Delhi, leaving altogether 200 dead on the ground.

It was now nearly five o'clock, and we were distant four miles from
camp. Many of our men had died from apoplexy and sunstroke, their faces
turning quite black in a few minutes--a horrible sight. These, with the
killed and the sick and wounded, were placed on the backs of a fresh lot
of elephants, which had just arrived; and, scarcely able to drag one leg
after the other, we turned our faces towards the camp, reaching our own
quarters soon after sunset.

This was a terrible and trying day for all engaged, and more especially
for the European infantry. We had been under arms for seventeen hours,
most of the time exposed to the pitiless rays of an Indian sun, under
fire for a considerable period, and, with the exception of the slight
halt for breakfast, on our feet all the time.

When nearing camp we were met by the General, Sir Henry Barnard, who
addressed us with some kindly words, and little did we think that
that was the last occasion we should see the gallant old soldier. The
following morning he was attacked with cholera, and expired in the
afternoon, deeply regretted by the whole army.

No man could possibly have been placed in a more trying situation than
he who had just given up his life in the service of his country. Called
on to command an army to which was entrusted the safety of British
rule in India, the cares and anxiety of the task, together with his
unremitting attention to his duties and constant exposure to the sun,
made him peculiarly susceptible to the disease from which he died. He
had served with distinction in the Crimean campaign, and had only landed
in India to take command of a division in the April of this year.