ieve
our sorely-pressed people farther north. Some began to hope the dark
cloud over us was about to be dispersed, while others looked on our
position with dismay approaching despair. As our house was in a very
exposed position, a friend had at an early period invited us to take up
our abode with him; but we resolved to remain for the present in our own
home.

THE FOURTH OF JUNE, 1857, AT BENARES.

At length the storm burst over us. By attempts at incendiary fires and
in other ways the Native Infantry regiment had shown a mutinous spirit.
The necessity for disarming it was obvious to all except its own
officers, but the difficulty of the measure was great. On June 4th
Colonel Neil, one of those men whose high qualities were elicited by the
terrible struggle on which we had entered, arrived at Benares. On the
previous day a native regiment had mutinied at Azimghur, sixty miles
distant. A council was held, and as there were one hundred and twenty
English soldiers it was resolved to disarm the Native Infantry regiment
next morning. The question was asked, "Why not now? We may be all killed
before morning." Immediate disarmament was determined on. Well was it
for us this was the decision, as it was afterwards found that very night
had been fixed for the rising of the regiment, and the massacre of us
all. The whole military force of the place was called out, the English
soldiers being placed near the guns, and the Sepoys were ordered to pile
their arms. The order instead of being obeyed was met by our officers
and men being fired on, and the fight commenced.

[Sidenote: THE RISING AT BENARES.]

We had just finished dinner when our night watchman rushed into the
room with the startling words, _Pultun bigar guya_, and _lin men ag
luga!_--"The regiment has mutinied, and the cantonments are on fire."
Scarcely had he uttered the words, when we heard the sharp rattle of the
musketry and the crash of the guns. Our little conveyance was made
quickly ready, and, with all others in that part of the suburbs, we
drove as quickly as we could to the only place of temporary safety
available for us, on the banks of the Ganges at the northern end of the
city. The English were in different parts of the suburbs, and betook
themselves to the places nearest to them which promised immediate
shelter. Sir John Kaye, the historian of the Sepoy War, says that the
missionaries left the city for Chunar, with the exception of one he
names, Mr. Le