only through historical records.

One more incident, or rather coincidence, and I must close my Indian
chapter.

This also is connected with the Mutiny and with Delhi, but the special
coincidence, to which I refer, took place at Agra, when my friend and I
were staying at the hotel there in the early spring of 1891.

One of my oldest and most valued friends is Lieutenant-Colonel Alfred S.
Jones, V.C., formerly of the 9th Lancers, and one of our Mutiny heroes.
As everything connected with that historical tragedy seems to have
perennial interest for every Englishman--no matter what his creed or
politics--I make no excuse for furnishing some details connected with my
friend's career. His record from Hart's Army List is as follows:--

"Lieutenant-Colonel Jones was present at the battle of Budlekee Serai,
and at Delhi throughout the siege operations, including the assault and
capture of the city, having been D.A.Q.M.G. from 8th August to 23rd
September 1857. Served with the 9th Lancers in Greathead's pursuing
column, and was present in the actions of Bolimshuhur and Alighur and
battle of Agra--where he was dangerously wounded, having received a
musket-shot wound and twenty-two sabre cuts. He was mentioned in the
despatches of Sir Hope Grant on three different occasions, and has
received the Victoria Cross for taking a nine-pounder gun, with the
assistance of some men from his squadron, in the action of Budlekee
Serai (medal with clasp and Brevet of Major)."

Although, as a child, I had heard of the bravery and the terrible wounds
of one who was to become later in life one of my greatest friends, the
actual details of the Agra catastrophe were hazy in my memory. Two
things, however, had remained firmly imbedded in my mind--first, that a
brother officer had told me that he was standing close by Colonel Jones
when, as a young officer, the latter attended the Levee to receive his
Victoria Cross, and that the Queen was so much agitated by his
appearance that she could hardly pin it on. Also, that this brother
officer heard her whisper to her husband: "My God, Albert! look at that
poor boy! He has been cut to pieces!"

The other childish memory is that the Taj had been turned into a
hospital at the time of the Mutiny, and that my friend, amongst others,
had been nursed there. This latter proved to have been a mistake on the
part of my informants. It was the Moti Musjid (the Pearl Mosque) which
was turned to this account, and