roasted. Three other Europeans had been here sacrificed, and an English woman, naked and covered with sores, was said to be chained to the bastion, gibbering and shrieking, a hopeless maniac[1]. Nothing could now withstand the fury of the onslaught. The Church, the College, and Skinner's house were soon in possession of our troops; but as they diverged into the narrow streets, their progress was checked by double discharges of grape-shot from pieces of heavy artillery placed to bear upon every avenue. While encouraging his men to make a second rush at a gun, the heroic John Nicholson[2] received a wound which proved to be mortal. That night 'St. George's banner, broad and gay,' waved over the Kashmír Gate, and the headquarters of the army were established in Skinner's house.
The next day was consumed in making good this position, and in battering the outer wall of the magazine, in which a practicable breach was effected before sunset. At dawn of the following morning (September
- ↑ Subsequent investigation has shown these stories of murder and outrage to be exaggerated.
- ↑ Nicholson was one of those political soldiers of whom India has produced so many distinguished types. He lingered in great agony long enough to catch a glimpse of the accomplishment of that task to which he had so sternly and zealously laboured to contribute, and expired on the 13th of September, in the thirty-fifth year of his age. 'Nicholson is dead,' was the hushed whisper that struck all hearts with grief. His grave now lies, it is said, but little cared for. But 'the hoofs of his war-horse are to be heard ringing at night over the Pesháwar valley' by his superstitious frontier men, who believe that 'until that sound dies away, the rule of the Feringis in the valley will endure.'
