"Yes, you young rascal, you rejected me point-blank. Get out of my sight."

66

'No, aunt, here is a magnet which irresistibly attracts me. Then Lucy, my Lucy, is your adopted daughter?"

"Your Lucy! you are mad, my boy. You rejected her five years ago." "Oh, why do you remind me of it? Who could imagine that the Lucy of the Welsh mountains and the Cheltenham orphan were one and the same person? If I answered then impertinently and negatively, was it not through my excessive love for her? You should not reproach, but rather praise me for it."

"And reward you in the bargain with this angel's hand? that's what you mean, you young rascal ?"

"I dare to hope it, dearest aunt," I replied, in the most caressing tone I could assume. "Oh, surely, when you answered my advertisement it was with the purpose of bringing us together."

66

Well, you cannot be so mad as to fancy I did so on my own account." "But, my dear aunt, it was a dangerous experiment. What a fearful trial you exposed me to; only think of thirty thousand pounds! If I could have blinded myself and taken your richly gilded hand ?”

"Then you would have had neither myself nor Lucy, but a very serious lecture, which would have put an end to all your wishes of getting a wife in that way."

"You see, then, that I am not so bad as you fancied."

"I do not think so, or else we should, most assuredly, not have come. Thank your friend Watson, in Cheltenham, who has long been your most zealous advocate. Through him I know that you have been guilty of levity, but never of deliberate crime, and that you had made up your mind to settle down and be respectable. Through him, too, I learned your precious matrimonial project."

"Oh! how glad I am at the mistake in the letters, which at first caused me so much shame and annoyance."

Certainly; it was the happiest mistake you ever made in your life. By your friend's persuasion this plan was formed and carried out." "But, dearest Lucy"-and I turned affectionately towards her-“ did you know that you would meet your chance friend of Wales here?" "Yes, I knew it," she said, in charming confusion, and blushing to the very roots of her hair.

"But how was that possible? I do not remember telling you my name." "Your friend helped you here too," my aunt explained. "He told us of your adventure, without the least idea that Lucy was so intimately connected with it. As she displayed the greatest emotion during the story, I inquired further, and she revealed to me that she must be the young lady who left such a deep impression on your heart."

"Then you must know, too," I said, fervently, "that I was rendered most wretched by losing her; that I never forgot her, have ever loved her-yes, loved her to this hour. Lucy, dare I hope the same from you?"

I needed not to wait for an answer. Her beaming eye, her face suffused with blushes, said more than a thousand words would have done. What she might have replied was lost in the first kiss which I ventured to imprint on her pouting lips.

energy,

HEROIC INCIDENTS OF THE WAR.

TRAITS of heroism, acts of personal prowess, feats of daring, instances of unflinching resolve and of the most exemplary fortitude and endurance under trying circumstances of climate and exposure, as well as of actual combat, impart peculiar lustre to the campaign in the Crimea. If Great Britain and France ever sent forth their sons to combat a giant-if a small body of men were ever armed to assail a formidable foe-it was on this occasion; and although almost decimated by disease, and dispirited by privations and sufferings, it seemed as if every man felt the weight of responsibility bear upon his own shoulders, and was prepared to win a victory or carry out a campaign upon his own personal account. It had been imagined that a long peace would have assuaged the martial spirit -that the progress of civilisation, carrying with it habits of luxury and indulgence, would have enervated the present generation-it had even been averred that cultivation of the mind was inconsistent with warexperience has shown the fallacy of all these fancies, and as it was always known that in the officer the higher the morale and the intellect, the greater the efficiency, so it has now been shown, by the unexampled extent of the published correspondence of the men themselves, that the advanced position in which they stand over those who fought on the glorious plains of Crecy and Azincourt, or even at Salamanca and Vitoria, has not abated in one iota that cool, calm, determined, unfaltering, iron which has ever marked the Anglo-Saxon race in war as in peace. We do not hesitate to say that the classic stores of once accomplished Greece, and the still more prolific chronicles of once indomitable Rome, do not furnish a greater mass of heroic instances concentrated within so brief a space of time as have illustrated the campaign in the Crimea. The mock sensibility which affects to repudiate all that is hurtful to man's precious body, while it would nurse his intellect in the darkness of the factory, and sell his soul to Mammon-which despises all that is manly and heroic-has met in these very facts a just reproof. The real importance which can be attached to the wordy lucubrations of these maudlin sentimentalists has now been distinctly tested. Great Britain and France are fighting hand in hand for the protection of a fallen race, and the preservation of the liberties of the world; perverse must be the mind, and cold the heart, which cannot sympathise with them! In doing this they are engaged against overwhelming numbers and strong positions, an unscrupulous, proud, bloodthirsty despot, pushing on whole hordes of frantic savages to their destruction, even when wounded and dying; and they have to contend against sickness and climate, with very inadequate resources, yet are there those who would refuse their mite of consolation and sympathy in the shape of practical aid, upon what they call principle! The stern and wrathful expression of the great Archangel, as he hovers over the blood-stained hills and vales and plains of Taurida, must soften down to a pleasant smile by the time it reaches the abodes of these favoured few!

