he supposed, as usual, enveloped in his bed-clothes; but the cunning rajah, instead of being penitent for his crimes, had, under the garb of sickness, actually planned and made his escape: and several of our native soldiers (the conspirators) had flown with him. Some time after he was gone, they discovered that the object whom the officer of the night supposed to be the sick rajah wrapped up in his bed-clothes, was nothing more than a large pillow. When the last officer went his rounds, he was satisfied, from appearances, that his charge was secure. This hint ought to be a warning to young soldiers, not to trust to others what they ought to do themselves. The neglect of the inferior officer fell upon the commanding officer in charge, and he was brought to general court martial, but acquitted, on the ground of the conspiracy of his detachment. There could have been no necessity for such a trial, had the visiting officer detected the escape at the prescribed time of his visiting, and not been satisfied with the appearance instead of the reality. What could be expected from such a character--from one who had planned the destruction of those very people who so basely aided and abetted his escape? Of the sepoys who thus broke their allegiance to the government, all who were taken suffered the heavy penalty of their crime--death. This should ever be the result of conspiracy. There can be no question that the rajah had bribed them with some valuable jewels at the time, or held out to these infatuated and mercenary traitors golden promises of future aggrandizement. His escape was in the very heart of his own country; but who would admit a traitor? He could not procure an asylum, even in the midst of his own territory. He was hunted from fort to fort, and literally from door to door, execrated and despised; and he was, at last, found dead somewhere in Scindia's country--the just reward of his unprovoked, treasonable, and treacherous conduct. He justly forfeited his throne, and merited his fall.