There are certain acts of courage which compel our admiration without obtaining the unqualified approval of our cooler judgment. Colonel Bell’s daring in capturing the Russian gun must be placed in this category. No one will question his courage, or dispute his right to the Cross of Valour; no one will wish his deed undone, or desire that he had acted otherwise. And yet it must be admitted that in leaving his own men he was guilty of a breach of discipline which is more worthy of admiration than imitation. It was his duty to have remained with his company; and if every officer were to yield in battle to the same impulsive bravery, all discipline would be at end and the results would be most disastrous. The first duty of all soldiers is implicit obedience to the commands of superior authority; to this rule there is no exception, save in the case of officers of high rank, who on the field of battle must always be guided partly by circumstances in executing the orders they have received. We are not, therefore, to condemn Sir George Brown for expressing his emphatic disapproval of Captain Bell’s conduct in leaving his company to seize the Russian gun. Sir George, doubtless, admired his courage, but he must have felt that courage ought in every case to be subordinate to discipline. Such was the opinion of Sir Colin Campbell at the storming of the Secunder Bagh at Lucknow. We shall describe in a future chapter the fearful scene of carnage which took place there in consequence of the massacre at Cawnpore. The tumult was at its height when a Highland officer rushed up to the spot where Sir Colin, mounted on his grey horse, stood in the centre of his staff. The Highlander was wild with excitement, and bore on his person traces of the bloody work in which he had taken part. One word of praise from those stern lips was the richest reward his heart could covet. Extending the red banner which he held in his hand towards the general, he joyfully exclaimed, “I have killed the last four of the enemy with my own hand, and here, sir, are their colours.” A Highlander himself, Sir Colin could appreciate the impetuous courage of his countryman, but his duty as a general was imperative; he could not applaud an act which was a violation of discipline. “Confound the colours, sir! where’s your regiment? Go back to your regiment, sir! I thank you for your zeal and gallantry, but go back to your regiment.” The excited and impulsive Highlander obeyed this command, and, doubtless, felt at the moment that the reproof, though grave, was not unmerited. Such also must have been the feelings of Captain Bell when he received the stern command to return to his company and relinquish the Russian gun. If that gun had not remained in our possession after the battle, we doubt whether Colonel Bell’s undisciplined valour would have met with the same recognition from his grateful country. Success may sometimes justify such a step, but we