to-morrow I shall hold you in my arms again, for I have got two days’ leave, and am going to spend them in Meerut. You may look for me about tiffin time.’ Full of the expectation that this great joy would be realised, how eagerly did she look forward to the morrow. But, had she been gifted with the power of prescience, and could have foreseen the events that were to happen in a few hours, she would have shrunk with curdling horror, and have cried aloud to God for protection. Divine service ended, and homeward the people returned again, laughing and chatting and hand-shaking as friends met friends. And tiffin was partaken of, and the siesta indulged in without a single thought of insecurity. Alas, what fatal blindness! Was it not a cruel fate that dulled the senses of every white man in the cantonment on that awful Sunday! Had someone only suspected and been able to arouse the officers to a sense of their danger, in all human probability history would never have been called upon to record the ghastly horrors of the Indian Mutiny. While the white people slept through the sweltering heat of that May afternoon there was unusual stir in the native lines and in the bazaars, and down the Ganges, as well as down the Jumna, a budgerow slowly drifted, and at intervals of about five minutes on board of that budgerow there were sounded three distinct and emphasised strokes on a large tom-tom. That beating of the tom-tom was a signal to the villagers and fishermen who dwelt on the banks of the rivers to repair with all speed to the city in readiness for the great event. Still the white men slept! A fatuous belief in their might had lulled them to a fatal slumber. Shiva, the Destroyer--the God of the natives--had spoken, but the God of the Christians gave no sign. The white men slept! The afternoon waned. The evening breeze set in, and the Christians rose and prepared for evening worship; and as they wended their way to church they saw for the first time sights and sounds that paled the faces of the women, and begot anxiety in the men. Columns of illuminated smoke were rising to the darkening sky; and from afar off came the sound of bugles calling to arms, and mingling with it was the roll of musketry. Service in the church did not take place, and the scared people hurried back; for now from lip to lip flew the news--‘The native soldiers have risen!’ It had a dreadful sound, for under any circumstances it meant a tremendous struggle, and many a brave man would bite the dust ere the insurrection was quelled.