XLVII. THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW.

[From a letter to the "London Times," by a lady, the wife of an officer at
Lucknow.]

1. On every side death stared us in the face; no human skill could avert
it any longer. We saw the moment approach when we must bid farewell to
earth, yet without feeling that unutterable horror which must have been
experienced by the unhappy victims at Cawnpore. We were resolved rather to
die than to yield, and were fully persuaded that in twenty-four hours all
would be over. The engineer had said so, and all knew the worst. We women
strove to encourage each other, and to perform the light duties which had
been assigned to us, such as conveying orders to the batteries, and
supplying the men with provisions, especially cups of coffee, which we
prepared day and night.

2. I had gone out to try to make myself useful, in company with Jessie
Brown, the wife of a corporal in my husband's regiment. Poor Jessie had
been in a state of restless excitement all through the siege, and had
fallen away visibly within the last few days. A constant fever consumed
her, and her mind wandered occasionally, especially that day, when the
recollections of home seemed powerfully present to her. At last, overcome
with fatigue, she lay down on the ground, wrapped up in her plaid. I sat
beside her, promising to awaken her when, as she said, her "father should
return from the plowing."

3. She fell at length into a profound slumber, motionless and apparently
breathless, her head resting in my lap. I myself could no longer resist