"Remember, my lad," said he, "when you get your pay, don't scatter it about as if it would never come to an end. There's nothing you so soon see the last of. When you find one of your new comrades particularly civil, find out what sort of a man he really is before you treat him or lend him cash. If a non-commissioned officer is very polite and slackens the reins of discipline to favour you, stand clear of him. He'll pluck you clean and then eat you up. Keep out of temptation, and show that you are going to be a sober, steady man, by consorting only with those who are sober and steady. Never lose your temper, even when wronged by a superior. Be smart in learning the drills and all your other duties. It is better to be thought well of by your officers and by a few good men, than by all the wild chaps in the regiment. And remember, Jack, my boy, what an old soldier says, that while you do your duty to your Queen and your country, you do not forget your duty to your God. A man may be a good soldier and a good Christian at the same time. He'll be all the better soldier by being a good Christian. To know how to be that, read your Bible, lad, say your prayers, and attend the house of prayer whenever you can."

I wish that I had always followed my old friend's advice. I did often remember it, and gained much advantage from having done so.

I was down by six o'clock; and in the common room I met a number of young men just enlisted, like myself. There was plenty of talking— questions asked and answered: "What regiment are you for?"

"Where do you come from?"

"Why did you enlist?"

"Do you think you'll pass the doctor?"

This talk was interrupted by the sergeant exclaiming, "Now then, you youngsters, look out, and get ready for the doctor's inspection."

"We haven't had any breakfast; we want breakfast," cried several voices.

On this the sergeant ordered in breakfast for us, in the shape of a half-quartern loaf and two ounces of butter for every four recruits. That over, we were marched to the bath-rooms.

"Now then, young 'uns, strip; get into that bath; scrub and clean yourselves," cried the sergeant; "for it's time that you were at the inspection-room."

Having done as we were ordered, we marched off to the inspection-room, where we waited till the doctor arrived, who was to say whether or not we had bodily health and strength to serve Her Majesty. We had been waiting, not a little anxious, when the sergeant cried out—

"Recruit Armstrong, pass at once into the inspection-room."

On hearing my name, I ran into the room. The doctor looked at me for a moment, and then said—

"Stand on one leg." I did so. "Now on the other. Bend over until you touch the ground."

I had seen the recruits at the barracks do that, and had tried it often; so did it with ease.

"Rise again," said the doctor. "Hop on your right leg. Now on your left. Put out your arms at right angles to your body. Cough. Can you see well? Read those dots."

"Four, sir," said I.

"How many are there now?"

"Two."

"Pull that machine. Blow that machine. That will do; you can go," said the doctor. "Sergeant-major, send in the next one."

There were thirteen of us sent in one after the other; but only two, Dick Marshall, a Suffolk lad, and myself, were passed,—the rest having some defect which made them unfit for soldiers.

On our return, the sergeant asked Marshall and me if we would mind being transferred to the 90th regiment, stationed at Manchester.

We answered, "Not in the least."

On that we handed back our shillings to the sergeant of the 44th regiment; the recruiting-sergeant of the 90th Light Infantry putting fresh shillings in our hands, and thus enlisting us in his regiment. We were then taken to a magistrate, and sworn in to serve Her Majesty for a period of ten years, if at home; or if on foreign service, not to exceed twelve.

We finished our day with a dinner, of which I may say that I have eaten many a better; and we then took a stroll about Westminster, and had a look at the fine old abbey and the Houses of Parliament, where the laws are made. I may just remark that a soldier, if he keeps his eyes open, and himself out of the beer-shop, may, wherever he goes, see a number of places and things worth seeing, which will give him something to think about and talk about to the end of his life.

The next day, after breakfast, we were marched off to "pass the colonel;" that is, that he might see us, and say whether he would have us. He arrived at noon.

"Now, my boy, get under that standard," said he to me.

I did so, and found that I measured five feet six and three-quarter inches.

"Is he all right, doctor?" he asked. "Perfectly so, sir," was the answer. "That will do, my boy; you can go." The trial I thought so much about was over. Marshall and I had now a few shillings handed over to us, and were fast bound for our agreed-on term of servitude, unless at any time we might be able to buy ourselves out of the army. For the next three days we had nothing to do but eat our meals and walk about till five o'clock, when we had to appear at the rendezvous; that is, the house where the recruiting-officer had his head-quarters.

On a dark morning—the 5th of November—we were roused up at half-past four, and, after parade, were marched off to the railway-station to proceed to Manchester, the barracks at which place we reached at ten at night. We were at once sent to a room full of beds, ranged along the two walls. All were occupied except two, which were turned up. These were soon made ready, and Marshall and I crept into them. We did not speak to any of the men, and no one took any notice of us. Though we were both well tired, what with the strangeness of the place, and the sentinel every half-hour calling out the number of his post and "All's well," neither of us could sleep till near morning, when the bugle's sound quickly made us start to our feet. In about five minutes the bedding of each bed was neatly folded up, and the iron bedstead turned up over it, with a pair of trowsers, folded into three parts, placed on each, and a forage-cap and stock above. A line was then stretched along the room to see if all the beds were made up of the exact size. This done, the orderly-sergeant came into the room to see that everything was correctly arranged; and if any bed was not done up properly, it was immediately pulled to pieces, to be done up by the owner afresh. All the men not on duty, except the recruits, turned out for half an hour's drill in undress uniform. The orderly-sergeant having taken down Marshall's name and mine in his memorandum-book, went out to drill his company. They were dismissed at half-past seven, but the recruits were kept a quarter of an hour longer, when the breakfast bugle sounded. The room orderly, I should say, is a man told off to keep the room in order, to draw all rations for the day for his room, to have meat and vegetables weighed, to see that they are correct in quantity and quality, and to take them to the cook of his company. At the sound of the bugle, the orderly-men ran to the cook-house for their coffee, a pint of which was served out to each man in a white basin, with a pound of somewhat brownish bread. Breakfast over, the orderlies cleared away, while the rest of the men commenced cleaning their appointments for parade, which was to be at eleven o'clock. This was in full uniform and light marching order. The recruits were to appear in plain clothes.

A sergeant came to Marshall and me, and told us to fall in. He then put us through our facings.

"Right dress. Eyes front. Stand at ease," he exclaimed.

From having often stood at ease, when watching the men drilling, without thinking of what I was about, I fell into the proper position.

"To what regiment did you belong, young man, before you joined the 90th?" asked the sergeant, thinking that he had caught a deserter.

"To none," I answered.

"Not so sure of that," said he.

"A man may have learned to drill without being a soldier," I remarked quietly.

He said nothing; but I had better have held my tongue.

After the parade, we fell in and proceeded to the orderly-room, where the colonel again inspected us, and asked the usual questions: "Can you read?"

"Yes."

"Can you write?"

"Yes." And so on.

"That will do, lad," said the colonel. "Sergeant-major, that recruit will be posted to F Company."

The sergeant of that company advanced. "Now, my lad," said he, "come on."

I followed him to the room to which I was posted, where he directed an old soldier to look after me and give me all necessary information. My instructor's name was Higgins. He was a good-natured man, and had seen much service, on the strength of which he indulged in the pleasure of grumbling and finding fault with things in general, rather than with people in particular. After he had showed me the bed which I was to consider my own, and other things, the men came about me, and asked me a number of questions, which I answered frankly; and thus the time passed till one o'clock, when dinner was ready.

The dinner was a very good one, and all the mess things, plates, basins, knives, forks, and spoons, struck me as being very nice and clean. Higgins asked me to sit down; but, as I cast my eye over my rough not over-clean countrified dress, I felt ashamed of myself among so many fine-looking red jackets, forgetting that every man present had once been much in the same state that I then was. All, however, went pleasantly enough till three o'clock, when the recruits fell in for drill, as did the regiment. The drill of the regiment lasted only half an hour, while ours lasted an hour. Our drill-sergeant, Herbert, a jolly good fellow, called us to the position of attention. After we had been drilling for some time, he asked, as the other sergeant had done, if I had before been in the army; and when I told him that I had not, he ordered me to stand at ease. My comrade kept eyeing me whenever he could, wondering what was going to happen. I now learned what I have since found always to be the case, that every scrap of knowledge which a man can pick up is likely to come into use some day or other. The drilling I had got on W— Common for my amusement now did me good service. It, in the first place, gained me Sergeant Herbert's favour, and, making me feel superior to the other recruits, gave me self-respect, which helped me much to keep steady. On being dismissed drill, I went to my room, where Higgins began to teach me the "bugle sounds," and another old soldier "the manual drill," and other things; so that I soon found out that, whatever I might think of myself, I had plenty yet to learn.

At half-past four we went to tea, each man getting a pint of tea and a quarter of a pound of white bread. After that meal, some in dress and others in undress uniform, went into town; others remained in barracks, playing drafts and other games, until "tattoo," at half-past eight, when the first post sounded, and all men about the town, on hearing it, immediately returned to barracks, or should have done so. In the meantime the orderly-sergeants called the rolls of the respective rooms, noted all the men absent, and gave lists of them to the regimental orderly-sergeant. He again called the roll, and reported all still absent to the officer of the day, who reported them to the adjutant [Note 1]. On receiving the report, the adjutant sent the pickets [Note 2] out to bring them in, when those out without leave were confined to barracks, or received some other punishment the following day. This done, the staff and non-commissioned officers [Note 3] are dismissed to their rooms.

