Many, however, are of opinion, that the sudden attack of Tej Singh, with his 30,000 troops, was a mere feint. It was well known that he was in correspondence with Captain Nicolson; and it is even affirmed, that he had privately furnished an officer with a plan of the intended operations of the Sikh army. It was his object to ingratiate himself with both parties. His position as leader of the army demanded that he should make the attack; while at the same time he foresaw that the British would ultimately triumph in the Punjaub, and that it would be for his interest to make friends of them. Therefore, after firing a few shots, the Commander-in-Chief of the Sikhs fled from the field of battle, at the very moment when the failure of the enemy's ammunition, and the departure of their cavalry to Ferozepore, gave him an advantage which might have turned the tide of victory in his favour. After the desertion of their general, the Sikhs made several ineffectual attempts, to recover the entrenchment, but before night-fall, were compelled to retreat across the Sutlej. The view of a field of battle awakens the noblest sympathies of our nature. Even the stern Napoleon has had his cold heart touched by such a scene. The first survey is overwhelming; and the heart of even the stoutest soldier shrinks within him, and sickens at the sight. On a nearer inspection, we find the dead and the dying, friend and foe, lying side by side; their furious contest suddenly cut short by the cold hand of death--while the cries and moans of the wounded till our ears with sounds of lamentation and woe, and our hearts with pity and commiseration. We lament the fate of the slain, and grieve that his career is ended; yet it is the death of the brave soldier who has gloriously discharged his duty to his country, and whose fame remains imperishable, that calls forth our deepest grief, admiration and gratitude. "_Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori._" Well did Lord Hutchinson, in reporting the death of the brave and lamented Abercrombie, express the feelings of a soldier, when he said: "His name shall be embalmed in the memory of a grateful country." Thoughts of a future state are powerfully impressed upon the mind, as the eye wanders over the battle-field of the slain. As we gaze upon those who have distinguished themselves, not only as the liege soldiers of their king, but as the faithful soldiers of the King of kings, our heart insensibly finds relief. While the spark of life yet flickers in the mortal tenement, we watch by the side of our wounded comrade, and, like king David, we fast and weep, and say: "Who can tell whether God will be gracious to me that he may live;" but when the dread fiat has gone forth, and the spirit no longer dwells within its house of clay, like David we restrain our grief, and looking beyond the grave, exclaim in faith: "Wherefore should I weep? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me."