INKERMANN

BATTLE OF.—One of the most brilliant achievements in the history of the British Army. Fought on the 5th of November, 1854. “Two days after the repulse of the enemy’s sortie, by Sir De Lacy Evans’ division, General Dannenberg, with a large Ru ian reinforcement, arrived at Baktchi-Serai from Ode a, which place he left on the 19th of October. In order that his men might reach the scene of action with the greatest practicable rapidity, and in good condition, every available cart and rustic conveyance was pre ed into the service. They were thus comparatively fresh and vigorous after so rapid a march. On the 3rd of November, one division, under General So i mon off, entered Sebastopol. The remainder, under General Pauloff, encamped at Tchorgoun, a short distance to the east. Strengthened by this considerable reinforcement, the Ru ian Generals decided upon an attack upon the position of the Allies in such strength that it should be scarcely po ible to make an effectual resistance. The Grand Dukes Michael and Nicholas, sons of the Emperor, had arrived at Sebastopol, with the purpose of encouraging the garrison by their presence, and witne ing the total defeat of the haughty invaders. On Sunday, the 4th of November, solemn religious services were held in the town. Patriarchs and Bishops of the Greek Church addre ed the soldiery, urged upon them the importance of the trust which their good father the Czar had thought proper to impose upon them,—a ured them that death in his service was only the road to a martyr’s crown, and that the English were monsters of cruelty, who committed the most atrocious barbarities upon all prisoners of war. Finally, they said the British camp abounded in treasure, one-third of which should be the property of the soldiery. Incited by these promises,—stimulated by extra rations of ardent spirits,—and fanatically believing that the destruction of the English heretics would be a work of acceptable piety, the Ru ian soldiers mingled shouts of devotion to the Czar and death to the Allies, and prepared themselves for the encounter of the morrow. The plan of attack, as decided upon by the enemy’s commanders, was shortly this:—The extreme right of the British position, near the bridge which cro ed the Tchernaya at Inkermann, was notoriously our weak point. Sir De Lacy Evans, whose division occupied this position, had repeatedly called Lord Raglan’s attention to this vulnerable point; but so laborious were the duties devolving upon our men, and so extended the line of defence, that it was impo ible to spare either men or guns for the establishment of works. The French, whose large numbers and secure position on the western plateau left them a far smaller share of the duty, had been early applied to for a istance, but had hitherto refused. Sir John Burgoyne had called the special attention of General Biot to the danger of leaving exposed such an avenue to the camp of the Allies; but the French commander seems to have been at this time but little disposed to relieve the English of any of the toil or danger they had so willingly undertaken, but which proved too much for their effectual performance. At length the English, by almost superhuman exertions, had erected a small work on the brow of the hill, intended to carry two guns, but they had not yet been mounted. Towards this point, then,—of the unprotected nature of which the Ru ians were perfectly well aware, thanks to the newspaper correspondents, who, in their anxiety to satisfy the curiosity of the readers at home, contrived (unwittingly, we believe) to afford the enemy a very great deal of valuable information,—the attention of the Ru ians was naturally directed. It afforded a convenient acce to the very centre of the English lines, and would, in all probability, offer but a feeble resistance. It was arranged that Gortschakoff should, at an early hour on the morning of the 5th, make a threatening demonstration in front of Balaklava, apparently renewing the attempt of the 25th of October. This would have the effect of drawing a considerable portion of the armies to the defence of that important position, thus leaving the front comparatively unprotected. On the extreme left of the line, General Tim of eyer would also make a feigned attack, occupying the attention of the French. The actual a ault was to be made by the recently-arrived army of General Dannenberg. The two divisions already named, according to the Ru ian computation (most probably understated), were of the following strength: General So i mon off’s corps consisted of three regiments of the 10th division, three of the 16th, and one of the 17th, amounting altogether to 16,200 bayonets, with twenty-two heavy and sixteen light guns; that of General Pauloff, numbering 13,200 bayonets, was composed of three regiments of the 10th division, two Cha eur regiments of the 18th, with twelve guns. The two corps thus numbered 29,400 bayonets, and fifty guns. So i mon off was ordered to march from the Malakoff Tower in a westerly direction, until he reached the Kilen ravine, under cover of