The shots, which were at first few and distant, soon increased, and by the time that the Affghan and myself had reached the rear of the column the action appeared to have become general.  Ali Pacha, who commanded the rear-guard, now committed the grave error of halting the three battalions of his brigade, and wasted most valuable time in performing desultory movements, and in firing volleys of grape and musketry, without arriving at any practical results.  At one point, however, the rebels, who were advancing in force with loud cries of fanatical vengeance, received a substantial check.  Two companies of Turks had been concealed on either side of the defile, which was narrow at this point.  Concealment was facilitated by approaching darkness, and it was only at a given signal that they rose and poured a deadly volley into the ranks of the advancing foe, who immediately fell back.  This circumstance appeared to damp their ardour, and they contented themselves with running in small parties along the flank of our line of march; two or three would dash down the sloping banks, and, having discharged their pieces without aim or precision, would return to the safety afforded by the rocks and trees.  It was between 6 and 7 o’clock before the order to resume the march was issued.  And now began a scene which none who witnessed are likely to forget to their dying day:  deeply tragical it might have been, but fortunately circumstances combined to render it merely ridiculous, as reflected in the mirror of memory.  The rain still fell heavily, lying in places to the depth of nearly a foot, and converting all the ground that was not rocky into a slippery quagmire.  So profound was the darkness, that it was literally impossible to see any object six inches from one’s eyes, and it was only by the occasional flashes from the firelocks of the persevering enemy and the forked lightning that we could realise the surrounding scene.  By the light of the last were revealed horses and men falling in all directions, and I may safely say, that some of the ‘crumplers’ received that night would have shaken the nerve of the hardest steeplechase rider.  For my own part I preferred walking, after my horse had fallen twice, and with this object proceeded to dismount, but on bringing my leg to the ground, as I imagined, I made a rapid descent of about eight feet.  On clambering up I was met with a sharp blow on the face from what I believe to have been the butt of a Turkish musket, and my horse was not to be found.  About half an hour later, while feeling for the road, to my great satisfaction, I placed my hand upon my English saddle, and thus repossessed myself of my steed.  No need to dilate farther on the events of that disastrous evening.  Suffice to say that, after some hours more of scrambling and toiling, falling frequently over the stones and trees which were strewn plentifully across the path, we reached the spot where the advanced body had arrived some four hours previously, and had succeeded, in spite