Such was my first day in barracks, and such were many days of my life afterwards. Such indeed is a soldier's ordinary day. On the Sunday there is a parade instead of drills, and the men are marched to their respective churches; those of the Church of England to theirs, the Presbyterians to theirs, the Roman Catholics to theirs. On the last day of the month, the regiment falls in for parade generally, in England, in great coats, when every man borne on its strength must answer to his name, or be accounted for as "on duty", "on furlough", "in imprisonment", "deserted", "deceased", "in hospital." Regiments are also marched out of barracks into the country with bands playing and colours flying, and there are reviews and sham fights occasionally. Soldiers, too, are placed as sentries before officers' quarters and other places, and they have many other duties to perform even in the piping times of peace. I shall soon have to show the life they lead in war-time. Theirs is not an idle life, but still they have plenty of time for amusement, and what is more, for improving themselves if they will but wisely take advantage of it.

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Note 1. The adjutant is chosen from among the lieutenants or captains, for his steadiness and knowledge of military duties. He is the commanding officer's principal assistant. All orders are passed through him, and he has to see that the young officers and non-commissioned officers are perfect in their drill, and many other things.

Note 2. A picket is a body of men told off for these and other duties. A camp is guarded by them. An out-lying picket is placed at some distance from it to give notice of the approach of an enemy.

Note 3. Non-commissioned officers are chosen from among the men for their superior knowledge and steadiness. They are so called because they are appointed by the colonel, and have not received commissions from the Queen. Many, however, for their bravery and high conduct, have received commissions, and have risen to be captains, and even to higher rank. Those thus promoted frequently become adjutants of their regiments.



STORY FOUR, CHAPTER 2.

Men enlist for many reasons, the greater number because they are out of work, and do not know how else they are to live. These are the most contented, because they do not expect much, and find themselves, if they are steady, pretty comfortable, well fed, and well clothed. The worst off are lazy fellows, who join, expecting to have an easy, idle life, with little to do. Besides drilling and learning the use of his weapons and the various movements to be performed to get him into a soldier-like shape, with parades and inspections, and field-days, and reviews, and sham fights, and marching out in the winter, and sentinel, fatigue, and picket duties,—he has his appointments and arms to keep in order, and in his turn, his mess things, room, and other places to clean. And often he has heavy work; roads to make, fortifications of various sorts to throw up, and other similar tasks required by an army in the field; still, after all, there is no work harder than most of the men would have had to go through if they had remained at home.

About the end of February, the regiment was ordered to proceed to Ireland. A special train took us to the large town of Liverpool, from which ships sail to all parts of the world. Getting out of the train, we formed, and marched down to the quay by the river Mersey, where a large steamer was waiting for us. We went on board, and she soon began to paddle down the river on her way to Dublin. It was the first time I had ever been at sea with water around on every side, as far as the eye could reach. We soon however caught sight of the Irish coast, and very pretty I thought the bay of Dublin as we steamed into it. I now began to find out one of the advantages of a soldier's life; that is, visiting new places. I did not then think how many strange places I should see during my time of service. Going on shore, we formed, and marched to a railway-station, when the train carried us westward to Cork. Here the regiment was stationed. Some of the companies, and mine among them, remained at head-quarters, and others were sent out on detachment duty at various places. Soldiers on detachment often meet with adventures of various sorts, especially in Ireland. They are stationed at different small towns and villages, where the inhabitants, especially the fair sex, are apt to make a great deal of them, from not being so accustomed to see red coats as are those in large places. I must hurry over the events at this period, that I may have space to give accounts of those of more stirring times.

I had made up my mind on joining, to be a steady man, and I was glad to remain at head-quarters, because I knew that there my conduct would be observed by my superior officers. There were temptations enough to act differently, but I knew that a few glasses of whiskey or any irregularity would in a minute cloud all my prospects. I had, it must be understood, no advantages above the rest of my comrades. I was but myself a country lad, about the youngest in the regiment, but I had heard an officer remark that there was the making of a good soldier in me; and so I gave my mind and heart to the work, and that made me like it.

I have said nothing about Marshall. He was in a different company from mine, and had been on detachment. After some time his company returned to head-quarters. He seemed much changed, and from being a brisk, lively lad, was sad and silent. We were always friends, though he did not take to soldiering as heartily as I did. I asked him what was the matter. He told me at last. He had lost his heart to a farmer's daughter. She was very pretty and young and good. He had met her coming home on a car, with her aunt and a female cousin with three men from a "wake." That is the name given in Ireland, to a burying party. The men, as is generally the case after such meetings, were very drunk. The car broke down. The other women were hurt, and the men could not help them. Marshall arrived at the moment, mended the car, left the drunken men to find their way home as best they could, put the old lady upon it and walked home at its side with Kathleen O'Neil, who had no fancy for again mounting. Kathleen was very grateful, and so was her aunt and cousin, and asked him to come again another day. That of course he did, not only once, but very often. One of the men who had been in the car, Shane McDermot, was, Marshall found, a lover of Kathleen's, but she did not like him. No wonder, for he was a rough, savage-looking fellow. Kathleen at length showed that she liked Marshall, and she warned him to beware of Shane. Dick was a stout-hearted fellow, and said he did not fear him. A man would think twice before he would attempt to shoot a soldier, not but what officers and men too have been shot in Ireland.

Marshall continued his visits as usual, and the oftener he went the more in love he grew with Kathleen, and the more, it was clear, she loved him.

One evening, after the tattoo had sounded, as he was hurrying home, a shot whistled by his ear, and directly afterwards two men set upon him with their shillalahs. One he knocked over with his fist, and drawing his bayonet, put the other to flight. He was pretty certain that the man he knocked over was Shane, but he could not stop to see; indeed he thought that it was wiser to push on to his quarters. When he told Kathleen the next day, she was very unhappy, and said that she should be the cause of his death. Dick told her not to be afraid, and finished by asking her to marry him. She said that she would with great pleasure, and follow him, like a true good wife, round the world. This made Dick perfectly happy. When he came, however, to speak to the captain of his company, he found that as he was one of the youngest men in the regiment, he had no chance of getting leave; and that if he married without leave, his wife would have none of the privileges of a soldier's wife, and that he would be treated as a single man. The last time he saw her she promised that she would marry no one else, and ever remain faithful to him.

My company afterwards went on detachment, and I was stationed at the same place that Marshall had been. He had begged me to go and see Kathleen. When her family knew that I was his friend, they treated me very kindly. I went to the house several times. Shane was there one evening. I was not surprised that she did not like him. There was a scowl on his brow and a glance in his eye, as he turned towards me, which made me think that he was very likely to have a shot at me some dark night, if he could get the chance. I would not accuse any man of wishing to do such a thing, and there are thousands of Irish who would be horrified at the thought of taking the life of a fellow-creature, but such deeds are too common in that country. The reason why this is so I must leave to others who ought to know more about the matter than I do, to say. It must be remembered that Shane had already tried his hand at the work, so that I did not think ill of him without cause. Whenever I had spare time I went to see the O'Neils. When I went away at night, I walked quickly along in the middle of the road, feeling pretty sure that Shane would try to treat me as he did Marshall.

I had, I should say, soon after I came to the place, picked a poor boy out of a pond, when more than half drowned, and carried him home; and as I found the family very poor and wretched, I left some money with them. As I never spent any money in liquor or other folly, I had always a few spare shillings in my pocket. Pat Nolan's mother, as far as words went, seemed very grateful, but I never put much trust in them: and though I had several times gone to see the Nolans, I scarcely thought about what first took me to the cottage.

One day I had been sent by my captain with a letter to a house three miles off. I was kept there some time, and it was nearly dark when, on my way back, I came to a wild, open place, half common and half bog, with nearly a mile of road across it. Just as I got to a small bush near the road, I heard a voice say, "Hist, hist, soldier; turn back and come with me. It's a long way I'll be after taking ye, but it's better than being shot any how."

"Who are you, and where are you?" I asked, seeing no one.

"It's me, Pat Nolan, then," answered the ragged little urchin, creeping from under the bush. "May be he's not far off just now, with that thief of the world, Dan Fegan, and one or two others looking out for ye."

I was half inclined to go on in spite of Pat's warning. "Why should I be afraid of those Irish chaps?" I thought to myself. But little Pat begged so hard that I would not, that I began to think it would be wise to follow his advice.

"Och ahone! ahone! you'll be kilt entirely if you go now!" exclaimed the boy, crying and pulling at me to go in the direction he wanted.

I felt that it would be foolish to run into danger for no purpose, and that at all events I should have only rather a longer walk than I had expected. "Well, Pat, I'll go with you," said I.

The little chap gave a leap with delight. "Arrah! then there's no time to be lost!" he exclaimed, leading the way down a lane which skirted the edge of the bog.

I followed, and had to step out fast to keep up with him.

"Ye'll have to lape over some pools may be, but it's all hard below where I'll lead ye, so don't be afraid now," he whispered, putting his finger to his lips.

I laughed aloud.

"Hist, hist; he'll be after hearing you," he said, in the same tone as before; "but come on now."

He turned and led the way across the bog. I leaped when I saw him leap, and kept directly in his footsteps, and often the ground quaked as I passed, or moved up and down like a raft at sea. As we moved on, the water got up to my ankles; then over them. I thought that Pat had lost his way, but he kept on without stopping or turning to one side or the other. The water got deeper and deeper, indeed there seemed to be nothing but water around; then once more it began to shoal, and at last I found that we were walking on dry ground, but still of a very boggy nature. At last we were in something like a path, with peat-holes on either side. It was quite dark before we reached the heath or dry ground I was looking for. Pat even then, I found, kept away from the road I was to have taken. After going a little way I thought that I saw some figures through the gloom. Pat thought so too, for he pulled at my coat-sleeve, and whispered to me to crouch down. I did so for some time, and then again we pushed on. Pat led the way till we got into a road I knew, leading direct to my quarters. He then told me to hurry on, and before I had time to put my hand in my pockets to give him some money, he was off.

