continues, writing of the days before the march to Delhi, "it was a common sight of an evening to see the Sikhs come into camp in order that they might see him. They used to be admitted into his tent in bodies of about a dozen at a time. Once in the presence, they seated themselves on the ground and fixed their eyes upon the object of their adoration, who all the while went on steadfastly with whatever work he was engaged in, never even lifting his eyes to the faces of his mute worshippers."

"They seated themselves on the ground and fixed their eyes upon the object of their adoration."

"Sometimes, overcome perhaps by prickings of conscience, or carried away by feelings he could not control, one of them would prostrate himself in prayer. This was an offence against the committal of which warning had been given, and the penalty never varied: three dozen lashes with the cat-o'-nine-tails on the bare back."

With Chuttur Singh's open revolt the second Sikh War had fairly begun. Nicholson was now more and more in demand, doing guerilla service, or engaged in such useful work as collecting boats for Sir Joseph Thackwell to cross the Chenab River and acting as intelligence officer to the forces. At the battle of Chillianwallah he did duty as aide-de-camp to Lord Gough, and at Guzerat, which followed soon after, he and his Pathans enjoyed the distinction of capturing nine guns from the enemy.

A striking tribute to Nicholson's personality, and the valour he displayed on these occasions, is the well-vouched-for story that for many years afterwards, when visitors came to view these battlefields, the country people would begin their accounts by saying, "Nikalseyn stood just there!"

After the conclusion of the campaign, which saw him a brevet-major, Nicholson decided to take a two years' holiday and return home. What influenced him to this most was the desire to comfort his mother, who, he knew, was grieving over the loss of her two sons, William and Alexander. But it was not easy for him to leave. India, as he wrote, was "like a rat-trap," more difficult to get out of than into, and it was not until January 1850 that he was at last free to depart. His old friend and colleague, Herbert Edwardes, as it happened, was also of a mind to see "the old country" again, so the two journeyed together down to Bombay, whence they took ship for England.

But before Nicholson was to see his widowed mother again he was to pass through a romantic experience which deserves a chapter to itself.

[1] An Unrecorded Chapter of the Indian Mutiny.

CHAPTER V.

ON FURLOUGH.

Nicholson's plan, which he proceeded to carry out, was to pay a visit to Egypt, where he was desirous to see Thebes, Cairo, and the Pyramids, and thence journey home by way of Constantinople and Vienna. He did not intend to stay long in any of these places, but circumstances were against him. At both the Turkish and Austrian capitals he was detained by adventures which appealed strongly to his chivalrous nature. The account of these comes to us through Sir John Kaye, to whom Nicholson's mother told the story.

At the time that Nicholson arrived in Constantinople, early in the New Year of 1850, the city held a notable prisoner. This was Louis Kossuth, the Hungarian patriot, whom the Austrians had driven into exile. Owing to British influence, the revolutionary leader's asylum in Turkey was rendered safe for the time, but a movement was set on foot by his friends to smuggle him out of the country and convey him to America. Such a project received all Nicholson's sympathies, and when a friend of his—an Englishman who had married a Hungarian lady and served in the Magyar army—enlisted his help, he readily placed himself at the other's service.

The scheme was a simple one. Every day Kossuth took a ride accompanied by a few Turkish soldiers, the route being changed on each occasion. It was accordingly arranged that he should choose to ride on a particular day in the direction of the sea-coast. At a certain spot the conspirators were to await him and his escort, overpower the latter, and carry Kossuth on board an American frigate which was to be at hand.

Unhappily for the patriot, a lady who was in the secret revealed it to a bosom friend, who in turn confided in another. In a short time it came to the knowledge of the Austrian ambassador. Representations were at once made to the Turkish authorities, who redoubled their vigilance, and the plot fell through.

The same friend, "General G——," through whom Nicholson had been interested in the attempt to free Kossuth, now asked the young officer to do him another favour. His wife, a Hungarian lady, as has been said, was imprisoned in an Austrian fortress. So vigorous was the confinement that she was kept in ignorance of her husband's fate, and the General was anxious to send her news of his escape and present whereabouts. Nicholson promptly undertook to convey a letter to the unfortunate lady, should it be possible to do so, and started off immediately for the fortress.

On arriving at his destination, he marched boldly up to the gate of the citadel, demanding to see the officer of the guard.

"I am Major Nicholson of the Indian Army," he said, "and I shall be greatly obliged if you will allow me to see my friend, Madame G——."

The request was undoubtedly an irregular one, but the Austrian officer, after a little demur, courteously gave his permission. Nicholson was then conducted to the prisoner's cell and told that he could have five minutes' conversation, no longer. As soon as the door had closed behind him, and he and Madame G—— were alone, he pulled off one of his boots and drew out the letter, saying, "You have just five minutes to read it, and give me any message for your husband."