f the 19th we found ourselves in rear of the Burn bastion,
the attempt to take which on the 14th had cost the life of the gallant
Nicholson and so many other brave men. We had with us fifty European
and fifty Native soldiers, the senior officer of the party being
Captain Gordon, of the 75th Foot. A single door separated us from the
lane which led to the Burn bastion. Lang, of the Engineers, burst this
door open, and out dashed the party. Rushing across the lane and up
the ramp, the guard was completely surprised, and the bastion was
seized without our losing a man.

Early the next day we were still sapping our way towards the Lahore
gate, when we suddenly found ourselves in a courtyard in which were
huddled together some forty or fifty _banias_,[2] who were evidently
as much in terror of the sepoys as they were of us. The men of our
party nearly made an end of these unfortunates before their officers
could interfere, for to the troops (Native and European alike) every
man inside the walls of Delhi was looked upon as a rebel, worthy of
death. These people, however, were unarmed, and it did not require
a very practised eye to see that they were inoffensive. We thought,
however, that a good fright would do them no harm, and might possibly
help us, so for a time we allowed them to believe that they were
looked upon as traitors, but eventually told them their lives would
be spared if they would take us in safety to some place from which
we might observe how the Lahore gate was guarded. After considerable
hesitation and consultation amongst themselves they agreed to two of
their party guiding Lang and me, while the rest remained as hostages,
with the understanding that, if we did not return within a given time,
they would be shot.

Our trembling guides conducted us through houses, across courtyards,
and along secluded alleys, without our meeting a living creature,
until we found ourselves in an upper room of a house looking out on
the Chandni Chauk,[3] and within fifty yards of the Lahore gate.

From the window of this room we could see beneath us the sepoys
lounging about, engaged in cleaning their muskets and other
occupations, while some, in a lazy sort of fashion, were acting as
sentries over the gateway and two guns, one of which pointed in the
direction of the Sabzi Mandi, the other down the lane behind the
ramparts leading to the Burn bastion and Kabul gate. I could see from
the number on their caps that these sepoy