ation of India for the preservation of their
temple had the authorities really intended to carry out the project. Its
destruction would have been an act of vandalism quite at variance with
the character of the British nation, and one which would have brought
down on us the wrath and contempt of the whole civilized world.

From the Jama Masjid we wandered through narrow lanes and
back-slums--the former resort of the worst characters in the city--to
the Delhi and Turkoman Gates, the streets, as in other parts, being
strewed with property from the wrecked houses, and wellnigh impassable.
We saw parties of Europeans and native soldiers, all eager in the
pursuit of plunder, going from house to house, or diving down courts and
alleys when they saw us approaching. Interference or remonstrance with
these men would have been useless, if not dangerous; in their excited
state they were no respecters of persons, and we deemed it the better
judgment to take no notice of their actions. Dead bodies lay in almost
every street, rotting in the burning sun, and the effluvium was
sickening, so that we were glad to make our way back to the Ajmir Gate
to a less poisonous atmosphere.

A movable column of 2,500 men of all arms started on the morning of the
23rd in pursuit of the rebels, taking the direction to Cawnpore. My
regiment had been detailed for this service; and, though numerically
weak, and suffering from sickness, the officers and men hailed with
pleasure the approaching departure from Delhi. But, unfortunately for
us, the Colonel in command reported us sick and unfit to march. We were
all to a man furious at this; everyone fit for duty was willing, heart
and soul, to be sent wherever the exigencies of the war required, and
more especially looked forward with delight to the prospect of serving
under Sir Colin Campbell, in whose brigade the regiment had fought in
the Punjab campaign of 1848-49. Still, the decision of the responsible
officer was not to be disputed, and so the regiment was kept at Delhi.

On the 25th I mounted guard with fifty men at the Lahore Gate. The
orders were "on no account to allow soldiers, either European or native,
nor camp-followers without passes, to enter or leave the city." My post
was constantly at the gate, where I examined passes; and while
thus occupied some thirty troopers of the Mooltani Horse--wild,
truculent-looking fellows, armed to the teeth--rode up demanding
entrance. I explained to them wh