull from n clubbed flnuskct. that had 1ch (1115' a surâ€" ‘faee tenderness and a certain mental dlllliess behind; and us be looked ‘round the dark chamber in which he lay on n purdah, a sort of thin matâ€" ltress, he knew that. the honor of ideal!) on the battleâ€"field had been idenied him, and that he was pro- liably destined to insult and igno- and the horrors of (loath The cold drops stood .lnl'ny, lol‘llll‘O. by on his‘ hl’OW; on SOHl‘Clllllg‘ ill}; clothes he Hound that no weapon, not even a Mienâ€"knife, ll'id been left him. Ills money was gone, but the, ruby fas- ltencd into a portion of his dress had i . - . . not. been discovered; Jessie s shatâ€" l . . . Itcred plctaro still remained. The poor lad rose and fell on his knees, echoing the prayer which afterward found written upon a. wall in (.‘awnporeâ€""Ilavo mercy upon us, and deliver us not into the hands of our enclnies"â€"a prayer so pitiful in the light of afterâ€"events. Many Englishmen and women in that awful year turned in extremity to the sure and certain refuge of souls, and turned not in vain. Frail women bore witness during the siege of Lucknow to the strength procured from that unfailing source; brave men grew braver. Philip had often stood at hnlldcrips with Death; he had volunteered in many a (leSperate deed before Fobastopol; he had earnâ€" od, though never won, the Victoria Cross, but he. was too imaginative to go under fire without a full sense of peril such as had made him trem- ble and turn pale on his first experâ€" ience at tho Alma; and now, with the. memory of Cawnpore, Shahjehanâ€" pore. and other places of horror fresh in his mind, his joints seemed loosened and his bones melted like wax within him. Yet women and children had borne worse. Outside his dark prison-house the infernal siegeâ€"symphony, with the addition of a. terrible explosion, crashed on; he heard the sound of elephants draw- ing guns. Jessie alone would mourn him; he could not fulfil the trust her dying father had laid on ‘.im. He had taken care to make a will leaving his small fortune to her. Perhaps after all, she would be bet- ter without him; !~'l(' was: so young she would easily form fresh ties, and they had already been separated so long. All was at~ an end; the strong beautiful life, the. perils and chances he loved so well; nameless as he was, he must sink Ilal11010$ and unnamed from the sight of living men, from darkness he must pass to darkness, like a spark seen a moment in a night sky and then forever quench- ed, like the white spray cresting a wave and dissipated in the waters, like a n‘monbeam shot through a breaking cloud and engulfed in the night. How different was the going of Harry Lawrence but three months since; how different would it be with H'avelock and Outram if they fell, as, for all he knew, they might alâ€" ready havc done, each leaving the memory of a noble life and stainless name. Thus Philip lamented his youth. Soon he was led before command- ing oflicers and questioned, though on most points the rebels knew far more than he. Insults and threats of torture were sometimes his porâ€" tion; twice or thrice he was returned to his prison and left in that awful suspense, which was not the least among the trials Englishmen endurâ€" ed during the rebellion. His prison was changed, he was transported aimlessly from place to place, led out'to execution and covered with lnuskets, which after all.\\\'ere not fired, or fired in the air. Often he felt that the bitterness of death was past, but again and again the agony was prolonged. and. be ex- pected no mercy in the end. His first acquaintance with the Indian people was made at an unfortunate time; in all those dark, fierce, tur- baned faces round him, he saw only ï¬ends (of cruelty, heathen fanatics bound by devilish rites to all iniquity. As tragedy after tragedy had reached his tingling ears, lis horror of those alien Asiaticshad grown, till he said things of them and the treatment due to them which shocked Jessie, then, and himself, in afterâ€"years. He did not reflect that the revolt was, after all, but a military and partial outbreak; he had seen nothing of the intelligence, the culture. the graceâ€" ful manners of those interesting and picturesque peoples; had heard nothâ€" ing of the magnificent fidelity and noble, generosity of which many of He did not remember that even the worst deeds of cruelty wrought up- on conquerors of an alien race, a hated religion. and a different civilâ€" ization, were equalled by what the "most polished people†in Christenâ€" dom did to their own countrymen and fellow-Christians in the French Revolution; nor did he know how dreadful some of the English repriâ€" Sals had been. One day he found himself unbound in an abandoned house on the out- skirts of the city. by the river, guarded slightly and carelessly. Preâ€" sently he discerned from his window a great tumult: natives, both sepoys and civilians, rushing headlong in wildest panic amid the thunder of a furious cannonade and crash of the explosion of an English mine heâ€" neath a large building held by the rebels: and taking advantage of the tumult and confusion and flight of his guards. effected his hrough unlocked doors. He caught he‘ 'spotism in others. them gave proof during the