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ants, and wounded many more. Elaled with this success, and 

 intoxicated by opium and bhang, their ferocious chieftains called 

 loudly for the English sirdar, vehemently demanding when I should 

 arrive from Dhuboy. My faithful people told them I had passed 

 long before, and was then in the Baroche purgunna, far beyond 

 their reach ; although, travelling at the slow pace of oxen, I could 

 not have been three miles distant. Thus disappointed, they re- 

 newed their insults, and frantic with bhang, committed further 

 cruelty before they decamped with their plunder, consisting of 

 horses, arms, my palanquin, sword, and some valuable effects ; 

 leaving the dead and wounded men on the spot, where they had 

 fallen a sacrifice themselves, but would not betray their master. 



The sight of the dead bodies and the accompanying lamenta- 

 tions, announced the first tidings of this fatal catastrophe. I have 

 no language to express my feelings on this occasion. Tacitus, 

 eminent for sublime conceptions and pathetic description, aids my 

 recollection by a scene of far greater importance. 



" Non tumultus, non quies ; sed quale magni metus, et magnae irae, silentium est." 



" It was not a tumult, it was not quietness ; it was the silence of terror, and of indignation." 



Tacitus. 



I find it equally difficult to mention my own providential de- 

 liverance. The Gracias not pursuing me, seems so very extraor- 

 dinary, that, among some other remarkable events of my life, I 

 can, (without referring to second causes, or intermediate agency) 

 only ascribe it to that Protecting Arm, which "is about our path 

 and about our bed ; for in the way wherein I walked they had 

 privily laid a snare for me: I might have looked on my ri»ht 