which he was to penetrate into the English centre on the western side of the ravine. Five o’clock in the morning was fixed as the time for the a ault. Pauloff’s division was to cro the Tchernaya, force the English lines at the unprotected point, and cutting their way through the second division join So i mon off in the main attack, when General Dannenberg, with the remainder of the army, would appear upon the scene, and, it was fondly imagined, give the coup de grace to the invaders. Such was the plan of the Ru ian Generals, carefully matured, and kept profoundly secret from the Allies. We shall see the result. All night the bells of Sebastopol rang loudly. The heavy November mist obscured the sound; and most probably, the English soldiers, far from considering the clashing from the belfries as the signal for the gathering of troops, imagined that one of the multitudinous festivals of the Greek Church was being celebrated with unwonted ostentation. Towards morning the mist thickened, and it was impo ible to discern any object at above a few yards’ distance. Taking advantage of the fog, the Ru ians conveyed their guns to the lofty eminences beyond the Tchernaya, facing the British position, and by almost incredible efforts, in a very brief time, had established a formidable battery in a most commanding situation. About four o’clock in the morning, intelligence arrived at head-quarters that Balaklava was again threatened. General Bosquet was immediately on the alert, with his French cha eurs, and the indomitable Sir Colin Campbell was fully prepared to meet any force which might be despatched against him. It was no part, however, of the enemy’s tactics seriously to attack this position. His purpose was fully served by the attention of the French being attracted to this point, and the English being diverted from the real point of a ault. About five o’clock enormous bodies of Ru ian infantry, under cover of the heavy fog, silently pa ed the bridge acro the Tchernaya, and stealthily crept up the hill towards the weak point of the English position at the newly-erected two-gun battery. The pickets of the 55th, on duty at this spot, suddenly found themselves in presence of an over-whelming force of the enemy. Desperately fighting, the courageous little band slowly yielded ground, contesting every step, and retreating up the hill towards the redoubt. Their smart firing, in reply to the tremendous volleys of the enemy’s musketry, which were now poured into the handful of men, aroused the camp, and indicated the real nature of the enemy’s plans. General Penne father, who commanded the Second Division, in the absence of Sir De Lacy Evans (who was compelled by the debilitated state of his health to leave his active duties, and retire on board one of the ships in the harbor), immediately hastened to the scene; and the men of his division, hastily shaking off their sleep, quickly responded to the alarm. In a few minutes all was bustle and activity. Officers and men, alike hurried forward, some half-dre ed, all unbreakfasted, many suffering from sickne , and none free from the effects of privation and over-toil. From the Second Division the intelligence of the attack was quickly carried to the camps of the First, Fourth and Light Divisions, and the Duke of Cambridge, Sir George Cathcart, and Sir George Brown, instantly put themselves at the heads of their men, and lost no time in marching to the scene of action. When the pickets were driven in, they retreated to the little two-gun battery, and fired through the embrasures at the ma es of the enemy, now advancing in dense columns to the attack. The Ru ian batteries on the opposite hills opened a tremendous fire upon them, and the guns of the town and the ships in the harbor threw enormous volleys of shell and shot right into the camp of the Second Division, tearing up the ground, and destroying the tents. For a few moments the gallant fellows of the 51st held their ground, but no courage could long contend against such fearful odds. In spite of their fire, much too feeble to stay the advance of such ma ive columns, the Ru ians advanced at a rapid pace up the hill, the few shots of the undaunted defenders of the redoubt telling fatally in their ranks. Almost before the English could reload, the Ru ians were swarming around the battery, and leaping over the embrasure. Many were hurled back again by the bayonets of the undaunted picket, who at length, borne down by the weight of the attack, were driven from the work, and retreated down the hill. The 41st and 49th now came into the action, and forming into line, charged the advancing Ru ians, and drove them back to the redoubt. Again was this little work the scene of a tremendous contest. The two regiments discharging a brisk volley from their Minié rifles, levelled their bayonets, and driving the enemy pell-mell before them, hurled them out of the battery, and once more the English were masters of the position. The retreating Ru ians were speedily met and reinforced by other columns of infantry, and then doubled in numbers, again