forwards of them
and of their names, as after the earliest of rebellions, in the book
of life 'was no remembrance.'

Under these miserable thoughts the vast majority of the sepoys robbed
largely, as opportunities continually opened upon them. Then, and
chiefly _through_ their robberies, commenced their chastisement in
good earnest. Every soldier by every comrade was viewed with hatred
and suspicion; by the common labourer with the scrutiny of deep
self-interest. The popular report of their sudden wealth travelled
rapidly; every road, village, house, whether ahead or on their flanks,
became a place of distrust and anxious jealousy; and Delhi seemed to
offer the only safe asylum. Thither, as to a consecrated sanctuary,
all hurried; and their first introduction to the duties of the new
home they had adopted, would be a harsh and insolent summons to the
chances of a desperate _sortie_ against men in whose presence their
very souls sank. On reviewing the circumstances which _must_ have
surrounded this Delhi life, probably no nearer resemblance to a hell
of apostate spirits has ever existed. Money, carried in weighty
parcels of coin, cannot be concealed. Swathed about the person, it
disfigures the natural symmetries of the figure. The dilemma,
therefore, in which every individual traitor stood was, that, if he
escaped a special notice from every eye, this must have been because
all his crimes had failed to bring him even a momentary gain. Having
no money, he had no swollen trousers. For ever he had forfeited the
pension that was the pledge of comfort and respectability to his
family and his own old age. This he had sacrificed, in exchange
for--nothing at all. But, on the other hand, if his robberies had been
very productive and prosperous, in that proportion he became
advertised to every eye, indicated and betrayed past all concealment
to every ruffian less fortunate as a pillager. Delhi must in several
points have ripened his troubles, and showed them on a magnifying
disk. To have no confidential friend, or adviser, or depositary of a
secret, is an inevitable evil amongst a population constitutionally
treacherous. But now in Delhi this torment takes a more fearful shape.
Every fifth or sixth day, when he is sternly ordered out upon his turn
of duty, what shall he do with his money? He has by possibility 40
lbs. weight of silver, each pound worth about three guineas. In the
very improbable case of his escaping the gallows, s