the sorties of the mutineers. To the Sepoys met with in Delhi no mercy was
shown; every man taken was at once bayoneted, and the same fate befell all
townsmen found fighting against us. The rest of the men, as well as the
women and children, were, after the fighting was over, permitted to leave
the city unmolested, although large numbers of them had taken share in the
sack of the white inhabitants' houses, and the murder of every Christian,
British or native, in the town. It would, however, have been impossible to
separate the innocent from the guilty; consequently all were allowed to go
free.

From the time that the British troops burst through the breaches, an
exodus had begun from the gates of the town on the other side, and across
the bridge over the Jumna. Our heavy guns could have destroyed this
bridge, and our cavalry might have swept round the city and cut off the
retreat on the other side; but the proverb that it is good to build a
bridge for a flying foe was eminently applicable here. Had the enemy felt
their retreat cut off--had they known that certain death awaited them
unless they could drive us out of the city, the defense would have been so
desperate that it would have been absolutely impossible for the British
forces to have accomplished it. The defense of some of the Spanish towns
in the Peninsular war by the inhabitants, lighting from house to house
against French armies, showed what could be effected by desperate men
lighting in narrow streets; and the loss inflicted on our troops at
Nujufghur by twenty Sepoys was another evidence of the inexpediency of
driving the enemy to despair. As it was, the rebels after the first day
fought feebly, and were far from making the most of the narrow streets and
strongly-built houses. No one liked to be the first to retreat, but all
were resolved to make off at the earliest opportunity. Men grew
distrustful of each other, and day by day the desertions increased, the
resistance diminished, and the districts held by the rebels grew smaller