ABSTRACT
I shuddered as I looked around. A cart drove over the desecrated graves of ten score of rebels; a few children played in the death-pit of Revolt; and I turned away to follow the tramp, tramp, tramp of Campbell’s invincible troops. Another post to take — a mosque this time, called Shah Nujeef — which shortly fell; then on again, ever closing in upon the le towards the Residency, until at last Havelock and Outram stepped through a hole in the wall of the Pearl Palace enclosure to shake hands with Sir Colin Campbell on the sloping ground forefronting the Mess House, a stone’s throw from the Water Gate — and the siege of Lucknow passes into history.
