The enemy advanced at a quick trot, and poured forward like a sudden irruption of the sea. When the foremost reached the trench the shock was terrific. They were forced back by the besieged with a resolution which nothing could withstand. The scalding preparation was poured upon their heads. This new mode of resistance confounded them. They drew back from the rampart, and renewed their attack only to meet with a similar reception. Time after time they were repulsed, but the besiegers being greatly exposed in the breaches, suffered extremely from the enemy’s matchlocks. Peirup Singh fought with the fury of a gored lion. He was twice severely wounded, but did not retire from the station he had chosen. Evening put an end to the struggle, and the Mahomedans were obliged to retreat. Their temporary success elated the besieged, still it was evident that they could not maintain a successful opposition for another day. Their numbers had been much diminished by the enemy’s well-directed fire, and the temporary defences were considerably weakened by continual assaults. Nevertheless, it was determined that resistance should be offered so long as there was a man to stand in the trench. Next morning the attack was renewed. Many of the Mahomedans were hurled headlong from the walls in attempting to scale them, but were succeeded by fresh troops equally resolute; and at length, in spite of the exertions of the despairing Hindoos, they obtained a footing, and the trench was carried. Peirup Singh, having killed several of the foe, was shot through the brain with a matchlock, and fell dead into the ditch. The heroic Rajpootni widow, who, though dangerously wounded, still stood upon the battlements encouraging the brave defenders of Chittore, rushed forward to meet death in the trench, but the enemy generously dropped their swords as she advanced, and attempted to take her alive. Perceiving the intention, she instantly retreated towards the town, followed by a party of Akbar’s soldiers. Though still reeking with her blood, she gained her home before them, and, having entered, securely fastened the door. Summoning her only remaining daughter, she cried-- “My child, the moment is come when we must consummate our triumph. We shall not fall alive into the hands of the foe.”