confidence in the terrors of a night surprise, and
little fear as to the result.

It might have been about half-past ten, and,
with the exception of the sounds of which I
have spoken, quiet reigned around the fires.
My pipe had dropped from my lips, and I
was lapsing into slumber, when a loud shout
from the wood—the well-known "Eljen!" of
the Hungarians—started every one of us to
his feet in an instant. A rush was made to the
horses, but long before one-half of the force
were in their saddles, the Philistines were upon
us.

From three parts of the wood at once a
column of dark forms, dimly seen by the light of
the expiring watch-fires, broke with shouts and
cries upon the Lichtensteiners nearest to them,
and the work of death began. Though taken
thoroughly by surprise, and mostly roused from
sleep, the conduct of officers and men, I may be
excused for saying, could not have been
surpassed. Those who had not yet mounted fell
rapidly into formation, and opposed a front to
the assailants, which the desperate rush of the
latter found it impossible to break; while
gathering quickly together the portion of the
force which had gained the saddle, we swept
down upon the enemy, charging through their
uneven line again and again as if it had been so
much pasteboard. A quarter of an hour decided
the struggle. The daring valour of the ill-armed
peasants was no match for the disciplined
intelligence of the perfectly-accoutred
Lichtensteiners, and the assailants withdrew into the
wood, leaving fully half their number upon the
field, with the pursuing cavalry adding every
moment to the roll of the slain.

As it would have been rash to follow up the
pursuit without some further knowledge of the
enemy we were encountering, I gave orders to
sound the recal. The required information was
soon gained from a wounded Hungarian, of
whom we learnt that our assailants were the
Szentes men, who, having become aware of our
vicinity—though from what source our informant
could not, or would not, say—had entertained
the same opinion as I had done of the
efficacy of a night surprise, and had hoped to
drive us into the Theiss.

As there was now no reason for delaying
the assault of the town, and we might hope
for easy victory after the advantage we had
gained, I ordered instant advance. During the
march I ascertained that our loss had been
severe. Upwards of eighty of the Lichtensteiners
were hors de combat, and, although the Hungarian
dead could be counted by hundreds, the
latter fact in no degree lessened our exasperation.
What seemed most unaccountable was
the completeness of the surprise. The Hungarian
"Eljen!" had been the first notification of an
enemy's approach. Neither of the outposts
stationed in the wood—one indeed almost within
gun-shot of the town—had given the least sign
of alarm. Unless treachery had been at work,
how was this to be explained? The reason for
the silence of the two sentinels nearest to the
Theiss was cleared up as we reached the spots
where the poor fellows had been posted. Both
had fallen, having probably been taken unawares
by peasants gliding through the brushwood.
This I afterwards ascertained to have been the
case. Here, at any rate, were two of the men,
both slain at their posts; but where was the
third? His horse was found tied to a tree; his
pistols, undischarged, were in the holsters; but
the sentinel himself was not to be found. One
inference only could be drawn. He must have
deserted, and it was to the information given by
him that we were indebted for the Hungarian
attack.

Further inquiry, as rapidly pursued as the
circumstances would admit, brought out the
suspicious fact that the missing sentinel was
one of the men upon whom I had given orders
to keep a watchful eye. He was a Hungarian,
named Michael Szelády, a smart soldier, and,
saving his nationality, a man with whom no
possible fault could be found. He had been three
years in the regiment, and was never suspected
of political leanings towards his countrymen.
Except upon this ground, however, no reason
could be assigned for his desertion. Time would
not allow of investigating the cause for infringing
my orders, that no important charge was to
be intrusted to this man, for by the time I fully
ascertained these facts, we were already emerging
from the wood and sighted the town.

Half the men were ordered to dismount and
advance at once to the attack, while a squadron
was sent round to assault the other side of the
town. The loss which the insurgents had
sustained upon the bank of the Theiss had,
however, been so severe that little resistance was
offered. A feeble barricade of carts, and similar
materials had been thrown up in the main street,
but it was easily surmounted by the active
assailants, who swarmed over it like cats, and
sabred the defenders where they stood. The
few who did oppose our entrance fought well
enough, but their number was small, and when
our comrades charged upon their rear a hasty
flight dispersed even this scanty band. The
Lichtensteiners were so irritated at the disturbance
of their bivouac that they gave little
quarter. The officers had difficulty in dissuading
them from firing the town: but not even
the most positive orders could prevent their
pillaging the houses, and destroying every
valuable too unwieldly to be carried away. I must
confess that I took little pains to enforce strict
discipline, for the loss of so large a number of
my men had aroused in me also some spirit of
revenge.

An hour perhaps had passed in plundering
the town when I gave orders to sound the
assembly in the market-place. The men came
straggling in, a few bringing prisoners, from
whom it was thought important information
might be gained, but all with as much booty as
they could manage to collect. While the roll
was being called, lights were placed in the
windows of the houses looking upon the square,
and lanterns attached to poles were hung up at