the fortress lay at the conqueror's feet. The "hero of a hundred fights" again thanked the Rangers for their heroic conduct. We now trace the sprigs of Connaught to the walls of Badajoz, where they take a conspicuous part, planting our proud old flag on its lofty castle. The fiery Picton led them under a terrible fire of musketry, showers of heavy stones, logs of wood, and bursting shells. The ladders were quickly raised, and these undaunted veterans strove who should first climb them. The ladders were overthrown, the French shouted "Victory," the stormers were baffled, but not defeated. The gallant Ridge of the 5th Fusiliers and the heroic Canch of the Rangers sprang forward, and called with the voice of thunder for their men to follow. The ladders were again raised, under a terrible fire, and in less than one minute those two heroic leaders stood conquerors on the ramparts of the castle, whilst the sons of Connaught with the sons of Albion rushed up the ladders. The garrison was amazed, not suspecting that an entrance could be made there. It was a most glorious achievement; the intrepid Ridge fell in the hour of victory. If a chariot of fire had been sent for him he could not have departed with more glory. We now trace the Rangers to Salamanca, where they immortalised themselves; the brunt of the fighting fell on the third division. The Rangers for some time had been under a terrible fire of artillery, and becoming impatient, their commander, Major-General the Hon. Pakenham, noticed it, and called out to their colonel to let them loose. The noble regiment at once dashed with a headlong charge at the enemy; the fighting was desperate but short; the enemy were completely overthrown, and routed from the field. An incident occurred here worth recording. The Duke of Wellington knew well how and where to hit, and ordered General Pakenham to take the hill in his front. "I will, my Lord," was the reply of that noble soldier, "if you will give me a grasp of that conquering right hand," and, parting with a true English grasp, Pakenham swept all before him, although the enemy advanced to meet him with drums beating and colours flying until they came close enough to mark the frown on our men's faces. It was too late then; the Rangers dashed at them, side by side with the Sherwood Foresters. The boldest of the French officers rushed to the front to inspire the quailing souls of their countrymen. The commander of the Rangers was shot dead, and the men were mad to revenge their beloved chief. Albuera was here repeated, but all had to yield to the vehement charge, as this noble regiment closed with the enemy. Then was seen with what determination our men fight. They smote that mighty column into fragments, and rolled it back in indescribable confusion. At this moment the gallant Le Merchant's heavy brigade of cuirassed cavalry burst through, and went straight at the reeling masses of the enemy. The column was cut to pieces, and two