We have already related the enemy’s determination of wintering at Kaniza, and what preparations they had made for this purpose: also, how Karah Punjeh had deposited the deceptive letter in the enemy’s camp, and his subsequent journey to the commander-in-chief to obtain aid for the Kanaizians. The serdár made many promises; ordered the troops under his command to be paid their wages, and said he would set out next morning for Kaniza. His officers, however, remonstrated against his resolution, by alleging that the weather being so very bad the thing could not be even attempted. The serdár appeared determined, and swore to the messengers, Karah Punjeh and his two companions, that though the army to a man should refuse to go to the aid of Kaniza, he and his own suite would most assuredly go. The messengers returned with this answer. The enemy, as before observed, had surrounded their camp with a ditch. The Austrian and other European troops were separated from the Hungarian army, and the former were determined to reduce Kaniza, whatever it might cost them. The Italian and French soldiers had become so very inveterate, that they said they had come from their own country to die, and that, therefore, they would not remove one step from Kaniza before they had taken it. On the seventy-fifth day of the siege, about mid-day, the heavens became black with clouds, the wind blew from the south, and soft showers of rain began to fall. Previously to this not a drop had fallen for the space of three months. The rain now increased, and a most bitterly cold wind began to blow, which made the surface of the waters to freeze. Towards evening the rain became mixed with flakes of snow, and about midnight the rain ceased, but the snow continued to fall. This storm continued for three successive days and nights, and the fall of snow was so deep as to reach a man’s waist. The enemy was now in a very sad plight; but they were infatuated, and in their infatuation ceased not from their hostilities.