COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF LORD RAGLAN.

Light Division. —Lieut.-General Sir G. Brown. Generals of Brigade, Colonels Airey and Buller. 7th, 19th, 23rd (Welsh Fusiliers), 33rd, 77th, and 88th Infantry. First Division. —Lieut.-General H.R.H. the Duke of Cambridge. Generals of Brigade, Major-General Bentinck and Major-General Sir Colin Campbell. Battalions, Grenadier Guards, Cold stream Guards, Scots Fusiliers; 42nd, 79th, and 93rd Highlanders. Second Division. —Lieut.-General Sir De Lacy Evans. Generals of Brigade, Major-Generals Penne father and Adams. 30th, 41st, 47th, 49th, 55th, and 95th Infantry. Third Division. —Major-General Sir Richard England. Generals of Brigade, Colonels Sir J. Campbell and Eyre. 1st, 4th, 28th, 38th, 44th, 50th, and 63rd Infantry. Fourth Division. —Lieut.-General Sir George Cathcart. Generals of Brigade, Generals Goldie and Torrens. 20th, 21st, 57th, and 63rd Infantry; 1st Battalion Rifle Brigade. Cavalry Division. —Lieut.-General the Earl of Lucan. Generals of Brigade, the Earl of Cardigan and Major-General Scarlett. 8th and 11th Dragoons; 17th Lancers. [The Scots Greys, the Enniskillens, the 1st Royals, and the 4th and 5th Dragoon Guards, forming the Heavy Brigade, under General Scarlett, did not land with the remainder of the army, but joined it after the battle of Alma.] Artillery. —General Strang ways. Engineers. —General Tylden. On the evening of the 19th, the first actual encounter with the enemy occurred. A strong body of Co acks hovered about our line of march, and two or three guns opened fire upon our little force of cavalry from the heights on the river Bouljanak, the first stream we had to cro . The Earl of Cardigan gallantly charged the hostile troop, who evaded actual contact, and retreated until they had led our men within the range of the guns. Four of our dragoons were killed and six wounded in this skirmish. Two or three of our guns were speedily brought to bear upon the enemy, and Co acks, gunners, and all were soon dispersed. Another dreary bivouac on the wet ground prepared the armies for the great contest which awaited them. At day break on the morning of the 20th of September—a day destined to receive an undying fame in our military annals,—the troops resumed their march. As they approached the river Alma, and mounted the heights to the north of that once obscure but now renowned stream, they saw the preparations which the Ru ians had made to repel the invaders of their territory. The Alma is a small river, rising in the mountains in the east of the peninsula, and falling into the sea about twelve miles to the north of Sebastopol. The southern bank is formed of almost precipitous hills intersected by deep ravines. At the mouth of the river the cliffs are several hundred feet high, and almost perpendicular towards the sea. A large conical hill was the centre of the enemy’s position, and here enormous batteries and entrenchments had been formed, while the crown of the hills was occupied by dense ma es of infantry. On the side facing the Allies, a huge redoubt was constructed with two faces, mounting thirteen large guns, and commanding the approaches to the summit and the pa age of the river. Each side of the ravines enfilading the hill had powerful batteries, mounting altogether twenty-five guns, and on the cliffs towards the sea an unfinished redoubt was placed, and a large force of infantry and artillery held the position. It was presumed by the Ru ian commanders that the precipitous character of the hill was a sufficient defence to their left flank. In this expectation they were doomed to bitter disappointment, as the sequel will show. The immediate banks of the river were covered with vineyards and plantations, affording excellent shelter for the Ru ian riflemen, who were stationed there in strong force. The bridge carrying the main road acro the river was destroyed, and the village of Burliuk, at its northern extremity, was in flames, to prevent its being made a point of attack by the Allies. The effect on our men was almost miraculous. The sight of the foe strongly entrenched, and determined to wait their attack, stimulated them in an extraordinary degree. Fatigued as they were by the labours they had undergone,—despondent from their five nights’ melancholy bivouac on the wet earth, it seemed as if a new life were suddenly infused into them. Diarrhœa and dysentery had not quite departed from their ranks, and many had returned to the ve els, unable to accompany the march. But when they stood on the hill-tops on that memorable morn, and saw the tents of the Ru ian army, not a man but felt the strength of a giant, and burned with a fierce desire to cro bayonets with the enemy. Many a brave fellow, who had staggered thus far leaning on a comrade’s arm, and ready to drop behind and perish by the wayside, begged for a