I saw—yes, no, yes, no, yes!—I saw regiment upon regiment of galloping British horsemen riding over the ranks of the flying natives. First of the host, I recognised, O Heaven! my AHMEDNUGGAR IRREGULARS! On came the gallant line of black steeds and horsemen; swift swift before them rode my officers in yellow—Glogger, Pappendick, and Stuffle; their sabres gleamed in the sun, their voices rung in the air. “D— them!” they cried, “give it them, boys!” A strength supernatural thrilled through my veins at that delicious music: by one tremendous effort, I wrested the post from its foundation, five feet in the ground. I could not release my hands from the fetters, it is true; but, grasping the beam tightly, I sprung forward—with one blow I levelled the five executioners in the midst of the fire, their fall upsetting the scalding oil-can; with the next, I swept the bearers of Bobbachy’s palanquin off their legs; with the third, I caught that chief himself in the small of the back, and sent him flying on to the sabres of my advancing soldiers! The next minute, Glogger and Stuffle were in my arms, Pappendick leading on the Irregulars. Friend and foe in that wild chase had swept far away. We were alone: I was freed from my immense bar; and ten minutes afterwards, when Lord Lake trotted up with his staff, he found me sitting on it. “Look at Gahagan,” said his Lordship. “Gentlemen, did I not tell you we should be sure to find him _at his post?_” The gallant old nobleman rode on: and this was the famous BATTLE OF FURRUCKABAD, or SURPRISE OF FUTTYGHUR, fought on the 17th of November, 1804. About a month afterwards, the following announcement appeared in the _Boggleywollah Hurkaru_ and other Indian papers:- “Married, on the 25th of December, at Futtyghur, by the Rev. Dr. Snorter, Captain Goliah O’Grady Gahagan, Commanding Irregular Horse, Ahmednuggar, to Belinda, second daughter of Major-General Bulcher, C.B. His Excellency the Commander-in-Chief gave away the bride; and, after a splendid _déjeuner_, the happy pair set off to pass the Mango season at Hurrygurrybang. Venus must recollect, however, that Mars must not _always_ be at her side. The Irregulars are nothing without their leader.” Such was the paragraph—such the event—the happiest in the existence of G. O’G. G., M.H.E.I.C.S., C.I.H.A. Footnotes: [1] So admirable are the performances of these watches, which will stand in any climate, that I repeatedly heard poor Macgillicuddy relate the following fact. The hours, as it is known, count in Italy from one to twenty-four: _The day Mac landed at Naples his repeater rung the Italian hours, from one to twenty-four;_ as soon as he crossed the Alps it only sounded as usual.—G. O’G. G. [2] In my affair with Macgillicuddy, I was fool enough to go out with small swords:- miserable weapons, only fit for tailors.—G. O’G. G.