h to Lucknow it was clear as noonday to the
meanest capacity that we were now in an enemy's country. None of the
villages along the route were inhabited, the only visible signs of life
about them being a few mangy pariah dogs. The people had all fled on the
first advance of Havelock, and had not returned; and it needed no great
powers of observation to fully understand that the whole population of
Oude was against us.

The deserted villages gave the country a miserable appearance. Not only
were they forsaken, but we found, on reaching our first halting-ground,
that the whole of the small bazaar of camp-followers, consisting of
goat-herds, bread, milk, and butter-sellers, etc., which had accompanied
us from Allahabad, had returned to Cawnpore, none daring to accompany
the force into Oude. This was most disappointing for young soldiers with
good appetites and sound digestions, who depended on bazaar
_chupatties_,[6] with a _chittack_[7] of butter and a pint of goat's
milk at the end of the march, to eke out the scanty commissariat
allowance of rations. What made the privation the more keenly felt, was
the custom of serving out at one time three days' biscuits, supposed to
run four to the pound, but which, I fear, were often short weight.
Speaking for myself, I did not control my appetite, but commenced to eat
from my haversack on the march, the whole of my three days' biscuits
usually disappearing before we reached the first halting-ground, and
believe me, I ran no danger of a fit of indigestion. To demolish twelve
ordinary-sized ship's biscuits, during a march of twenty to twenty-five
miles, was no great tax on a young and healthy stomach.

I may here remark that my experience is that, after a forced march, it
would be far more beneficial to the men if the general commanding were
to serve out an extra ration of tea or coffee with a pound of bread or
biscuit instead of extra grog. The latter was often issued during the
forced marches of the Mutiny, but never an extra ration of food; and my
experience is that a pint of good tea is far more refreshing than a dram
of rum. Let me also note here most emphatically that regimental canteens
and the fixed ration of rum in the field are the bane of the army. At
the same time I am no teetotaller. In addition to the bazaar people, our
cooks and _dhobies_[8] had also deserted. This was not such a serious
matter for the Ninety-Third just fresh from the Crimea, as it was for
the old In