We landed at the Sunderbunds on a grilling hot day in December
1802, and then for the moment Julia and I separated. She was
carried off to her papa's arms in a palankeen, surrounded by at
least forty hookahbadars; whilst the poor cornet, attended but by
two dandies and a solitary beasty (by which unnatural name these
blackamoors are called), made his way humbly to join the regiment
at headquarters.

The -'th Regiment of Bengal Cavalry, then under the command of
Lieut.-Colonel Julius Jowler, C.B., was known throughout Asia and
Europe by the proud title of the Bundelcund Invincibles--so great
was its character for bravery, so remarkable were its services in
that delightful district of India. Major Sir George Gutch was next
in command, and Tom Thrupp, as kind a fellow as ever ran a Mahratta
through the body, was second Major. We were on the eve of that
remarkable war which was speedily to spread throughout the whole of
India, to call forth the valour of a Wellesley, and the indomitable
gallantry of a Gahagan; which was illustrated by our victories at
Ahmednuggar (where I was the first over the barricade at the
storming of the Pettah); at Argaum, where I slew with my own sword
twenty-three matchlock-men, and cut a dromedary in two; and by that
terrible day of Assaye, where Wellesley would have been beaten but
for me--me alone: I headed nineteen charges of cavalry, took
(aided by only four men of my own troop) seventeen field-pieces,
killing the scoundrelly French artillerymen; on that day I had
eleven elephants shot under me, and carried away Scindiah's nose-
ring with a pistol-ball. Wellesley is a Duke and a Marshal, I but
a simple Major of Irregulars. Such is fortune and war! But my
feelings carry me away from my narrative, which had better proceed
with more order.