child for lack of nourishment and shelter and so on throughout the lines. In a word, not more than one tithe were capable of bearing arms and doing effective duty. The native troops were suffering to an even greater extent, for they were Hindoos, born under, and all their lives accustomed to a broiling sun; yet from first to last they behaved most nobly, faithful to the nation whose pay they had received.

The dread moment arrived when the march was to recommence. The rear-guard was composed of the 44th and the 57th native infantry, but many European soldiers were mixed up with them. Frederick, and Chinga Zung, with his five surviving Kuzzilbashes, were close to the camel bearing Mary and the orphan, somewhat ahead of the front coluinn of the rear-guard, so as to be more clear of the press of soldiers, and thus have a better command of their own movements, should an alteration in their position become essential. Frederick conversed anxiously with his wife; but as to Chinga Zung, he spoke not a word, but stood leaning on his rifle, with such an expression of sadness and settled care as his noble features had never evinced before. From time to time he raised his head and looked towards the Pass, with a glance that understood and embraced all that was there presented, and then his eyes fell on a group by his side -an intense shade of anguish being perceptible as they fastened on Mary Maitland. It was not difficult to conjecture the thoughts rushing through his soul. Too well did he perceive the almost certain fate that awaited them all.

With a confused, quivering hum, stamp of feet, and feeble rattling of arms, onward marched, or rather stumbled, the advanced body, consisting principally of native soldiers, camp-followers, &c. This ended Chinga Zung's reverie. He pointed to the movement, threw his rifle heavily into the hollow of his arm, and with solemn and mournful intonation exclaimed: "God save us all!'

'Amen!' fervently ejaculated Frederick, and he embraced his wife for what each felt might be the last time.

The advance had hardly entered the defile, when, crack! whiz! from right and left, the juzails or guns of the Giljyes opened upon them. Loudly screamed the camp-followers in front, and loudly arose a prolonged howl of despair from the thousands who in that premature discharge read their doom.

With the advance were several of the officers' ladiesLady Sale, the wife of the gallant governor of Jelalabad being one of the number. They were all well mounted; and perceiving their only chance of escape was to ride at the utmost speed, with admirable nerve and presence of mind they did so, and amid a perfect shower of balls from end to end of the Pass, they galloped through almost entirely unscathed-Lady Sale herself being the only one who was hurt, and her wound was merely a slight one on the wrist.

The mass moved on. Men, women, and children were indiscriminately pierced by balls, and fell; the next moment being trampled over by those immediately behind them, who pushed forward to meet the same fate in their turn a little further on. From the first opening of the fire the slaughter was dreadful; but it was when the main body, with the baggage, and greatest crowds of camp-followers, reached the narrowest part of the Pass, that it attained its height. Here the dead and dying almost choked the passage, the stream being completely dammed with them, and its blood-stained waters consequently overflowing the banks. One lady, an officer's wife, was so unfortunate as not to get forward on horseback with the others. She was on foot with a baby in her arms. Thus burdened, she scrambled over dead bodies and fallen rocks, and across the half-frozen brook, her dress deranged and torn, and hanging over with icicles; the bullets of the Afghans whistling over her, and every moment threatening the destruction of herself and her child. Strange to say, she contrived, amidst these complicated horrors, to gain the further extremity of the Pass, and she at length overtook her companions. Such are, or at least may be, the scenes

into which an officer's wife may be plunged in Indian warfare!

To proceed with the general account. The rear-guard were now fairly in the defile, so as to increase the num

bers under the fire.

'If you love life, rouse yourselves, 44th!' shouted a major, himself shortly numbered with the slain. "Will you be butchered like sheep penned up for slaughter, without once trying to save yourselves?' hoarsely demanded he, but in a voice distinctly heard above the din.

'What can we do?' murmured the poor 44th. 'We're hemmed in, and can hardly pull our triggers!'

'Never say so!' passionately responded the gallant officer. Rouse yourselves! Prove you are Britons!' 'What can we do?' was again the despairing reply. 'Do! Fire at the miscreants who are cooping us up to butcher us all. Look!' and he pointed with his sword to a knot of Giljyes who had taken post on a flat ledge of rock opposite, at an elevation of perhaps fifty yards, and double that distance from the spot where the major was standing, and who were directing an unremitting and most fatal fire upon those in the vicinity. Dislodge the villains yonder!'

