but to see the commencement of the siege; but the spirit of that brave, generous and romantic nature continued to inspire the leaders of that heroic defence. Its incidents are familiar history. The garrison was greatly outnumbered and ill-supplied; the defences were weak, hurriedly constructed, and, in parts, unfinished: the position was, according to every rule of war, indefensible. Defended it was, however, at a terrible cost of human life and suffering, for eighty-seven days. The garrison held its own, unaided, till September 25th. On that day Outram and Havelock, with their long-expected succour, fought their way into the Residency — a reinforcement, not a relief; for the heavy losses entailed by the operation made it clear that it would be impossible, with the existing forces, to attempt the removal of the non-combatants. Outram's little army had greatly increased the powers of the defence; but it also greatly increased the rate at which provisions were consumed. As evacuation was impossible, the position of the garrison was, in one sense, more critical than ever. Not till November 17th did the hour of deliverance come.
Meanwhile, the fate of the Empire seemed to depend on the little force which, barely able to protect its own position, was clinging fiercely to a single side of the Delhi ramparts. On June 8th, two English forces, combining from Ambála and Meerut, had driven the mutineers in confusion from the field, and taken up their position on a ridge of stony ground which faces the city's northern side. Some bold spirits urged
