* * * * * I had nothing particular to record for a time except trench work, and as we had plenty of men our duty was not heavy. The enemy continued to torment us as much as possible; and as we were now creeping closer to the town, almost every night there was something going on, and daily we lost a number of men and officers. DEATH OF LORD RAGLAN. And now we had something else hanging on our hands; we had _lost our brave Commander-in-Chief_. The camp was startled on the morning of the 29th June, 1855, by the sorrowful tidings of the death of our much-beloved Commander-in-Chief, Lord Raglan. Men who had been accustomed to meet death looked at each other as if they had heard of the loss of some near relative. We did not know, until he was taken from us, how deeply we loved him. The army had lost a true friend--a friend to the combatant ranks. Our beloved country, and our much-beloved Sovereign, had lost a good, honest, faithful, and devout servant. His courage knew no bounds, and it was backed up by true Christian piety. He was a perfect gentleman, and had proved himself a soldier of no mean sort on many a hard-fought field in Spain, Portugal, France, and the Netherlands. He had served his country faithfully for upwards of half a century; and now he had laid down his life in the performance of his duty to the flag he loved so well. He was lamented by all, both high and low. The enormous responsibility of that unparalleled siege, together with the disastrous failure on the morning of the 18th June, broke the dear old gentleman's heart. But he died as he had lived--a true soldier in a twofold sense, for he was not at all ashamed of his Great Captain. We mourned him as our Commander who had repeatedly led us on to victory. We mourned him also as a Christian who had left a noble example behind him:-- We mourn for one whose honour'd name will stand Foremost amid the valiant of our land; Yet better far, we know to him 'twas given To be a soldier of his Lord in the land of the living. We mourn for one that's now at rest In the bright land of endless bliss. Raglan, thou art gone! thy country mourns thee! Thy watchword when on earth was 'forward!' But now, henceforth and for ever, Thy watchword will be 'victory!'