advanced to the attack. The fire, too, from their batteries, poured unceasing destruction into the thin ranks of the English regiments. Already the dead and dying were lying thick around, and many of the bravest and best among them had fallen beneath the intense fire of the enemy. The Ru ian ma es literally surged up the hill, and hurled themselves once more at the devoted little band. A fearful struggle followed. Hand to hand was the combat waged, the bayonet doing deadly havoc upon friend and foe. In vain the brave defenders of their post struggled against the unequal odds; in vain the officers heroically exposed themselves and encouraged their men to the desperate encounter; and in vain the men themselves emulated their leaders’ undaunted courage—the enemy, so immensely superior in numbers, drove them, after a sanguinary defence, from the work, and pursued them, desperately fighting in their retreat, towards the camp of their division. The alarm had now spread throughout the entire camp, and even reached Balaklava, rousing the sleepers on board the ships in the harbour. The heavy booming of the cannon told how fierce was the contest. Sir De Lacy Evans forgot his sickne , and leaving the bed to which for many days he had been confined, insisted on being rowed ashore; and mounting a horse, which he was almost too weak to guide, started for the field of battle. Lord Raglan, with his staff, had by this time reached the spot, and at once saw the critical position of the Allies; and saw, too, the blunder which the enemy had committed. General So i mon off, who should, upon i uing from the ravine near Careening Bay, have turned to the right and attacked the centre of the English line, weakened by the tremendous a ault on the extreme left of the position, mistook the direction and marched to the left, thus reaching the ground occupied by the Second Division, and embarra ing General Pauloff’s operations by permitting the concentration of the English forces to repel his a ault, instead of diverting their attention by an attack at a comparatively remote point. For a General of Raglan’s experience to take advantage of this blunder was an easy task. He immediately made such arrangements of the small means at his command as would enable him to present two fronts of resistance on the threatened points, while preserving the solidity of his position. The 20th and 47th regiments now arrived to the a istance of the gallant 49th and 41st, driven with such dreadful slaughter from the two-gun battery. The brave Colonel Carpenter, of the 41st, had fallen pierced with many bullets; and the blood-thirsty Ru ians, with that tiger-like ferocity which has made the day of Inkermann so fearfully memorable, mutilated the sensele form of the grey-headed old warrior, clubbing their muskets, and beating him on the face till it was almost impo ible to distinguish his features. Covered with blood, frightfully mangled, and recognised only by his uniform, the colonel was at length, when the enemy retreated, found by his men, and borne, still breathing, from the field, to linger for a few days in acute agonies, and then to breathe his last. Amidst a hurricane of bullets from the Ru ian troops, and exposed to a deadly storm of mi iles from the enemies’ batteries, the 20th and 47th fearle ly charged the opposing ma es, and endeavoured to take the redoubt. They were succe ful in the attempt. The Ru ian lines trembled before their impetuous onset. The levelled bayonets, borne onwards by the resistle vigour of English men, now maddened by the excitement of battle, cheered by their officers, and with the memory of Alma, swept down the hordes of irresolute Muscovites, and with a ringing cheer, the victorious Britons were once again in the earthwork. There, indeed, was a sight to rouse their hearts—if, indeed, further stimulant were needed—to deeds of vengeance. Not one of those who in the previous attacks had fallen wounded was now alive. The remorsele Ru ians—a a ins rather than soldiers—had bayonetted every one who showed signs of life. The little battery was choked with heaps of dead. English men and Ru ians lay as they fell stiff in their blood, and disfigured by the agonies of death. Not one was left to tell his victorious comrades, who leaped shouting into the redoubt, how bravely their companions in arms had disputed its po e ion, how dearly the enemy had purchased a temporary succe , or how basely that succe had been consummated by the most brutal murder of wounded and unarmed men. But the Ru ians were not disposed to submit to the lo of this important position which they had made so many efforts to retain. Fresh legions were launched against the two regiments who had been thus far succe ful; and in irresistible strength, still another attempt was made to regain the post. Against such numbers it was impo ible to contend succe fully. The brave holders of the redoubt fought desperately, with that unyielding pertinacity for which the British infantry, beyond any soldiery in the world, is distinguished. But the shot from the batteries on the hills