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For ever associated with the storming of Delhi will be the names of the two young Lieutenants Home and Salkeld, and the brave men who accompanied them. Bugler Hawthorne, after sounding the advance, bore away Salkeld on his shoulders, and did not leave him till he had bound up his wounds and deposited him in a place of safety.

Cromwell's and Grant's careers are the stock examples of how war will wake a man up. I owe to Professor C. E. Norton, my colleague, the permission to print part of a private letter from Colonel Baird-Smith written shortly after the six weeks' siege of Delhi, in 1857, for the victorious issue of which that excellent officer was chiefly to be thanked.

Within the fort is also the Pearl Mosque, the rival of the little royal temple of similar character which we had seen at Delhi.

The reader of Hodson's memoir will gain a knowledge of the processes by which such characters are developed. The letters which make up the larger part of this book are written with animation and simplicity, and are full of spirited accounts of adventure, of rough and various service. The narrative which they afford of the siege of Delhi is of absorbing interest.

These barks carry out an infinite quantity of cloth of all sorts made of bumbast or cotton, some white, others stamped or painted; large quantities of indigo, dried and preserved ginger, dry and confected myrabolans, boraso or borax in paste, vast quantities of sugar, cotton, opium, asafoetida, puchio? and many other kinds of drugs, turbans made at Delhi, great quantities of carnelians, garnets, agates, jaspers, calcedonies, hematitis, or bloodstones, and some natural diamonds.

It is a far cry to Delhi, and farther to Benares. 'By road and the trains. From Pathankot, having left the Hills, I came hither in a te-rain. It goes swiftly. At first I was amazed to see those tall poles by the side of the road snatching up and snatching up their threads, he illustrated the stoop and whirl of a telegraph-pole flashing past the train.

'It's a matter of history, I said, evasively, 'and Edwin Weeks travelled through India not so many years ago. I saw his studio in Paris afterward. Between his own canvases and Ahmedabad balconies and Delhi embroideries and Burmese Buddhas and other things he seemed to have carried off the whole place. 'But they don't come up here ever.

Belief is great, life-giving. The history of a Nation becomes fruitful, soul-elevating, great, so soon as it believes. These Arabs, the man Mahomet, and that one century, is it not as if a spark had fallen, one spark, on a world of what seemed black unnoticeable sand; but lo, the sand proves explosive powder, blazes heaven-high from Delhi to Grenada!

But he gave me to understand that it was not quite time yet for the uprising, which would come in a few weeks." "Those things are apt to be precipitated. I have no doubt that the mutineers burned the city last night. If so, the main body will hurry to Delhi, which, being the ancient capital of the Mogul Empire, will become the new one.

On September 14, the day of assault, till the 20th, when Delhi was completely in our possession, much looting took place in the city. Our troops, both European and native, and especially the Sikhs, entered houses during those days and managed to secrete about their persons articles of value.