aged to keep up
with the pursuit, never thinking of the inevitable trudge back to
Agra, which meant that, by the time they arrived there, they would
have accomplished a march of not less than 70 miles without a halt,
besides having had a severe fight with an enemy greatly superior in
numbers.

Our casualties were slight: 12 officers and men were killed, 54
wounded, and 2 missing, besides some 20 camp-followers killed and
wounded.

There is no doubt that the enemy were almost as much taken by surprise
as we were. They knew that we were on our way from Aligarh, and had
arranged (as we afterwards heard) with the people of the city to
destroy the bridge of boats in time to prevent our crossing. But our
movements were sufficiently rapid to prevent their carrying their
intention into effect; and although the insurgents were informed that
we had actually crossed the river they refused to believe the report,
and, it was said, hanged the man who brought it. Their incredulity was
strengthened by the small dimensions of the ground taken up for our
camp, and the few tents which were pitched, and they made up their
minds that these were only being prepared for the troops belonging
to the Agra garrison, and so anticipated an easy victory. Their
astonishment first became known when they were repulsed by the 75th
Foot, and were heard to say to one another, '_Arrah bhai! ye Diliwhale
hain!_' (I say, brother! these are the fellows from Delhi!).

We halted at Agra on the 11th, 12th, and 13th October, partly to
rest the men and transport animals, but chiefly on account of the
difficulty we had in getting out of the clutches of the North-West
Provinces Government, the local authorities not caring to be left to
their own resources. Our wounded were taken to the fort, and lodged in
the Moti Masjid,[10] which exquisite little building had been turned
into a hospital. The men were well taken care of by the ladies, who
seemed to think they could never do enough for the Delhi column.

I now for the first time saw the lovely Taj Mahal--that beautiful,
world-famed memorial of a man's devotion to a woman, a husband's
undying love for a dead wife. I will not attempt to describe the
indescribable. Neither words nor pencil could give to the most
imaginative reader the slightest idea of the all-satisfying beauty and
purity of this glorious conception. To those who have not already
seen it, I would say: 'Go to India. The Taj alone is well worth the