The Hebrews were formerly a very warlike nation. The books that inform us of their wars are neither flattering authors, nor ignorant, but were authors inspired by the spirit of truth and wisdom. Their warriors

were none of those fabulous heroes, or professed conquerors, whose business it was to ravage cities and provinces, and to reduce foreign nations under their dominion, merely for the sake of governing them, or for purchasing a name. They were, we have it upon the highest authority, wise and valiant generals, "raised up by God to fight the battles of the Lord." If ever nations could claim to be fighting the battles of the Lord, it would be when with no objects of aggrandisement they seek to repel the ambition of an unprincipled and fanatic ruler, and at every sacrifice to attempt the regeneration of countries endeared to us by the most ancient traditions, and to uphold the liberties of the whole human race. The high priest might go forth as of old, and say, "Hear, O Israel, and be not in fear of your enemies; for the Lord your God fights for you;" and every man must feel that he reaps in such a conflict a full harvest of that glory which raises nations to the pinnacle of true greatness, and to the individual makes even death sweet. "Remember one thing," said Brigadier Strangways, when slain on the field, "I die the death of a soldier." There is not a more noble saying to be met with in the records of antiquity. I die doing my duty.

When the light division got out of the river Alma, they found themselves at once under a heavy fire of guns and musketry. According to one account, they did not form because they were all so eager to get at the Russians; according to another, they were obliged to advance pell-mell against the batteries. There is truth in both statements. Officers and men fell like stricken lions before the shower of projectiles which poured down upon them. Three different officers had to take charge of the colours of the 7th Fusiliers. Each was killed in succession. On this, as on every occasion, they furnished an admirable target for the Russian riflemen without being of any service to the regiment. The British soldier does not now-a-days look to his colours to move forwards: it is sufficient that he sees the enemy. Captain Pearson, aide-de-camp to Sir G. Brown, took them from the last poor fellow who had borne them, and restored them to the gallant Colonel Yea, but literally torn to pieces with

shot.

The Hon. Captain Monck, of the same regiment, had run one man through with his sword, and had struck down another (who was in the act of firing at him) with a blow of his clenched fist, when he was shot dead by the rear-rank man. Another account made the gallant captain perform these feats after he had received his death-wound. A private of the same regiment rushed to the front and bayoneted in quick succession two men of the foremost column of the enemy.

A deed of daring was enacted on the same field, which, as it has already been made the common property of the poet and the artist, need not be dwelt upon here. An Englishman had just planted a camp flag under the fire of the enemy, in order to mark out the position to be taken by a division which was advancing. A Russian left his ranks, ran up to the Englishman, killed him, and took the flag. Another English noncommissioned officer, observing the movement of the Russian, ran in pursuit of him, and shot him with his revolver, recovered the flag, and ran as fast as he could back to his ranks, on reaching which he dropped down dead, having received no less than seven balls in his body before he fell. Jan.-VOL. CIII. NO. CCCCIX.

H

Among the many daring exploits of the intrepid men by whose energy and unshaken courage the allied arms were carried to the heights of the Alma, not one can be said to surpass the conduct of Lieutenants Lindsey and Thistlethwaite, of the Scots Fusilier Guards, the Queen's colour being carried by the former, and the regimental colour by the latter gentleman. At the moment before the heights were gained, and when the deadly struggle raged so fiercely as to make it almost impossible to tell friend from foe, the two lieutenants became separated from their battalion, and found themselves, with the four sergeants whose duty it was to support them, attacked by a body of Russians, whose commanding officer had led them against the colours. A desperate conflict ensued; the four sergeants quickly fell under a shower of balls. The Queen's colour, carried by Mr. Lindsey, was torn into stripes, being pierced by a shower of bullets. The staff was shot in two; still the gallant officers persevered, and succeeded in cutting their way through the enemy who surrounded them. They were ably assisted, and at the right moment, by Captain Drummond, the adjutant of the regiment, whose horse was at that moment shot under him. Lindsey, seeing the danger to which he was exposed, rushed to his relief, and with a revolver pistol shot three of the assailants. This is one of many instances which we shall have to relate of the value of the revolver as a weapon of offence or defence. It ought—no matter at what cost-to be in the hands of every commissioned and non-commissioned officer in the infantry, and of every private in the cavalry, except in such regiments as may be provided with the new rifled carbines. The gallant standard-bearers ultimately escaped without a wound, and succeeded in planting their colours on the heights, which had been then but just won from the Russians, Lindsey having actually climbed the steep face of the hill with the aid of his broken staff, while he exultingly waved what remained of it with her Majesty's colours over his head.

