classes of the Sikh nationality had settled down to rural industry. The land-settlement had provided livelihood and occupation for all the men of thews and sinews, who formed the flower of the population or the nucleus of possible armies, and who really possessed the physical force of the country. The fighting men, interspersed amidst the civil population, had given up their arms to the authorities. In the British metaphor of the time, the teeth of the evil-disposed had been completely drawn. Trade had developed under the new rule, and had expanded with improved means of communication. Capital had begun to accumulate, and the moneyed classes were in favour of a government that would support public credit and refrain from extortion. The mass of the people were contented, prices being cheap, wages on the rise and employment brisk. The provincial revenues were elastic and increasing, though the assessments were easier, the taxation lighter, and the imposts fewer than formerly. The transit-dues, erst vexatiously levied under Native rule, had been abolished. The whole administration had been so framed as to ensure a strong though friendly grasp of the province, its people, its resources, its capabilities. The bonds were indeed to be worn easily, but they had been cast in a vast fold all round the country and could be drawn tighter at pleasure. The awe inspired by British victories still dwelt in the popular mind. As the repute of the late Sikh army had been great, that of their conquerors became greater still. The people were slow to understand the possibility of disaster befalling so puissant a sovereignty as that which had been set up before their eyes. The system was being administered by a body of European officers, trained in the highest degree for organised action and for keeping a tenacious grip upon their districts. Every post of importance was filled by a capable man, many posts by men of talent, and some even by men of genius. At the head of them all was John Lawrence himself, whose eye penetrated to every compartment of the State-ship to prove and test her as seaworthy. Notes of warning had been sounded from Umballa, the military station midway between the Jumna and the Sutlej. Beyond the Sutlej in the Punjab proper no unfavourable symptom was perceptible. But day by day ominous sounds seemed to be borne northwards in the very air. At first they were like the mutterings of a far off thunderstorm. Then they were as the gathering of many waters. Soon they began to strike the ear of the Punjab administrator, who might say as the anxious settler in North America said, “Hark! ’tis the roll of the Indian drum.” CHAPTER VII WAR OF THE MUTINIES 1857-1859 The story has now arrived at the month of May, 1857, and its hero is about “to take up arms against a sea of troubles.” It may be well, then, to remember what his position was according to the Constitution of British India.