At muster-roll that evening, one of our men, Jackson, did not answer to his name. He had been sent in the direction I had gone. The next morning he did not appear. A party, of which I formed one, was sent out to look for him. Not far from some bushes, with a hole behind them,—a place made for an ambush,—we came upon some blood in the road. We hunted about. There were the marks of men's feet at the edge of the road. After hunting some time, one of our men cried out, "Here he is!"

There, in a hole, half covered with water, lay our comrade. At first it was thought that he might have fallen in, but two dark marks by the side of his head showed where a brace of slugs had entered it. I felt sure that they had been intended for me. It seemed as if I had wronged him. Poor fellow! we bore him sadly homeward. I judged it right to tell my captain what I knew of the matter, and a warrant was issued for the apprehension of Shane McDermot. Parties were sent out to search for him, but he was not to be found. There were plenty among the country people to help him. The only thing some of them seemed to think that he had done wrong was, that he had shot the wrong man. Kathleen was thankful that I had escaped, but glad to be rid of Shane. It was not likely that he would venture back to the neighbourhood while we were there.

After some time, my company was ordered back to head-quarters, to be relieved by another. Kathleen bade me tell Marshall that she remained faithful to him, and loving as ever.

I gave the message to Marshall. It raised his spirits, and yet he could scarcely believe that so pretty a girl, and one in some respects so superior to himself, should care for a poor soldier. However I told him that it was a good reason why he should attend to his duties more strictly, and try to obtain promotion to be able to support her. The wife of even a non-commissioned officer has a hard time of it; of a man, still worse; but worst off of all is the wife of one who marries without leave.

On getting back, I found a notice posted that all men wishing to go on "furlough" must send in their names to the captains of companies at once. I sent in mine, as I had saved enough pay for my expenses, and through the kindness of the sergeant-major and adjutant obtained a furlough for six weeks, to proceed from Cork to B— in the county of E—, and took my passage in the steamer to London. We had a fine view of the coast from the Land's End in Cornwall, to the North Foreland in Kent.

Landing in London, I went to an inn, breakfasted, cleaned myself so as to look as smart as I could, and set off home. How different I felt now to what I did leaving home a year ago. I opened the door and looked in. They were all at dinner. What cries of delight and shrieks and laughter there were, though my sisters vowed they scarcely knew me, I had grown so stout and manly. I was made heartily welcome, and had a very happy time of it. I went to see my old friends at the barracks; I was welcomed by them too, but many had been sent off to India.

I must be moving on though with my story. After spending a happy five weeks at home, I returned to Cork at the proper time. I was rather vexed to find the morning after, that all men returned off furlough were to fall in for recruit drill. However, as I was the youngest of any of them, I had no reason to complain. I thought, "I'll just show that I don't require it;" so I pulled myself together, and was dismissed recruit drill next day.

Soon after this I gained what it had been my hope from the first to get—that is, promotion,—and was made lance-corporal. I wished that Marshall could have got the same, for Kathleen's sake, but he was not so fortunate. The difference was this,—I had a taste for soldiering, born with me perhaps: he had not.

I was soon after sent off on detachment duty to Spike Island, in the Cove of Cork or Queenstown Harbour. Our duty was to guard a prison full of convicts, not the pleasantest in the world, though I well knew that there wasn't a man within those walls who did not richly deserve his lot. I only wish that evil-disposed men knew better than they do what it is to be shut up in a place of the sort; they would take some pains to gain an honest livelihood rather than run the risk of being sent there.

The harbour is a very beautiful one, surrounded almost by high hills, many of them well wooded, and so is the whole way up to Cork. While I was there a new batch of convicts came in; among them I saw a face I felt sure I knew. It was that of Shane Mcdermot. He cast a look of surprise at me, as much as to say, "Why, I thought that I had shot you." I could not exchange words with him; but the more I watched his countenance, the more certain I was that it was him. I concluded that he had committed a crime in another part of the country, and had been convicted, and sent on here. There he was, and there I hoped, for the sake of my friends, he would remain.

I was not sorry when we were ordered back to head-quarters. Soon afterwards the regiment went to Dublin, where we were stationed, scattered about in different barracks, and doing garrison duty for two years or more. During that time I again went on furlough. If I had been proud of appearing at home before, I was prouder still now to return as a non-commissioned officer, and I felt pretty sure that as I had gained one step I should gain another. I was heartily welcomed, but somehow or other that second going home was not equal to the first, three years before. Many changes had taken place among my friends: some had gone away, some were dead, some married. Still I was very happy, but I had an idea that it might be a long time before I should go back to the old place.

On my return to Dublin I had to go on recruit drill for a day, as before, when the sergeant-major gave me and others a hint, which we wisely took, to have our hair cut for the next parade. For another year after this we were kept here on garrison duty, with some pretty hard field-days in the Phoenix Park, and the usual marchings out in winter.



STORY FOUR, CHAPTER 3.

The sort of life we led in Dublin was all very well in its way, but for my part I wished for something more stirring. There seemed now to be a chance of our getting it. The papers began to talk of war with the Russians. They had been ill-treating the Turks. Now the Turks are our friends. I do not know exactly why, for I cannot say much in their favour. In this case the Russians had behaved very ill. During a thick fog, a large fleet of their ships had sailed into a Turkish port, and blown up and burnt a number of Turkish vessels, killing no less than 5,000 Turks on that day. This made the English very angry. It was clear, too, that the Russians intended getting hold of the chief city, Constantinople, and the country of the Turks. Our hopes of war increased when we heard that the English and French fleets had gone up the Black Sea, and then that the Guards and other regiments were to be sent up the Mediterranean to Malta, and then on to a place called Varna, on the shore of the Black Sea, in the country of the Turks, and near Russia. It was said also that the Russians were collecting an army in a part of the country called the Crimea, in the Black Sea, where there is a strong fortress with a town and harbour called Sebastopol. We, of course, every day looked eagerly into the papers to see what regiments were ordered abroad, but the 90th was not among those named. This greatly vexed both officers and men, and some fretted and fumed very much at it. It was the daily talk at the mess-tables of all ranks.

"More regiments ordered for foreign service," exclaimed Marshall; for, strange to say, he was as eager as any one about going. He wanted to be doing something, poor fellow, to keep his mind away from Kathleen. "See, here's a list,—others talked of, but no mention made of the 90th."

"Let well alone, lads, and be content," observed Higgins. "Fighting is all very well to talk about, but the reality is precious rough work; and so you'll find it, when your turn comes,—mark my words."

Not long after this, on the 14th of March, the regiment was on parade, when the commanding officer read a letter to us which he had just received. It was to the effect that a few men might volunteer for the 42nd Royal Highlanders and 79th Cameronian Highlanders. We all knew what that meant, that the 90th was to be kept at home, and that those two regiments were to fill up their numbers for foreign service. When, therefore, the word "volunteers come to the front," was given, instead of forty, which was the whole number required, forty from each company stepped forward, making four hundred in all. Marshall and I were among them. It was an anxious time with us till it was known who was selected. I was among the first chosen. Marshall's was the last name. I was glad not to be separated from my old comrade. The volunteers being ordered to parade in front of the commanding officer, he in a very kind way gave us some good advice. He then expressed his earnest wishes for our welfare, and hoped that he should never hear of any of those who had served in the 90th, getting into disgrace, but that when next he might see us, instead of privates and corporals, we should have become sergeants. Every word he said I took in greedily, and honestly believe that I profited by his advice.

There was no time lost. Not many days after that, on the 28th of March, war was formally declared by Great Britain against Russia. We, with volunteers from other regiments, at once proceeded by passenger steamer from Dublin to Portsmouth. Marshall had barely time to write a short note to Kathleen. He told her of the regiment he had joined, and where he expected to go, and promised to remain faithful to her as long as he lived.

It was on Saint Patrick's day, that we landed at the dockyard, to the number of two hundred, in all sorts of uniforms, the men out of a dirty steamer not looking over-clean. We then marched to the barracks at Anglesea, where that "braw" regiment, the well-known "Forty-and-twa" were stationed. The adjutant and captains of companies then came to inspect us, and choose men for their respective companies. The captain of the grenadier company had the first choice, and the captain of the light company the second. I with eight of our men, including Marshall, had the honour of being selected by him. I was posted to a room at once, and ordered to get my kit ready in a quarter of an hour for inspection. It was fortunately nearly a new one, and looked clean. The captain was pleased, and ordered me not to show it for a month. He then inquired how long I had been a non-commissioned officer, and directed me to attend at the orderly-room to copy orders and to take the detail of the company for the next day. After writing it down, he told me to read it to him.

"Yes; that will do," he said. "Are you anxious to obtain promotion?"

"Yes, sir," I answered, not a little pleased. "Very well; you have come with a good character from your late regiment, maintain it, and you will be sure of promotion in the 42nd. I understand that you can drill very well. I shall see how you get on, and if in a satisfactory manner, I will recommend you to the adjutant."

The next Monday I was ordered to drill a squad, while the adjutant stood at a distance watching me. I did my best, and when drill was over he sent for me, and asked if I would like to be struck off duty for the purpose of drilling the second squad of recruits. Of course I said yes, but begged to be allowed a few days first, to get used to the duties of the regiment.

