The greater portion of the batteries from England having arrived, General Dupuis and his staff followed the Commander-in-Chief up country on November 12. The journey to Benares occupied five days, and from Raneegunge we were conveyed in dawk gharries about eighty miles a day, passing on the road every few hours detachments of troops of all arms, hurrying forward, some in bullock carts, some on the march. Portions of the road, especially near the river Soane, were unsafe from the vicinity of straggling parties of mutineers, and we had to be protected occasionally by an escort. Remaining a few hours in a bungalow outside Benares, we found time to pay a hurried visit to this celebrated city. As an instance of the precarious nature of our long line of communications, it may be mentioned that although its inhabitants were in a restless, disaffected condition, the garrison only consisted of a weak company of infantry and two field guns. On the morning after our arrival I was informed that 'the elephant was at the door,' in readiness to take us into the city. It had no howdah, so we climbed up and sat on a large stuffed mattress. The environs consisted of tombs, temples, ruins, mosques, and gardens. The streets were crammed with people, and with little Brahminy bulls wandering about; in some parts the elephant was too wide for the narrow, tortuous passages, so that we had to dismount and walk. In one Hindoo temple which we visited, a fanatic, or possibly a lunatic, was seated in a niche. He was quite naked and covered with dust, but, oddly enough, had a fuschia flower lying on the top of his shaven head. He sat perfectly mute and still, and took no apparent notice of anybody, so that it was impossible to ascertain what object he expected to accomplish by so sedentary and monotonous an existence. We were rather a large party at the hotel bungalow, some being officers newly arrived and others who had served for years in the country, and who were very good natured in giving us information. Colonel David Wood, of the Horse Artillery, was one of the newcomers, and had a habit occasionally of assuming ignorance on minor points which perhaps was not always genuine. During dinner he turned gravely to one of the old Indian officers and said, 'Can you tell me, what is a dhobie?' They all laughed, and it was explained that a dhobie was a man who washed your clothes. Wood, still quite grave, said: 'Oh, that accounts for the difficulty. I told mine to clean my horse, and he refused. I will discharge him tomorrow.' The old Indian officer, however, assured him that a dhobie was absolutely necessary. Wood replied that he never required washing on active service. 'You must surely have your shirts washed,' was the rejoinder. 'Not at all,' said Wood. 'I always wear a flannel shirt in the field, and as soon as it gets dirty or worn out I throw it away and put on another.' CHAPTER XIII THE BATTLES AT CAWNPORE