of the native brigade, the order of the Governor-General, stating their crime, and declaring absurd their fears for their religion, was read out to them. They were then ordered to pile their arms, and to hang their belts upon the piled bayonets. They obeyed without a murmur. They were then marched to a distance from their arms, and the pay due to them was distributed. They were allowed, mistakenly as it turned out, to retain their uniforms, and the complaisance of the Government went so far as to provide them with carriage to convey them to their homes. The Government, despite all that had occurred, was still in a fog. They could not see an inch beyond their own hands.
One or two circumstances showed the temper of the Government at this conjuncture. The gallant conduct of Shaikh Paltu, on the morning of the 29th of March, had presented so great a contrast to that of his comrades that Hearsey, with a true soldier's instinct, had then and there promoted him to be a Háwaldár, or native sergeant. For this act, which, though 'ultra vires,' was justified by the special circumstances of the case, he was reprimanded by the Government. The general impression prevailed that the disbandment of the 19th would produce so salutary an effect throughout India that it was announced to the whole army in terms which, to say the least, displayed an absolute ignorance of the real feelings of the sipáhís. The Government thought that that disbandment had closed the chapter of the Mutiny, when in reality it was only the first page of the preface.
The wound of the mutinous sipáhí Manghal Pándi had not proved mortal. He recovered, was brought to trial, and hanged. The Jámadár who had incited the sipáhís of the quarter-guard to refrain from assisting their officer met the same fate a little later (April 22). Meanwhile, the Government had made a searching inquiry into the con-
