We knew well that a grateful and kind-hearted people in old England were watching every move we made. Mr. Bull does not mind how deeply he dives into his pocket, so long as he can sit with his pipe and glass over a good fire, and shout "We have beaten them again, my boys": and we had given Mr. Bull something to talk about now that Sebastopol had been taken. The bells of old England we knew would clash for joy, in peal after peal, at the news of the fall of this town. But there is another side to the picture. Many a good, kind, fond mother lost her son, perhaps her only son; thousands were left fatherless; hundreds were left to mourn absent husbands; and many a heart-rending scene in many a formerly happy home was brought about by this terrible war. REFLECTIONS. I do hope that if ever we go to war again on account of Turkey, it will be to help to drive the "Sick Man" out of Europe; but, above all, that we shall always keep side by side with France, through thick and thin. I believe we shall find a great friend and useful ally in her. It is true what Napoleon I. said, that France and England united could dictate to the whole world; and the statesmen who keep them united will be wise, for none would then dare to attack us. "I have proved the strength of England," said that great, little man; and when he came to die, he acknowledged where the strength of England lay. Calling one of his faithful followers to his bedside, he requested that the Book of Books should be brought to him. Placing his hand upon the book, he fastened his eyes upon those who stood speechless by his side--he that had made the whole of Europe tremble at his word (England excepted)--and said, "I have often wondered where the strength of England lay; but since I have come to this lonely spot, I have had time to think, and I have come to the conclusion that any thinking man must come to, _that the strength of England lay in the great secret contained in this Book_." Reader, these are memorable words, especially when we consider that they came from the lips of one _who had spent nearly all his days an infidel_, and had had to go to the rock of St. Helena to find out the truth. He died there, _professing Christianity_, on the 5th May, 1821, aged 52 years; and the old East Suffolk Regiment carried him to his grave--twelve grenadiers of the 12th Regiment being selected to bear his remains to the place of interment. Conqueror as he was, he had to lay down his arms to King Death, comparatively young-- For when death the fatal route did bring, His soul did march away. At the great judgment day, Among the Blest may he be found, and all his sins forgiven! As his route was, reader, in time thine shall surely be, Kings and Dragoons, when called, must pass away. While in hospital wounded, I caused the following to be sent to my parents:--