had touched his lips. "Oh! Representative of God, oh! Releaser of Slaves, oh! Provider for the Poor," he cried, "I am dead! my caste is gone!" I told him that he ought to take more care of a sick man, and the lesson had a good effect, as he was pretty attentive after this occurrence. The next day the other Moosulman servants held a Panchayut, or Council of Five, over him, and read him out of caste-a thing they do on the least pretext, as the person so ejected has to give them a feast to procure his readmission. All the rest of the time that I remained at Umbala this servant kept wearying me with entreaties for three rupees to give the above-mentioned feast. Sometimes he would put his head under my feet, and after my recovery, whenever I went out, I was sure to find him on my way ready to prefer his prayers. But, although wearied with his importunities, I never gave him anything for the purpose, as I considered it a very just punishment, and besides, the wages which I paid him, and which were far more than he had earned, were amply sufficient to defray these expenses, and leave something over for his trouble.

My days passed rather wearily. I was awakened before dawn by the morning gun, and bugles sounding the reveillé. From that time sleep was impossible. The thunder of artillery and the rattle of small arms lasted until eight. From that time there were no events, except the visit of the Doctor and Mr. Vauquelin. I used to lie in bed and calculate the probability of dying from the length of the Doctor's face. I even began writing a letter, to be sent home in case of my demise.

After a week's starvation, we got rid of the fever, and I began rapidly to mend. As soon as I could get out of bed, I went in a dhoolee to the station hotel, as Mr. Powell, whose room and bed I had been occupying, was expected back soon.

The hotel was very pleasant and comfortable. I remained there over ten days, and gained rapidly in strength and weight, both of which had been much reduced during my short illness. In one week I had lost twenty pounds of flesh.

Umbala was a very large station, and a band from some one of the native regiments used to play every evening on the

parade-ground, where all the fashion of the station congregated. I frequently went there to hear the music, which was quite good. There is never any difficulty in forming a band of natives. Almost every man has the requisite ear and skill, and they learn the European notation with wonderful facility; but they never could be made to play with any spirit. It seemed as if they never entered into the meaning of occidental music. However, it is much the most fashionable among the natives. At their great weddings and feasts they always engage, if possible, the services of musicians who play English tunes; and it is said that a few days before Lucknow was captured this spring, the bands of fifty-three regiments had united in a monster concert, while the leaders of the mutineers were celebrating a great banquet.

During my stay at Umbala, and after my return to Delhi, I saw a good deal of the sepoys, in their every day life. Their dwellings, like those of other natives, are mere mud huts, which the soldiers of each regiment generally build for themselves. When off duty, the sepoys wore a dhotee of coarse cotton wound around the loins, and forming below a loose trowser, which reached as far as the knee, and was open at the back of the leg. They were usually beautifully formed men, very tall, and rather thin. The upper part of the body was commonly clothed in a short white jacket, with tight sleeves; and on the head they wore a white cotton skull-cap, jauntily set on one side. Being of high-caste, warriors by birth and profession, and also, as they expressed it, "servants of the warrior company," they felt a pride in themselves and contempt for the ordinary natives, which they showed very clearly in every motion, as well as in their intercourse with the common people. Whenever they met a European they always gave the military salute, by stopping, facing about, drawing up the body to its full height, and then extending the arm and bringing it round with a sweep, on a level with the shoulder, until the thumb of the right hand rested on the forehead. I have read recently an article in an English periodical, blaming the English residents for not having foreseen the late mutiny. Among other things, the author says that the "officers re

ceived daily, the respectful salutes of the men; they replied to them as a matter of course, and drove on regardless of the flashing eye, which gave the lie to the outward respect of the act,”—these are not the exact words, but they convey the meaning, and I only quote them because I wish distinctly to assert that I do not believe the writer, or any one else, ever saw any flashing eyes, unless he returned the sepoy's salute with his left hand, which is, with them, a great insult.

The native commissioned officers, although they took rank with the English captains and lieutenants, and were paid many times as much as the common sepoys, did not seem to be at all above them, in social position. They lived in the same mud huts, and might be seen squatted naked on the ground, cooking their food in a mud furnace. After the late rebellion, they rejected their native titles, and became colonels, captains, and lieutenants of the revolted regiments. In fact, one of the most remarkable features of the rebellion is the way in which all the revolted troops preserved the organization given them by the English. They always made a point of carrying off the regimental colours. This is perhaps not so wonderful, as they were in the habit of worshipping them as gods; but it is strange, that they should continue as they did to wear the uncomfortable English uniform, and that they should even impose this dress upon the new levies which they raised during the revolt.

There are a number of shawl dealers in Umbala, who used to bring their wares to the hotel for me to see. The shawls nearly all come from the Punjab, only a few from Cashmeer. All shawls that come to this country from India are called "Cashmere," or "Camel's Hair," but really, there are scarcely any true Cashmeeree shawls in America—and none anywhere of "Camel's Hair." The Cashmeeree shawl is made of the inner wool of the Thibet goat, which is brought from Ladak in Thibet, and woven into a fabric called pushmeena, which forms the basis and centre of the Cashmeeree shawl. The embroidery of the shawls is sometimes woven, sometimes worked with the needle, in either case the work is done by men, and requires an incredible amount of time. The Ma

harajah of Cashmeer does not allow any of the workmen to leave his dominions. If caught attempting to escape they are hung; but, notwithstanding this risk, many of them have made their escape to the Punjab, where, at the towns of Lahor, Loodiana, and Umritsur, they have long established manufactories of shawls, from which the markets of the West are supplied. Every shawl manufactured in Cashmeer, has a few square inches of work left incomplete. After the shawl is bought, it is finished in the private manufactory of the Maharajah, where it pays him about one hundred per cent. of its value, as duty. This regulation also gives the Maharajah the opportunity of ascertaining the party to whom the shawl is sold-which he always wishes to know, as he will not allow the shawls to be sold to traders.

Desertion-Life of an Indian Officer-Christmas Evening at Mr. Beresford's-The Mutiny at Delhi-Murder of my Friends-Fate of the Beresfords-The Revolted Emperor's Government-The City while held by the Mutineers-Uniform Defeats of the Mutineers-The Siege and Assault-Taking of the City and Flight of the Mutineers -News of the Taking of Delhi-The City after its Occupation by the EnglishWholesale Punishment.

Ir was nearly too weeks after I moved to the hotel, before the doctor considered me strong enough to continue my journey. I had to give up my intended trip through the Punjab, having spent at Umbala all the time and money which I had appropriated to it. After I became strong enough to sit up, the time passed very pleasantly. The hotel was remarkably well kept, the weather was just cool enough for a fire, there were two officers lodging at the hotel en permanence, whose company I found very agreeable, and we had a constant succession of pleasant guests.

At length, on the 22d of December, the doctor told me I might leave; and on the evening of that day, having bid goodbye to my acquaintances, and thanked Messrs. Vauquelin and Powell very warmly for all their kindness to me, I started in a dhoolee toward Delhi. About the middle of the night I was waked up by my palkee stopping, and on looking out was informed that four of my bearers had run away, and taken the back track in company with two other dhoolees, which we had met going toward Umbala. I at once jumped out, sick as I was, and clothed only in my night-dress, and ran barefoot for 2 quarter of a mile, followed by the mussalchee or torchbearer. I came up with the other palkees and my truants, just as they were crossing a river. I began to think it was all up now, as it was impossible for me to go in the water;