our Resident at the court of Moorshedābād and some twenty or thirty Europeans under an ensign named Elliot, who, after a short resistance, blew his brains out to avoid a worse fate. The combined efforts of these few men against 3,000 were useless. Mr. Watts therefore concluded a treaty with the Subadār, the conditions of which were never even brought forward, in consequence of the confusion consequent on the succeeding movements of the tyrant, his subsequent defeat and death. Siraj fastened up the gates of the factory, attached to them his seal, and then marched off to sack and burn the English factory at Calcutta. So strong was his determination not to be diverted from the bloody tragedy he meditated, viz., the massacre of every British subject resident there, that on his way, he called on Jugget Seit, a distinguished Hindoo banker, and one who had great influence with him on all affairs, and who had always shown a protecting disposition towards the English when mediating between them and the Sūbadār; and he swore him on the sacred water of the Ganges that he would from that time forth desist from pleading in any way for the English, or offer any argument likely to make his determination anything less than utter destruction, for on that he was fully bent.

The tyrant was not long in proceeding from words to deeds. As Calcutta was little or at best ill

adapted for any defence beyond what citizens with no military knowledge could offer, and defences of no greater pretensions to resistance than mere merchants' houses, the town of Calcutta was soon carried.

Whilst the besiegers were assaulting the walls of the fort, a great number rushed towards the water gate, amongst whom were Mr. Drake the Governor, and Minchin the captain-commandant. In this way many saved their lives, and many many were drowned. Those left behind consisted of about 190 men, mostly British soldiers, one lady, and Mr. Holwell who was elected Governor. These brave spirits determined to face the enemy and strive between a glorious death and a disgraceful captivity. Their opposition was more than could have been expected of them so ill-supplied with arms and the munitions of war. Still, they held out all that day and the following night. Next day the enemy began to escalade the northern portion of the fort, but were hurled back with great slaughter. This assault however cost the little band a loss of twenty killed and a great many wounded. Then the survivors, driven mad by thirst and toil under a merciless sun, did the very worst thing they could have done, they broke into the spirit stores, and some were soon hors-de-combat, and so hastened the but too certain issue of the struggle.

The finale was, that one hundred and forty-six

men piled their arms, asked for mercy, and surrendered the fort. These were all that remained of those who had stood the onslaught.

The Subadar marched into the fort in the evening, amidst the pomp and circumstance of war, and with every abusive adjective of his copious language, he lectured Mr. Holwell on the impropriety of attempting to defend the fort. By the poor captives the approach of evening was looked on as a misfortune rather than as a relief. But the horrors of the night that consigned these unfortunates to the Black Hole are best described in the words of one of the survivors, who, as I have already said, was the only one who preserved sufficient recollection of what occurred and was endured to enable him to narrate the event.

CHAPTER VI.

Sufferings in the Black Hole described-Large tank or tālāb -Scotch Kirk-Tullock & Co.'s Auction Mart; description of it-A prosperous Arab Jew indigo broker-Indigo sales -Horse sales and horse laughs-Sale-room for general goods; its pervading aroma-Statue of Warren Hastings.

"Manet altâ mente repostum."—Virgil.

"It remains deeply fixed in the mind."

Or the catastrophe of the Black Hole I shall only relate as much as will interest the general reader; for to follow further, or go deeper into the distressing details, is, even at this day, a melancholy task.

Perhaps no circumstances in the annals of misfortune ever occurred to equal in any way the amount of suffering endured during the dreadful night of the 20th June, 1757. Mr. Holwell describes the Black Hole as a cube of about eighteen or twenty feet square, shut up from the east and south, the only quarters from whence the wind could approach, by walls and verandahs. To the west were two small open

windows strongly barred with iron, and through these confined openings only could the air be admitted which was to support the lives of one hundred and forty-six miserably fatigued and wearied captives, on a hot sultry night in Bengal.

As soon as night closed in, says Mr. Holwell, a guard was placed over this little band of prisoners, and they were desired to collect together and seat themselves quietly, or lie down on a platform sheltered by open arcades, which was situated a little to the west of the Black Hole prison.

This guard was strengthened to prevent any of the prisoners escaping over the bastion. A large party of artillery men with lighted matches was also added and drawn up in front of the parade ground. After some time had quietly elapsed, the captives were pleased to think that a cool night spent in the open air would relieve their fatigued and stiffened limbs, and that a refreshing sleep and the morning light would bring them relief from sufferings, if not a release from captivity; but for what a miserable reverse to these pleasing hopes they were reserved, the reader will soon be informed.

Very soon the captives were desired to rise from their seats and go into the barrack, where there was a large platform on which the soldiers used to sleep at night. To this spot, the steps of the prisoners were turned with pleasure as it gave them the

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