13. It is owing to the telegraph that all India is held under the control of the governor-general. The wires are as the nerves that pass through the whole body of India and terminate, as it were, in his hands. By their means the latest news reaches him from every part of India, and by the same means he flashes back his commands. In the great mutiny that broke out, at the close of Dalhousie's term of office, it was the telegraph that saved us from many a disaster. "It is that accursed string that strangles us," exclaimed a mutineer pointing to the telegraph wire as he was led out to execution. (5) SPOILS OF VICTORY (India). 1. The story of India cannot be told without frequent reference to war. Though the Marquis of Dalhousie was so much occupied, as we have seen, with the arts of peace, he was obliged to wage more than one great war. On landing at Calcutta (1848) he was told by the last governor-general that so far as human foresight could predict, "it would not be necessary to fire a gun in India for seven years to come." Yet, within a twelvemonth, the whole scene was changed. 2. The Punjab, or Land of the Five Rivers, was inhabited by the Sikhs, a brave and warlike people. They had already fought desperately for the mastery of India and had been defeated. A British army had marched into Lahore, their capital, and dictated terms of peace, by which the Sikhs were left under the rule of a native prince, but required to receive a British officer at the royal court and to be guided by his advice. Dalhousie had scarcely been in office six months when the Punjab was all aflame again, and he found himself compelled to renew the war. "I have wished for peace," he said, "I have striven for it. But untaught by experience, the Sikh nation has called for war, and on my word, sirs, they shall have it with a vengeance." 3. The work that lay before the British army was a terribly difficult one. After a trying campaign in which we came near defeat, the two armies met for a decisive encounter at Gujerat. It ended in the rout of the Sikhs, who fled in dismay, leaving behind them most of their guns and standards, their ammunition, stores, and tents. The defeated troops were never allowed to rally, and within three weeks the last gun had been abandoned and the last soldier had laid down his arms. The Sikhs cheerfully owned themselves beaten, and heard with delight that their Afghan allies "had ridden down through their hills like lions and ran back into them like dogs."