omen, and
children, were besieged in their hastily made and weak earthworks by Nana
Sahib from June 6 to June 25, 1857. Compelled to surrender, under
promise of safe convoy down the Ganges, on the 27th they were massacred
by musketry from the banks; the thatch of the river-boats being also
fired. The survivors were murdered and thrown into the well upon
Havelock's approach on July 15.

One boat managed to escape unburnt on June 27. It was chased through the
28th and 29th, by which time the crowd on board was reduced to fourteen
men, one of whom, Mowbray-Thomson, has left a narrative equally striking
from its vividness and its modesty. Seven escaped from the small temple
in which they defended themselves; four only finally survived to tell the
story.

_A dusky wall_; 'After a little time they stood behind a rampart of black
and bloody corpses, and fired, with comparative security, over this
bulwark:' (Kaye: _Sepoy War_: B. V: ch. ii).

MOUNT VERNON

October 5: 1860

Before the hero's grave he stood,
--A simple stone of rest, and bare
To all the blessing of the air,--
And Peace came down in sunny flood
From the blue haunts of heaven, and smiled
Upon the household reconciled.

--A hundred years have hardly flown
Since in this hermitage of the West
'Mid happy toil and happy rest,
Loving and loved among his own,
His days fulfill'd their fruitful round,
Seeking no move than what they found.

Sweet byways of the life withdrawn!
Yet here his country's voice,--the cry
Of man for natural liberty,--
That great Republic in her dawn,
The immeasurable Future,--broke;
And to his fate the Leader woke.

Not eager, yet, the blade to bare
Before the Father-country's eyes,--
--E'en if a parent's rights, unwise,
With that bold Son he grudged to share,
In manhood strong beyond the sea,
And ripe to wed with Liberty!

--Yet O! when once the die was thrown,
With what unselfish patient skill,
Clear-piercing flame of changeless will,
The one high heart that moved alone
Sedate through the chaotic strife,--
He taught mankind the hero-life!

As when the God whom Pheidias moulds,
Clothed in marmoreal calm divine,
Veils all that strength 'neath beauty's line,
All energy in repose enfolds;--
So He, in self-effacement great,
Magnanimous to endure and wait.

O Fabius of a wider world!
Master of Fate through self-control
And utter stainlessness of soul!
And when war's weary sign was furl'd,
Prompt with both hands