I had good reason to be satisfied with the change I had made. I had only been a few days in the regiment, and was already looked upon with consideration and respect. How was this? Had I greater advantages than any other young man? No, except that I had a taste for soldiering. I had simply kept steady and done my duty to the very best of my power. I had not been idle with my books either. I had read a good deal, and practised writing and ciphering, so that I wrote a really good hand, and could keep accounts well. I mention this to show what is required of a young man in the army, who wishes to work his way up to become a non-commissioned officer. It is through the sergeants that the discipline of a regiment is maintained, and they must possess the education I have spoken of, and be intelligent, steady, honest men, or things will go badly in that regiment.

For the best part of the next two months we were engaged every day in rifle practice, and I had the satisfaction of making some good hits. Now came the order we had been long eagerly looking for, to embark forthwith for the Crimea. Loud cheers were given by the numerous lookers on as, on the 26th of May, we went on board the transport, and we cheered loudly in return. We little thought then of what we had to go through, or how many of our fine fellows would leave their bones in a foreign land. Everything was well arranged on board. Strict discipline was kept up. Our rations were good, and regularly served out to us; and as the weather was fine, we had as pleasant a voyage as we could wish. We landed at Scutari, a place on the Bosphorus, the strait that leads into the Black Sea, opposite the big city of Constantinople. Here we remained for three weeks hard at work, drilling. Some of the troops were in huge barracks, and we with others were encamped. Fighting was going on at a town called Silistria, between the Turks, who bravely defended it, helped by two or three English officers, and the Russians, who had tried to take it, but could not. A great many Turks were brought into the hospital badly wounded, and one poor fellow had both his arms and legs cut off. He was the subject of conversation for many an evening in our tents. We were in the light division, under Sir Colin Campbell. The first British soldier who lost his life during the war was killed here by his own rifle, which sent a shot through, his leg above the knee. Here also we were supplied with the Minie rifle, having hitherto used the old percussion smooth bore.

Scutari is a beautiful spot, with the blue waters of the strait, and the glittering white city, surrounded by dark trees, and vessels and gay boats of all sorts moving about. We should have been content to remain there if we had not thought on the work before us. In July we again embarked, and proceeded to Varna, in company with numerous vessels, crowded with English, French, and Turks. We and the French were allies, helping the Turks, though there were only 7000 of them, while we and the French had each rather more than 26,000 men of all arms.

Varna is on the shore of the Black Sea, not far from the Crimea, and belongs to the Turks. We were here encamped with the Guards and other regiments on a dreary plain in different villages some tray out of Varna. We were kept hard at work with frequent drills, getting ready for real fighting. One night we were roused up with the sound of heavy firing in a wood close to us. The bugle sounded to arms. We sprang to our feet, but before we could get under arms the supposed enemy was away. They were a company of the 60th Rifles and Rifle Brigade, supplied with a few rounds of blank ammunition. This sort of work took place frequently, to accustom us to surprises, and not without reason, as we found to our cost at Inkerman. The Rifles seemed to think it good fun, and laughed at the trouble they had given us, making us turn out so often in the middle of the night. We were employed also in making gabions and fascines [Note 1] out of the brush-wood which grew near, and practised in throwing up trenches and fortifications.

Work we did not mind, fighting we were eager for, but we had an enemy against which it was hard to contend; that was the cholera. Officers and men were quickly struck down by it. The Guards alone lost nearly a hundred men. It was sad to hear the poor fellows' cries as the terrible cramp seized them. All the troops suffered more or less from sickness— the French more than all. We were thankful when the order came for us to embark once more for the spot where we hoped to meet the enemy. Yet many a strong man was so weakened by illness that he could scarcely march to the shore. We got on board our transport on the 1st of September and remained thirteen days, hoping to get rid of the dreadful plague which had attacked us. We lost, however, three and sometimes four men each day. Fastened up in their blankets they were sunk overboard. Some, however, floated to the surface, and it was no easy matter to get them down again. It was sad work, and damped the spirits of many. That big fleet, with more than 60,000 men on board, was a fine sight, though, as on the 14th of September we anchored off Old Fort on the coast of the Crimea. The order was joyfully received to land immediately. On all sides were the big transports, the largest East Indiamen, and the men-of-war, and numbers of steamers, all in regular order, each with their proper flags. We of the light division had ours blue and white chequered.

Number One company of the 23rd Welsh Fusiliers were the first on shore on a sandy beach. We landed soon after. Sentinels were marched off at once by companies and thrown out in a direct line from the sea far into the country. Parties with rifles loaded, and eager for the honour, as we called it, of firing the first shot at the Russians, were despatched in search of wood and water. Towards the evening it came on to rain very hard, and we had no tents or covering of any sort. We of the light division were pushed on inland, to give space for the other troops to form as they landed. Our orders, issued by Sir Colin Campbell, were to remain quiet, and, above all things, to keep our rifles and ammunition dry. At about eleven at night a shot was fired by one of the enemy's sentinels, which whistled close to us. "Stand to your arms," was the cry, "the Russians are upon us." At the same time our whole line of sentinels opened a brisk fire on, it was supposed, the advancing enemy.

What cared we then for the rain and cold! The moment we had been looking for had arrived. The whole force which had as yet landed stood under arms, and thus we were kept till it was found that the surprise had been caused by a patrol of Cossacks, who had come upon us unawares. Wet and chilled as we were the hours passed slowly by, though we kept up our spirits pretty well. So passed our first night of campaigning. The next morning a few companies were marched down to the beach, to assist in landing our tents, and the ammunition, artillery, and stores, the artillerymen laughing at us, and hoping that we had passed a pleasant time on shore. By the night we got our tents pitched, and hoped to have a quiet rest, but the little gnat-like Cossacks were again buzzing about us, and were off before we could get a shot at them. The next four days were passed in landing stores, while the commissariat officers were collecting provisions from the country around, and which the peasants were very ready to supply.

Late on the 19th the light division was attacked by a mounted battery of artillery. The infantry was brought to the halt, and the artillery called to the front, with the whole of the cavalry, about a thousand men, who were opposed by 2000 Cossacks. Shortly afterwards a gun carriage was seen coming to the rear with a poor fellow on it, his leg broken and thigh fractured. Several men on both sides were knocked over by the shot. That was the beginning of our campaign. After this Lord Raglan forbad any farther advance.

We remained where we halted all that night, our tents being left in the rear. Each man unrolled his blanket and great-coat to make the best of it he could. We were tired, hungry, and thirsty, but at last the ration rum was served out, and a half a bullock distributed to each company to be divided into messes, and cooked ready for next day, as it was expected that we should have a long march and a brush with the enemy. Many a fine fellow slept his last sleep on earth that night, and many a strong man before the next sunset was to be a helpless cripple. A soldier, above all men, may be thankful that he does not know what is before him.

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Note 1. Gabions are like large round hampers, without top or bottom, to be filled with earth. Fascines are like long, tight fagots.



STORY FOUR, CHAPTER 4.

THE DAY OF BATTLE.

It was still dark on the morning of that 20th day of September, 1854. The whole army of the allies lay stretched on the damp ground. Three hours after midnight the cry was heard, "Stand to your arms." We rose to our feet, every two comrades wringing their wet blankets, and placing them on their knapsacks. We then fell in, and waited till daylight, when we were ordered to pile arms and fall out, but not to go more than a hundred yards from our regiments, as we might be required at a moment's notice to march to the front.

The sun rose brightly, without a cloud in the sky, and at seven o'clock the whole army advanced. The Turks were on the right, next the sea, then the French, next the British second division, followed by the third, and on their left the light division, followed by the first and fourth. On the left of all marched the cavalry. The artillery of each division was on its left. Baggage and ammunition trains kept close behind. The whole country was open, with rise beyond rise, till at length, after marching for two hours, we reached a rise, when we saw before us what was ere long to be the scene of a bloody battle. The ground sloped gently down to the river Alma, which ran directly in front of us, its banks covered with villages and orchards and gardens. It was fordable in most places. On the other side a range of hills, three and four hundred feet high, rose suddenly up from it; on our right, too steep to be climbed; but in front of where we of the light division stood, showing more gradual slopes. On these slopes, earthworks had been thrown up by the Russians. On the top of all, the ground was level; and it was here and on the slopes that the Russians were posted between us and Sebastopol. We had to storm those heights, and to drive the enemy off the level ground on their top, in the face of the heavy artillery and the dense masses of infantry with which they were lined, not forgetting the strong reserve in the rear. We could see the French on the right beginning the action, climbing up the heights, and firing as they advanced; then a strong force of Russians, who were nearly taken by surprise, moved to meet them. With Rifles and skirmishers in front, fighting with the Russian riflemen, the second division of the British then advanced in line. Up the hill they went, right at the enemy. The firing became general along the whole line. A village burst into flames below us. We, with other Highland regiments and the Guards, were formed in line,—a band, I may say, able to meet any enemy in the world in a hand-to-hand fight or charge of bayonets; but the enemy's round-shot and bullets came rattling among us, and picked off many a stout fellow. We were therefore ordered to lie down to avoid the shot, our men grumbling not a little, and asking why we were not led at once against the enemy. We soon saw the reason why. Many young soldiers who had before talked of fighting as good fun, now changed their note, and found what terrible bloody work it is.

