Snakes. Delhi 307 



We drove down to the old Kashmir Gate, battered 

 with the cannonade of that September, the walls 

 riddled and torn with shells. Just in front of the 

 gate is the little bridge, under the shelter of which 

 crouched the plucky bugler Hawthorne who sounded 

 the regimental call of the 52nd. And the gate 

 itself what memories does it not recall ! of the three 

 sappers who one after another, as man after man 

 was shot down, rushed up to light the fuse which 

 was to blow in the gate rushed forward to certain 

 death as they stooped, match in hand, an easy mark 

 for the enemy through the loopholes above. 



As we drove in through the gateway, upon our 

 left was the great breach in the walls the scene 

 where our brave fellows planted their scaling-ladders 

 and positively fought, Lord Roberts says, for the 

 glory of being first man over the edge of the parapet, 

 although the first two or three men were absolutely 

 certain to be shot through and through, falling back- 

 wards one after another, the instant they showed over 

 the edge of the breach. But over their dead bodies, 

 and into the thick of the Sepoys on the other side, 

 our men gallantly poured. 



Down one little street on our right Nicholson 

 himself fell, at the head of a storming party, cheering 

 and leading on his men, who had momentarily hung 

 back in the face of a " tight corner." Shot through 

 the body, he lingered for a fortnight, and had the 

 satisfaction of knowing that Delhi had been retaken. 



Again upon our left we passed the Delhi magazine. 