The 95th, with whom Alma was a maiden fight, had their colours so riddled through as to render the word Derbyshire almost illegible. It was thus made to give way for a more glorious name.

Lieut.-Colonel Chester, of the 23rd Royal Welsh Fusiliers, youngest and last surviving child of the late Major-General Harry Chester, having had his horse shot under him at the passage of the river Alma, he seized the colours of the regiment, and advancing at their head, was killed by a round-shot just as the Russians were giving way.

No ensign, eagle, standard, or colour of any kind was displayed by the enemy or found on the field. Our regiments marched with their colours as a matter of course, and they thus became the especial target for the enemy's riflemen. Thus it was that so many lieutenants, ensigns, and sergeants fell. The 33rd Regiment lost no less than twenty sergeants, killed and wounded, nearly all of them round the colours. The Queen's colour was struck in fourteen, the regimental colour in eleven places. Military routine, it is well known, is most obstinately opposed to innovation, but with the introduction of new arms, certain observances consecrated by tradition and usage may well be dispensed with. We live in good times, when the honest criticisms of the press do not fall entirely unheeded. By them much good has been already accomplished, and we

hope, among other points to which our attention will be called by the force of circumstances, that as we read of the effect of the Minié in modern warfare, so we shall hear less of the cocked-hat and gay plumes of staff-officers, especially signalling them out for destruction, the goldbraided regimentals of the officers also so inviting to conical balls, waving colours bringing down whole broadsides of artillery, and the gay accoutrements of a wounded cavalry soldier ensuring his death at the hands of a rapacious and barbarous Cossack.

Generals vied in chivalry with officers and soldiers. When the river was passed, and Sir George Brown saw that his men were falling fast around him, he cried out, "Deploy into line and charge with the bayonet; I will lead you myself." Gallantly spoken and more gallantly done by a man of sixty-six. When he was unhorsed by the enemy's guns, the brave old general hastened to get up and assure the troops that it was all right with him, whilst he cheered them on to the assault. There was positive rivalry between the Guards and the Highlanders as to who should be first in the enemy's stronghold. "We'll hae none but Highland bonnets here," shouted the impetuous Campbell; but before they could reach the grim redoubt the Guards were already there. One of their officers had persevered in the unanimous chorus of "Forward, Guards!" till he got a ball in his mouth. So great was the excitement, that one soldier writes that he was tired with carrying his load on his back before he got into the fight, but once engaged he did not feel it at all, and actually stole a furtive glance over his shoulder to see if it was there!

One unfortunate gun which remained in the chief redoubt, the scene of so much honourable rivalry, became an object of animated discussion. That the light division had it first there can be little doubt. An officer of the 33rd is said to have actually inscribed his name on the trophy. A corporal of the 7th Fusiliers also writes-" A corporal of ours took a gun from six of the Russians, and our names are put on it." It appears that the light division were not able to hold their position. An exception may be taken in favour of a corporal of the 23rd, who is said to have remained alone in the enemy's battery, and to have bayoneted three men before assistance came to him. This man, who formed the link between the light division and the Guards and Highlanders at Alma, was promoted on the spot. We shall yet hope to see this gun, so often taken and retaken, in the Park, before the Horse Guards.

Among those who gallantly distinguished themselves in the same battle was Mr. C. P. Lane Fox, nephew of the Duke of Leeds, and late a lieutenant in the Grenadier Guards, from which regiment he retired some months since; but repairing to the East, he got an appointment as aidede-camp to Brigadier Beatson, with the Bashi-Bazuks, under the title of Yusuf Bey. Upon the disbandment of these irreclaimable savages, he landed with the brigade of Guards in the Crimea, and appeared upon the battle-field in a shooting-jacket; catching the first stray horse in his path, he was indefatigable in getting up ammunition, and was complimented for his conduct by his Royal Highness the Duke of Cambridge on the field. At the close of the action he was shot through the ankle,