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A Fifer in the Radnorshire Militia.


WE walked into the church-yard at Presteign, where, in their unadorned turfy bed,

"The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep:"

Among them lies poor Tom Rogers, a fifer in the Radnorshire militia, who was found dead in the snow last winter, (1798.) I cast a farewell look on his grave, remembered the lively notes of his fife, contrasted with the weather-beaten aspect of the old soldier; and gave him a sigh of regret. The last time I saw poor Tom, he was engaged in a musical competition with the fifers of several other regiments, in which he gained the prize: for, as a fifer, he was unrivalled. May Heaven be the prize he now enjoys,—the reward of his honest fidelity. There was something singular in this man's fate, The poor fellow, after more than fifty years spent in the service, had obtained his discharge, with the benefit of a Chelsea pension: he was journeying towards his native hills, and within sight of the town of Presteign, not half a mile from his home; he perished in the snow! The morning had seen him, blyth as the lark of summer; it was greeted with the melody of his pipe:-the evening closed upon him, a bleak and stiffened corpse.

"In vain for him th' officious wife prepares

"The fire bright blazing, and the vestment warm;

"In vain his little children, peeping out

"Into the mingling storm, demand their sire,

"With tears of artless innocence. Alas!

"Nor wife, nor children more, shall he behold,
"Nor friends nor sacred home. On ev'ry nerve

"The deadly winter seizes; shuts up sense;

"And o'er his inmost vitals creeping cold,

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Lays him along the snows, a stiffen'd corse,

“Stretch'd out, and bleaching in the northern blast."


Poor Tom had once scraped together a few shillings-the œconomy of a soldier! and in order to do so, had nearly starved himself: he fell sick, his life was despaired of;-the surgeon told D―s, the most generous hearted officer in the service," poor Tom Rogers is dying:"—the nurse went further; "he is dead," said she. D-s gave a last glance at the honest fifer, and thought it possible that the thread of life might yet be spliced: he thought that a latent spark might yet exist, and knowing, that if he were dead, the remedy he was about to try, could do no mischief, forced some brandy down his throat. He recovered, and lived to thank his benefactor. "God bless your honour," said he " and I hope if ever I die again, it will be by your honour's side, and that you will not let me be buried without trying another drop of brandy." Three years rolled away; the generous D―s left the regiment, went to reside at Presteign, and was, accidentally, one of the first spectators of the poor man's fate: but life was now completely extinguished, and every effort to recover him was ineffectual. Farewell honest soldier! may the green turf lie lightly on thy head!


Formerly Colonel of the 15th Regiment Light Dragoons.
(FROM MISS SEWard's letters.)

MR. VERNON, Lady Berwick's Brother, was some time at Gibraltar with General Elliot, and obtained the friendship of that illustrious man; Mr. Vernon calling upon me, shewed me a passage in one of the General's letters, to the following purport:

who fought so gallantly

"I am informed that Monsieur against me at Gibraltar, has been overlooked by his thankless nation; is out of health, and poor. Have the goodness to draw upon my banker at Paris, for fifty guineas, and present them to him as from an unknown hand. I am not myself rich, as you know, or my donation had been less scanty."


(Honourable Distinction.)

In the year 1759, the Earl of Sutherland received proposals from Mr. Pitt, to raise a Fencible Regiment on his Estate. The offer was readily accepted, and in nine days after his Lordship's arrival in Sutherland with his letters of service, 1100 men were assembled on the lawn before Dunrobin Castle. The martial appearance of those men when they marched into Perth with the Earl of Sutherland at their head, was never forgotten by those who saw them, and who never failed to express admiration of their fine military air. In this corps there was no light infantry company; upwards of 260 men being above 5 feet 11 inches high: they were formed into two grenadier companies, one on each flank of the battalion. On the peace of 1763, the regiment was marched back to Sutherland, and there reduced, with the honourable distinction in the course of their short service, that in a regiment of 1050 strong, no restrictions had been required, and no man had been punished.


(John O'Brien, Private in the Madras Horse Artillery.)

PREVIOUS to the capture of Djoejocarta, in the Island of Java, Colonel M'Leod offered a reward to any man who would carry an order to Captain Byers, commanding a detachment of Royal Artillery, and who was then a day's march behind. This desperate service was undertaken by John O'Brien, a private in the Madras Horse Artillery, who galloped through the midst of the enemies parties, delivered his message, and returned without injury; for which he was deservingly rewarded by the commander in chief, with public thanks and a gold medal.


Lines occasioned by the death of a Private of the 10th Hussars, who was drowned on the evening of the 21st of November, 1810, while on his patrole from Bexhill to Hastings; his untimely end was much lamented by all who knew him.

THE waters were deep, and the heav'ns were dark,
Not e'en the pale light of a star could you mark;
The wind it blew bleak, and the journey was far,
Yet still on his road went the luckless Hussar.

His heart 'gan to fail, which ne'er fail'd him before,
As he heard the waves dash on the weed-tangl'd shore;
And scarce could he guide on the steps of his horse,
For the tempest was strong, and resistless its force.

He hasten'd his steed, but the waters rose high,
And the storm louder burst thro' the black mantled sky;
He sunk overwhelm'd in the deep wat❜ry grave,

For no one was present to help or to save.

Now see the procession that slowly doth come,
And hark the low roll of the dark muffl'd drum;
I hear the sad notes as they echo from far-
'Tis the funeral march of the hapless Hussar.

Behold on the bier his proud helmet and plume,
And the sabre and pistol he'll never resume,
And his steed slowly follows with black cover'd o'er,
Nor knows that his master will guide him no more.

Faithful steed, thy fond master will never return,
"Tis in vain that your eyes you so wistfully turn;
No more shall he wield the keen weapons of war,
Oh for ever farewell to the luckless Hussar.


Permitted to be borne on the Colours and Appointments of Regiments, in commemoration of their services.


4th Dragoons.

3rd, 7th, 23rd, 28th, 29th, 31st, 34th, 39th, 48th, 57th, and 66th Regiments of Foot.


50th and 71st Regiments of Foot.


With the Badge of the Royal Tiger.

65th Regiment of Foot.


With the Badge of the Elephant.

74th and 78th Regiments of Foot.


4th, 5th, 7th, 23rd, 27th, 43rd, 44th, 45th, 48th, 52nd, 60th, 74th, 77th, 83rd, and 88th Regiments of Foot,

Rifle Brigade.


1st, 2nd, and 3rd Regiments of Foot Guards.
28th, 67th, and 87th Regiments of Foot.
Rifle Brigade.

(To be continued.)

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