was so perfect when he stood before his friends that even those who had watched the various steps by which the metamorphosis was accomplished could scarcely believe that John Marston the civilian and the turbaned and belted peon before them were one and the same person. But, however well calculated for deception the brown skin, shaven head, and equipments may have been, Mr. Marston's fitness for the part he had to enact did not stop here; his knowledge of the Oordu, Bengali, and other dialects of Hindustani, was so remarkable, and so locally idiomatic, that he had no difficulty in personating any Moosulman character. He felt this, and therefore conceived that he was best qualified to face the perils to be encountered in carrying into effect the enterprise contemplated.

As soon as the night was sufficiently dark, the newly-manufactured peon stood on the parapet, ready, by means of a basket, rope, and pulley, to be let down, on that side of the fort completely in shadow, by his two friends and the old sergeant, who muttered: 'Had I but the other leg, I would gladly go instead of him; but I'm a useless old stump.' 'No, no, my good old friend,' said Marston, shaking him cordially by the hand; 'you are best where you are, and instead of being useless, will be invaluable to Stewart, who will find himself strong in your experience.'

The peon now seated himself in the basket, holding on to the rope. No words were spoken, except that 'God bless you!' was reiterated as his friends, with moistened eyes, lowered the basket. It soon reached the ground; the peon stepped out, and moving cautiously, always in the shade, was soon lost to sight. His friends watched him as long as he was visible, putting up silent prayers for his safety; but no one ever expected to see him again.

It would be too tedious to describe the numberless perils and trials encountered and surmounted by our wise young peon, through his perfect knowledge of the manners and customs of the Moslem race, his imperturbable coolness and presence of mind. It is enough to say that, after journeying three days and nights, he on the fourth day fell in with General Neill's column, who, with his undeviating kindness and humanity, as soon as he understood the imminent danger to which the party left in the old mud fort were exposed, marched to their relief without an hour's delay. During the march the General's only fear seemed to be that he might not arrive in time. His constant mutterings as he rode at the head of his men, with a wet cloth under his pith helmet, took something of this form: 'The bloody, dastardly, treacherous scoundrels! May God save the poor women and children, the poor defenceless creatures!' 'Keep up, my lads! keep up, for Heaven's sake! It's hot work, I know; but remember what you're striving for.' 'I pray God to grant us His help, to give us strength to get up before the butchers begin their work, and then'—his fiery spirit showing itself in his flashing eyes and firmly-set teeth—'then, if we don't let them know what cold steel means, may I never see the blessed sun again.'

The noble fellow did live to see the blessed sun again, but not before he had inflicted a crushing punishment on those leagued around the old mud fort, which he entered amidst the tears, blessings, and convulsive sobs of those he had rescued from torture and death. The General's eyes, as he looked around, were filled with moisture. 'Dear friends, I haven't a hundred hands. I wish I had; but God bless you all! He has granted my prayer; He has sent me in time; but had He not long since inspired my young friend here with indomitable courage, extraordinary knowledge, decision, and foresight, you would never have been placed in a position to be defended, nor have had the supplies to enable you to hold out, nor should I have had the opportunity, the blessed opportunity, of rescuing you.'

Here we bid good-bye to the noble, true-hearted General Neill, who, like almost all the men who are good and great, was vilified by the pitiful wooden-headed worshippers of red tape. He despised it and them, devoting his whole soul to saving the lives of his countrymen, with those of their wives and families. He died at the taking of Lucknow, comparatively young in years, though old in renown—died as he had lived, in the service of his country; but his name still lives in the hearts of Britain's sons, enshrined by that halo which undaunted courage, guided by strong sense and a pure unpretending love of country, alone can give.

The poor people whom he had rescued with one voice poured out their hearts in blessings, and with tears in their eyes joined in the prayers and shouted the names of Neill and Marston. At first they could scarcely realize to themselves that they were safe; after nearly a month of daily and nightly dread and danger they could scarcely believe that their sufferings were over. To describe scenes like these accurately is scarcely possible; such description must be referred to those endowed with the highest powers of expression and the most grateful hearts, since they alone may imagine, or can picture to themselves or others, what they would have felt had they been placed in such a situation, and this is all that we can do to make it understood.

In so far lifting up the veil from Mr. Marston's antecedents, more than enough has been done, we trust, to explain why, young as he was, his reputation stood so high. We feel that the amplitude of the narration amounts almost to a digression, yet if the details interest the reader half as much as they did the writer when first made acquainted with them, their want of brevity may perhaps be forgiven.

The young civilian, wise beyond his years, and the soul of all that had been done to shelter and defend his helpless friends, was throughout specially cautious that everything required should be done in the name of his chief, although the poor old Collector was so overwhelmed with the novelty and unexpected horror of the position, that his utmost contribution to the measures adopted amounted to no more than a 'Yes,' or 'By all means,' or a nod of his head: but by this caution Mr. Marston prevented any slur or blame from being thrown on his senior, who, though unable to act in such an emergency, was fully capable of appreciating the high feeling and delicacy evinced by his junior; and he loved and respected him for it, as did every member of his family.

When his friends had been placed in safety Mr. Marston was actively employed till the taking of Delhi, which put an end to this horrible war. Fatigue, exposure, and constant headwork, added to what he had previously undergone, at last broke down the young man's strength, and he became so ill that he was advised to return to Europe. The truth was that, the excitement being over, there was nothing to sustain him against the inroads of disease, and we consequently find him among the passengers on board our steamer. Youth, sea air, and buoyant spirits soon enabled him to rally, and he became one of the most light-hearted, joyous men of the homeward-bound party. He unpacked his cornet (on which he played really well) and in a short time almost rivalled the popularity of the Captain of Artillery.

There were many officers amongst the passengers who, in very trying situations, had nobly upheld their country's fame and honour, and several of these were not less worthy as men than agreeable as companions, but as they did not possess qualities or accomplishments that rendered them conspicuous, we do not notice them individually. The exceptions to be made to this somewhat sweeping assertion or statement refer to those gentlemen who sometimes described what they had seen on the line of march, or gave some account of the various engagements, or affairs of