Next day we halted while the walls were being destroyed and the place rendered indefensible.  As I was superintending the work of destruction, the horrors of war were once more brought very forcibly before me by the appearance of an infirm old man, who besought me to spare his house, saying:  ’Yesterday I was the happy father of five sons:  three of them lie there’ (pointing to a group of dead bodies); ’where the other two are, God only knows.  I am old and a cripple, and if my house is burned there is nothing left for me but to die.’  Of course I took care that his house and property were left untouched.

On the 25th February we marched to Mohan, a picturesquely situated village on the bank of the Sai Naddi, which stream we crossed the next day and encamped on a fine grassy plain, there to remain until it should be time to join the army before Lucknow.

While we were halting at this place, Watson and I had rather a curious adventure.  During a morning’s ride my greyhound put up a nilghai[3] so close to us that Watson, aiming a blow at him with his sword, gashed his quarter.  Off he started, and we after him at full speed; the chase continued for some miles without our getting much nearer, when, all at once, we beheld moving towards us from our right front a body of the enemy’s Cavalry.  We were in an awkward position; our horses were very nearly dead beat, and we could hardly hope to get away if pursued.  We pulled up, turned round, and trotted back, very quietly at first, that our horses might recover their breath before the enemy got to closer quarters and we should have to ride for our lives.  Every now and then we looked back to see whether they were gaining upon us, and at last we distinctly saw them open out and make as if to charge down upon us.  We thought our last hour was come.  We bade each other good-bye, agreeing that each must do his best to escape, and that neither was to wait for the other, when lo! as suddenly as they had appeared, the horsemen vanished, as though the ground had opened and swallowed them; there was nothing to be seen but the open plain, where a second before there had been a crowd of mounted men.  We could hardly believe our eyes, or comprehend at first that what we had seen was simply a mirage, but so like reality that anyone must have been deceived.  Our relief, on becoming convinced that we had been scared by a phantom enemy, was considerable; but the apparition had the good effect of making us realize the folly of having allowed ourselves to be tempted so far away from our camp without escort of any kind in an enemy’s country, and we determined not to risk it again.[4]