draught of brandy, and then, forgetting his weakne , and deriving new strength from the occasion, shouldered his musket, took his wonted position among his comrades, and marched bravely to the encounter. Although the spot where they had bivouacked was only three miles distant from the river, it was mid-day by the time the allied armies had reached its banks, and were drawn up in battle array. It had been arranged by the generals that the French should commence the attack, and they occupied the extreme right of the extended line. The division commanded by General Bosquet, including those renowned warriors, the African Zouaves, rested upon the sea, and the left of their army consisted of Prince Napoleon’s division. Joining this wing of our allies, the veteran Sir De Lacy Evans was posted with the Second Division, supported by the Third Division under Sir Richard England. Sir George Brown’s Light Division came next; and the Duke of Cambridge led his magnificent body of Guards and Highlanders to the extreme left, as a support to Sir George Brown. Sir George Cathcart had the important but le showy duty of acting as a reserve, and, in conjunction with the cavalry under the Earl of Cardigan, guarding the attacking forces from any sudden coup by the Co acks, who were hovering in suspicious proximity to our rear. Such was the army, composed of the choicest troops, and led by the most experienced commanders of France and England, which stood prepared to attempt the dislodgment of the Ru ians from their strongly-fortified position. Prince Mensch i koff, the Ru ian commander,—the same who, in his character of diplomatist, had been the agent through whom the first insult had been offered to Turkey,—now, by a singular destiny, was the first general upon whom it devolved to measure swords with the military champions whom that insult had called into the field. His army numbered about 54,000 men, so that numerically the opposing forces were very nearly matched; but the Ru ians had the advantage of their almost impregnable position, to approach which a river must be forded, broken ground cro ed, and steep hills ascended. In addition, they were abundantly provided with guns, which were so positioned as to sweep the ground over which the attacking force must pa , while the Allies had but a small force of artillery. So confident was Mensch i koff in his advantages, that he did not scruple to boast his ability to hold his position for at least three weeks against any force that could be brought against him. A number of ladies and civilians from Sebastopol had also a embled on the heights to witne the defeat and utter rout of the invaders. The plan of the allied commanders was that the French should make a vigorous attack upon the Ru ian left, and when they had succeeded in driving them in upon the main body, the English, taking advantage of the confusion, were to cro the river, and endeavour to force the centre of the position. The enemy, we have already said, had considered that their left was sufficiently protected by the precipitous nature of the cliffs, which rendered them almost inacce ible; but it appears they had not calculated on the activity of the troops to whom they were opposed. The steamers of the allied fleets, shortly before ten o’clock, commenced a vigorous shelling of these heights, and soon drove back the small force of the enemy which occupied them. The mouth of the river was very narrow, and Captain Peel had moored a boat acro the stream, which materially facilitated the pa age of the French soldiers. The Zouaves, thoroughly seasoned and trained to the emergencies of guerilla warfare in Algeria, stealthily cro ed the river, and commenced the ascent of the almost perpendicular cliffs, clinging like goats to the rocks, and finding a precarious foothold where probably no other soldiers in the world could have maintained their position. While they were thus approaching the plateau, the main body of the French army dashed through the river, exposed to a galling fire from the Ru ian riflemen,—who were hidden in the vineyards and plantations,—and desperately fighting, struggled up the hills. Meanwhile, the gallant Zouaves had reached the top of the cliffs, and, rapidly forming into line, charged the Ru ians, paralyzed by their sudden appearance, and drove them back. But in achieving this desperate feat, they had separated themselves from the main body, and cut off the po ibility of retreat. The unfinished redoubt, which we have already mentioned, now opened a deadly fire on their ranks; and had it not been for the timely arrival of General Bosquet and the remainder of the division, who had succeeded in reaching the plateau, scarcely a Zouave would have remained to tell the tale of that gallant achievement. Prince Napoleon, too, had by this time cro ed the stream, and arrived at the scene of action, and the