At last came the welcome order to advance. To show how cool some men are, even at that moment one of my comrades composed some verses, which he repeated to those near him. We sprang to our feet; down the steep we dashed, through orchards of apples and grapes and other fruit. Several of our fellows, stopping to pick the fruit to quench their thirst, were shot dead. We passed quickly across the Alma, which in some places we found so shallow that many of us scarcely wetted our feet. Once more we were ordered to take shelter behind a long stone wall. Then came the welcome order, "Up, Guards and Highlanders, and at them."

Up the hill we went, halting but for a moment, to allow the somewhat broken regiments which had hitherto been engaged, to pass between our ranks, and then right at the enemy we dashed, firing as we advanced, and prepared to charge, if he would have stood for us. As we reached the summit, a grand sight met our eyes,—the whole army of Russians spread out on the plain before us; but as we got nearer, we saw their backs instead of their faces; for they had already had a sufficient taste of our quality, and were in full retreat. Now and then they turned and fired, and my right and left-hand men were both killed in that manner. I had marked the Russian who had killed the last; and, dropping on my knee at the moment the bugle sounded cease firing, I took a steady aim, and stopped him from boasting that he had killed an Englishman.

We were much disappointed at not being allowed to follow the enemy. Still it was a glorious moment when we found that we had won a great victory, as we cheered and cheered again, and comrades grasped each other's hands, and congratulated ourselves on what we had done. To show what strict discipline is kept up in the army, at this moment I found myself placed under arrest for having fired after the order to cease firing had sounded. On the circumstance being reported to the commanding officer, he directed that I should be brought before him. "Why did you fire?" he asked. I told him.

"Then I only wish that every man in the army possessed the same spirit," he answered. "Let him be released. And now let me tell you that I shall have the satisfaction of reporting your cool courage and steadiness before the enemy to the proper authorities."

My comrades cheered lustily when they heard this decision.

The army remained on the heights we had won till nearly dark, when the regiments were ordered to the positions allotted to them for the night. After we had formed our bivouac, I was much pleased at being sent for by the officers, and complimented by them on the way I had behaved during the day. At last we were ordered to remain quiet, and fresh ammunition was served out to us. We then lay down to rest, but all ready for a surprise; and rest we did on the bare ground, for we were well weary after our day's toil. The Russians, however, had had enough fighting for the present, and let us alone.

A little before daylight on the 21st, we fell in, and remained under arms for some time. On its being ascertained that the Russians had retreated to a distance, we were ordered to clean and examine our rifles, and then to pile them. Rations were then served out to us, and we ate them with no small appetite, while waiting for orders. Sir Colin Campbell, soon after this, rode into our midst, and called his brigade of Highlanders to attention. His speech was short, but to the point. He congratulated us all on the success which had been gained the day before, and complimented all—officers and men—on the cool courage they had exhibited under trying circumstances. He reminded us that the fighting was not over, though we had gained a victory; but he was persuaded that we should continue to perform our duty as true soldiers to our queen and country.

"To-day and to-morrow the army must remain on the ground to remove the wounded and to bury the dead," he added. "I regret to say that the dead are very numerous, especially among the Guards and Welsh Fusiliers. The wounded must at once be carried down to the shore; and remember, my lads, that a wounded Russian is no longer an enemy, but a fellow-sufferer with our own comrades, and must be treated as such."

We listened with attention to our brave general's address. A kinder officer or a better soldier never lived.

Pick-axes and shovels were at once served out to some of us, while others were provided with stretchers to carry the wounded down to the beach, I belonged to the party who had to perform the saddest duty a soldier has to go through after a battle, that of burying the dead. Talk of glory, talk of the fun of fighting,—just let a man spend two days on a hard-fought field, as we had to do, and it will be enough to take out of him all love of fighting for fighting's sake. It was an awful sight, to see the number of fine fellows who lay stretched on the ground, never more to move. I had no idea that so many of our own British had been killed. The most dreadful to look at were those who had been struck by round-shot, some with their bodies almost torn to pieces. One moment they had been full of life, rushing on to the fight; the next there they lay, heaps of clay, their spirits far, far-off. I could not help asking myself how it was that I was not in the place of one of them. While some of the parties dug large holes in the ground, others collected the dead, and threw them in—it was no time for ceremony—thirty or forty in one hole; some fine young fellows, others dark- or grey-bearded men, their last fight over.

"Ah," I thought, and I dare say others thought too, "if those who set men to fight—the emperors and kings and governments—could but see this sad sight, may be they would stop to think, and try and make up their quarrels some other way."

Hundreds and hundreds we buried during those two days, our comrades by themselves, the Russians in pits by themselves. We could tell how the fight had gone by the way in which the bodies lay. In one place the Russians had made a stand, and were piled up in heaps as the British again and again charged them. In other parts the round-shot had torn through whole ranks of men, cutting them down like corn before the reaper's sickle.

I afterwards marked the spot where the Highlanders had poured in their fire on the enemy, and made those who escaped our bullets turn and fly. It was my first battle-field; it was the first and last of many poor fellows. And I say again, it is a fearful thing to see God's image defaced as I there saw it in a thousand terrible ways.



STORY FOUR, CHAPTER 5.

I have heard it said that no army was ever driven from so strong a position as that from which we drove the Russians. We took a number of prisoners, and among other things, the Russian general's carriage, with his letters to the emperor, saying that we could not do just the very thing we did do,—drive him from that hill.

The next day the army marched inland, with Sebastopol on our right, our generals wishing to get round to the other side of the town, where there was a good harbour for our ships called Balaclava. We marched on all day, seeing now and then a few Cossacks, who galloped off as we advanced. We bivouacked at night; that is to say, we slept on the ground as we best could, with only our cloaks and blankets round us. We had not much rest, for we were called to arms several times, it being thought that the enemy were on us. At last we heard the approach of cavalry. We sprang to our feet, and fell in ready for action, but it was only our own cavalry, which had been sent up to protect our flanks.

The next day we came suddenly on a large body of Russians as it seemed. They, however, did not stop for us, but made off, leaving a quantity of wagons full of provisions and ammunition. We blew up the powder, which we did not want, and helped ourselves to the provisions, which we did. My comrades and I got a quantity of meal to make cakes, and firewood as our share.

There was an old fort at Balaclava, on the top of a steep hill. It was defended very bravely by its old commander; but he soon found that he could not hold it, so he and his eighty men marched out and surrendered themselves prisoners of war. We thus gained a good harbour for ships. The part of the army to which I belonged, after remaining a few days at Balaclava, was marched to the front before Sebastopol. We were here employed in digging trenches, and throwing up batteries, and getting our guns into position; that is, into the batteries, pointed towards the town which we were about to attack. We were twenty-four hours on duty, and the same number off duty, when we could rest from our work. Very hard work it was. Thousands of us were employed in it. We had to cut a zigzag road, as it were, deep into the ground, with a bank towards the town, so that the shot from the guns in the town could only strike across the road, and not along it.

We toiled away to get all our batteries ready as soon as possible. The French and we were ready at the same time, but the batteries were masked; that is to say, the front was covered up so that the enemy could not see whether we were ready or not.

The sun rose in a bright sky on the morning of the 17th of October, and at half-past six o'clock, a hundred and twenty of our guns—some of them the largest ever made, and which had as yet not fired a shot—began firing away as hard as they could. The Russians answered with as many guns of the same size, and thus there were nearly two hundred and fifty guns all firing away together. The noise was awful. We knocked over a good many of the enemy's guns, and they blew up a French magazine; by which a hundred men were killed in a moment. A good many of our men were killed. The smoke was so thick that the gunners could not even see the town at which they were firing.

The day after the guns opened, it was made known to us that ten volunteers from each regiment—good shots—were wanted to get as close up as possible to the town, and to shoot the Russian gunners whenever sight could be got of them.

I at once volunteered and was accepted. Having been paraded before the Duke of Cambridge, who told us what we were to do, we set off. Shot, shells, and bullets were whizzing and hissing by us as we made our way onwards.

We had not got far when one of our party was wounded. One of my comrades, Donald McKenzie, and I halted, dressed his wound as best we could, sent him back to the hospital, and then pushed on, creeping and running, and taking advantage of every bit of cover we could find. We thus got up to within a hundred yards of the Russian guns in a fort they called the Redan, and jumped into a pit which the enemy had themselves dug to shelter their own riflemen, who came there at night to annoy our working parties. Here we were sheltered, and could pick off the Russian gunners without being seen. They soon, however, found us out, and sent doses of cannister and grape shot towards us, knocking the dust and stones about our heads. A grape shot hit the right hand of one of my comrades, and took off the forefinger. "Ah, my boys, I'll pay you off for that, and give you a warm one in return," he exclaimed, as he reloaded his rifle. He was as good as his word, and he picked off many a Russian who appeared in their batteries.

Our batteries had different names. One near us was the 21 Gun Battery. Red-hot shot were fired from it, and before long they blew up a Russian magazine. The men in the battery, mostly Jack Tars, seeing this, got up and cheered lustily; and even we who were in the pits so close to the enemy couldn't help doing the same. We had better have been silent, for the enemy sent a shower of rockets and grape shot among us as also at the battery. One of the rockets blew up an ammunition wagon, bringing powder into the battery. This made the Russians jump up and cheer, and as we picked off some of their men as they did so, they sent out a company of their sharpshooters to attack us. Our captain, seeing this, thought it prudent to retire. We therefore each of us took steady aim at a particular man, and in most cases knocking him over, jumped out of the pit and retired towards our camp.

