yet,' writes Reynell Taylor from Umballa on August 14, 'whether an army will be formed. Certainly little orders have indicated something like an intention of fisticuffs, but it is very doubtful.' A month later he writes again :'There is no apparent likelihood of war;' and once more on September 19:- Everything looks peaceable, but still it strikes me that there is something brewing, as Cooper makes the Indian say, "It is too quiet." The Punjab is in an awful state, and I think there is every chance of the Sikhs being on our side of the river ere long.'

After this there is no further mention of war rumours till October 17, when he returns again to the subject, and writes: The plot has thickened since I last wrote, and it is generally believed that something is going to be done. Sir Henry Hardinge is coming up at the rate of a hunt, and Sir Hugh Gough is to meet him at Meerut on November 10.' But this proved to be only a rumour, and again there is a lull, while the black clouds gather round Lahore and the body-politic of the Sikhs prepares for

war.

'Our expectations of war have faded,' run the letters in the middle of November, and, in fact, some considerable change must have taken place in the views and intentions in high quarters, as the Governor-General, instead of hurrying up, is marching up by Bhurtpore. I never mean to expect war again, and the fact is, with a Native State it is ever uncertain till the first shot is fired.'

And this is the last complete letter for many days. Two scraps there are, written hurriedly, and ending abruptly. They lie before me now as they were written at the time-mere fragments-sent off, no doubt, in the

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endeavour to keep up the regular supply of letters home. The first, dated 'Umballa, December 2,' runs :- Sir H. H. marched in this morning, the whole of the troops being drawn up in a long line to receive him. We, the Body Guard, were in line in the street of his camp. A new king of the country is naturally an object of some interest. He was in plain clothes, and answered the salute with the stump of his arm.' The next, dated 'Governor-General's Camp, December 15,' only three days before the first blow:- Strange times have come upon us since I last wrote or attempted to write. We marched from Umballa on the 6th of the month, and took it easily and quietly till we got to Rajpoorah. Here some intelligence reached Sir H. H. which caused the ordering back of all the ladies in camp, amounting to about five or six. We marched on in fighting order, and soon heard reports that the Sikhs had crossed the river. We also heard that the Umballa force had been ordered on. I must now tell you

the-'

And thus it ends abruptly, and there is no further letter this year; not until Reynell Taylor had fought in his first action, and lay wounded in a village not far from the field of Moodkee.

The Umballa force had started for the frontier on December II, and a few days later came up with the Body Guard. Then all pushed on, still by forced marches, and Moodkee was at length reached on the afternoon of December 18.

The rapidity of this movement was necessarily most trying to the troops, but Ferozepore was threatened, and no time was to be lost. In speaking of it, the Commander

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in-Chief, Sir Hugh Gough, says that the force 'moved over a distance of 150 miles in six days, along roads of heavy sand, perpetual labour allowing the men scarcely time to cook their food, even when they received it, and hardly an hour for repose before they were called on for renewed exertions.' Water had been scarce throughout the march, and when the army reached Moodkee the troops were well-nigh exhausted. Hardly, however, had they taken up their camping ground, when the news arrived that the Sikhs were advancing in considerable force. The army was at once got under arms, and, while the infantry brigades were forming up, the cavalry and horse artillery were thrown forward to cover the front. The country was 'a dead flat, covered at short intervals with low, but, in some places, thick jhow jungle, and dotted with sandy hillocks.' Availing themselves of the cover thus afforded them, the enemy took up a position and opened a severe fire upon our advancing ranks. A small portion of the cavalry were at once directed to threaten the enemy's right, while the remainder, consisting of the 3rd Light Dragoons, the Body Guard, the 5th Light Cavalry, and a part of the 4th Lancers, were launched against the left.

Taking ground to the right in column of troops, the cavalry on the right wheeled into line as best they could in the thick bush, and dashing forward were quickly among the enemy,' sweeping along the whole rear of their infantry and guns, and putting to flight the vastly superior force of horse by which they were opposed.' The cavalry charges over, the infantry went in with the bayonet. The enemy, though in far greater numbers, were driven back and utterly routed, and long after darkness closed in the fight was

continued in the thick bush and the blinding dust of the sandy plain.

The first fight with the Sikhs was over and victory remained with us, but our success had been purchased with the loss of many valuable lives, and among the killed was one we could ill spare-Sir Robert Sale. Our losses amounted all told to 215 killed and 657 wounded, and among the latter was Reynell Taylor, who had borne himself gallantly in the thickest of the fray, and come out of it with wounds in three different parts of his body.

It was not until a fortnight after the fight that Reynell Taylor was able to give an account of his doings, and his first letter, dated 'Governor-General's Camp, Ferozepore, January 1, 1846,' ran as follows:

'My dear Pater,-I hope you have had a merry Christmas, merrier than ours, which has been rather too bloody to be pleasant. I made many attempts to write to you before the skrimmages, but we had such a race to the frontier that we ate our meals at one stage and took our water (beer when we could get hold of it) at another. My shoulder is very painful and I shall not be able to write much, so must tell you the heads of the things in as few words as possible. The Sikhs attacked us at a place called Moodkee on the evening of the 18th, and when we had just ended a march of twenty miles. They got preciously licked for their pains and lost nearly all the guns they had brought into the field. They took up a good position in some low brush jungle for their artillery, and the cannonade they opened upon us was tremendous. Soon after the commencement of the action the dragoons and ourselves were ordered to attack the enemy's left, which rested on some

much higher and thicker thorn jungle, and consisted of a large body of horse and matchlock footmen.

'We accordingly took ground to the right, open column of troops, right shoulders forward. Conceive a brigade or column of troops galloping through a thick thorn jungle enveloped in clouds of dust so dense that the standard of my squadron was the only landmark I could recognise, approaching nearer and nearer to the thundering batteries of the enemy and the yelling crowd protecting them.

'Above all the din I heard the word passed to wheel into line; it was merely a left turn for each individual; and on we rushed at the same pace. Loud shouts of friend and foe arose on our right as our gallant dragoons dashed in, clearing all before them, and in another second we were in a mass of bloody-minded Sikh horse and foot, but chiefly the former. I need not give you the details of such work. I believe the men we were opposed to were, or thought themselves to be, cut off from escape by the dragoons, and they fought most furiously. I was personally engaged with five men at different times, and after a tussle of some seven or eight minutes, in which our adversaries were all cut down, shot, or driven off, I found myself wounded in three different places, my reins cut, and my horse "Pickle" very severely wounded by a sabre. On trying to pick up the pieces of the regiment the result was: Dawkins down, shot through the thigh; Bouverie's two thousand rupee horse shot under him; Fisher and Stanners missing—the former, poor fellow, killed, and the latter carried away in the confusion with the dragoons; Harrington, the Brigade Major, wounded. This left Colonel Gough, our Brigadier,