beyond the river swept through their lines; on every hand brave fellows fell pierced with bullets, or mangled by exploding shells. The enemy was tenfold their number, and swept on like a torrent against their feeble defence. After a brief but most heroic struggle, the noble remnant of the gallant 20th and 47th yielded to a force they could no longer withstand, and retreated to the main body, leaving the Ru ians for the third time the masters of the two-gun battery. The masters, it is true; but not the undisputed masters. A yet bloodier contest was to be waged for its po e ion—a contest which should make that small unfinished work, on which as yet no gun had been mounted, renowned throughout Europe. By the time that the 20th and 41st had been driven back, as we have just recorded, the Duke of Cambridge had reached the scene of action with the brigade of Guards—those renowned soldiers whose bayonets had carried the heights of Alma, and whose prowe was a theme of terror in the Ru ian camps. No soldier who had shared in or witne ed that tremendous fight could forget the terrible onslaught of those bear-skinned warriors, when the choicest troops of the Czar were trampled under foot, or scattered like chaff before their irresistible charge. The Cold streams, no longer the magnificent battalion which a few months before left the shores of England, but reduced by the casualties of war and sickne to a few hundred badly fed and miserably-clothed men, though retaining all the ancient courage, heightened, indeed, by the hardships they had endured and the memory of their former achievements,—advanced in close ranks, at a rapid pace and with fixed bayonets, against the living wall of the Ru ians, who held the crown of the hill. Though the enemy were as ten to one, they yielded and broke before that matchle onset. Scattering the foe before them, the valiant Guardsmen swept like a hurricane into the battery, and the defeated Ru ians were precipitated, a flying and disordered ma , down the hill. The Cold streams had well avenged their comrades’ fall, but they had not yet gained an undisputed succe . On came fresh battalions of the Ru ians. The flying regiments were mingled with, or sought refuge behind the advancing legions. Again the dense ma struggled up the hill, and again did it devolve upon English valour to defend the post which had been so dearly won. Not le than 6000 Ru ians advanced in a compact ma towards the two-gun battery. The defenders did not muster more than as many hundreds. Nothing daunted, they fired through the embrasures and from the brow of the hill smart volleys; and when their ammunition failed, as at length it did, many hurled stones at the enemy. But moment by moment the advancing host drew nearer and nearer. The summit of the hill is reached, they surround the fort, leap over the earthworks, and in an instant there is a hand to hand struggle, such as, perhaps, was never excelled in modern warfare. They are repulsed—literally dashed down the hill. Twice the a ault renewed; the second time they are again defeated; the third time they are once more in the battery. Bayonet cro es bayonet in rapid thrusts, fearful shrieks of agony are mingled with the shouts and curses of infuriated men, the floor is cumbered with the fallen and slippery with blood; the gallant Cold streams are alone and unaided, and every moment fresh foemen rush into the deadly mêlée . Hundreds fall before the fatal bayonets of the dauntle Guards—their places are supplied by hundreds more, fresh and unwounded. In front, on either side, they swarm around, ferocious and malignant. Back to back, the English heroes meet their tremendous charge. In all the horrors of that scene, amid all the carnage which surrounds them, their high courage never fails, their firm bearing is never relaxed. Though many fall mortally wounded, their comrades bestride their bodies, and there is still the bristling chevaux-de-frise of bayonets, against which the foe hurl themselves in vain, and only to fall in hundreds, thrust to the heart by the fatal steel, wielded by the hands of the most determined soldiers in the world. At length the limit is reached beyond which resistance is impo ible, and slowly yielding to the immense superiority of numbers, the Guards give ground, and prepare to leave the battery once more in the hands of the enemy. They retreat from the spot, and then see that their path is barred by another and fresh force of the enemy. Death appears inevitable; other soldiers might lay down their arms, and few would doubt their courage, so great is the disparity of strength. But the Guards are not dismayed even then. Struggling into line, with rapidity gained only by their perfect discipline, they level their bayonets, charge the fresh foe, and in an instant are among them. Down go the Ru ian infantry, stabbed and trampled on. A brief struggle, and the invincible Cold streams have cut through the ma es of the foe, and sweeping all opposition from their path, have rejoined the main body of their comrades. While this deadly contest was waging, the battle