England possesses many regiments that have a traditional as well as an individual existence. The memory of deeds of valour wrought by their predecessors is transmitted from generation to generation, and inspires the young soldier with the desire of equalling, if not surpassing, the heroism of those who have gone before. His regiment is the warrior’s family, and each man feels, as the inheritor of a noble fame ought to feel, that he must do nothing unworthy of the past renown gained in older days. Thus it happens that there are certain regiments which may always be counted on in the hour of danger, and one of these is the 23rd Royal Welsh Fusiliers. The Prince of Wales’s plume, with the motto “_Ich Dien_,” betokens their nationality; and their claim to the proud words, “_Nec aspera terrent_,” which they bear on their colours, has been justified by their gallant conduct in Egypt, and at Corunna, Martinique, Albuera, Badajoz, Salamanca, Vittoria, the Pyrenees, Nivelle, Orthès, Toulouse, Waterloo, Alma, Inkermann, and Sebastopol. All these names are emblazoned on their colours, and the successors of the heroes of the Peninsula and Waterloo proved in the Crimea that the regiment had not fallen from its high estate of honourable glory. It will be interesting to our readers to glance briefly at the different engagements in which the Welsh Fusiliers distinguished themselves about the beginning of this century. They formed part of the expedition which sailed for Egypt in 1801, under the command of Sir Ralph Abercrombie, for the purpose of expelling the French from that country. The authorities at home knew as little about Egypt and the French forces there as the members of Lord Aberdeen’s cabinet did about the Crimea and the strength of the Russian army. Our men had no other guide than an old map, which proved to be very incorrect, and Sir Sidney Smith, a gallant sailor but an indifferent geographer, who knew nothing of the interior of the country. Moreover, it was supposed that the enemy amounted to only 15,000 men, whereas they really numbered 35,000 veteran troops. The idea of sending 12,000 men, chiefly young soldiers, to expel such a body of veterans from a country where they were strongly intrenched, may excite some surprise, but British soldiers may do anything when properly led. On the 8th of March our men landed with such regularity and order that every brigade, every regiment, and even every company, drew up on the exact spot they were intended to occupy. The sea was as smooth as glass, and the bullets of the enemy fell as thick as hailstones around the boats, but the landing force advanced and fell into their places with as much coolness as if they had been dressing for a review. The Welsh Fusiliers and three other regiments, including the gallant 42nd, landed in boats on the right, and were exposed to showers of grape and shell from the enemy’s batteries; but, nothing daunted, they quietly disembarked,