about the same time in Bundelkhand and elsewhere, caused him any serious apprehension. Amongst minds of a certain order there always is the conviction that, however disturbed the surface may be, matters, if only one remains quiet, will settle down of their own accord. That feeling strongly prevailed at Agra during the early months of 1857.
The news of the mutiny at Mírath, on the night of the 10th of May, followed by that of the easy occupation of Dehlí, came to give the first shock to those notions. Never had men received a greater surprise. Nor was the surprise unmingled with apprehension. Dehlí is but 115 miles from Agra, and the first impression, based on information actually received, was to the effect that the rebels, after sacking Dehlí, would march on Agra. Under the influence of this impression, it was resolved, at a meeting of the notables of the station summoned by Mr Colvin, to secure the fortress by a detachment of the 3d Europeans, to raise volunteers, horse and foot, and to hold a brigade parade the following morning, when the Lieutenant-Governor would address the troops.
The parade was held on the morning of the 14th, and Mr Colvin did address the troops, English and natives. He told the former not to distrust their native comrades, but added: 'The rascals have killed a clergyman's daughter, and if you meet them in the field you will not forget this.' His address to the sipáhís might have been spoken by any of Lord Canning's councillors. It breathed the same tone; it expressed the confidence which was not felt. He told them that he trusted them. The demeanour of the sipáhís was eminently suggestive. 'Prompted by their officers to cheer,' wrote Judge Raikes, who was present, 'the sipáhís set up a yell; they looked, however with a devilish scowl at us all.'