indefatigable French artillerists had succeeded, with immense difficulty, in dragging a few guns up the steep hill-side. Animated by these reinforcements, the brave Zouaves gallantly charged the Ru ian lines, now concentrated nearer the main body, and advanced towards the redoubt whose guns had inflicted such lo in their ranks. Two of their number, Lieutenant Poitevin and a sergeant, rushed in advance of their comrades, and leaping upon the works, planted the French flag on the redoubt. But they paid dearly for their temerity. The shouts of the French soldiers, hailing this gallant deed, had scarcely reached their ears, when they fell mortally wounded beneath the flag they had raised. Taken by surprise by this desperate a ault upon his left wing, Prince Mensch i koff hastily detached considerable reinforcements from his main body to the succour of the embarra ed regiments yielding to the prowe of their French antagonists. Then the battle waged fiercely: the French, with all the chivalry of their race, gallantly charged the Ru ian ma es, and at the bayonet’s point forced them to retreat. The enemy’s artillery, however, poured a tremendous fire into the ranks of our allies, and for a time the i ue of the contest seemed doubtful. Some French regiments of the line were driven back, so deadly was the fire to which they were exposed; and nothing but the unflinching gallantry of the troops who were enabled to hold their ground, prevented them from being ignominiously precipitated from the cliffs they had so adventurously scaled. Marshal St. Arnaud, alarmed for the safety of his soldiers, hundreds of whom were lying dead around him, so fatal were the volleys from the Ru ian guns and so sure the aim of the riflemen, hastily despatched an aide-de-camp to the English commander, calling upon him to bring his troops into action without a moment’s delay. “We are ma acred,” was the me age—certainly not the words which Napoleon, or Murat, or Ney, would have used when attacking an enemy considerably le in force than themselves; for, be it remembered, Mensch i koff still held the centre of the position with the main body of the army, which had not yet been brought into action. At half-past one o’clock the order to advance was given to the English army. The soldiers, who had been lying down, so as not to expose themselves unnece arily to the fire of the enemy, sprang to their feet, and rapidly formed into line. Sir G. Brown’s Light Division, and the Second Division, under Sir De Lacy Evans, were the first to dash into the stream, and through a perfect shower of balls from the riflemen concealed in the gardens, and heavier mi iles from the batteries above, reached the opposite bank. Since the commencement of the French attack, our artillery had been throwing shot into the Ru ian redoubts, and under cover of this cannonade, and the accurate fire of the Rifle Brigade, which protected our advance, the two leading divisions succeeded in cro ing the stream, though not without great lo . The Ru ians had previously marked out the range of their guns, so that they were enabled to pour their volleys into our brigades, as they advanced to the stream, with fatal precision. The burning village of Burliuk, in front of the position occupied by Sir De Lacy Evans, nece itated the separation of his division. General Penne father led the First Brigade and a portion of the Second acro the river to the right of the village; the remainder, under General Adams, cro ing to the left. The Light Division struggled manfully up the bank, which was rugged and precipitous. The ford was deep and dangerous, and as the men, drenched with water, scrambled up the banks, scores of their number fell back into the stream pierced by the fatal rifle bullet. But the blood of the gallant fellows was flowing hotly in their veins; those who, in other times, had borne the shock of battles, felt renewed the old spirit which had made them conquerors at Vimiera and at Waterloo; those who for the first time trod the fatal field felt an indescribable and fierce courage, which the sight of danger and of death infuses into most men. Six months of inaction and pa ive suffering were about to be consummated by a glorious victory, which should crown them as conquering heroes or immortalize their death. They had stood long “like greyhounds on the slips, straining upon the start;” now “the game was afoot,” and the old fire of English chivalry was rekindled, and burnt with as glowing a flame as of yore. Quickly forming into line, and opening a sharp fire of musketry, the gallant Light Division rapidly advanced towards the conical hill opposite to which they had cro ed, and immediately beneath the guns of the great redoubt. As they pa ed through the vineyards, the soldiers plucked and eagerly ate large bunches of the luscious Crime an grapes, which allayed their burning thirst, and