their usually desultory night-firing.” Not a single mishap occurred, and, to the delight of their deliverers, not one soul that had left the Residency that dark night was missing, as the garrison, with the four hundred and seventy-nine ladies and children, found themselves at sunrise on the morning of the 23d safe in the center of the whole English force, camped in the Dilkoosha Park, while the Residency, five miles away, the prison of their long agony, could be seen in the distance, swarming all over with the enraged Sepoys, who had just discovered, with the daylight, how completely they had been out-generaled!
The fresh air and green fields, the bread, butter, and milk, and clean table-cloths, and other comforts, which for many months they had not seen or tasted, are described as almost bewildering to the poor ladies and children, while the grateful hearts and tearful eyes of the officers who waited upon them so tenderly was a homage to their worth and sufferings which must have been very cheering to them. They were safe and well protected now.
But, in a tent near by, the noble man who had so uncomplainingly endured more than his enfeebled health could bear, was sinking, now that his great work for them was done. He had been helped off his horse and laid in a dooley. General Havelock was seriously unwell. His gallant son, with one wounded arm hung in a sling, was sitting by his cot, reading the Holy Scriptures and praying with his father. He was full of gratitude for the rescue so gloriously accomplished, and had accepted with becoming modesty the marked attention paid to him on all sides. He had also just heard of the gratitude of his country, the thanks of his Queen, for his noble services, and the fact that she had made him a Baronet, with a pension of £1,000 per year. But he had higher honor and reward than this awaiting him, and in a few hours was to pass away to its enjoyment. His disease was dysentery, which had been for several days aggravated by the “bread want,” so severely felt at the Residency. Every thing that medical science and human sympathy could effect was now done, but all in vain; there was no remnant of strength to fall back upon, and the complaint had
