for five minutes we threw ourselves down on
the hard ground or on the hot sand and at once fell asleep, waking up
somewhat restored to continue our toilsome journey.

From Jugraon onward we had rather long marches, and it was considered
advisable to convey the men part of the way in hackeries; the
arrangement being that they should march halfway, then halt for coffee
and refreshment, and afterwards ride the remainder of the distance.

By this means they were kept fresh for the work before them, which, we
had every reason to believe, would be anything but light. At Umballah
I took the opportunity of calling on my friend Mr. George Barnes,
the Commissioner of the Cis-Sutlej States. He had shown me boundless
hospitality, and was like a father to me when I joined my regiment as
a lad at Kussowlie. A man of great intellectual attainments and sound
judgment, he was an honour to the Bengal Civil Service. There was no
officer at that momentous period in whom Sir John Lawrence placed
more confidence. His familiarity with the native character, and the
friendship borne towards him by the Sikh chieftains, enabled him
throughout the Siege of Delhi to keep open communication with the
Punjab, and supply the force with stores, provisions, and ammunition.
He would, without doubt, have risen to the highest honours in his
profession had he not been stricken with a fatal illness in 1859, when
holding the responsible post of Foreign Secretary to the Government of
India.

A few marches from Delhi we passed over the historic field of Paniput,
where three sanguinary battles had been fought in different ages, each
deciding the fate of Hindostan for the time being. More than 100,000
men had been slain in these actions, and we felt we were marching over
ground the dust of which was thickly permeated with the ashes of human
beings.

Here first we heard the sound of distant cannonades, borne thus far to
our ears by the stillness of the night--a sound which told us that our
comrades before Delhi were still holding their position against the
enemy.

At length, on July 1, just as the sun was rising, we emerged from a
forest of trees on to the plain over which the army under Sir Henry
Barnard had moved on June 8 to attack the entrenchments of the mutineers
at Badli-ki-Serai.

_July_ 1.--Eagerly we cast our eyes over the ground to our front, and
with pride in our hearts thought of that gallant little force which had
advanced across this plain o