y, and the officers, in place of the luxury of their bungalows and
their pleasant mess, had to endure privations of every kind.

Hot winds, parching up the already arid ground, blew fiercely every
day. At sunset the breeze usually died away; and though the temperature
lessened somewhat in degree, we felt a choking sensation from the
effects of the dry, still atmosphere. No officer slept in the
barrack-room; our servants carried the beds outside, and there, lying
down and gasping for breath, we vainly courted the sleep that would not
come.

There was, however, a humorous side to this desolate picture, which
I must now relate, as it shows that, notwithstanding the state of
dejection to which we had been reduced, there still lurked a spirit of
fun and mischief among the officers.

For some time after the revolt we had "night-attacks" on the brain.
Nothing was spoken of but the chance of our lines being assaulted by
wandering bodies of mutinous sepoys. The order-book each evening,
reminding us of the danger, inculcated strict vigilance on picket and
on guard. So long did this last without any attack being made that the
shadowy expectation of what never occurred became our bugbear, a chimera
which haunted us night and day.

At last, in a happy hour, it entered into the mind of one of our young
Lieutenants, an Irishman, imbued with the spirit of fun, and the
jolliest fellow in the regiment, that this illusion under which we were
all labouring might be made the subject for a frolic.

He communicated his ideas to myself and some others of the junior
officers, and it was then and there decided that, as the sepoys would
not attack us, we would create a little excitement and diversion by
playing for the nonce the role of mutineers.

The council of war then agreed unanimously that an assault was to be
made on the remaining officers when asleep outside the barracks, and
that the weapons to be used should be bolsters and pillows.

A certain night was fixed on for the accomplishment of our purpose, and
the signal for the attack was to be given by the originator of the plot,
who would take upon himself to make sure that the enemy were off their
guard, wrapped in the arms of Morpheus.

Everything had been arranged to our satisfaction, and the eventful night
came. At ten o'clock lights were put out, and the assaulting party,
consisting of six stalwart young subalterns, lay down on their beds
outside the barracks, ranged here and