somewhat cooled the mad fever of their excitement. Sir George Brown gallantly led the charge, and, mounted on a white horse, was a conspicuous mark for the enemy. The 7th Royal Fusiliers and the 23rd Welsh Fusiliers were among the first in the mad career. “Hurrah for the Royal Welsh! Well done! I will remember you!” shouted Sir George Brown; and animated by his voice and example, the gallant regiment dashed up the hill. Then there opened a sheet of fire, and when the smoke lifted, the 7th was broken, and a long line of dead marked the path of the fatal mi iles. For a moment the brave soldiers struggled onwards, and then, blinded and confused, fell back to re-form. The Welsh Fusiliers, regardle of the fierce volleys, still pre ed onwards. Once they paused, as Sir George Brown fell at their head, and rolled heavily on the blood-stained ground. In an instant he was up again unhurt, and cheering the men to the charge. His horse had fallen, pierced by eleven shots, but he was unhurt! They had reached the first stockade, had even planted their flag upon the works, when a shout was heard—“Cease firing; the French are in front!” Their gallant chief, Colonel Chester, rushing to the front, exclaimed, “No! no! on, lads!” As he spoke he fell mortally wounded. Then the regiment, confused by the contrary orders, and disheartened, did fall back; and the Ru ians, returning to the guns from which the brave fellows had driven them, opened a fire which left a long line of dead through their columns. Nine officers and about one hundred men were stretched upon the field. The other regiments of the Light Brigade, the 19th, 33rd, 77th, and 88th, emulated the courage of the gallant Welsh men, who, after a moment’s breathing-time, re-formed, and joined once more in the heroic a ault. Onward swept that magnificent charge, officers and men vying with each other who should be foremost to avenge their comrades’ death. But before they reached the guns, Prince Mensch i koff had formed a compact ma of Ru ian infantry on the summit of the hill, which now advanced with level bayonets against our exhausted battalions. Breathle from their rapid charge up the hill, diminished in numbers, and fatigued from their almost superhuman exertions, they were unable to resist the shock, and, desperately contesting every inch of ground, slowly yielded to the enormous weight of the Ru ian columns. The gallant 33rd, the Duke of Wellington’s regiment, displayed a prowe excelled by none. Their colours were borne proudly to the last, and ever in the spot of the greatest danger. The Queen’s colours, when the fight was over, showed fourteen bullet-holes, and the regimental colours eleven. Nineteen sergeants fell around their standards, defending to the last the honour of their regiment, and preserving the fame so identified with the career of the departed warrior whose name it bore. While the heroes of the Light Division were thus nobly performing their part, Sir De Lacy Evans and General England were gallantly bringing their divisions into action. They had forced a pa age, with great difficulty, and exposed to a most destructive fire, somewhat to the left of their compatriots of Sir George Brown’s division, and, breaking through the obstacles which awaited them on the bank, rapidly advanced up the hill. The 55th and 95th encountered a tremendous fire, which they returned with vigour from their muskets, while our artillery did good service by an energetic discharge of shot and shell into the enemy’s lines. Major Rose, Captains Butler and Scham, fell to rise no more, and many other officers were severely wounded; 123 killed and wounded were the contribution of this regiment to the day’s slaughter. As the 95th charged up the hill, one of the most affecting episodes of that fierce encounter—so full of incidents, of unsurpa ed courage, and pathetic scenes—occurred. Early in the charge, Captain Eddington, a young officer, fell wounded, a ball pa ing through his chest. The regiment, unable to stand against the scathing fire to which they were exposed, fell back to re-form, and left the wounded officer on the ground. In full view of the regiment, a Ru ian rifleman advanced, and kneeling by his side, appeared to be about to offer his canteen to his lips. A thrill pa ed through the ranks, at the spectacle of a soldier exposing his own life thus for the purpose of alleviating the sufferings of a dying enemy. No gun would have been pointed against that man, no bayonet levelled at his life. It seemed one of those incidents that show the better feelings of humanity are not quite extinguished by the breath of war. But what was their horror when the rifleman, laying aside his canteen, levelled his piece and deliberately blew out the brains of the dying man! Among those who witne ed this cowardly a a ination was a younger brother of the captain who had recently