On the 3rd of March, having arrived and encamped at a place called Amorrah, our force was augmented by 250 of the Bengal Yeomanry Cavalry, a perfect Godsend to us. These were indeed splendid troops. The regiment--which, I believe, was raised at Calcutta--was commanded by one Colonel Chapman. As far as I can recollect, two-thirds of the men at least consisted of those who had lost their little all during the beginning of the Mutiny. Some, indeed,--and these not few--had lost near and dear relations, and, consequently, their only thought was of vengeance for the dastardly atrocities and ruin brought upon them and their poor families. They possessed, for the most part, nothing but what they stood in: they were volunteers, and came only to fight and to die, if such was to be their fate. They were beautifully horsed and well armed: in fact, a splendid corps. Many of the troopers were gentlemen in social life; all threw in their lot together; and their discipline was superb. If they had a fault, it was recklessness: in their charges nothing deterred them. I forget the actual engagement, and where it was; but, just to see a bit of the fun and what they would do, I followed them, after giving them the order from my Chief to charge a certain position; and at a respectable distance I saw the whole thing. After advancing at a trot, they found that a battery of the rebels was playing into part of our position very warmly. Suddenly they took ground to the right for a short distance, and, under cover of trees, formed up at right angles to the battery. Then they advanced at a canter, and, when within 100 yards or so of the battery, wheeled suddenly to their right and charged straight at the guns in front. As good luck would have it, the rebels fired their grape just too soon, and caught only a few outside files as the squadrons wheeled for the final charge. It looked to me (200 yards or so away) as if they must have been annihilated; but, thank God, they had lost only seventeen killed and wounded and a few horses. It is needless to say that every gun was taken, and the gunners were sabred to a man. It was as fine a bit of dash as I ever saw in my life. It came off; but I suppose it was a wild adventure--charging straight up to the face of a battery.