the house where the guide told us the lady was confined.  Not only was the house empty, but, with the exception of a few sick and bedridden old people, there was not a soul in the village.  There had evidently been a hasty retreat, which puzzled me greatly, as I had taken every precaution to ensure secrecy, for I feared that if our intention to rescue the lady became known she would be carried off.  As day broke we searched the surrounding crops, and found the villagers and some soldiers hidden amongst them.  They one and all denied that there was the slightest truth in the story, and as it appeared a waste of time to further prosecute the fruitless search, we were on the point of starting to rejoin our camp, when there was a cry from our troopers of ‘Mem sahib hai!’ (Here is the lady), and presently an excessively dusky girl about sixteen years of age appeared, clad in Native dress.  We had some difficulty in getting the young woman to tell us what had happened; but on assuring her that no harm should be done to those with whom she was living, she told us that she was the daughter of a clerk in the Commissioner’s office at Sitapur; that all her family had been killed when the rising took place at that station, and that she had been carried off by a sowar to his home.  We asked her if she wished to come away with us.  After some hesitation she declined, saying the sowar had married her (after the Mahomedan fashion), and was kind to her, and she had no friends and relations to go to.  On asking her why she had sent to let us know she was there, she replied that she thought she would like to join the British force, which she heard was in the neighbourhood, but on further reflection she had come to the conclusion it was best for her to remain where she was.  After talking to her for some time, and making quite sure she was not likely to change her mind, we rode away, leaving her to her sowar, with whom she was apparently quite content.[6] I need hardly say we got unmercifully chaffed on our return to camp, when the result of our expedition leaked out.

At Somna, where we halted for the night, we heard that the Mahomedan insurgents, the prisoners released from gaol, and the rebel Rajputs of the neighbourhood, were prepared to resist our advance on Aligarh, and that they expected to be aided by a large number of mutineers from Delhi.  We came in sight of Aligarh shortly before daybreak on the 5th October.  Our advance was stopped by a motley crowd drawn up before the walls, shouting, blowing horns, beating drums, and abusing the Feringhis in the choicest Hindustani; but, so far as we could see, there were no sepoys amongst them.  The Horse Artillery coming up, these valiant defenders quickly fled inside the city and closed the gates, leaving two guns in our possession.  Thinking we should be sure to attack and take the place, they rushed through it to the other side, and made for the open country.  But we had had enough of street fighting at Delhi.  Our Cavalry and