Quartermaster-sergeant Stoneman of the 13th supplied ammunition to the Toronto, York, and Caledonia Rifles at Ridgeway. The percussion caps ran short. Some of the York and Caledonia getting only 40 caps to 60 cartridges. There was a large surplus of cartridges left, but no caps. With difficulty and delay, Q. M. S. Stoneman pressed a farmer’s waggon into service and followed after the column which by that time had marched out of sight. No guard was placed by Lt.-Col. Booker over the ammunition. Dr. Ryal junr. of the 13th had been supplied at his father’s expense with some surgical necessaries. But there were no hospital ambulance. Arrived at this point, with mind depressed by fault-finding, by recital of official negligences, by wants not supplied among the rank and file, the follower of this little army enters within a fresher, higher, moral atmosphere. The mind is now carried to a height from whence it beholds heroes. They may not be all developed. He is not the best soldier who distinguishes himself even in some very notable performance of gallantry. The true and good soldier is he who keeps his place in the ranks, goes where he is ordered to go, does what he is ordered to do. The men of the column now before us may have no demand made on them this day, to display the qualities commonly called heroic. The nervous and unsteady will sometimes rush upon an enemy with a vehemence which the world applauds. That is not heroism. The popular idea of high courage displayed in battle, is the charge, the shout, the rush with bayonet on the enemy’s line. That charge of bayonets has on occasions been effective, but it neither evinces high courage, nor is it often a safe movement. There is no man breathing who approaches the verge where the enemy’s fire may open, or who being within it hears the whiz of mortal missiles of death, but fears to be a victim. Courage is not a condition of mind which has no fear; courage is the conquest of fear. Without fear there is no courage. Of all the forms of danger from an enemy in battle the most trying to the manhood of the soldier, is bullet firing from forest thickets, from orchards, from behind curtains of concealment, out of houses, over garden walls, under covert of field fences; from behind trees. In such places the enemy is not seen or is but dimly discernable. In the greater fields of carnage where columns are undergoing rapid evolutions, and moving through massive formations exposed to quickly repeated vollies of artillery, men do not feel so acutely apprehensive, and sensitive. The reasons why not are various. The sight of blood maddens some. The magnitude of sanguinary havoc deadens the more delicate senses. Combativeness is inflamed. The desire to destroy obtains ascendancy. In the more intellectual natures the thought of death and the hereafter have been committed to the mercy of Almighty God. It has been done silently, and military duty, proceeds as if there had been no praying. The individual