down, amid a column of black smoke, came huge masses of timber and masonry in dire confusion. In rushed Dennie at the head of the stormers, and after him pressed Sale with the main column. The resistance, though short, was stubborn. The breach was still so narrow that entrance was difficult and slow. Dennie had won his way inside, but between him and Sale a strong party of the garrison had made their way to the gate. The Brigadier himself was cut down, but after a desperate struggle regained his feet, cleaving his opponent to the chin. The supports, under Colonel Croker, pushed forward manfully, and as the day broke the colours of the 13th and 17th Regiments were flung out to the morning breeze on the ramparts of the Afghans' strongest fort. Ghuznee was ours, with a loss of 17 killed and 165 wounded, of whom 18 were officers. The loss of the garrison was never accurately known. Upwards of 500 were buried by our men, and many more were supposed to have fallen beyond the walls under the sabres of our cavalry; 1600 prisoners were taken, and large stores of grain and flour proved a welcome addition to the value of the prize.

With the fall of Ghuznee fell the hopes of Dost Mahomed. Within little more than twenty-four hours the news had reached him, and his brother, Jubbar Khan, was forthwith despatched to the English camp, proffering submission to Soojah, but claiming for his brother the office of Vizier, which had come to be considered a sort of hereditary appanage of the Barukzye clan. The offer was declined, and what Kaye calls the "mockery" of an honourable asylum in the British dominions suggested in its stead. With an indignant refusal the envoy returned to his brother, and Dost Mahomed then resolved on one last attempt. He moved out from the capital, designing to take up his ground at Maidan, a well-chosen spot on the Cabul river. But when he had reached Urgundeh, he saw too clearly that the game was up. Hadji Khan, a man in whom he had placed peculiar reliance, had gone over to the enemy; the Kuzzilbashes were leaving him fast. With the Koran in his hand, he rode among his troops. "You have eaten my salt," he said, "these thirteen years. If, as is too plain, you are resolved to seek a new master, grant me but one favour in requital for that long period of maintenance and kindness—enable me to die with honour. Stand by the brother of Futteh Khan while he executes one last charge against the cavalry of these Feringhee dogs; in that onset he will fall; then go and make your own terms with Shah Soojah." The appeal was in vain. Dismissing all of his followers who were minded to purchase safety by bowing to the new allegiance, he turned his horse's head, and rode towards the Hindoo-Koosh.

A party of horse under the gallant Outram was despatched in hot pursuit. Twelve English officers rode with him, Lawrence among the number, and about 200 of our own men. Had the party been no larger it is probable that it would not have been left to Dost Mahomed to surrender at his own discretion. But in an evil hour it was decided that Hadji Khan with 500 Afghans should be added, and the dilatoriness of our "allies" wholly neutralised the energies of our own men. Hadji, a traitor once, remained a traitor still, and though quick to leave his master in the hour of his misfortunes, he had no intention, with an eye to future contingencies, to commit himself beyond hope of recall. The harder, then, Outram and his troops rode, the slower rode the Khan and his following; every pretext that the ingenious Eastern mind could devise for delay was turned to account, and as the country was wholly unknown to the English leader he could not leave Hadji to his devices and push on alone after the fugitive. His orders were not to continue the chase beyond the Afghan frontier. On August 9th he reached Bamean, to find that his game was but a day's march before him; but that one day's march had sounded the recall. Dost Mahomed was over the frontier, and there was nothing left for Outram but to return, to be laughed at for his "wild-goose chase," and to hear from the Commander-in-chief that "he had not supposed there were thirteen such asses in his whole force!" It is satisfactory, however, to know that the traitor Hadji had this time over-reached himself. Outram reported his conduct on his return; other proofs of his treason were forthcoming; he was arrested by order of the king, and spent the remainder of his life a state prisoner in Hindostan.

So Soojah was once more seated on the throne of Cabul. He had entered the city on August 6th in royal pomp, resplendent with jewels (among which the mighty Koh-i-noor was this time conspicuous by its absence), mounted on a white charger, half smothered in golden trappings; Macnaghten and Burnes, in diplomatic costume, rode with him, and all the chief officers of the English army swelled his train. But there was no popular enthusiasm; there were no loyal cries of welcome. The people flocked to stare at the show, but it was at the white-faced strangers they stared, not at their restored king. Still, the work had been done. The English flag had waved over Candahar and Ghuznee; an English army was encamped before Cabul. The usurpers were in flight, and the "rightful" king had returned again to his own.

According to the original terms of the proclamation, the British troops, their mission accomplished, were at once to withdraw from the country. Soojah himself was anxious to be rid of allies in whose hands he was conscious he was and could be no more than a puppet, and whose presence in the kingdom was a standing testimony to the absence of that loyalty which he had so loudly vaunted. Nothing would have better pleased the English themselves than to have acquiesced in the king's wishes; nothing would have pleased Lord Auckland better than that they should do so. But it could not be. Unprotected by British bayonets the throne of the new king would not have stood for a day, and with it would have fallen the feeble fabric on which the "justice" of the expedition rested. The Simlah manifesto had declared that Soojah's "popularity throughout Afghanistan had been proved to his lordship by the strong and unanimous testimony of the best authorities;" how then could his lordship leave Soojah alone to give the lie to his own manifesto? But though it was expedient that an English force should still, at least for a time, continue at the king's right hand, it was neither expedient, nor, as it was thought, necessary that the entire army should remain. A garrison at Cabul and Candahar, and others at the principal posts on the main roads to Hindostan, Ghuznee and Quettah on the west, and Jellalabad and Ali-Musjid on the east, would be amply sufficient. These could be furnished by a portion of the Bengal army, and the remainder could be withdrawn by way of Jellalabad and the Khyber Pass, while the Bombay column could return en masse through the Bolan Pass. Such was the advice of the Commander-in-chief, and such, as it soon appeared, was the opinion of the Viceroy himself. Before, however, the homeward march began, Wade had brought Prince Timour to his father's court. Wade's share in the expedition, though dwarfed by the more brilliant exploits of Keane, had, notwithstanding the disaffection of the Sikhs (who, after Runjeet Singh's death, had not cared to conceal their dislike of their English allies), been performed with complete success, and had moreover materially assisted the march of the larger force. For a long time Dost Mahomed had regarded the advance through the Khyber with far greater anxiety than that along the Western route, and though his troops had never actually encountered Wade in the field, a considerable detachment had been withdrawn for that purpose from the main