Does the nation realize the calls it has made upon the army, or what oceans of blood have been shed owing to the vacillation and parsimony of successive Ministries? Three times have we captured the West India Islands; twice have our troops taken the Cape of Good Hope; three times have our armies marched from sea to sea in Spain; and there are few towns of importance in the Low Countries which have not been captured more than once by British troops. Conquests have been restored at the conclusion of a war in the full knowledge that on the outbreak of fresh hostilities those same conquests would have to be freshly undertaken and more lives sacrificed. Armies hastily reduced on the conclusion of a spurious peace had to be as hastily improvised on the renewal of war. Officers have been censured, broke, and shot if they have not performed prodigies with raw, untrained recruits. Uncomplainingly, all ranks went forth to die, eager only to uphold the honour of their Sovereign, of their regiments, and of their country. I have not confined myself to the honours which appear only on the colours of British regiments, but have included all which have been granted to any corps which bears allegiance to our King. Some of the noblest feats of arms have been achieved by a few British officers at the head of a handful of Indian troops. At Mangalore and at Lucknow the sepoy regiments fought no less gallantly than the British corps which bear the same battle honour. The despatches of Colonel Campbell and of Sir John Inglis bear testimony to this fact; but at Seedaseer, Saugor, and Seetabuldee, at Corygaum, Arrah, and Kahun, and last, but by no means least, at Chitral, the sepoys had no British soldier to stiffen the defence. Yet there was no wavering. So long as the fighting races of India show the devotion to their officers and their loyalty to the Crown they have ever shown, we may smile at the frothy vapourings of the over-educated Bengalis, who have never furnished a single man for the defence of the country which they wish to emancipate from our rule. We read in the story of Chitral how the water-carrier, with his jaw smashed by a bullet, insisted as soon as his wound was dressed in taking more water to his Sikhs in the fighting-line. Is there not a story rife of a British regiment in the Mutiny which wished to recommend the regimental bheesti for a similar act of valour? There are few names amongst these battle honours around which stories of equal gallantry have not been woven. The memory of those deeds which men have dared, and in daring which they have gone forth to certain death, is the heritage not merely of those who serve under the colours, but of every man and woman of our race: Hardinge, rallying the men round the colours of the 57th at Albuera, with the now historic words, "Die hard, my men, die hard!"--a title that has clung to the regiment to this day. Luke O'Connor, then a colour-sergeant, holding high the colours