Seeing that no air issued from the wound, he secured his sword and pistol, and, dismounting from his horse, led him over a broken wall, and was on the point of falling headlong in a faint when the two men he had tried to help took him under the arms and got him to the Metcalfe picket. The men there ran to meet him: one gave him a drop of rum and water, others brought a _charpoy_ (native bedstead) and carried him off to the doctor. On the way he met Hodson, who galloped off at once to camp, so when they reached his tent, he found the doctor waiting and everything ready. The ball had struck on a rib, fractured it, driven it down on the lung, and then had passed out at his back. Hodson cared for him with the affection of a brother. He was to lie quite still and not speak for a week. On the 1st of August the doctor took off this embargo--Seaton was recovering rapidly. In Delhi, our spies said, the Pandies were all jealous of one another and would not act in concert. The rebel sepoy carried in a purse round his waist the gold he had made by selling his share of our plundered treasures; this gold made him unwilling to risk his life in battle and made him suspect his comrades. Their wounded were in a horrible state: there were no surgeons to perform any operations, no attendants to bring food or water. The limbs of some were rotting off with gangrene, others had wounds filled with maggots from neglect; all were bitterly contrasting their lot with the life of comfort they had enjoyed under British government. The old King, too, was in despair, and vented it in some poor poetry. On the 7th of August there was a tremendous explosion in the city, and next day they heard that a powder manufactory had blown up, killing 400 people. “About this time”--to quote the words of one who wrote a history of this siege--“a stranger of very striking appearance was remarked visiting all our pickets, examining everything, making most searching inquiries about their strength and history. His attire gave no clue to his rank; it evidently never gave the owner a thought. He was a man cast in a giant mould, with massive chest and powerful limbs, and an expression ardent and commanding, with a dash of roughness, features of stern beauty, a long black beard, and deep, sonorous voice. There was something of immense strength, talent, and resolution in his whole gait and manner, and a power of ruling men on high occasions that no one could escape noticing at once. His imperial air, which never left him, and which would have been thought arrogant in one of less imposing mien, sometimes gave offence to his own countrymen, but made him almost worshipped by the pliant Asiatics. Such a man would have risen rapidly from the ranks of the legions to the throne of the Cæsars; but in the service of the British it was thought wonderful that he became a Brigadier-General when, by seniority, he could only have been a Captain.”