on the left of the position was rivalling it in intensity. So i mon off’s army had attacked, and the greater portion of the Second Division were bravely opposing their advance. The English artillery were ordered up to the support, and taking position on the hill, did good service, and sent many a Ru ian to his great account. But at length their ammunition was exhausted, and the enemy advancing in great force, after a stirring combat, in which Major Town send, a gallant and experienced officer, was killed, and prodigies of valour were performed, succeeded in capturing four of our guns. The battle had now a umed tremendous proportions. The whole of the Second and Fourth Divisions were engaged, as well as portions of the First and Light Divisions, about 8000 men in all. Including the fresh regiments which Dannenberg now brought into action, not le than 60,000 Ru ians were in the field. Against this overwhelming force the English bravely held their ground. The brigade of Guards, gallantly led by their royal commander, had again united, and waged a desperate warfare against unequal odds. In front, the Light Division and a portion of the Second preserved a firm bearing, and opposed themselves fearle ly to the shock of the advancing battalions. On the left, So i mon off’s corps d’armée was met by the remainder of the Second Division, who bore the a ault of the enemy, inspirited by their succe in driving back the artillery and capturing the guns. Their exultation was fated to be of brief duration, for the gallant Second, having repulsed their first attack, now a umed the offensive, and charging the Ru ian columns, after a sanguinary struggle, drove them back, and recaptured the guns. The ground to which the struggle was now confined was hilly and covered with thick brushwood, sloping towards the harbour, the ships in which, moored so as to command the English lines, poured a destructive fire into our ranks. The brigade of Guards, forced by the enormous odds to quit the Two-gun Battery, after such a terrific contest, were now engaged in hand-to-hand conflict with nearly ten times their number of the enemy. It was impo ible, from the fiercene of the contest and the nature of the ground, to preserve military order. The battle was a series of detached groups, sometimes a few dauntle Guardsmen, bareheaded and back to back, disputing every inch of ground, and with their bayonets inflicting terrible execution on the enemy; sometimes a young officer, rallying a few of his men around him, dashing with a ringing cheer at a phalanx of the foe, and as their dense ma was broken by the impetuosity of the attack, falling pierced by a dozen bullets, with his last breath cheering on his men to the charge. So fell Lieut.-Colonels Mack in non and Cowell; so fell Sir Robert Newman; and so fell many another brave soldier and good man. The Duke of Cambridge, affected almost to tears by the sight of so many lying in their blood, was everywhere in the thick of the fight, urging on his men, and setting them an example of the most daring courage. Almost alone, he dashed into the mêlée , amid a shower of bullets from the Ru ian rifles. Once he had nearly fallen a victim to his own enthusiasm and contempt of danger. Conspicuous by his uniform and fine person, he presented a prominent mark for the aim of the ambushed enemy. Reckle of the danger, he disdained even ordinary precautions. In this emergency, Dr. Wilson, anxious to lend his profe ional services to the wounded, saw the peril of the Duke, and collecting a handful of men, dispersed the enemy’s riflemen, and rescued the too daring leader. Nothing could exceed the deadly nature of the combat. The Guards fought as only men can fight, when utterly desperate. There seemed but small probability that one of that noble brigade would leave the ground unhurt. The Ru ians, strong in their numbers, inspirited by intoxication and fanaticism, poured their legions in vain against the resistance of such unquenchable heroism. Heaps of dead covered the ground, and the a a in Muscovites, unable to subdue the living, wreaked a miserable vengeance on the fallen, bayonetting and madly disfiguring with their clubbed muskets every prostrate antagonist. When the battle was over, many a brave fellow, who had fallen wounded, was found an unrecognisable ma of mangled flesh and blood. Rendered nearly mad by the sight of such devilish atrocity, the survivors redoubled their almost sur per natural efforts, and though pre ed on every side, maintained the struggle with unfailing valour, still the same invincible Guardsmen, so terrible at Alma, so heroic at the fight for the Two-gun Battery. The Light Division meanwhile maintained its reputation in the vigorous struggle in which they were now engaged. Sir George Brown, their General, was severely wounded, and borne from the field, his white hair streaming in the wind, and his face deadly pale, from the acutene of his suffering. A five-gun battery, under the direction of Sir Thomas Troubridge, Major of the 7th Fusiliers, did good service against the advancing columns of the