he supposed
murderers, but she could not recognize the man as being of the party
who made the attack; nevertheless, the murderer's friends were afraid
of what she might remember, and made an attempt one night to carry her
off. Fortunately, it was frustrated, but from that time, until she
left Peshawar, it was considered necessary to keep a guard over the
house in which she lived.

From all this my readers may probably think that Peshawar, as I first
knew it, was not a desirable place of residence; but I was very happy
there. There was a good deal of excitement and adventure; I made many
friends; and, above all, I had, to me, the novel pleasure of being
with my father.

It was the custom in those days for the General commanding one of the
larger divisions to have under him, and in charge of the Head-Quarter
station, a senior officer styled Brigadier. Soon after I went to
Peshawar, Sydney Cotton[2] held this appointment, and remained in
it for many years, making a great reputation for himself during the
Mutiny, and being eventually appointed to the command of the division.
The two senior officers on my father's staff were Lieutenant Norman[3]
and Lieutenant Lumsden,[4] the former Deputy Assistant-Adjutant-General
and the latter Deputy Assistant-Quartermaster-General. The high opinion
of them which my father had formed was subsequently justified by their
distinguished careers. Norman, with sixteen years' service, and at the
age of thirty-four, became Adjutant-General of the Army in India, and
a year or two later Secretary to Government in the Military Department.
He finished his Indian service as Military Member of Council. Lumsden
became Quartermaster-General, and afterwards Adjutant-General, the two
highest positions on the Indian staff.

There was a separate mess for all the staff officers, and I remember
a curious circumstance in connexion with that mess which, unless the
exception proves the rule, is strong evidence against the superstition
that thirteen is an unlucky number to sit down to dinner. On the 1st
January, 1853, thirteen of us dined together; eleven years after we
were all alive, nearly the whole of the party having taken part in the
suppression of the Mutiny, and five or six having been wounded.

From the time of my arrival until the autumn of 1853, nothing of
much importance occurred. I lived with my father, and acted as his
Aide-de-camp, while, at the same time, I did duty with the Artillery.
The 2n