After his victory of the 16th of July, Havelock allowed his exhausted troops to rest for the night on the field of battle, and entered the town the following morning. No language can describe the scenes of horror which greeted them on every side when they reached the entrenchment, and learned the hideous revelations of the slaughter-house and the well. It was enough to melt a heart of adamant; and we know that men, usually callous and indifferent to human suffering, cannot allude to what they witnessed on that day without a startled expression, as if the scene were still before them. Some will tell you, that for nights after they woke up in an agony of terror, so powerful was the impression left on their minds by that fearful spectacle. The floor of the slaughter-house was covered with blood; the lower part of the walls was marked with sword-cuts aimed at the helpless creatures crouching together on the ground; tresses of long hair were still adhering to the walls and pillars; articles of female attire were scattered about saturated with the blood of those who once had worn them; leaves of the Bible, of the Prayer Book, and of a work entitled “Preparation for Death,” were picked up on every side by the horror-struck soldiers. One man picked up a piece of paper with the words “Ned’s hair, with love,” written on it; on opening it he found a lock of boy’s hair; his mother had not parted with it till she parted with life. On the walls, written in pencil, or scratched in the plaster, were such inscriptions as these:—“Think of us;” “Avenge us;” “Your wives and families are here in misery, and at the disposal of savages;” “Oh, oh! my child, my child!” The last words are the most touching of all; there was no thirst for vengeance, no solicitude for self, in that mother’s breast; her only thought was of her child, and its impending fate. Well might one of the officers exclaim—“Oh! how thankful I am that I have no wife, no sisters out here!” One sickens and shudders at the very thought of such scenes: what effect must they have produced on those who actually witnessed them, who saw the blood-stained floor, and the limbs of murdered babes and women protruding from the well into which they had been thrown? The deepest emotions are those which can find no expression: few words were spoken; but as the Highlanders looked into one another’s faces, a strange expression came over them: the rugged brows were knit, the quivering lips were sternly compressed, and the fierce glare of the eye told of the conflicting passions within. There was unspeakable pity for those tender babes and women so cruelly murdered; but stronger and more overwhelming was the thirst for vengeance which found expression on many a battle-field, in the shout “Remember Cawnpore!” and in the deadly bayonet thrust. The deepest emotion was excited by the discovery of the body of Sir Hugh Wheeler’s daughter, for it was already whispered among the soldiers that this heroic woman