Our turn came at about 5.30 p.m., and away we went at the Quarries with a dash, the old 7th and 88th leading the van. It was England and Ireland side by side. The enemy might well look astonished, for our bayonets were soon in the midst of them. They were routed out of the Quarries; and our people set to work with pick and shovel as hard as men could work. But the enemy were no mean foe; they were armed with as good a weapon as ourselves, and were not going to submit to being shut up in the town, without giving some hard blows. They came on repeatedly, and tried to re-take the position from us; but the old Fusiliers and Connaught Rangers, assisted by detachments of various regiments of the Second and Light Divisions, on each occasion sent them reeling back. At times we were hardly pushed, for we had no ammunition left, and had to do as we had done at Inkermann, viz., pitch stones at them. I am not altogether certain that some of the 88th did not use their teeth--all is fair in love and war. Both officers and men fought with desperation. It was resolved by all of us not to be beaten; but at times we were under such a fire of grape and musketry that it appeared impossible for anything to live. As far as I could see, all had made up their minds to die rather than turn their backs on the foe, and we had that night leaders who knew how to die but could hardly run. As far as the old 7th Fusiliers were concerned, we had some splendid officers--Mills, Turner, Waller, Jones, Fitzclarence, all courageous men, just the right sort to lead a storming party. Mr. Jones and Waller repeatedly led our men at the enemy during that sanguinary night. At times all was confusion, uproar, and smoke. Dust and showers of stones flew like hail. It was hot work all night, but we meant to win or die. The hurrahs of our fellows told both friend and foe that our blood was up. If we were short of ammunition we had plenty of steel; we had a Wolseley with us and others as good, but nearly all our commanders bit the dust, dead or wounded. I had the honour of taking a man's name that evening for a most daring act, viz., bringing a barrel of ammunition on his head across the open field, under a tremendous fire, throwing it at our feet, exclaiming, "Here you are, my lads, fire away," and then going back to get another. I had the pleasure of meeting him afterwards in India, with the cross upon his noble breast--"Gunner Arthur." But Arthur was not alone; two of our own men--Private Matthew Hughes and Corporal Gumley did exactly the same. Hughes, smoking his old clay pipe all the time, exclaimed, "Keep it up, lads;" "Lend a hand, sir, to distribute these pills," addressing a young officer. The fighting all night was of a deadly character, but we had then got the Quarries, and were not going to let the enemy have them again. As for the Mamelon, it was "ding-dong hard pounding." Five times the French went at it. The fifth column was blown into the air to