to Delhi on May 10, she
having received an invitation to stay with the chaplain and his wife,
who had quarters in the Palace. He returned to Goorgaon, little thinking
he would never see her again.

The next morning, on the arrival of the insurgent cavalry from Meerut,
and the subsequent mutiny of the native infantry regiments and artillery
in the cantonments, the massacre of the Europeans in Delhi began.

I forbear entering into all the details of this dreadful butchery;
suffice it to say that the chaplain, Mr. Jennings, his wife, Miss
C---- d, and nearly all the white people, both in the Palace and the
city, were murdered. The editor of the _Delhi Gazette_ and his family
were tortured to death by having their throats cut with pieces of broken
bottles, but there were conflicting accounts as to how the Jenningses
and Miss C---- d met their end. From what I gathered after the siege from
some Delhi natives, it was reported that the ladies were stripped naked
at the Palace, tied in that condition to the wheels of gun-carriages,
dragged up the "Chandni Chauk," or silver street of Delhi, and there, in
the presence of the King's sons, cut to pieces.

It was not till the following evening, May 12, that C---- d heard of the
Mutiny, and, fearing death from the populace of Goorgaon, who had also
risen in revolt, he disguised himself as best he could and rode off into
the country. After enduring great privations, and the danger of being
taken by predatory bands, he at last reached Meerut, and thence
accompanied the force to Delhi.

From what he hinted, I feel sure he had it on his mind that his sister,
before being murdered, was outraged by the rebels. However this may be,
my old school-fellow had become a changed being. All his passions were
aroused to their fullest extent, and he thought of nothing but revenge.
Armed with sword, revolver, and rifle, he had been present at almost
every engagement with the mutineers since leaving Meerut. He was known
to most of the regiments in camp, and would attach himself to one or
the other on the occasion of a fight, dealing death with his rifle
and giving no quarter. Caring nothing for his own life, so long as he
succeeded in glutting his vengeance on the murderers of his sister, he
exposed himself most recklessly throughout the siege, and never received
a wound.

On the day of the final assault I met him in one of the streets after we
had gained entrance into the city. He shook my hands