Later in the day the enemy made a determined attack on our centre, which was checked by Brigadier Little advancing with the 9th Lancers and some guns.  On a few rounds being fired, they retired from the immediate neighbourhood of the canal, and in the belief that there would be no further trouble that day, the Cavalry and Artillery returned to the Martiniere; but the guns were hardly unlimbered before heavy firing was heard from the direction of Banks’s house.

I galloped off with Mayne to ascertain the cause.  Some little distance from the canal we separated, Mayne going to the left, I to the right.  I found the piquets hotly engaged, and the officer in command begged me to get him some assistance.  I returned to Hope Grant to report what was going on, but on the way I met the supports coming up, and presently they were followed by the remainder of Hope’s and Russell’s brigades.  Russell had, early in the day, with soldierly instinct, seized two villages a little above the bridge to the north of Banks’s house; this enabled him to bring a fire to bear upon the enemy as they advanced, and effectually prevented their turning our left.  Hope opened fire with Remmington’s troop, Bourchier’s battery, and some of Peel’s 24-pounders, and as soon as he found it had taken effect and the rebels were shaken, he proceeded to push them across the canal and finally drove them off with considerable loss.

Hope’s and Russell’s united action, by which our left flank was secured, was most timely, for had it been turned, our long line of camels, laden with ammunition, and the immense string of carts carrying supplies, would in all probability have been captured.  As it was, the rear guard, under Lieutenant-Colonel Ewart,[6] of the 93rd Highlanders, had a hot time of it; it was frequently attacked, and its progress was so slow that it was more than twenty-four hours between the Alambagh and the Dilkusha.

At the conclusion of the fight I heard, with great grief, that my poor friend Mayne had been killed, shot through the breast a few seconds after he had left me.  He was seen to turn his horse, and, after going a short distance, fall to the ground; when picked up he was quite dead.  This was all I could learn.  No one was able to tell me where his body had been taken, and I looked for it myself all that evening in vain.

At daybreak the next morning, accompanied by Arthur Bunny, the cheery Adjutant of Horse Artillery, I began my search afresh, and at length we discovered the body inside a doolie under the wall of the Martiniere.  As there was no knowing how soon our services might be required, we decided to bury the poor fellow at once.  I chose a spot close by for his grave, which was dug with the help of some gunners, and then Bunny and I, aided by two or three brother officers, laid our friend in it just as he was, in his blue frock-coat and long boots, his eyeglass in his eye, as he always carried it.  The only thing I took away was his sword, which I eventually made over to his family.  It was a sad little ceremony.  Overhanging the grave was a young tree, upon which I cut the initials ’A.O.M.’—­not very deep, for there was little time:  they were quite distinct, however, and remained so long enough for the grave to be traced by Mayne’s friends, who erected the stone now to be seen.