Mutiny, ; l 'holy ,not be fan English officer in his house. Bcel- ! amporc, ‘which he lived. was groaning under up a. tulwnr among the nrnlo the soldiers had thrown away in their {‘pnnic and made for the Hun: unâ€" ‘llt'f‘lll‘fl in the general flight. Seeing 1n bunt, lii~ sprang inf“ if. pusth off Lflllll floated down stream. for he lllltl ‘llU oars. lle saw the English flag waving still above. the battered Ile- sidency, which was as fiercely bomâ€" barded as our though the besiegers Iliad been beaten back from the im- ‘lnedinie. \icinity of the position. lie fet himself borne farther and farther from them. until the raprico of the current sent him ashore some miles away from the city, beneath a grove of mangoes, into the shade and shelâ€" ter of which he, was lglad to crawl. ’l‘he half-closed wound had burst open again during his flight, he had been unabln to bind it properly; every moment he grew fainter with loss of blood beneath the scorching sun, until he sank at last, unconâ€" scious, just within the grove. When he returned to consciousness dark, turbaned faces were bending over him, resiorafives were given him, his wound was bound up, he was lifted gently into a palanquin well sheltered from the sun, and borne away, he knew not whither. Some time after darkness had falâ€" len, they reached a small town; the hearers set down the palanquin beâ€" fore an arched door which opened to admit them, and Philip presently found himself in a courtyard sur- rounded by_ buildings; outside of which was a. vernndah lighted by iiâ€" the lamps from within and partially lumined by the. slant rays of nloon from without. A Hindoo lady dressed in bright silks, with gold anklcis and bangleS, came out to welcome and receive a, tall and dignified man in the prime of life, whom Philip recognized as having bound up his wound; men servants salaamed, there Was much talking in an unknown tongue, and many and strange ceremonies conâ€" fusing to Philip, The tall Hindoo having entered the house, soon came back with ashes taken from the altar upon his brow; and turning to Phil- ip, bowed himself to him, touched his feet in token of respect, and bid him welcome in the name of God to the house of Gossamer llhose. Philip, wondering and half could only speak some thanks as he was taken from the litter and led into the house, through which the sound of a female voice, softly singing, was heard. He was conducted to a room containing a low bedstead of strange fashion, and furnished with all that was ne- cessary for air and coolness. Ruksâ€" dazed, words of bhai Chose, Gossamjee's wife. then appeared with some pleasant drink, and bid him welcome in words of which he could only distinguish a. few. Dishes of curiosly cooked food were then brought, with warm water, a native dress, including a turban, in which Philip arrayed himself with a sort of dreamy incredulity. Having washed, dressed, and eaten, he lay down upon his charpoy much reâ€" freshed and half fearful lest it clap of hands should be heard and this strange Arabian Nights vision should vanish. Instead of which, his kind host. entered, surveyed him with be- nevolent satisfaction, saw to his bandages, and bid him rest, saying that he would come and talk to him on the morrowâ€"which he did, bring- ing a native doctor, who examined and dressed the Wound and departed. "All that you now require, sir," Gossamjeo said, "is a few days per- fect rest and freedom from anxiety. The doctor thinks your wound will then be quite healed." “Why are you so kind to me, a v st ranger and foreigner fighting against your fellowâ€"countrymen 2’†Philip asked of this veritable Good Samaritan, when he had told him his name and military rank, and briefly narrated his adventures of the last few days. Gossamjee Bhose sat on a. cushion 0n the ground, with his arms clasped round his knees, before Philip, who was sitting on the bedstead. lie obâ€" served that it was a duty to snccor the unfortunate and to exercise hos- pitality, and further that he loved the Fel‘inghees. The English Rah, he said, was just and merciful, and beneath it merchants, like himself, could carry on their trades in peace without molestation. He trusted before long to see this outbreak sub- dued, and the English rule restored; for the natives had suffered much from anarchy in some places, and deâ€" Sir Henry Law- rence was a just man, and a lover of the native races; his name was mentioned by many at the lighting of lamps, his death was a calamity to all who had known the benefi- cencc of his sway; for his sake, all English \vero welcome to whatever aid (Jossamjce Iihosc could give them. ()utrani was a good man, he had charged his people to “spare the places." The. Mohammedan rule was very different, as the people of Oude found to their cost. It must known that Gossamjee had the name of the town the oppression of a fanatical and inâ€" tolerant moulvie, who had deï¬led cow’s flesh. Gossamjee had escape the liberty of destroying Randal lSahib's dress, in which he had found Ila valuable jewel; he begged that his highness would wear his turban when at the window, or on the houseâ€"top; and conform, so far as his religion permitted him, to Hindoo customs, in some of which he at once instruct- ed him. He then left him. sending his son, Chunia, a lad of sixteen, who taught him the mysteries of the luxurious bubbleâ€"bubble and several useful llindostanec phrases. (To be Continucd.) in. the temple with the abomination ofl taken , #â€" fTiiE llDDEleBlTTLiiï¬flf HOW IT COMPARES WITH THE OLD THREEâ€"DECKER. ‘lWhat Nelson Would Have Thought of a “London†or “Bulwark.