bearers to carry us all on to Mian Mir without further
adventure. In the course of conversation we found that one of the
ladies was the wife of Lieutenant Donald Stewart,[2] of the 9th Bengal
Infantry, and that she and her friend were returning to join their
respective husbands after spending the summer months at Simla. This
meeting was the beginning of a close friendship with Sir Donald and
Lady Stewart, which has lasted to the present day.

At Mian Mir (the military cantonment of Lahore) I stayed a few days
with another half-sister, and from there, as the weather was beginning
to get cooler, I travelled day and night. One evening about eight
o'clock I was disappointed at not having come across the usual
rest-house; lights could be seen, however, at no great distance, and
I proceeded towards them; they turned out to be the camp fires of a
Cavalry regiment which was halting there for the night. Being half
famished, and fearing that my craving for food was not likely to be
gratified unless someone in the camp would take pity upon my forlorn
condition, I boldly presented myself at the first tent I came across.
The occupant came out, and, on hearing the strait I was in, he with
kindly courtesy invited me to enter the tent, saying, 'You are just
in time to share our dinner.' My host turned out to be Major Crawford
Chamberlain,[3] commanding the 1st Irregular Cavalry, the famous
Skinner's Horse, then on its way to Peshawar. A lady was sitting at
the table--Mrs. Chamberlain--to whom I was introduced; I spent a very
pleasant evening, and in this way commenced another equally agreeable
and lasting friendship.

[Footnote 1: A Native woman-servant.]

[Footnote 2: Now Field Marshal Sir Donald Stewart, Bart., G.C.B.,
G.C.S.I.]

[Footnote 3: Now General Crawford Chamberlain, C.S.I., a brother of
General Sir Neville Chamberlain.]

* * * * *

CHAPTER III.
1852-1853

With my father at Peshawar--Peshawar in 1852--Excitements of a
frontier station--A flogging parade--Mackeson's assassination
--The Jowaki expedition--A strange dream--A typical frontier fight

Even the longest journey must come to an end at last, and early
in November I reached Peshawar. My father, who was then in his
sixty-ninth year, had just been appointed to command the division
with the temporary rank of Major-General. Old as this may appear at
a period when Colonels are superannuated at fifty-seven, and
Majo