Long before this reaches you, you will have seen the account of our glorious battle of the 5th (yesterday). It was a terrible fight. I was in the trenches when it commenced. We had a shy at them there, and sent them back much quicker than they came out. A number of us then marched on to the field of Inkermann. The fight was raging when we got there; and the fog was so dense that we could not see what we were doing, or where to go. Our poor fellows soon began to drop. We were wet through to the skin, and as hungry as hunters. We were ordered to the Five-Gun Battery, to support our comrades. Sir Thomas Troubridge was in command, and it took all our time to hold our own. What a gunpowder plot! but, above all, what a Sunday! I thought, dear father--I thought of you, and what you were most likely doing. It's no use my trying to hide or cloak matters up--you will see this is not my handwriting--they have managed to hit me at last; but you must not be alarmed; I am not half so badly hit as some of my poor comrades are, so keep up your spirits. I am in good hopes of getting over this; and, if it should please the Lord to spare me, to be a comfort to you in your declining days. Do not answer this, as a number of us are to be sent down to Scutari. Will write as soon as I can. Do, dear parents, try and keep your spirits up; and I know you will not forget me at the Throne of Grace. I will try and give you, at some future day, a full account, as far as I could see, and from what I can find out from my comrades. Will write as soon as I can. Cheer up! I'll warm them up for this, if ever I get a chance. My kind love to poor mother, brothers, and sisters. Believe me, dear Father, Your affectionate son, T. GOWING, Sergeant, Royal Fusiliers. The following is a copy of a letter addressed to Field-Marshal Lord Raglan, by command of Her Most Gracious Majesty, on receipt of the news of the victory at Inkermann:--