atened to strangle every other growth.

The plot, as agreed upon, was that a general uprising was to take place
throughout India on the last day of May, 1857, but, as is often the
case in such far-reaching schemes, the impatience of the mutineers
precipitated the tremendous tragedy.

The first serious outbreak took place at Meerut on Sunday, May 10th,
just three weeks previous to the time set for the general uprising.
That town, with its population of about 40,000 at that time, lies
thirty-two miles northeast from Delhi, which was to be the capital of
the resurrected Mogul Empire. It was the precipitancy of this first
revolt that prevented its fullest success. The intention was to kill
every white man, woman and child in the place. Two regiments were
clamorous for beginning the massacre, but the Eleventh Native Infantry
held back so persistently that the others became enraged and fired a
volley among them, killing a number. Thereupon the Eleventh announced
themselves ready to take their part in the slaughter that was to free
India from the execrated "Inglese loge."

Seeing now for the first time the real peril, the colonel of the
Eleventh made an impassioned appeal to the regiment to stand by its
colors and to take no part in the useless revolt. While he was
speaking, a volley riddled his body, and he tumbled lifeless from his
saddle. The Eleventh, however, covered the flight of the other
officers, but helped to release a thousand prisoners, suffering
punishment for various offenses, and then the hell fire burst forth.

The bungalows of the officers, the mess houses of the troops, and all
the buildings between the native lines and Meerut were fired, and the
whole became a roaring conflagration, whose glare at night was visible
for miles.

When an appeal was made to the Emperor of Delhi by the troopers, he
inquired their errand. The lacklustre eyes flashed with a light that
had not been seen in them for years, the bowed form acquired new
energy, and he gave orders to admit the troopers.

Their message was enough to fan into life the slumbering fires of
ambition in the breast of a dying person.

He yielded to the dazzling dream. A throne of silver, laid away for
years, was brought into the "hall of special audience," and the
tottering form was helped to the seat, into which he sank and looked
around upon his frenzied followers. Mohammed Suraj-oo-deen Shah Gezee
was now the Great Mogul of India. A royal s