fellows were falling one on the top of another; for the batteries in front, right and left, were like so many volcanoes pouring forth a never-ceasing stream of fire. Truly it was an awful scene. It did not last much more than half-an-hour; and my readers may form some idea of the terrible fire we had to face, for our loss was as follows:--Killed, wounded, and missing, 7,988 French and British! But They shall live renown'd in story, They whose arms, on fields of gore, Saved our homes and native land From the rude rough clash of war. T. G. Our men had been crushed beneath a terrific fire, but not subdued. We knew well that a day--a terrible day--of reckoning would come, and longed to be let loose at them. "Oh, if we could only get them well out into the open fields," said one old hand, "we'd make short work of them!" But, no chance of that. They had had several tastes of our bayonets, and wanted no more; so we had to set to work and hunt them out of one of the strongest fortifications in the world. Ultimately, the reader will find that we managed them. The following was my letter home on this occasion:-- Camp before Sebastopol, June 18th, 1855 (Waterloo Day.) My Dear Parents, How to express my feelings to the God of all mercies I do not know. I drop a line as quickly as possible, in order to catch the mail, to let you know that I am still safe and sound, as I know that long before this can reach home you will have heard of the slaughter we have sustained. Slaughter is hardly a name for it--massacre. We have been cut to pieces in an attempt upon the town. I have not time to say much, and am too low-spirited. About two o'clock this morning we attacked the Redan, the 7th Fusiliers leading the stormers. Our dear old Colonel was killed. He was one of the bravest of the brave, for where all were brave he would lead the way. Almost every officer of ours has been either killed or wounded. I am the only sergeant of my company returned to camp without being wounded. Oh, what a morning! but through the mercy of God I have been spared, although my poor comrades fell in heaps all around me, one on the top of the other. But truth will go the furthest, the enemy has beaten both French and English this morning. Our poor fellows could not get at them, but were mowed down with grape, canister, and musketry, and broadside after broadside from their shipping. The sights all around are horrible, men continually being brought into camp with every description of wound. I heard one of our old hands say, a short time ago, although wounded and limping to hospital: 'This is only lent; we'll pay them off for it yet, and that before long.' The sole cry in the camp is--'Let's go at them again.' I