In addition to the cordon of sentries round the cantonment, strong piquets were posted on all the principal roads leading towards the hills; and every house had to be guarded by a chokidar, or watchman, belonging to one of the robber tribes.  The maintaining this watchman was a sort of blackmail, without consenting to which no one’s horses or other property were safe.  The watchmen were armed with all sorts of quaint old firearms, which, on an alarm being given, they discharged in the most reckless manner, making it quite a work of danger to pass along a Peshawar road after dark.  No one was allowed to venture beyond the line of sentries when the sun had set, and even in broad daylight it was not safe to go any distance from the station.

In the autumn of 1851 an officer—­Captain Frank Grantham, of the 98th Foot—­was riding with a young lady on the Michni road, not far from the Artillery quarter-guard, when he was attacked by five hill-men.  Grantham was wounded so severely that he died in a few days, the horses were carried off, but the girl was allowed to escape.  She ran as fast as she could to the nearest guard, and told her story; the alarm was given, and the wounded man was brought in.  The young lady was called upon shortly afterwards to identify one of the supposed murderers, but she could not recognize the man as being of the party who made the attack; nevertheless, the murderer’s friends were afraid of what she might remember, and made an attempt one night to carry her off.  Fortunately, it was frustrated, but from that time, until she left Peshawar, it was considered necessary to keep a guard over the house in which she lived.

From all this my readers may probably think that Peshawar, as I first knew it, was not a desirable place of residence; but I was very happy there.  There was a good deal of excitement and adventure; I made many friends; and, above all, I had, to me, the novel pleasure of being with my father.

It was the custom in those days for the General commanding one of the larger divisions to have under him, and in charge of the Head-Quarter station, a senior officer styled Brigadier.  Soon after I went to Peshawar, Sydney Cotton[2] held this appointment, and remained in it for many years, making a great reputation for himself during the Mutiny, and being eventually appointed to the command of the division.  The two senior officers on my father’s staff were Lieutenant Norman[3] and Lieutenant Lumsden,[4] the former Deputy Assistant-Adjutant-General and the latter Deputy Assistant-Quartermaster-General.  The high opinion of them which my father had formed was subsequently justified by their distinguished careers.  Norman, with sixteen years’ service, and at the age of thirty-four, became Adjutant-General of the Army in India, and a year or two later Secretary to Government in the Military Department.  He finished his Indian service as Military Member of Council.  Lumsden became Quartermaster-General, and afterwards Adjutant-General, the two highest positions on the Indian staff.