At this moment an incident occurred which serves to prove what sacrifices our soldiers are ready to make for officers whom they love. In one of the doolies close to the beleaguered house lay Captain Arnold, of the Madras Fusiliers, a gallant officer who had been severely wounded. Among the holders of the house was Private Ryan, of the same regiment, who resolved to make an effort to rescue him from his dangerous position. As he could not do this alone he called for some one to assist him, when Patrick McManus stepped out from behind his pillar and offered to accompany him. He was already wounded in the foot, but a wound was nothing when danger had to be encountered. The two brave men cleared the barricade, rushed through the gateway amid a shower of bullets, and reached the doolie in safety. Here they had to encounter a new difficulty. Their united strength could not raise the doolie from the ground, so they took poor Arnold in their arms and bore him to the house. It is a remarkable fact, that while the ground around them was torn with musket-balls, and Captain Arnold received a wound in the thigh which afterwards proved mortal, both of his deliverers escaped unhurt. Encouraged by their success, they ventured forth a second time and carried in a wounded soldier whose piteous cries had excited their compassion. The result was the same as before; they were safe, but the soldier received two mortal wounds and died before he reached the house. Such incidents almost justify the belief that the age of miracles has not yet passed away. During this struggle the duties that devolved on Dr. Home, the only unwounded officer in the house, were most arduous. He had to direct and encourage the men by his example, to dress the wounded, and to assist in shooting down their assailants. In all this he was ably assisted by Private Hollowell, of the 78th Highlanders, who proved himself worthy of such a leader. When the rebels found that they could not force an entrance, they stole stealthily up to the window and fired through the plastered venetians. Our men lay down on the floor; the bullets thus passed harmlessly over them. The Sepoys then attempted to rush the house, when Hollowell, watching his opportunity, shot down their leader, an old man, armed with sword and shield, and dressed in white with a red waistband. One man was now told off to fire from each window and three from the door. Dr. Home kept watch and ward at one of the windows with his revolver in his hand; he could see all that was passing in the street through a hole made by a bullet. A Sepoy crept stealthily up to the window at the distance of three yards; the doctor shot him dead with his revolver. Hollowell gave another his quietus, and then for a time all was still.