exchanged into the regiment, that he might share death and danger with his brother, whom he tenderly loved. Maddened by the spectacle of his brother’s murder, the young lieutenant sprang forward, shouting with frantic energy to the men to follow and avenge the deed. One loud yell of execration burst from the lips of the soldiers, and bounding onwards, they rushed after their leader. Waving his sword above his head, the gallant young man was a conspicuous mark, and in another moment fell headlong, pierced by a dozen bullets. Thus the two brothers, so fondly attached in life, mingled their blood on that fatal hillside—among you sands of the slain perhaps the most generally and deeply mourned. At length Sir De Lacy Evans, who had received a severe contusion on his shoulder, rallied his men, and led them victors to the summit of the hill, silencing one of the batteries which had done such execution upon the gallant fellows of the Light Division. Sir Richard England’s division had fought—to use the language of one who shared in that charge—“like devils,” and surmounting every impediment, though not without dreadful lo , joined their gallant comrades. Everywhere the Ru ians were driven back by the irresistible bayonets of the British, and the conquerors literally marched through paths of blood to victory. As yet we have not detailed the part borne by the magnificent First Division,—the very flower of the British army. The Duke of Cambridge had led his Guards and Highlanders acro the Alma, to the left of the Light Division, and rapidly advanced to its a istance. As they ascended the hill, they encountered Sir George Brown’s regiments slowly yielding to the immense impetus of the Ru ian charge. Opening their ranks, they allowed their comrades to pa and re-form in their rear, and then the enemy for the first time was confronted with the most redoubtable infantry soldiers in the world. Then began the most desperate hand-to-hand conflict yet witne ed. The Scots Fusiliers had hurried to the rescue without waiting to form properly, and for a brief space were confused. But the individual courage of the members of that distinguished corps never for an instant was found deficient. Surrounded by the enemy, they fought with undaunted valour. Viscount Chewton, a distinguished young captain, who had gained renown in both services, having been originally a midshipman, and having borne an honourable part in the Indian campaign, dashed forward, and, waving his bearskin, shouted to them to advance. Thirteen other officers, with reckle bravery, followed his example, and in a few minutes eleven of their number were wounded. The gallant Chewton had his leg broken by a ball, and fell within fifty yards of the redoubt. Before he could be rescued, several Ru ians attacked the fallen man, and beat him savagely with the butt-ends of their muskets, others stabbing him at the same time with their bayonets. A strong man, he struggled desperately; and when at length rescued and borne from the field, his body was found to be almost covered with wounds. He lingered for a few days, and then expired. Two young officers, Lieutenants Lindsay and Thistlethwayte, who bore the colours, were surrounded by the enemy, and, except the four colour-sergeants, isolated from their comrades. The sergeants were one by one struck down; and then these gallant young men, back to back, kept the foe at bay, and, almost miraculously escaping unhurt, cut their way through and carried their colours safely to the top of the hill. Meanwhile the Light Division had re-formed their lines, and now returned to the charge, in the footsteps of the dauntle Guards. In vain broad sheets of fire poured through the ranks—no man flinched. The flag which the Fusiliers had planted on the redoubt was still there, and pointed out the path they were to tread. Their royal leader proved himself worthy of his charge, and encouraged by his example the valour of his men. The Ru ians quailed before the tremendous onset; and when the Highlanders, who had reserved their fire, came dashing up to the front, and, after discharging a tremendous volley, charged at the bayonet’s point, the rout was complete. Thu enemy fled terror-stricken, and the Guards and Highlanders together leaped into the redoubt, the gunners precipitately hastening after their flying comrades. At the summit of the hill a brief stand was made, and it seemed as if the contest were about to be renewed; but the Highlanders, levelling their bayonets, advanced at a rapid pace, and the enemy, dashing down their accoutrements and arms, fled, like frightened sheep, down the declivity. Meantime the French had driven back the Ru ian left wing upon the main body, and now brought to bear, with deadly effect, their guns upon the retreating foe; and the second and third divisions of our army arrived upon the scene. The victory was complete: