The prize property was removed to camp, and sold by public auction, which lasted a whole day. It realized a very large sum of money. The general court-martial for the trial of the rebel keeledar now assembled, composed entirely of native commissioned officers, the senior officer acting as president. A warrant had been granted by the governor-general in council of Fort William, for the convening of native general courts-martial, for the trial of all such persons as might rebel against the government. This man now stood arraigned before a tribunal thus constituted, charged with treachery and rebellion against the government. Forty years' service crowned the brow of the venerable soubahdar who presided on this occasion, and he was a very shrewd clever fellow. The proceedings were conducted by a European officer, through an interpreter, and committed to paper in English. The crime with which the prisoner stood charged was read to him by the interpreter. He seemed perfectly to comprehend the charge against him, and he pleaded "Guilty." This he pronounced in a manly and firm voice, stating, that he fought entirely irresponsibly, and that he was ready and willing to meet the penalty of the law, and atone for his disobedience with his life. Here he struck his bosom, and seemed to wait the order for his execution. The president turned round to him, and said, in a most pathetic manner, "Keeledar, you have now put your seal to your own death by that confession; but have you not got a wife and children? If you have no value for your own life, will you also murder them?" This appeal, urged in the most impressive manner, roused the keeledar from his lethargy. He started, looked wild, paused; his lips seemed to quiver; and his head dropped on his heaving bosom. There seemed to be an innate working of the soul--a dreadful struggle between two contending feelings. The good and humane president soothingly said, "Take your time, ere you pronounce the sad doom of your wife and children--your time is ours." The whole court, and the numerous spectators, now waited with breathless impatience and anxiety, to hear the keeledar's reply. At last he said, "Your observation relative to my wife and children is just. I will not be the means of agonizing their feelings; but," continued he, "what will the rajah say, should I deceive him?" The rajah's treachery and rebellion were explained to him, and he was apprised of his elopement, and the probability there was that he was dead. Upon hearing this, his feelings seemed to undergo another struggle, and, after a short pause, he drew from his bosom a long roll of paper, which contained the most peremptory instructions from the rajah, to fight the English, "as long as one stone of Gurrah Mundellah stood upon another, and as long as one drop of water remained in the Nerbuddah, to wash away their blood." This letter was received the very day he had promised to give up the fort to Major O'Brien.