The next day we returned to the same place by a different road. It was not well chosen, and several of our men were wounded in going towards the pits. We held them for some hours, when the Russians, not liking the way we treated them, came against us in strong force. We of course had to jump out of our holes and retire, but they almost surrounded us as it was. Fortunately the force of riflemen on outpost duty saw our position, and advanced to our assistance. We then retired towards them, disputing every inch of the ground.

The Russians had now got into the pits we had left. Once more, therefore, we advanced to drive them out. They stood their ground, and we had a fierce hand-to-hand fight with them.

I found myself engaged with a fellow who fought more desperately than any of his comrades. Having discharged his musket, he rushed at me with his bayonet, a dig from which I had much difficulty in avoiding. Just then his helmet was knocked off, and I saw clearly the features of Shane McDermot. I cried out "Traitor, deserter, scoundrel, I know you! Yield!"

On hearing this he seemed as eager to escape as he was before to fight. Calling to his comrades in Russian, several of them sprang back with him. Others, however, stood their ground, and gave us shot for shot. I loaded, and fired at Shane. I thought that I had hit him, for he fell; but he was up again and retreating with his companions.

Meantime the rest of our party were actively engaged. Joseph Hartley, a corporal of my party, showed a great deal of spirit. He jumped on to the top of the mound overlooking the pits, and firing rapidly, shot three Russians, one after the other, through their heads. A captain of the Guards jumped right down into the pit, and was wounded through both his wrists.

The Russians, however, at last took to flight, leaving three dead and many more wounded. We took their rifles and ammunition from them, and returned into camp, helping along the captain of Guards, whose wounds had been bound up by my comrade Donald McKenzie, who has before been mentioned.

We continued the same sort of work till the morning of the 25th of October; while the Duke of Cambridge was instructing us what to do, news was brought that the Russians were attacking Balaclava. We hastened to join our respective regiments, and found the Russians in great force attacking on all points. The Turks, who had charge of the outposts, had been driven in, and the 93rd Highlanders, under Sir Colin Campbell, were formed in line ready to receive the Russian cavalry as they advanced towards the hill. A steady volley, at two hundred yards, sent the Russians flying back, but, to the surprise of the Highlanders, not a man fell from the saddle, when it was found that they were all strapped on to their horses, so that the dead and wounded were carried out of the fight. The Enniskillens and Scots Greys clashed right on the flanks of the retreating cavalry, and cut them up terribly before they could get back to the Russian army, which appeared with a strong force of artillery on the opposite side of the valley.

It was shortly after this that the light cavalry, through a mistaken order given by poor Captain Nolan, who was directly afterwards killed, charged across the valley at the enemy's guns, other guns playing on them from either side. If the French cavalry had not charged and helped them, not a man would have escaped; as it was, they were fearfully cut up, the greater number being killed or wounded. Still it was a sight to make a soldier's heart beat quick as with their helmets glittering and their swords flashing in the sunbeams, that gallant band dashed across the valley. But it was sad to watch those who did escape, coming back, many on foot, one wounded man between two others, some scarcely able to sit their horses, very few unhurt; and to think what a gallant band they had looked as they rode down the hill but a few minutes before.

We remained on the heights of Balaclava that night, prepared to receive the Russians if they had returned; but they had had enough of us, and had retreated. We of the light division remained stationed at this place all the winter.

There was another bloody battle fought not long after this on the 5th of November, called the battle of Inkerman. The allied armies were posted on high ground, with the sea on one side, and deep valleys on the other. Below the British right, where the ground was very steep, were the rivers Chernaya and Inkerman. The Russian general knew that this was our weakest point, and evidently hoped to take us by surprise. The morning was so dark and foggy that the officers who were visiting the outposts could not see twenty yards before them into the valley. Sir Thomas Trowbridge was the first, I have heard, to discover the approach of the enemy. They were close upon our camp with 60,000 men, and were beginning to climb the heights before the bugle sound summoned our troops to stand to their arms. The British during the whole day had not more than 8,000 men engaged. The Russians climbed up the heights, but again and again were driven back, till the French, at last coming up, put them to flight. The Guards, who had a great deal of the fighting, behaved most bravely, and lost a great many officers and men. The British army on that morning had 43 officers and 416 men killed, and 101 officers and 1332 men wounded, while 200 were missing, mostly made prisoners.

A very severe winter now set in, and a large steamer The Prince, with clothing for the army, sank off Balaclava in a fearful gale, in which many other vessels were lost. The weather was very cold, with snow and wind and rain, and our poor fellows suffered greatly from want of food and clothing and shelter. Our tents were nearly worn out, and were at all events unfit for the winter, and we were obliged to live in hovels and holes in the ground. From what I have heard, many more men die of sickness in war-time than are killed in battle; and from the numbers who died of cholera and other complaints, in the Crimea, I believe that to be true.

I have not said anything about Marshall for some time. He did his duty steadily and well, and was always cool under fire. He had not volunteered as I had done for any dangerous work, but he was a man on whom I knew that I could rely, whatever was to be done. He came one day to me in high spirits, with a letter he had received from Kathleen. She prayed that the war would soon be over. She said that her father had just had some money left him, and would, if he was willing, as soon as he returned home, purchase his discharge.

"It's a kind, noble offer," said Marshall; "I will accept it and return,—work for him as long as I live."

I praised his intention, said that I wished I had the same chance, and wished him a long life and happiness with his pretty Kathleen. Soon after this my old comrade was made a corporal, and I received an honour I little expected. A general parade was ordered for the whole regiment, when a square being formed, in the centre of which the colonel with other officers were posted, several men were called up, I being one of them. He then presented us with a distinguished conduct medal, on which were the words, "For distinguished conduct in the field." On giving me mine, he congratulated me and wished me long life to wear the decoration. He hoped, he said, that many other young men in the regiment would follow my example, and he could assure them that if they did, the same rewards were in store for them. The captains of companies were then ordered to march their respective companies to their private parades, when my captain wished me long life and happiness, and my comrades were so pleased that they lifted me up, and carried me to my hut, and the medal went the rounds of the whole company.

"Well done, Jack; I'm glad you've got that. You've earned it, that you have, my boy," was the sort of remark made to me by my comrades, one after the other. Marshall also was commended for his bravery and coolness.

"Ah Jack, I'll do something to try and gain that, to carry home to her;" he said to me as he gave the medal back into my hands.

That dreadful winter passed away at last. I do not think that British troops ever went through greater trials than did the British army in the Crimea, and never did men submit more patiently, or more nobly do their duty. There is one thing to be said, our officers set us the example. They suffered as much as we did, and never complained. We could not help ourselves; but many of them we knew well were gentlemen of good property, who could have enjoyed life at home, in ease and comfort; and instead of that they stayed out with us at the call of duty, went through the hardships and risked their lives as we did, who had nothing to lose and everything to gain. One young baronet, with many thousand pounds a year, was killed at the battle of the Alma, and his brother who succeeded him fell directly afterwards. Both commissioned and non-commissioned officers and men performed many gallant deeds. Several, when their comrades were wounded, dashed forward, and though the shot, shells, and bullets of the enemy were flying about their heads, lifted them up in their arms or on their backs and took them out of the fight. The Honourable Major Clifford in this way carried off one of his men who had fallen close to him, from among the enemy; so did Sergeant Moynihan, who is now a captain. On the 8th September, Sergeant Moynihan was the first to enter the Redan. One of his officers, Lieutenant Smith, having been killed, he made a gallant attempt to rescue his body, and after being twice bayoneted was made prisoner, but rescued by the advance of the British. John Alexander, a private of the 19th regiment, brought in Captain Buckley and several men after the attack on the Redan. At the battle of Inkerman, Private Beach, seeing Lieutenant-Colonel Carpenter lying on the ground, and several Russians advancing towards him, dashed forward, killed two of them, and protected the colonel against his assailants, till a party of the 41st regiment coming up put them to flight. Private Mcdermot, also at Inkerman, saved the life of Colonel Haly, much in the same way. However, I could fill pages with accounts of the brave deeds done by our men during the war. Many young sergeants not only gained the Victoria Cross, but had their commissions given them, and are now captains and adjutants of their respective regiments. A man, to gain this rank, however, must be steady and sober, have a thorough knowledge of his duty, be brave and cool, and a good scholar.

However I must go back to my tale. We remained at Balaclava till June, when we were ordered to the front to take part in a proposed attack on the fortress. The French were to attack the Malakoff battery, and we, under Sir George Brown, the Redan; while another force under General Eyre, was to threaten the works about the dockyard creek.

The French began the attack before daybreak, and before long the order was given for us to advance. We could not hold the Redan till the French had taken the Malakoff. We advanced rather too soon. We were met by a tremendous fire, and Sir John Campbell who, calling to the troops to follow, led the way over the parapet right up to the enemy's guns, was shot dead with many other officers and men. Other officers with small parties of men would dash forward, waving their swords, only to meet the same fate.

"Come, boys," cried Marshall, who had been for some time under the shelter of the parapet, "I'm resolved to gain my promotion to-day; who'll follow? We'll take those guns."

Nearly twenty men sprang out with him and rushed forward. Poor fellows, they were met as the others had been by an iron shower, which left not one unhurt. Only three got back, and Marshall was not among them. I would have tried to bring him off, but the others said he was among the first killed. However, I resolved to go and look for him as soon as I could, without the certainty of losing my own life, as I should have done had I gone then.

