In 1854 Russian aggressions had so stirred the nations in defence of the right, that Turkey in her weakness found ready sympathisers. Foremost of these, France and England, side by side, had sent forth powerful armaments, which, landing upon the Crimean peninsula, created a helpful, and, as the long-expected result proved, a successful diversion in favour of the oppressed empire of the Sultan. Amongst the brave, composing the 26,800 British, that landed at Old Fort, were our gallant Fusiliers, the Twenty-first. In the Fourth Division, brigaded with the Twentieth, Fifty-seventh, and Sixty-eighth, they were present in reserve at the Alma, and in action at Inkermann. It is needless to repeat the details of the war, seeing especially we must take occasion so frequently to recur to incidents connected with it; besides, the general events must be still so fresh in the memories of most of our readers as to need no repetition here. Enough be it to say of the conduct of the Twenty-first Royal North British Fusiliers, that it displayed the same excellence as of old. Since the return of the regiment to the beloved shores of Old England, it has enjoyed the peace which its own gallantry had well contributed to achieve. As the glory of the sun shining through a humid atmosphere is even more resplendent and more to be admired in the heaven-bespangled, many-coloured robe of the rainbow than when he appears in the full strength of noon-day, so valour—true, genuine valour, the valour of our gallant Twenty-first—is the more illustrious and meritorious that it is to be found emerging from amid many vicissitudes and adversities. It is usually the bravest of the brave that fall. Alas! that so many who gave fair promise to ornament and illustrate the British soldier as the hero, should have fallen—buds nipped by the frost of death. Let it be borne very encouragingly in mind, that adversity is the furnace wherein the gold of true valour is purified—is the schoolmaster which teaches how to win prosperity. The greatest glory which rests upon the departed genius of Sir John Moore, is that which pictures him in adversity in retreat—his lion spirit unsubdued, his towering abilities shining forth. And so, in closing our record, we would do justice, not merely to valour gilded by brilliant victories, but especially testify to true valour incarnated in the man—the hero ever _struggling_, not always _winning_, yet always _worthy_, the reward. THE TWENTY-FIFTH FOOT. KING’S OWN BORDERERS, OR, EDINBURGH REGIMENT. ---------- CHAPTER XIV.