Soldiers rarely feel much pain at the moment they receive their wounds, unless these be very severe, in which case they suffer much from thirst. There is one very gallant friend of ours—a non-commissioned officer—who was shot through the ankle in crossing the stream at the Alma. He knew not that he was wounded till the battle was over, but thought that his foot had got entangled among the vines in crossing the valley, and that he had sprained the joint. A good soldier never likes to go to hospital when there is any hard fighting, and our friend kept “a quiet sough,” as they say in the North, about his wound, and marched at the head of his company as if nothing had happened to him. His courage and endurance were rewarded: he was present at, and took part in, the Battle of Inkermann, where his gallantry attracted the notice of the commanding officer, on whose recommendation he obtained the medal and pension for distinguished conduct in the field. He was wounded also on this occasion, but his hurt was of a far more serious character. He was shot through the head: the bullet literally entered at one side, and came out at the other. He felt a sharp, stinging pain, and remembered nothing more till he regained his consciousness in hospital, and was surprised to learn that he had been some weeks under the doctor’s hands. He suffers no inconvenience from his wound now, except occasional dizziness and half-blindness after any excitement or exposure to the sun. Such a man in the French service might have risen to the rank of field-marshal, and obtained a name in the page of history. Well, after all, the great thing is to do our duty well in the position we occupy; and our friend, as sergeant-major of his distinguished regiment, is happier, probably, than if he had had greatness thrust upon him. Though soldiers recover from their wounds at the moment, they are often very dangerous afterwards. The brain is often injured, and the disease goes on till the man loses his reason, or drops down dead. A poor fellow was hit on the crown of the head by a piece of shell in one of the trenches before Sebastopol. He was stunned at the moment, but thought so little of it that he did not even report himself wounded. For eight years he felt no pain, but one day, while on guard, he was seized with a sudden giddiness, and became insensible. He was conveyed to hospital in a cab, and on recovering his consciousness he found that he was suffering the most intense pain on the crown of his head. His sufferings were very great; the only relief he could obtain was through the application of chloroform. We write all this knowing that English boys feel deep sympathy with, and profound admiration for, our soldiers, and to show that their powers of endurance, when disabled, equal in heroic worth their gallantry upon the field.