a great army, in a position of immense strength, had been ignominiously defeated, in le than three hours, by the sheer valour of English and French soldiers. True, we had paid dearly for our victory; but the annals of the British army do not record a nobler achievement. We were unable to pursue the fugitives—our cavalry was too weak in numbers to be detached from the main body of the army: had we been stronger in that branch of the service, the victory of the Alma might have been equivalent to the conquest of the Crimea. We afterwards ascertained that Sebastopol was emptied of its garrison to strengthen the army, and had we been in a position to follow the retreating forces, we might have inflicted a blow on Ru ian strength from which it would not in all probability have soon recovered; as it was, the Allies remained masters of the field, and the defeated Mensch i koff fled towards Baktchi-Serai, leaving behind him, according to his own admi ion, 1,762 dead, and 2,720 wounded. Ru ian a ertions are not the most trustworthy, especially when the circumstances are unfavourable to themselves, and the probability is that the lo was really much greater. The English had 353 killed, and 1,612 wounded, many of whom afterwards died of their injuries. Our allies lost 256 killed, and 1,087 wounded. On the bloody field reposed the victors when that day’s dreadful work was done: amid the dead and dying—the life breath painfully pa ing from the lips of wounded friend and foe—some of our bravo fellows, pillowed on their knapsacks, slept a fitful sleep; some crept among the heaps of dying, searching for friend or brother, and some supported the drooping head and administered a draught of water to the fevered lips of wounded comrade or dying enemy. The fight was over, the lust of blood satisfied, and all the better qualities of manhood, mercy and forgivene , appeared beneath that setting sun. Sometimes, as they stooped to a ist a dying enemy, the Muscovite, trained to treachery, with a final effort, would discharge a pistol at their heads; and then the old war spirit was once more aroused, and with clubbed musket, or deadly bayonet, the malevolent Ru ian was sent to his account. The sailors, who had watched the progre of the battle from the ships, when they saw that victory was ours, swarmed ashore, and hurried to the scene of strife. There they bore the wounded to the surgeon’s quarters, and to the ships, with the tenderne of women. Little drummer-boys might be seen among the prostrate heroes, comforting and rendering a istance with a care and zeal beyond their years. A fatigue party was ordered on service to bury the dead; and the surgeons, with bare arms and splashed with blood, strove by their skill and energy to alleviate the sufferings and save the lives of the poor fellows brought to them. A frightful spectacle was that hill-side of the Alma, on the evening of the renowned 20th of September, 1854. England’s best and bravest lay dead, their pale faces lit by the setting sun: some retained the expre ion of that intense energy which bore them fearle ly to the mouths of the Ru ian guns; some, with faces calm and beautiful as an infant’s, seemed peacefully sleeping, and smiling as they slept: others, with limbs contracted, and features frightfully distorted, bore witne to the fierce agonies of the death-struggle. Ru ian and English and French lay commingled, as they fell in the deadly struggle; and among the heaps of corpses, many in whom the spark of life yet lingered, lay miserably groaning, or faintly crawled with shattered limbs, in search of help. Some of the bodies were headle , the brains scattered around the bloody trunk: and others were so frightfully mutilated that it was difficult to recognize any trace of humanity. While some of our men helped to bear the wounded from the field, and bury the corpses of the slain, others hovered about, and plundered the dead of clothes, arms and such matters as could be carried away; the sailors especially were active in securing trophies of war. Ru ian orders and cro es, Ru ian arms, and even the black bread from the soldiers’ knapsacks, were eagerly sought; the boots were real prizes, and the seamen, who would heartily lend a hand to succour a wounded comrade, or even a foe, had no delicacy in appropriating the clothing of the dead. An expeditious mode of measurement, by which they secured the articles which would best fit, caused some amusement, even at such a time. Jack, seating himself at the feet of a dead Ru ian, placed the sole of his foot against that of the corpse; if they agreed in size, the boots were at once appropriated; if otherwise, the critical mariner proceeded to another selection. For two days the armies remained upon the field; had they marched at once, it is more than probable, nay, almost certain, they might have entered Sebastopol with but little