the battle of Aliwal was fought, our troops led on to victory by brave Sir Harry Smith. On the 10th of February, 1846, followed the conclusive battle of the Sutlej campaign. The Sikhs were slow to acknowledge themselves beaten, and yet believed in their own power to defy us. They fought doggedly and with desperation ; hand to hand they disputed every inch of ground, the sword of the Sikh against the English bayonet. It was a fearful scene of carnage; the ground beneath our feet was slippery with blood; the stream that rushed past was alive with struggling, drowning wretches trying to escape. Their standards and guns were in our hands, their army routed and put to flight, their best men dead. Such was the battle of Sobraon, in which the Sikhs were finally silenced.

I had been twice slightly wounded during the campaign, the last time being at Sobraon, when it was supposed that there must have been something poisonous in the bullet, for the wound, which seemed at first of small importance, refused to heal, daily becoming more inflamed. I returned, however, by easy stages to Simla, and was fondly welcomed by my dear wife, who was thoroughly proud that I should have gathered a few fresh laurel leaves. Well, my little woman nursed me ably and kindly, but it was all of no avail; the poison seemed to have entered my blood, for I became ill and was ordered home.

It was during my illness that my wife showed a most marvellous piece of courage. I must place it on record, although you, my son, have heard the story told of her before. I was lying back in an easy chair, resting upon

I noted

I

pillows, with closed eyes, trying to sleep, and my darling was sitting at the further end of the room, reading. She did not know that I was awake, and was as quiet as a mouse, fearing to disturb me from my nap, as she supposed. I was not, however, actually asleep, although a great weariness was upon me, which disinclined me for speech or movement. Still from time to time my nearly closed eyes rested upon the dear quiet face looking so serene and beautiful by the window. All at once it struck me how pale she was, and in my mind it occurred to me that she had overdone herself nursing me. I saw, too, that her eyes were fixed upon the clock. then the time myself, and closed my lids to rest. almost think I slept, but suddenly I aroused; there had been no sound, but some instinct seemed to warn me there was danger at hand. I opened my eyes this time and looked full at the silent figure. All at once something darted from under her skirt, and in another moment she had grasped a stick and was across the room; a few blows and there before her lay dead a carpet snake, the bite of which is almost certain death. This venomous reptile frequents houses, lying under carpets or mats, and not unfrequently gets behind books on shelves; it is some ten or twelve inches long, and might be almost mistaken at first sight for a piece of rope. Weak though I was, I sprang up, and was by her side as quickly as it was possible to get there, and only just in time. My brave darling had shown such courage and presence of mind that few men could boast of. A carpet snake had coiled itself around her leg, and she, knowing the fact, had sat there silently, counting the

slowly dragging moments on the clock, with the knowledge that any one might bring death to her. Fifteen such minutes she endured; nine hundred monotonous beats of the pendulum she watched and listened to with a sickening heart, striving to still her throbbing pulses. Lulled by the warmth, the reptile nestled there harmless, and was in no hurry to leave its snug quarters; and there my darling sat, counting the seconds as they passed by slowly-so slowly. I can well imagine what such a tension on the nervous system must be, and the more I think of it the more I wonder that any woman could have borne it without uttering a sound or making the slightest movement. That she should not have called to me for help in her imminent peril is marvellous; but had she done so, it would almost to a certainty have caused her death, for had the snake been alarmed in any way, it would undoubtedly have bitten her, and her hours of life then would have been brief indeed. But the trial was over, the danger past, the enemy vanquished, and the self-reliant heroine became a gentle woman once The tension and strain had been too much for her, she fell fainting into my outstretched arms. Your mother's courage, Curtis, is remembered in Simla to this day, having been handed down as a fact to be wondered at, and a plan to be followed in similar danger, should it ever occur to others; but I question whether many could do so.

more.

I recollect a curious circumstance which occurred when first I came into the country. We had been talking of snakes, and some one said that, if by any chance you trod upon one, the best plan was to trample the

reptile to death at once. The gentleman in whose room we were sitting smoking was evidently of a nervous temperament, and harped much on the unpleasantness of living in a country where such things were existent. After some time, when conversation had flowed into other channels, it was proposed to go and make some calls, and my friend volunteered to accompany me. He accordingly proceeded to dress, talking all the time. I raised my face to reply to him; he had a Wellington boot in both hands, swinging by the loops on either side, and was standing on one foot ready to get the other into harness. Down slid the foot; a yell broke from my friend, who stamped like a madman, until he grew as white as a sheet, and fell insensible to the ground. I rushed to his assistance, in utter bewilderment as to what had happened or what was the matter; the others did the same, and we raised the prostrate form and laid it on a bed. We then proceeded to take off the boot which had so strangely affected our friend, and found a corkscrew deeply embedded in his heel! We extracted it as gently as we could, but the pain aroused him, and he looked at once at his foot. into him at what he saw. gladly, "it is a corkscrew, and I thought it was a snake." Now that man, for one, would not have done what your mother did, my boy!

New life seemed to enter "By Jove!" he exclaimed,

CHAPTER XIX.

HOMEWARD BOUND.

We were truly sorry to be obliged to go home, because my doing so entailed my giving up the staff appointment I then held. I could have had sick leave for awhile, but the news I had of late received from my mother decided me not to return to India, but to rejoin my regiment, which was then in England, so that my wife and I might be of some use and comfort to her in her sorrows and declining health. It would be better also, we thought, for our little ones. So we bade adieu to our many friends, and to the country where we had suffered so much, and where we had been so happy too; where the blackest clouds of our lives had overshadowed us, where the sun had shined the brightest. To save the expense of the homeward journey, I undertook, together with another officer who was returning to England, the charge of invalids and lunatics. I was not well enough to go in sole command; but as the second officer was a personal friend, he was very pleased to have me with him, and was willing to do any work which I found too much for me. My wife shrank a little at first from the contact with lunatics; but matters were going seriously wrong monetarily with my mother, in consequence of her