After effecting the rescue of the garrison, Sir Colin Campbell retired by forced marches to Cawnpore, where his presence soon reassured the forces, disheartened by the attacks of the enemy during his absence. Kavanagh accompanied him to Cawnpore, and soon after started for Calcutta, where the refugees from Lucknow met with a generous and hospitable reception from the governor-general and the British residents. The guide who had acted such an important part in the enterprise was not forgotten; all met with much sympathy; but there was a ringing cheer, such as none but English can give, when “Lucknow” Kavanagh (the name by which he has ever since been known, and a prefix as worthily gained as that which distinguished the Confederate general “Stonewall” Jackson) appeared with his wife and family. But such a restless spirit could not remain inactive at Calcutta while the fighting was going on in Oude; he no longer belonged to the uncovenanted service, and was at liberty to go wherever he pleased. He made his way up the country, formed the acquaintance of the _Times_’ correspondent, Dr. Russell, who persuaded him to mount an unruly horse that nearly broke his neck, and at last joined the army of Sir Colin Campbell, then a second time advancing from Cawnpore to Lucknow. During the subsequent fighting he exposed himself to the fire of the enemy with almost reckless bravery; his constant immunity from danger gave rise to a sort of half belief that he bore a charmed life, and this belief was almost justified by the result. Many a gallant English officer bit the dust at Lucknow, but the bullets of the enemy seemed to be turned aside by some invisible hand from the person of Kavanagh. If the old Greek mythology had not been obsolete, we should have been tempted to believe that some friendly god or goddess was watching over our hero, and guarding him alike from friend and foe, as Aphrodite and Poseidon watched over Æneas at the siege of Troy. More than once he was in danger of being shot by his countrymen as a deserter; he had hand-to-hand combats with the enemy, whom he was ready to meet at any odds; he was thrown from horses, precipitated from dog-carts, tumbled into wells, was shot through the shoulder, wounded in the ankle, and survived to thrill the world by the story of his strange adventures, which borders on the realms of romance. When fighting was over at Lucknow he resumed his civil duties, and used all his influence to protect the miserable natives who had returned to their homes, and to check the thieving propensities of the gallant Sikhs and savage little Ghoorkas. In June, 1858, he offered to proceed to the camp of the enemy with a flag of truce, to persuade them to lay aside their arms and submit to the British rule; but the authorities at Lucknow—wisely, as we think—refused to expose his life to such a danger. Soon after this he was ordered to Muliabad, where he was intrusted with the command of a certain number of Sikhs and native