yard, with its open grave, which was the type of Death, to the Christian dwelling, side by side with it, which was the type of Resurrection. I never shall think of the former without the latter. The two will always rest side by side in my memory. If I had lost any one dear to me in this unfortunate ship, if I made a voyage from Australia to look at the grave in the churchyard, I should go away thankful to God that that house was so close to it, and that its shadow by day and its domestic lights by night fell upon the earth in which its master had so tenderly laid my dear one's head."

We have as great philanthropists living and working amongst us now as any the story of whose lives we have narrated in this chapter, and when the tale shall be told of what they have done, the names of Samuel Plimsoll, Lord Shaftesbury, Samuel Morley, George Müller, Miss Marsh, the Baroness Burdett-Coutts, and a host of others will furnish material for a fresh roll-call of philanthropic heroes.

General Heroism-Individual Instances-Adventures of a Brave Surgeon-A Perilous Expedition-Mr. Allan HumeTwo Men Storm a Fortress-A Scene in a Field-Hospital-Gallant De Kantzow-A Noble Chaplain-Preaching and Fighting-A Fatal Boat-Journey-Splendid Heroism of Mr. David Churcher-Promptitude and Coolness-A Brave Lady-The Ladies of Delhi, Lucknow, and Cawnpore-Their Sufferings and Patience-A Regiment of Dorcases -A Night at Agra-Mrs. Moore, of Cawnpore-Mrs. Inglis, of Lucknow-Motherly Heroism-An Amazon-Brave Chaplains-A Fearful Tale-Pluck in the Presence of the Enemy-The Captain of the Well-Captain Scot-Macdougal, the Band-boy-Some Boys at Agra-Thornton, of the Civil Service-Young Berrill-Ensign Napier and Quentin Battye -Dying Words-Colonel Case-Captain Beatson-Dying Deeds-The Heroism of Patience The Heroes of Cawnpore-Captain Moore-"Number One to the Front!"-Delafosse and the Burning Gun-Ashe, the Stout Gunner-Vibart, Whiting, and Mowbray-Thomson-Sterling, the Dead Shot-The Massacre-The Last Boat-Fate of the Heroes.

URING those dreadful months when the great Sepoy War, or Indian Mutiny, was raging, there was hardly a station throughout the agitated country at which heroism was not shown as splendid and dauntless as that which we admire in the early history of our Indian conquests. There were Clives to be found in every garrison in India, and found, even as Clive was found, among the civilians. It deserves especially to be noticed that many of the acts of intrepidity recorded were performed by men who were not soldiers, but Englishmen only, and who yet came forth with all credit and honour from scenes of almost unparalleled difficulty and horror. Women, too, conducted themselves with the most invincible fortitude, sharing the perils and privations of their protectors, and steadfastly supporting, in the sufferings of a flight or a siege, trials which might well be considered unendurable. How ladies delicately nurtured, and enfeebled even beyond their natural weakness by the climate of Hindostan, could have survived such hardships as usually attended an escape from the scenes of murder, has appeared inconceivable even to

Indians themselves.*

There was no faint-heartedness anywhere, neither among officers robbed of their men, nor among civilians transformed suddenly into soldiers. Everywhere were displayed the promptitude, coolness, and courage of the Anglo-Saxon race. Our countrymen met the calls of a murderous surprise as they would have done those of any ordinary duty. If there was a fort in the place, they retired to it with the women and children, extemporised defences, invented substitutes for all that was lacking, and held out to the last. If there was no place of protection, and no resource but flight, man and wife ran the gauntlet together through the swarms of murderers around them, and either saved their lives or sold them dearly. If there was anything like a chance of fighting on an open field, no odds were refused, nor were they considered too great to

overcome.

We propose in the present chapter, therefore, to tell very briefly the story of some such deeds as these. Not the great military victories, not the story of men such as Sir Henry Lawrence, or General Nicholson, or Sir Colin Campbell, or any of the great heroes whose fame has gone forth to the ends of the earth, but acts of more obscure heroism-of civilians, surgeons, chaplains, women, children, and a few others who were called upon to perform exceptionally perilous duty-incidents of individual heroism, of unpremeditated courage, of unprofessional valour. And these incidents we shall select, not in the strict order of their occurrence, but by culling one here and there with a view to show the variety of ways in which the courage of our brave countrymen was displayed.

When the mutiny was raging in Delhi, and the expected succour from Meerut did not arrive, there was one who felt keenly that it was no time to wait in uncertainty if it was possible to obtain any information as to the cause of the delay. This brave man, Dr. Batson, the surgeon of the 74th Regiment, did not expect others to put his thoughts into action, but himself volunteered to carry a letter to the general at Meerut. "The gallant offer was accepted. The letter was written, and placed in Batson's hands. He took leave of his wife and children, whom he might never see again, disguised himself as a Fakeer, and set forth on his perilous journey. But well as he played his part, and able as he was to speak the language of the country as fluently as his own, he had not proceeded far before his disguise was penetrated. The colour of his eyes had betrayed him. He was fired upon by the Sepoys, robbed and stripped by the villagers, and finally cast adrift, to wander about, naked and hungry, weary and foot-sore, passing through every kind of peril, and enduring every kind of pain."t

Just before Delhi was carried by assault, the breaches at the Cashmere and Water Bastions looked so inviting, that an examination was resolved upon; and four young engineer officers, Lieutenants Greathed, Home, Medley, and Lang, were ordered out on this perilous expedition. Let one of the exploring party describe the adventure in his own words; it furnishes a good specimen of the plucky spirit of our brave men :—

"It was a bright starlight night, with no moon, and the roar of the batteries and clear, abrupt reports of the shells from the mortars alone broke the stillness of the scene,

The Times, September 2, 1857.

