Marshal St. Arnaud, alarmed for the safety of his soldiers, hundreds of whom were lying dead around him, so fatal were the volleys from the Russian guns and so sure the aim of the riflemen, hastily despatched an aide-de-camp to the English commander, calling upon him to bring his troops into action without a moment’s delay. “We are massacred,” was the message--certainly not the words which Napoleon, or Murat, or Ney, would have used when attacking an enemy considerably less in force than themselves; for, be it remembered, Menschikoff still held the centre of the position with the main body of the army, which had not yet been brought into action. At half-past one o’clock the order to advance was given to the English army. The soldiers, who had been lying down, so as not to expose themselves unnecessarily to the fire of the enemy, sprang to their feet, and rapidly formed into line. Sir G. Brown’s Light Division, and the Second Division, under Sir De Lacy Evans, were the first to dash into the stream, and through a perfect shower of balls from the riflemen concealed in the gardens, and heavier missiles from the batteries above, reached the opposite bank. Since the commencement of the French attack, our artillery had been throwing shot into the Russian redoubts, and under cover of this cannonade, and the accurate fire of the Rifle Brigade, which protected our advance, the two leading divisions succeeded in crossing the stream, though not without great loss. The Russians had previously marked out the range of their guns, so that they were enabled to pour their volleys into our brigades, as they advanced to the stream, with fatal precision. The burning village of Burliuk, in front of the position occupied by Sir De Lacy Evans, necessitated the separation of his division. General Pennefather led the First Brigade and a portion of the Second across the river to the right of the village; the remainder, under General Adams, crossing to the left. The Light Division struggled manfully up the bank, which was rugged and precipitous. The ford was deep and dangerous, and as the men, drenched with water, scrambled up the banks, scores of their number fell back into the stream pierced by the fatal rifle bullet. But the blood of the gallant fellows was flowing hotly in their veins; those who, in other times, had borne the shock of battles, felt renewed the old spirit which had made them conquerors at Vimiera and at Waterloo; those who for the first time trod the fatal field felt an indescribable and fierce courage, which the sight of danger and of death infuses into most men. Six months of inaction and passive suffering were about to be consummated by a glorious victory, which should crown them as conquering heroes or immortalize their death. They had stood long “like greyhounds on the slips, straining upon the start;” now “the game was afoot,” and the old fire of English chivalry was rekindled, and burnt with as glowing a flame as of yore.