'Our pieces won't do it!'

'But they can and shall! Don't tell me your bullets will not pick them off!'

'Oh, oh!' was the simultaneous interruption from two soldiers by his side, both falling mortally wounded by balls from the party he was urging his men to fire at.

There!' cried the exasperated major-'cowards, idiots! will ye let them murder us this way? Fire!'

His appeal was not ineffectual. About a score of the 44th, including some of the best marksmen, raised their pieces as well as their numbed arms and hands would permit, and fired. Bitterly humiliating and soul-daunting was the result. Not one ball took effect. A peal of derision at the futility of the volley was sent forth by the untouched Giljyes; and they now exposed themselves without dread, and deliberately reloaded their juzails to

fire down where they were sure of finding victims. Stung to madness, the major furiously exclaimed: 'Shame, 44th!'

As he spoke, he snatched an undischarged musket from the hand of a soldier near him, and raising it to his own shoulder, drew the trigger. However accurate his aim might have been mattered not: the powder was damp, and hung fire. In despair, the major dashed the useless instrument on the ground, exclaiming: O that I have lived to endure ignominy like this! A British regiment cut up without striking a blow in return! My name coupled with that!'

No, major, neither you nor the 44th shall be so belied,' firmly exclaimed Frederick, who was by this time close at hand, and moving from the camel to the side of the major, he levelled a musket with a deliberate aim, and fired. The piece was heavily charged, but the ball did not swerve; and ere the smoke had ceased issuing from the muzzle, a Giljye was seen to spring in the air, and topple down the steep side of the rock. His companions set up a wild shriek of rage at finding they were not beyond the range of European muskets, and fired back, but from their haste, they merely wounded

one man.

'Well done, my brave fellow! would I had a hundred like thee!' cried the major with grim pleasure; and he shook the sergeant's hand with a firm grasp.

'Here comes my superior,' responded Frederick with generous ardour as Chinga Zung strode up.

'Ha!' said the major, I know him. Oh, for Heaven's sake, Kuzzilbash, do your best. They say you never miss your aim at any distance.'

'Major, I love my life,' was the laconic reply; and the next moment his rifle was levelled at the Giljyes-the long barrel, owing to the stature of the chieftain, being elevated above the heads of the soldiers around. A sheet of flame glanced from one barrel, and before the smoke had cleared away, the report of the other followed, and three Giljyes were seen to tumble on a heap.

'Forty-fourth, take your part!' exclaimed the major, but his voice was unheard in the commingled cries of hundreds of voices from the rearward, shouting: 'On! move on! We shall all be killed! Push on!'

Chinga Zung and Frederick sprang back to the side of the camel, and were just in time to save it from being overthrown and crushed beneath the crowds that, goaded to desperation, pushed on, reckless of disabling others so long as they could get ahead themselves. Repeatedly would the whole of the party have been thrown under foot but for the immense physical strength of Chinga Zung, who at length, however, was obliged to repel the fugitives with the but-end of his rifle, to check the dreadful pressure. At last they were all brought to a stand-still by the wedged masses in front. Useless was it to call out: 'Move on!' when that was impossible. And here the heights were most thickly manned by the Giljyes, who poured a withering fire without a moment's respite. These raging savages seemed only to have one object-to slaughter all in the Pass.

After a pause, the accumulated crowds slowly resumed their progress, nearly every footstep they now took being pressed on the bodies of the slain. On they moved, and Chinga Zung's party were still all unwounded, though scores were perishing on every side. The pervading sentiment of the doomed multitude was now, every man for himself, each striving, by fair means or by foul, to get ahead of his fellows, so as to be soonest out of the Pass.

Suddenly, the invaluable animal bearing Mary Maitland gave a loud snort-a strong shiver of agony shook its frame as it staggered a few paces, and then it sank on its haunches, never more to rise. A ball had gone through the back part of its head. There was not a moment to lose. Frederick assisted his wife from her seat, and Chinga Zung snatched up Willy Ross, and gave him in charge of the Kuzzilbashes. He also slung a package of provisions across his shoulder, and onward were the party borne by those behind-who swelled along, line over line, like the waves of the advancing tide.