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strewn to the depth of several inches with fragments of mirrors and crystal chandeliers, which had been smashed to obtain the jewelled setting precious vases of china, alabaster, and priceless jade; jewelled caskets, gold and silver brocades, shawls-all manner of rich and costly treasures, for the most part lying in fragments, having been ruthlessly destroyed by our own troops in the heat of plunder. These courts and halls are now Government offices, and the garden with its shady walks and kiosks,' fountains and orange trees, is now open to all comers.

Crystal chandeliers are evidently among the most esteemed of foreign manufactures. We went to see a great Emambara or tomb specially dear to the Mohammedans, namely, that of Hossein Ali, a very holy saint, whose silver shrine is surrounded by a multitude of these, of every size and shape, hanging close together all over the building. Once a year they are illuminated with many thousand candles, and the blaze of light thus produced is almost unbearable. The Koran is then read from a fine pulpit of solid silver. In the court outside were sundry worshippers, some performing their ceremonial ablutions, others standing and prostrating themselves by turns with all possible formality.

Another of our expeditions was to visit a vast Mohammedan tomb, now used as an arsenal, where, among other objects of interest, are the guns of the Shannon, with which Sir William Peel's naval squadron did such good service at the Relief of Lucknow. Some of the party had been eye-witnesses of their valour, and spoke of their deeds as almost incredible. The dragging of those heavy ship guns under the burning summer sun, and the subsequent working of them, are among the deeds of our jolly tars that will not quickly be forgotten by the Hindoos. Peel was buried at Cawnpore, where we paid our homage to his brave memory. From the top of that great tomb we had a magnificent view of the city and of the country round for many miles.

We spent a pleasant afternoon at the Wingfield Gardens, which

1 Summer-houses.

for their rare beauty vie with those at Cawnpore, being literally one blaze of roses.

The morning had been devoted to sketching at the Secundra Bagh, "the Garden of Alexander," a native garden inclosed by high walls, with but one entrance by a very picturesque gateway. This spot was the scene of a desperate fight, a great body of rebels having here taken refuge, and being thus shut into a trap from which there was no escape. Here they were attacked by the 93rd and 53rd under Sir Colin Campbell, and a desperate hand-to-hand conflict ensued, so that the garden was heaped with the slain, and upwards of two thousand of the foe were either captured or killed.

But to us, all the interest of the city centred in the Residency, whose battered ruins still bear the mark of the shot and shell · which poured in such fierce tempests on those walls. Now the unsightly ruins are half veiled by heavy masses of the beautiful but treacherous elephant creeper, a plant like a giant convolvulus, which, spreading rapidly, too often overthrows the walls on which it climbs. The orange venusta, too, hangs like a golden curtain from the pillars that once formed the verandah, and in every corner grasses and creepers have niched themselves in the crevices of the warm brickwork.

The spots to which the deepest interest attaches are preserved with all possible care, but the intervening space has been levelled, and is now a rich and beautiful garden.

The entrance is beneath an arched gateway, literally battered by great cannon-balls (this is the Bailie Guard), by which the relief column forced its triumphant way-whence too, at last, the ransomed garrison sallied forth at dead of night, when the hour of their deliverance had come. Close by is Dr. Fayrer's house, where the brave and good Sir Henry Lawrence died, and where, later, the women and children assembled to welcome and bless their deliverers, and grasp the hands of the brave Highlanders who first fought their way within those beleaguered walls.

On the other side is the banqueting hall-the old mess roomwhose mirth was silenced then, and the place given up to the sick

and wounded. About the centre of the ground stands the house set apart for the ladies; a little farther, that where the women of

the 32nd were lodged. Then comes the tower where England's flag floated throughout those five awful months, from June till

November, during which the little garrison held a post apparently so weak against such overwhelming odds.

Close to the tower is the room where Sir Henry was writing when the shell struck him. A little further lies the cemetery where sleeps his dust, mingling with that of many brave men and women, and many little children besides, who died of want and starvation during that terrible siege. The little church was altogether destroyed; no trace of it remains.

The covered well (whence alone drinking-water could be procured, and to which all went by turns, well knowing the fiery hail that would pour on them ere they could draw the priceless draughts) is now covered with a tangle of flowering creepers, which however do not hide the fatal bullet-marks. To this spot day by day we bent our steps, never weary of tracing out that ground, and trying to picture that heroic defence. It seemed impossible that so small a space should have been so well defended, when the native bazaar came up to the very walls, and every point of vantage was in the hands of the foe.

long been preparing the He had laid in stores

But Sir Henry's keen foresight had Residency for the chance of such a siege. of food and ammunition-the latter in such abundance that it never ran short. For the last few weeks, as he scented the coming storm, he employed hundreds of men night and day in throwing up earthworks and such fortifications as could be most rapidly constructed. Then, at the first alarm, he gathered all the Europeans within his walls. These included about 1,600 fighting men, and 450 women and children. Of the fighting men nearly half were native troops, sepoys, who with marvellous fidelity stood firmly by the British throughout these long months of awful trial, resisting the most stirring appeals of the besiegers (their co-religionists and bloodrelations), who were actually so close that they could call to their friends by name, imploring them to come out, and not remain to aid the infidel foreigners.

The majority of the native servants and workmen, however, at once decamped, taking with them all the tools on which they could

lay hands a very serious loss to the besieged. Those who know how helplessly Europeans rely on their servants, and how intolerable all exertion becomes during the hot weather, can imagine the position of ladies accustomed to all Indian luxury and comfort, suddenly left to their own resources, obliged to sweep their own rooms, wash clothes, and cook for themselves and their families, and for those working and fighting, besides nursing the sick in the crowded hospital garrison.

Sometimes several families were huddled into one room; those families who could secure an out-house or stable for their exclusive use were fortunate indeed; and this, in the burning heat of an Indian summer. Add to this, the noise of incessant firing of heavy guns close to them, and the consequent dense stifling smoke. The rains too were deluging the land. The officers, drenched to the skin, worked alternately with spade and

musket.

Then cholera broke out, and small-pox and fever; food became scant, and the horrors of the siege thickened. On every side the besieged were surrounded by high houses, which sheltered thousands of experienced marksmen, well-trained by the English, and provided with abundant ammunition-a host computed at 50,000; while disease and wounds had reduced the garrison to 500, including sick and wounded!

Very early in the day their loved chief, the noble Lawrence, had gone to his rest. The shell that burst into his room had shattered his thigh. He was carried to Dr. Fayrer's house, as being more sheltered from the artillery of the foe. His leg was amputated, but the wound was fatal. He lingered two days, cheering the officers of his garrison with brave and Christian words, well in keeping with the tenor of his life. The storm and tumult and furious raging of the heathen all round that little sanctuary could not disturb the perfect calm and peace of that death-bed. Many of his officers knelt around him in the open verandah, exposed to a heavy fire of musketry, and together for the last time received the Holy Communion.

Then he bade each a loving farewell, and desired to be buried.