enemy; but the brave fellows who manned it suffered terribly from the fire from the batteries of the town. Sir Thomas himself had his right leg and left foot carried away by a thirty-nine pounder from the Round Tower, or Malakoff. Notwithstanding the severity of the injury, and the excruciating agony he must have endured, he refused to permit his men to carry him to the rear; but ordered them to lift him to a gun-carriage, whence, streaming with blood, he continued to give the word of command, nor quitted his post till the enemy were routed. Seeing the desperate nature of the contest, Sir George Cathcart conceived the idea that by descending the side of the hill, he might take the enemy in flank, and so relieve the Guards from the unequal struggle in which they were engaged. He despatched General Torrens, with portions of the 46th and 68th regiments on this duty. They advanced rapidly, but from either hand rained the bullets of the Ru ian riflemen, concealed in the brushwood. The horse of General Torrens fell pierced by five bullets, and on every side, the number who were struck down attested the severity of the fire to which they were exposed. Torrens himself received a ball through his lungs, and was carried sensele from the field. Sir George Cathcart, seeing the fierce opposition which his brigade sustained, immediately dashed forward with the remainder of his men, and fearle ly charged the enemy. Too late he saw the error into which he had been led. He was perfectly surrounded by the enemy, who held the high ground commanding the valley into which he had led his brigade, in the hopes of making a vigorous flank attack. For some time, his little band returned sharp volleys to the enemy’s rifles. Then a cry was raised that their cartridges were exhausted. There was no retreat, and the fierce fire poured like hail into their ranks. “You have got your bayonets!” shouted their dauntle leader, and dashed forwards followed by his men. As he raised himself in his stirrups, a bullet pierced his brain, and the heroic Cathcart, the subduer of the Cape savages, fell headlong from his horse, quite dead. By his side fell Colonel Seymour, Adjutant-General of the Fourth Division, sharing his leader’s fate. He was wounded before Sir George, but concealed his hurt. When the General fell, Colonel Seymour dismounted to render him a istance. The brigade had swept on, unable to pause in their career, and then the enemy rushing on the wounded Seymour cruelly murdered him, as he stooped over the body of his friend, and consummated their infamy by basely stabbing with their bayonets the insensible body of the noble Cathcart. It was now eleven o’clock, and it seemed impo ible that the English could much longer withstand the terrible a ault. They were driven back exhausted by the long struggle; hundreds of their best and bravest had fallen heroically; and the enemy was still pouring fresh legions into the fray. The fog and drizzling rain obscured the scene of action, so that it was impo ible for the Generals to concert a scheme of operations, or even to know accurately the state of affairs: it was rather a series of battles than one action. Lord Raglan and his staff were eagerly watching the fray, but unable to control the movements of the troops. Nothing could save the entire army but the self-devotion and valour of the men: tactics were unavailable, and generalship usele . Now, however, came the crisis of the struggle. General Bosquet had by this time discovered that the threatened attack on Balaklava was but a feint; and warned by the thunder of cannon and the roll of musketry of the real point of attack, hastened to, the rescue. Two troops of horse-artillery were speedily despatched, and took up a position whence they could effectively play upon the Ru ian guns. Hastening to the spot, with his dashing regiments of Zouaves and Cha eurs Indigènes, he precipitated himself upon the left flank of the Ru ian hordes. General Can robert, too, at the same time, ordered up several French regiments of the line to the a istance of the English Second Division, on the left. Wearied, wounded, and almost disheartened, the English heroes were gradually giving ground to the foe, when their ears caught, above the din of battle, the rapid tread and loud shouts of advancing troops, and perceived through the mist the forms of ma ive columns, moving at a rapid pace, whether friends or foes they scarcely knew. In a few moments, a joyous “Hurrah!” rang from the broken lines, and a mighty cheer was echoed through the fog: then they knew the French were there to help them. A new life seemed to animate them; no longer they retreated, but summoning up the last flashes of their failing fire, charged the foe anew. The Ru ians, staggered by the fresh a ault, surprised by the sudden appearance of the warriors of Africa, hesitated and gave way. Then, uniting their ranks, the English and the French, with mingled shouts, loud “Hurrahs!” and “ Vive l’Empereur! ” dashed into the paralyzed columns, and drove the bayonets home through many a Ru ian breast. The Zouaves