It was sad to think that so many brave men should have lost their lives to no purpose. A truce was arranged for a few hours that both sides might bury their dead. The instant the white flag was hoisted on the fortifications of Sebastopol, I hurried towards the Redan to look for Marshall, before any of the burying parties should find his body if he was killed. I had some slight hopes that he might still be alive, though unable to move on account of his wounds. It was sad to see the number of the bravest of our men who had fallen under the Redan. The whole way up to the guns was strewed with bodies, and as I got nearer to the guns, there were many corpses of Russians, who had attacked the British as they were retiring. I looked eagerly about. There lay poor Marshall. I took his hand. He would never grasp rifle again. Near him lay a Russian soldier, whose bayonet, it seemed clear to me, had pierced his breast, and who himself had been shot at the same moment by Marshall's rifle, for the weapons lay crossed on the ground as they had fallen from the grasp of the dying men. The Russian soldier had rolled over on his side. I turned him round. Though his face was begrimed with dust and smoke, I at once knew his features. They were those of Shane McDermot. He had at length met the fate he deserved—too good for him, many will say, but he had also been allowed to kill in revenge as honest and brave and simple-hearted a soldier as ever fought for his Queen and country. I felt inclined to kick the body of the seeming Russian, but I did not. I saw at once that such would not be a worthy or a Christian act. "He is in the hands of One who knows how to reward and punish," I thought to myself; and leaving the dead body of my enemy where it lay, I lifted that of my friend on my shoulders, and bore it away towards our lines. I was resolved that it should rest in British ground. Several persons asked why I was taking so much trouble with a dead body.

"He was his comrade and friend, poor fellow!" I heard one or two say.

I carried him to a quiet spot, and there I dug a grave as deep as I could, and hunted about till I found a stone, which I placed at his head. I should say that before I placed my old comrade in his grave, I searched his pockets that I might send anything I could find in them home. Among them was a pocket-book, and in it was a letter he had written the night before to Kathleen. He told her how he hoped to win fame and a name, and might be win his commission, and make her a lady as she deserved to be. Poor fellow! his ambition, which till then had been asleep, was aroused. How soon was it, with all his earthly hopes, cut short! Such has been many another young soldier's fate. We lost that day alone, 22 officers and 230 men killed, and 71 officers and upwards of 1000 men wounded. Altogether it was about the saddest of the whole war.



STORY FOUR, CHAPTER 6.

We worked on, making our zigzag approaches, night after night getting nearer to the city. Often during the time I used to go and visit poor Marshall's grave, and I own that I dropped many a tear over it, as I thought of his worth, and the grief the news of his death would cause to poor Kathleen's heart. That would not be dried up so soon as my sorrow. His fate might be mine any day, and I had plenty of things to think about. The poor girl would mourn alone. One day I was thus standing near the grave, when I heard a boy's voice say, "Sure that's yourself, Mr Armstrong."

I looked up, and before me I saw a young drummer-boy, in the uniform of the 57th regiment.

"Yes, my lad; and who are you?" I asked, not recollecting the features.

"Pat Nolan; sure and it's many a day I've been looking for you," answered the lad. "I've come out to see the war, and it's enough I've seen of it any how."

I was glad to see poor little Pat. The world had gone ill with him and his family, and an elder brother having enlisted, he also had done so as a drummer-boy. His brother had been killed, and he was, as it were, left alone in the world. I promised to befriend him as far as I could, poor boy. I had no doubt that the men of his regiment would look after him and treat him kindly.

A few nights after this I was in the trenches, when I saw a shell coming directly towards our position. I cried out at the very top of my voice, "Close cover," that the men might get close under the embankment of the trench. Some followed my advice, but others stood still, when the shell exploded in the midst of us, wounding twelve of our number, some very severely, and, in addition, a captain of my regiment. I saw him fall, and thought that he was killed. I ran to him and found that he breathed, so I went and brought a stretcher from the end of another trench, and placed him on it. He begged to be allowed to die in peace, as he was mortally wounded, but another man and myself undertook to carry him to the hospital, at the Twenty-one Gun Battery. The shortest way was across the open space between the trenches. As there were fully a hundred shells and rockets in the air at once, there was plenty of light for us to see our way. We agreed to run the risk of being shot, and to carry him across, as it was important to have him looked to at once. We reached the battery without being hit, but our poor captain died within a quarter of an hour of entering the hospital. We afterwards carried his body to his quarters, where his brother officers, when they heard of what had happened, soon came to take a last look at one they all loved so well.

The day was coming on, as we well knew by the advance in our trenches, when another attack on the fortress was to be made. The Russians had kept us fully employed, and during July and August several times came out from behind their lines to attack us, and were as often driven back. There is one matter I forgot to talk of. All this time it was pleasant to know that we were thought of by the people at home. Comforts of every sort were sent out to the soldiers—food, and clothes, and books; and missionaries and other ministers of religion came out and preached to those in health, and comforted the sick and dying; but besides this, hospitals were established in the more healthy parts of the country belonging to our allies, the Turks, to which our sick and wounded were sent. What also won the hearts of our wounded men was the gentle care with which they were tended, not by hired nurses, but by many ladies who came out from England on purpose to assist them. Those who had been cured, and came back to the Crimea, told how they had been treated; and I do not believe that there is a soldier of that army but who blesses the ladies of England for the sake of those who acted as nurses in the military hospitals in the East.

On the 5th of September the whole of our batteries again opened on the town, and went on firing night and day, till, on the 8th at noon, the French, who were to attack the Malakoff, made the signal to advance. They rushed on, as they always do, very quickly; and before the Russians, who were at dinner, had time to defend the place, they were in it, and their flag was flying on the ramparts. Now came the turn of the British, who had to attack the Redan. On they went; but the Russians were ready for them, and they were met by a hot fire of musketry and artillery. Major Welsford, of the 97th, who led the storming party, was killed, and Colonel Handcock was mortally wounded. There was not a hotter fight during the whole war. We had officers and 356 non-commissioned officers and men killed, and not far from 2000 wounded; and, after all, our men were compelled to retire. It was known that the Highland brigade, under Sir Colin Campbell were to renew the attack the next morning. We made up our minds that it would be a day of bloodshed, but we hoped also of victory, and we were prepared for it.

In the night, however, an officer, with some men, went out to look for a friend who had fallen in the works of the Redan. Not seeing him, he went on and found no sign of an enemy. This being told to the engineer officer conducting the works, he sent a corporal of sappers, who also found all still within. Sir Colin, on hearing of the matter, called for ten volunteers from each of the Scotch regiments to learn the truth. They, advancing at a run, crossed the ditch, and a man of the 93rd was the first to scale the rampart. The place was deserted. The Russians, on a bridge of boats and rafts, had crossed over to the other side of the harbour during the night, having set the town on fire in all parts. We took possession of a city of blazing houses and exploding mines. It was some time before we could move about, for fear of being blown up or crushed by falling houses. The whole city was a ruin, and the Russians had also sunk or burnt all the ships in the harbour, so that it seemed that they had left us little worth having.

Then came the sad work of burying those who had fallen in the assault on the Redan, as also those who had defended it. The Russians were placed by themselves, at one end of the ditch, and our men at the other, and then we shovelled the earth from the slope over them both. There they lie; the rampart of the fortress the one had fought to defend, the other to gain, their monument. The most terrible sight, however, was in a building which we did not enter for two days, I think, on account of the houses burning round it and the mines exploding. It was a hospital; and in it were two thousand human bodies, and out of the whole scarcely five hundred were alive. The rest had died. For forty-eight hours no one had been near them to give them a drop of water, or dress their aching wounds. I've often thought what those poor fellows must have gone through. Then we had to carry them out, and bury them. It was sickening, terrible work. Those at home little know what a soldier has to go through. It is not all gold and glitter, let me tell them, marching here and there on a fine day, with the sun shining, and band playing, and colours flying.

I am not one of those who would tell a young fellow not to go for a soldier. Very far from that; but I wish to let him know that he will have a great deal of hard, trying work to go through, and he will have to face death in all sorts of ways. Still the man who has a fancy for soldiering, and is steady, is sure to get on, and will find it a good profession on the whole.

After we entered Sebastopol, the war was over, but it was some time before peace was proclaimed. We were heartily glad when that time came; for we were getting very sick of the place where we had lost so many of our comrades and friends. We sailed back as we had come, in a number of large transports; and thankful we were to see the shores of Old England again.

I went out soon afterwards with our regiment to India. That is a large country, a long way off, on the other side of the world nearly; the greater part is very hot, and the natives are of a dark-brown colour. They are mostly heathens, and worship all sorts of ugly idols of wood and stone, but some are of the same religion as the Turks, and believe in the false prophet, Mahomet. The East India Company had a large army of these men, with English officers, but native non-commissioned officers. These native officers, with some of their chiefs, thought that they could take the country from the English. They pretended therefore that the English government were going to make them turn Christians by force, and persuaded the men to revolt. They kept this secret, and on a sudden the greater number of the native regiments rose against their English officers, murdered many of them, as well as many civilians, with their wives and children, and took possession of several fortified places. The most important were Delhi and Lucknow. In one place, Cawnpore, a chief, called Nana Sahib, got General Wheeler and all the English in the garrison into his power, and murdered nearly the whole of them, soldiers and civilians, women and children; the bodies of the latter he threw into a deep well. Three persons alone out of one thousand escaped that dreadful massacre. The accounts of these things made the hearts of British soldiers burn within them. We had a number of native troops from other parts of the country who remained faithful to the British, but still the rebel regiments far outnumbered the English troops. We found ourselves once more under the command of our old general, Sir Colin Campbell. We marched from Calcutta to Cawnpore, from which the wretch, Nana Sahib, had taken flight, and then on to Lucknow, which the rebels still held in great force. We lost a great many men by cholera, and had frequent skirmishes and one or two pitched battles with the enemy—till early in March, 1858, we were before Lucknow. Here we had some severe fighting. We had to storm one large building after another, but at length the rebels were driven out, and numbers cut to pieces. On one occasion I had to climb a tree to see what the enemy were about on the other side of a wall; though hundreds of bullets whistled by me I descended unhurt, but was soon afterwards hit on the breast with a bullet which knocked me over; I was up again, and refusing to go to the rear, assisted to capture a fort, and spiked a gun with my bayonet. While doing this, my kilt was riddled with bullets, though I escaped unhurt. I was not so fortunate a day or two afterwards, when attacking a large block of palaces full of Sepoys, for I received a shot in my neck which laid me low. I was carried out of the fight by my comrades, and my wound was so severe that I had to be invalided home. The fight before Lucknow was my last battle.