†We wonder what Nelson would have [said if he could have looked a cen- ,tury uhcnd and read in the daily' paper a sculcnic such as this: “Afâ€" ter the receipt of the intimation the Russian \\‘1il‘filllll.Ԥ an'yng and Kor- (‘ltZ left the hurl-m: ;:::i. nurtured the Japanese Fleet of from six to eight’ lnilcs' distance," a piece of informa-' tion which we read to-(luy without. the. least surprise. ,~ In Nelson's time a gun would ï¬re“ a (iSIb. ball with any hope 01 hitt-‘ ing an enemy's ship a mile awayI was a thing to be wondered at, and indeed, such monster Weapons were rarely used. The. standard weapon carried by the largest ship of the line‘ Was a thirtyâ€"two pounder, and to' make it effective the opposing ships preferred to get within pistol-range of each other before discharging theiri bromisidcs. ‘ And yet, when Nelson was still! alive and with his greatest, honors’ unwon, it was seriously thought that‘ the battleship of the period had: touched finality in naval construc-’ tion. "The size of our ships," wrote a great authority in 1800., "seems now to have nearly reached! its maximum; for Nature herself ini some measure i FIXES I'I‘S LIMITS. : Timber. the growth of Nature, can- not be made to grow larger, and the very element in which our ships are to navigate has only certain depths that cannot be increased." And then the writer proceeds to throw tip his hands in amazement at a "ship of most extraordinary size. which the French have lately built â€"with a keel 172 feet long and a. tonnage of 2,850â€"an unwieldy mon- ster pronounced to be entirely unï¬t. for service and which hath never been out of harbor." But. what a baby this leviathan would look toâ€"day by the side of a. London or Bulwark of much more than twice the length and four times the tonnage, which can force its way against wind and waves at a speed of well over twenty miles an hour. Still, a. firstâ€"rate ship of a century ago was a very fine vessel and, for the time, a splendid fighting machine well worth spending a minute or two in picturing. Although called a “tlirce-dcclx‘cr" she. had, in fact, five decks, of which three carried her hunderd or more guns. Along the whole length of her main deck on each side was a row of sev- enteen thirty-two pounders; the mid- dle-deck beneath carried seventeen of these guns on each side together with tw0 8 in. guns, pointing THEIR GRIM MUZZLES like their fellows above and below, through as many ports; and on tho lower deck were twentyâ€"eight thirty- two pounders and four 8in. guns} while still deeper in the ship was the magazine, containing about thirty- fl\'e tons of gunpowder. Thas we have a stately battleship [showing over a hundred vicious teeth to the enemy, and sure to give an excellent. account of herself. Each of her ninetyâ€"six smaller guns fired a 32 lb. ball propelled by a charge of 14 lb. of powder, and n. bl’Ottd‘ side would pour something like three- quarters of a ton of metal into the enemy’s sides. A battleship of toâ€"(lay. like the London, carries only fortyâ€"six guns; but a single one of them can dis- charge in two shots as great a weight of metal as an entire broad- side of Nelson's biggest ship. The 12in. gun, of which each battleship carries four. dispatches a projectile weighing 850 lb. by means of a charge of 207 lb. of cordite. The The shell has an extreme range of over twenty miles, and will go clean through 3 feet of iron at the disâ€" tance of a. mile. The 6 inch gun hurls a shell of 100 lb. weight. and the 9.2 in. one of 390 1b.; while of the fortyâ€"six guns, four of them will pour forth in a couple of minutes three times the weight of metal one of Nelson's slzips could discharge from all her hundred guns, ___._._+ f BIRDS DO THE CAKE WALK. In the Leeward Islands there are large numbers of a particular branch: of the albatloss family; these birds; habitually perform, with great sol- enlliity and regularity, a kind of cake walk. 'l’wo birds step up to one another, and the first. bows proâ€" foundly to the second; then the sec- ond takes up the bowing, and after that they bow alternately. 'l‘hey cirâ€" cle round each other, still bowing; lthis is kept up for a minute or so, .and after that comes a little fencing .with the bills, but all in I'icl'fect lgood temper. The second bird jstands still at the conclusion of this ‘sparring, while tlto first stands on tipâ€"toe, puffs out its breast, raises its bill as high in the air as it can, and utters a groan that sounds like the “moo†of a cow. While the sound lasts. the second bird snaps Iits bill rhythmically. Sometimes the ï¬rst will pick up a twig and offer it to the other, but the second refuses the offering, and. in turn. {(1005 the same thing. After this, the game begins again with the var: iation that the. l‘u'w; are reversed. The albatross is a most polite bird, and it has often been demonstrated ithat ii a human brim,r bows to it. the Sizllllinlfhll is returned unfailingi; my 11.: olrd.