“An adventure happened to me in the Shâh Nujeef,” says Forbes-Mitchell, “which I still sometimes dream of with horror. This place was the tomb of the first King of Oude, and a place of Mohammedan pilgrimage. It had a number of small rooms round the enclosure for the pilgrims. These the enemy had used for quarters, and in their hurry to escape many had left their lamps burning. As I had lost my greatcoat in the fight, and felt very cold at night, so that I could not sleep, it struck me that some of the sepoys might have left blankets behind them. With this hope I went into one of the rooms where a lamp was burning, took it off its shelf, and walked to the door of the great domed tomb, which was only 20 yards or so away from the spot where the arms were piled and the men lying round the still burning fire. I peered into the dark vault, but could see nothing, so I advanced slowly, holding above my head the clay saucer of oil containing a loose cotton wick. I was looking cautiously round, for fear of surprise from a concealed foe, till I came near the centre of the great vault, where my progress was obstructed by a big black heap about 4 feet high, which felt to my feet as if I were walking in loose sand. I lowered the lamp to see what it was, and discovered that I was standing up to the ankles in loose gunpowder! “About 40 hundredweight of it lay in a great heap in front of my nose, while a glance to my left showed me a range of some thirty barrels also full of powder, and on the right lots of 8-inch shells, all loaded, with the fuses fixed. “By this time my eyes had become accustomed to the darkness of the mosque, and I took in my position at a glance. Here I was up to my knees almost in powder--in the very bowels of a magazine--with a naked light! “My hair literally stood on end. I felt the skin of my head lifting my feather bonnet off my scalp. My knees knocked together, and, despite the chilly night air, the cold perspiration burst out all over me and ran down my face and legs. “I had neither cloth nor handkerchief in my pocket, and there was not a moment to be lost, as already the overhanging wick was threatening to shed its smouldering red tip into the live magazine at my feet. “Quick as thought I put my left hand under the down-dropping flame and clasped it firmly. Holding it so, I slowly turned to the door and walked out with my knees knocking one against the other. I never felt the least pain from the wick, fear had so overcome me; but when I opened my hand on gaining the open air, I felt the smart acutely enough. I poured the oil out of the saucer into the burnt hand, then kneeling down, I thanked God for having saved me and all our men around from horrible destruction. I then got up and staggered rather than walked to the place where Captain Dawson was sleeping. I shook him by the shoulder till he awoke, and told him of my discovery and fright.