The English beat the Sepoys wherever they were met, and at length the British rule was once more firmly established in India.

It was not till I got home again that I was able to go and see poor Kathleen, and to give her the few things belonging to Marshall. She was still single; and I have good reason to think that for his sake she would remain so. Such as I have described them, are some of the common events of a soldier's life.



STORY FIVE, CHAPTER 1.

JOSEPH RUDGE, THE AUSTRALIAN SHEPHERD.

When God formed the round world we live on, He made some parts very unlike other parts. The climate, the trees and plants, and the animals of some countries altogether differ from those of other countries. If we could go right through the globe just as a darning needle is run through a ball of worsted, we should come out close to a country ten times as large as England, which belongs to our Queen, and is called Australia. To get to it, however, we have really to sail round about over the sea, and the voyage takes about three months. When it is winter in England, it is summer there. The trees do not shed their leaves, and many of the animals carry their young about in bags before them, and like the kangaroo, have long hind legs with which they spring over the ground. It is a fine country for cattle and horses, and still more so for sheep, the wool of which is very fine.

About three hundred miles from the sea, up the country, and towards the end of December, a few years back, a busy scene was to be witnessed.

The country was not hilly nor flat, but swelling with ups and downs. On one side was a forest, but the trees were wide enough apart to let horsemen gallop between them. Other trees of odd twisted shapes, but large, with the bark often torn off from the stems, were scattered about here and there. Still most of the country was open and covered with grass, long leaved and scanty, very unlike that of meadow land in England, but still affording good feed for sheep. A creek ran out from the forest with a stream of water, which filled a small lake or water-hole. On the higher ground stood a house of one floor, with a verandah round it, a large wool-shed, a stable, three or four smaller cottages, or rather huts, and other outhouses. There was a small garden enclosed, but no other signs of cultivation. There were numerous sheepfolds and two cattle pens, but the rest of the country round was quite open. It was the head sheep station of Moneroo, owned by Mr Ramsay, who managed it himself.

It was well managed, too, for the watchful eye of a master who understood the work to be done was everywhere. The sheep-pens were full, and there were a number of men moving about. Some were down at the creek up to their knees in water, busy washing the sheep, which were driven down to them. A still larger number were near the wool-shed, with long shears in their hands taking the soft snowy fleeces off the creatures' backs. One flock was seen coming in from a distant out-station, following the careful shepherd, who, like those we read of in the Holy Land, had taught his flock to know his voice. Another flock, having been shorn, was moving off to its usual run.

Towards evening, a dray laden with stores was seen, its wheels and bullocks' hoofs as it drew near the station stirring up the dry earth into clouds of dust. It brought casks of flour, and pork, and hogsheads of sugar, and boxes of tea, and cheeses, and all sorts of cooking and mess things, and saddles, and harness, and ropes, and tobacco, and cattle medicines; indeed, it would be hard to say what it did not bring. By the side of it, besides the usual driver and his mate, strode a sturdy, fresh-looking Englishman, whose cheeks had not yet been burnt by the hot sun of Australia, and two young boys; while on the top of the dray sat his wife—a comely looking woman—a girl of thirteen, and three smaller children. Dick Boyce, the bullock driver, pointed out the master to the new chum he had brought up from the chief port of the colony. The latter stepped forward at once, with one of his boys, while the other stayed with his mother, whom Boyce and his mate, Tom Wells, helped to dismount. The new comer gave a letter to Mr Ramsay, and he and his sons stood watching his face while the master read it.

"Very good," said Mr Ramsay, as he folded up the letter, "your name I see is Joseph Rudge, and you have brought your wife and children."

"Yes, sir; that is my good woman out there by the dray, and this is our eldest boy, Sam," answered Joseph, touching the arm of one of the stout, fine-looking lads by his side with a look of honest pride.

Mr Ramsay smiled, and asked, "Where do you come from?"

"Wiltshire, sir," answered Joseph.

"You understand sheep?" said Mr Ramsay.

"Been accustomed to them all my life," said Joseph.

"How many do you think you could shear in a day?" asked the master.

"May be three score," answered Rudge, looking with an eye somewhat of contempt at the small breed of sheep he saw before him. "At a pinch, I'd say fourscore, sir; but I don't think a man could do more than that properly, from what I know, and from what I've heard."

"You'll do, my man," said Mr Ramsay, looking well pleased, "make my interest yours, and yours shall be mine. Mr Thompson, my agent at Melbourne, tells me that he has engaged you and your family for fifty pounds a year, and all found. Your eldest lads will soon learn how to make themselves useful, and so will that lassie there, while your wife will keep your hut when you are out with the sheep. You will stay here for a few weeks to learn our ways, and then I will send you up in charge of an out-station. To-morrow you will begin work, for we have plenty for you to do."

"Thank ye, sir; I'll do my best to serve you, and so will my wife and children," answered Joseph, in a hearty voice which showed that he purposed to do what he said.

Joseph and his family were at once placed in possession of a vacant hut. It was a rough-looking place, but served well for that fine climate. The frame was of wood, with slab walls, and was roofed with sheets of bark from a tree called the "stringy-bark tree." It was divided into two parts. The bedsteads were rough frames with hides stretched on them, but there were good beds and pillows stuffed with short wool, of which no one could complain. A table, and some stools and benches, with a cupboard and plenty of shelves and hooks was all the furniture they found in the hut. Joseph and Sam went off to the storekeeper, to get their rations, and came back with a fine supply of everything they wanted.

That evening, as Joseph Rudge and his family sat round the table at supper, he thanked God heartily for having brought them into a good country, and placed them in the hands of a kind and just master. This was the character Dick Boyce and his mate had given of Mr Ramsay, as they travelled up with the dray from Melbourne.

The next day, Joseph set to work with his shears, with Sam to help him. He did not shear so many sheep as the contract shearers, but he sheared well, leaving none of the bottom wool, and his employer was perfectly satisfied. He got through two score the first day; two and a half the next; and three the next. He observed one man who sheared no less than six score in one day, but Joseph on his way home to dinner observed that much of the bottom wool—the most valuable in a fleece—remained on the sheeps' backs. He told Tom Wells what he had seen, and Tom told Boyce, and soon afterwards Mr Ramsay went to the pens in which the sheep were placed, and sent for the fast shearer, John Butt. John was very angry, but Mr Ramsay was firm, and refused to fulfil his part of the contract unless he sheared the sheep properly.

"I'll pay the fellow off who brought the matter before the master's eyes," growled John Butt. "It's that new chum; I saw him looking at the sheep. What business has he to come and interfere with our ways?"

Joseph Rudge had thus made an enemy though he did not know it. Even had he known what would happen, he would have done the same, for he was one of those who follow the golden rule, "Do right, whatever you think may come of it, and leave that to be settled by God."

The first thing done with the fleece, when off the sheep's back, was to clean it on the folding table, which was a framework through which the dirt fell. After that it was put into the press and packed tightly into large bales fit for sending on board the ship which was to carry it to England. As soon as all the wool was done up into bales, it was packed on the drays to be sent off to the port to be shipped. Each dray carried about twenty bales, and was drawn by ten stout oxen. The drays were low, like those of brewers, had no sides, but upright pins to keep in the bales, those at the corners being of iron. The bales were secured by ropes, with a tarpaulin to be thrown over them in case of wet. Dick Boyce and Tom Wells had to set off again at once. Sam wanted very much to go with them. He had a fancy for the life they led, as many a boy would have, but his father could not spare him. They travelled about fifteen miles each day, and carried everything they wanted on the road. At night, tarpaulins were let down at the sides and ends of the dray. This formed as much shelter as they required when sleeping. The bullocks were turned loose to pick up their food; and while Boyce went to bring them in, Wells lighted the fire, cooked their breakfast, and made the dray ready for starting. From stations far up the country, drays are two months and more on the journey to the sea. The chief drawback to this life is, that people long accustomed to it do not take readily to any other, and this made Joseph not wish that Sam should follow it.



STORY FIVE, CHAPTER 2.

Joseph Rudge and his family had for some time been living in the new hut, about twenty miles from the head station. He had plenty of hard work too; for Mr Ramsay owned cattle as well as sheep, and he had agreed to take charge of a herd, as well as his flock, with the help of his sons and a mate who had been sent with him. Labour was very scarce just then; indeed, it often is in Australia, and a few hands were obliged to do the work of many. News had just before come to the station that gold had been found in several places, and that a pocket full could be had by digging a little, and oftentimes by looking for it among the rocks. Many people going off to the gold diggings had asked him to go with them.