sentry, and found themselves in the principal street of Lucknow. As it was part of their policy to court rather than avoid observation, they advanced along the main street, where no one challenged them, till they reached the open country, when a watchman inquired who they were. The answer was satisfactory, and they passed on cheerfully for four or five miles through the fragrant groves and beautiful woods which surround Lucknow, when they discovered that they had taken the wrong road and were close to the pickets of the enemy. The native guide was alarmed lest Kavanagh should suspect his honesty; but, reassured on this point, he endeavoured to find the right path. In wandering through the fields they met with singular adventures: they tumbled into ditches, and were nearly drowned; they alarmed the dogs of the native villages, and had to conceal themselves in a canal; they entered a wretched hut, and persuaded the female inmates to point out the way. About one o’clock in the morning they came upon an advanced picket of the enemy. Kavanagh marched up to them boldly, and, after answering their challenge, was allowed to pass. They were now close to the Alum Bagh, which was garrisoned by the English, but the native guide dissuaded Kavanagh from attempting to pass through the numerous rifle-pits and detachments of the enemy by which it was surrounded. At three o’clock they reached a mango grove, where a native sentinel, hearing their approach, gave the alarm, and the guard was called out. Startled by this unexpected danger, the native guide lost courage, and threw away the despatch for Sir Colin Campbell. It was a trying moment, but Kavanagh retained his presence of mind, and disarmed their suspicions by his confident bearing and ready answers. The guide had the politeness to show them the way to Umroula, a village on the route to the English camp, which, they said, they wished to reach; and, after walking on for some distance, they tumbled into a jheel, or swamp, and were once more nearly drowned. They continued to advance with the water often as high as their necks: Kavanagh, being the taller of the two, had often to hold up Kunoujee Lal by the neck to keep him from sinking. Their clothes were torn from their bodies by the tall reeds, and, worse than this, the paint was washed from Kavanagh’s hands by the muddy water: it was fortunate that it did not reach his face. After floundering in the swamp for two hours, they reached the land in such a state of exhaustion that they had to rest for a quarter of an hour. [Illustration: Thomas Henry Kavanagh completing his Disguise in the Residency at Lucknow.]