resistance. Marshal St. Arnaud wished to make an immediate advance; but Lord Raglan refused to leave his wounded untended on the field. Though po ibly we ultimately lost by this delay, we can scarcely blame a general who showed such a fine humanity even among the horrors of warfare. Our English courage is of the old chivalric sort—we fight as men, for great principles, not for the lust of conquest: our soldiers are every one a treasure of immense value, rightly used, not to be cast away to perish when their first use is pa ed. Human life is to English men intensely sacred: we cheerfully lay it down when demanded, and in proportion do we honour and cherish those who have perilled it in our cause. A single life wilfully sacrificed for a mere strategical advantage would have been a stain on our English honour, which we should not speedily have forgiven. At early morning, on the 23rd of September, the Allies turned their backs on the memorable heights. Two men, strong and unwounded, remained upon the field, and watched their departure; and in all that proud array, flushed with victory, there were none who bore more heroic hearts. Upwards of 200 wounded Ru ians still lay upon the field; and Dr. Thompson, surgeon of the 44th regiment, and his servant, volunteered to remain, and administer to their wants. Every moment increased their loneline and their danger; for predatory bands of Co ack horsemen still hovered around the scene, against whose revengeful lances the plea of mercy and Christian charity would have been but an ineffectual shield; and yet these two brave men quailed not in their mi ion, and many a dying foe had his last pangs soothed, and parting agonies alleviated, by the ministrations of these good Samaritans of peace.” ALMANZA.—This battle was fought, April 4th, 1707, between the confederate forces under the Earl of Galway, and the French and Spaniards, commanded by James Fitzjames, Duke of Berwick, the illegitimate son of James II of England, when most of the English were killed or made prisoners of war, having been abandoned by the Portuguese at the first charge. ALMEIDA.—This was an important position, as a frontier town of Portugal, in the Peninsular war. Ma ena laid siege to it August 15th, 1810, and the governor capitulated August 27th following. The French cro ed into Spain, leaving a garrison at Almeida, blockaded by the British, April 6th, 1811. It was evacuated by the French, May 11th, of the same year. In the end Wellington compelled Ma ena to retire from Portugal, but the route of the French was tracked by horrid desolation. ALNEY.—This was rather a single combat than a battle, between Edmund Ironside and Canute the Great, in sight of their armies. The latter was wounded, when he proposed a division of the kingdom, the south part falling to Edmund, A.D. 1016; but this prince having been murdered at Oxford, shortly after the treaty, according to some by the treachery of Aldric Streon, Canute was left in the peaceable po e ion of the whole kingdom, A.D. 1017. AMBOYNA.—This place is celebrated for the memorable ma acre of the English factors by the Dutch, February 17th, 1623; they were cruelly tortured and put to death on an accusation of a conspiracy to expel the Dutch from the island, where the two nations resided and jointly shared in the pepper trade of Java. Amboyna was seized by the English, February 16th, 1796, but was restored by the treaty of Amiens in 1802. It was again seized by the British, February 17th, 1810, and was restored at the peace of 1814. AMHERSTBURG.—Fought between the Canadians and Americans. In July, 1812, the American General Hull, with a force of 2500 men, cro ed over from Detroit, and entered the Western district, where he i ued a proclamation inviting the inhabitants to join his standard. At this time the British force on the frontier was merely nominal, and could offer little resistance. As soon as General Brock heard of this invasion, he prorogued the Parliament, then sitting at Toronto, and proceeded westward. He arrived on the 12th of August at Amherstburg, where he mustered about 330 regulars, and 400 militia and six hundred Indians. Hull, whose force, weakened by sickne and sending away two detachments, is said at this time not to have exceeded 800 effective men, retreated acro the river, withdrawing the cannon prepared for the siege of Amherstburg, and shut himself up in Detroit. General Brock, instantly cro ing over, advanced upon the fort and prepared for an immediate a ault. A white flag, however, appeared from the walls, and a capitulation was signed, by which the whole American force, including the detachments, were made prisoners and sent to Montreal. Loud and just complaints were made by the Americans against the conduct of Hull, who was afterwards tried and condemned to be shot, but was spared on account of his age and former services.