Kaye's "Sepoy War."

while the flashes of the rockets, carcasses, and fire-balls lighting up the air ever and anon, made a really beautiful spectacle. The ghurees struck ten, and, as preconcerted, the fire of the batteries suddenly ceased. Our party was in readiness; we drew swords, felt that our revolvers were ready to hand, and leaving the shelter of the piquet, such as it was, advanced stealthily into the enemy's country.

"Creeping quietly through the garden, we quickly found ourselves under a large tree, on the edge of the cover, and here we halted for a moment, conversing only in whispers. The enemy's skirmishers were firing away on our right, some thirty yards from us, and the flashes of their muskets lit up the air as if they had been fire-flies. The shells and rockets of the enemy at one moment illumined the space around as they sailed over our heads, and then left us in total darkness. We now left the Rifle officer, Lieutenant H—, and his twenty men in support, and with the six men who were to accompany us, Lang and I emerged into the open, and pushed straight for the breach. In five minutes we found ourselves on the edge of the ditch, the dark mass of the Cashmere Bastion immediately on the other side, and the breach distinctly discernible. Not a soul was in sight. The counterscarp was sixteen feet deep, and steep. Lang slid down first, I passed down the ladder, and taking two men out of the six, descended after him, leaving the other four on the cope to cover our retreat. Two minutes more and we should have been at the top of the breach; but, quiet as we had been, the enemy was on the watch, and we heard several men running from the left towards the breach. We therefore re-ascended, though with some difficulty, and throwing ourselves down on the grass, waited in silence for what was to happen. A number of figures immediately appeared on the top of the breach, their forms clearly discernible against the bright sky, and not twenty yards distant. We, however, were in the deep shade, and they could not apparently see us. They conversed in a low tone, and presently we heard the ring of their steel ramrods as they loaded. We waited quietly, hoping they would go away, when another attempt might be made. Meanwhile we could see that the breach was a good one, the slope easy of ascent, and that there were no guns in the flank. We knew by experience, too, that the ditch was easy of descent. It was however desirable, if possible, to get to the top, but the sentries would not move. At one time the thought occurred to me of attempting the ascent by force. We might have shot two or three of them from where we lay, and in the surprise the rest might have run, and we could have been to the top and back before they had seen how small our party was; but the extreme hazard of the attempt, and the utter impossibility of rescuing any one that might be wounded in the ditch, made me abandon the idea, when I further reflected that we had, in reality, gained all the needful information. After waiting, therefore, some minutes longer, I gave a signal; the whole of us jumped up at once, and ran back towards our own ground. Directly we were discovered, a volley was sent after us; the balls came whizzing about our ears, but no one was touched. We reached our support in safety, and all quietly returned to the Koodsia Bagh by the same road we had come. Lang went off to the batteries to tell them they might open fire again, and I got on to my horse and galloped back to camp as hard as I could, to make my report to the chief engineer; the roar of the batteries as I rode off showing that they had once more opened fire on the breach." Greathed and Home also

returned untouched, and reported the breach at the Water Bastion practicable, though it would have been all the better for a few hours more pounding had the time permitted it.

When the news of the mutiny in Meerut and Delhi reached Etawah, in the neighbourhood of Agra, Mr. Allan Hume, a magistrate, with great promptitude and courage set to work to arrest the mutineers who were spreading over the country. One party of the rebels was successfully overcome, and when a few days later another party came down fully armed in a large cart, the patrol ordered them to stop. Pretending to submit, the mutineers gained their opportunity and shot down their captors, then hurrying to a Hindoo temple, took up their quarters there, determined to defend their position to the last. It was a strong position, commanding every approach, and the mutineers were well armed. Notwithstanding this, Mr. Hume, accompanied by Mr. Daniell, his assistant, reconnoitred the place, narrowly escaping from time to time the fire of the foe, and succeeded in placing some soldiers and police to guard their retreat. But the villagers were in sympathy with the mutineers, and provided them with food and ammunition; the police would not venture within range of their guns, no reinforcements could be obtained, and night was coming on. In this dilemma Mr. Hume and Mr. Daniell conceived the daring project of storming the place themselves. Only one other man was found willing to engage in the dangerous enterprise, and he was shot down dead at the very commencement of the affray. Daniell was shot through the face, and Hume was left alone. He ran towards the prostrate body of his friend, and succeeded in leading him away, and at the same time killing one and dangerously wounding another of the mutineers.

Kaye says of this incident it was one of "those great deeds of heroism by which the civil servants of the Company-men not trained to arms, or wearing any insignia of the military profession-bore noble witness to the courage. and constancy of the national character. This English magistrate and his assistant, in the face of an insurgent population, went out, resolute to bring to justice or to avenge themselves on the spot upon men who, a few days before, had foully murdered our people under the eyes of a brigade of Europeans; and with only a single follower they had laid gallant siege to a strongly-defended place of refuge, and then had quietly walked back through the crowd with the confidence of strength and the assumption of victory. Habituated to rule, and accustomed to do much great work single-handed, our large-hearted civilians, with any fearful odds against them, still regarded themselves as masters of the situation, and with their double-barrelled guns or revolvers made light of their lack of followers, and seldom shrank from facing, unsupported, a multitude of enemies."

Not only in the tented field, but amid the horrors of a field-hospital scenes of heroism were often beheld. One who saw such scenes in all their sickening reality thus writes of a field-hospital on one of the great days of carnage at Delhi :-"There lie England's sons as brave in suffering as in action. The cheery greeting of some slightly wounded; the scarce-suppressed moan of agony forcing itself from the lips of