ught was given to his country, and to the last he materially aided
the military authorities by his clear-sighted, sound, and reliable
advice. His intellect remained unclouded to the end. With his latest
breath he sent messages of tender farewell to his mother, hoping she
would be patient under his loss, and to his oldest and dearest friend,
Herbert Edwardes. After his death some frontier Chiefs and Native
officers of the Multani Horse were permitted to see him, and I was
told that it was touching beyond expression to see these strong men
shed tears as they looked on all that was left of the leader they so
loved and honoured.

* * * * *

Thus ended the great siege of Delhi, and to no one could the tidings
of its fall have brought more intense relief and satisfaction than to
the Chief Commissioner of the Punjab. Although in the first instance
Sir John Lawrence certainly under-estimated the strength of the Delhi
defences and the difficulties with which General Anson had to contend,
he fully realized them later, and even at the risk of imperilling the
safety of his own province by denuding it of troops, he provided the
means for the capture of the rebel stronghold, and consequently the
army of Delhi felt they owed him a deep debt of gratitude.

Like Norman when writing his narrative of the siege, I feel I cannot
conclude my brief account of it without paying my small tribute of
praise and admiration to the troops who bore themselves so nobly from
the beginning to the end. Their behaviour throughout was beyond
all praise, their constancy was unwearied, their gallantry most
conspicuous; in thirty-two different fights they were victorious over
long odds, being often exposed to an enemy ten times their number,
who, moreover, had the advantage of ground and superior Artillery;
they fought and worked as if each one felt that on his individual
exertions alone depended the issue of the day; they willingly, nay,
cheerfully, endured such trials as few armies have ever been exposed
to for so long a time. For three months, day after day, and for the
greater part of the day, every man had to be constantly under arms,
exposed to a scorching Indian sun, which was almost as destructive as,
and much harder to bear than, the enemy's never-ceasing fire. They saw
their comrades struck down by cholera, sunstroke, and dysentery, more
dispiriting a thousand times than the daily casualties in action.
They beheld t