leaped through the tangled brushwood, and, with wondrous activity, scattered the confused and retreating battalions. Then came the tremendous fire from the ships in the harbour, and the guns from the heights, which almost swept them from the field, and forced them for a brief space to pause in their career. It was but for an instant. Renewing their charge, English and French once more dashed at the flying foe, and at the bayonet’s point, with fearful slaughter, drove them, a disorderly mob, down the hill-side. The moment had now come when Lord Raglan could effectively exhibit his generalship: for hours he had sat in his saddle, in a most exposed situation, unable to control the fluctuating fortunes of the day. Under his direction, General Strang ways had opened a heavy fire of artillery upon the Ru ian guns upon the opposite hills, with the hope of silencing their fatal volleys. This was all he had been enabled to perform for the succour of the troops engaged. Many fell around him, but the brave old General refused to move from his exposed situation, anxious for the time to arrive when he might be enabled so to manœuvre his forces as to drive back the enemy. General Strang ways was within a short distance of the Commander-in-Chief, when a shot, which had actually pa ed between the legs of Lord Raglan’s horse, shattered his leg, and he fell to the ground. He was borne carefully to the rear, where, in a few moments, the gallant old man, who had survived the dangers of Leipzig, and a fearful wound at Waterloo, breathed his last; meeting his fate with a calm heroism that affected to tears many a brave man fresh from the honours of that sanguinary field. The Ru ians had left on the field two 18-pounder guns, and Lord Raglan now ordered them to be brought up to the front. Colonel Dicks on had already anticipated the order, and the guns had been dragged by main strength to the fitting position on a ridge front of the Second Division. A isted by Captain D’Aguilar, a well-aimed fire was poured into the Ru ian batteries; the guns were overthrown, the gunners killed, and the fire for an instant quelled; but the fertility of the enemy’s resources did not fail them even now: fresh gunners supplied the places of those struck down by the English fire, and the deadly duel was resumed. Then came the retreating infantry—a headlong ma , and the fiery Zouaves and reanimated British in hot pursuit. Three times were the artillerymen swept away from their guns; as many times their places were supplied. Then, under cover of fierce volleys from the town and ships, they succeeded in carrying off their guns. The French batteries now advanced to the crown of the ridge, and opened fire on the retreating ma es, flying pell-mell towards the heights. Hundreds fell beneath the deadly volleys—the thunders of the death-dealing artillery drowned alike the shrieks and groans of the wounded and the triumphant shouts of the victors, and the battle of Inkermann was won! About 8000 English and 6000 French had thus utterly defeated more than 50,000 of the enemy, with the disadvantage of being taken by surprise. The English were enfeebled by sickne , imperfectly fed, and inadequately provided with nece ary equipments and ammunition. The Ru ians were mostly fresh troops, prepared for the attack, and supported by the tremendous batteries of the town and ships. It is to the French unquestionably that we were indebted for the victory: no human courage could much longer have withstood such disproportionate odds. The gallant Bosquet, by his promptitude and the dashing valour of his African soldiers, saved not only the fortunes of the day, but the very existence of the English army. Our lo was 462 killed, including 43 officers, 1952 wounded, and 198 mi ing; giving a total of 2612 casualties. Three generals were killed—Cathcart, Goldie, and Strang ways; and three—Brown, Torrens, and Bentinck—were wounded. If we reckon that only about 8000 were engaged, these numbers show that nearly every third man was killed, wounded, or fell into the hands of the enemy. The Ru ians admit a lo of 2969 killed, of whom 42 were officers; and 5791 wounded, including 206 officers; giving a total lo of 8760. There can be no rational doubt that their real lo was nearly double, and the number of Ru ians killed or wounded was at the least equal to the entire English and French forces engaged in the battle. Our brigade of Guards alone lost twelve officers killed on the field, besides many wounded. Truly the daring courage of the English gentleman has not deteriorated in these latter days! The chivalric valour which placed the officers in the very front of danger was nobly seconded by the unquenchable spirit of the men whom they led; they were mostly fasting, when they hurried to the scene of conflict, and for ten long hours were engaged in one of the deadliest struggles the military historian has ever recorded. Some were sick, all were gaunt and emaciated. It was Agin court once more. The starved legions met and overthrew five times their number. Such was the bloody battle of Inkermann!”