On the 3rd of April it was evident that the crisis of the siege drew nigh. The British guns being all turned against the curtain, the masonry crumbled rapidly away; in two hours a yawning breach appeared, and Lord Wellington, having examined the points of attack in person, gave the order for assault. The soldiers then made themselves ready for the approaching combat, one of the most fierce and terrible ever exhibited in the annals of war. Posterity will find it difficult to credit the tale, but many who are still alive know that it is true. The British General was so sensible of Phillipon’s firmness, and of the courage of his garrison, that he spared them the affront of a summons; yet, seeing the breach strongly entrenched, and the enemy’s 167flank fire still powerful, he would not in this dread crisis trust his fortune to a single effort. Eighteen thousand soldiers burned for the signal of attack, and as he was unwilling to lose the services of any, to each division he gave a task such as few generals would have the hardihood to contemplate. Nor was the enemy idle; for while it was yet twilight some French cavalry issued from the Pardaleras, escorting an officer, who endeavoured to look into the trenches, with a view to ascertain if an assault was intended: but the piquet on that side jumped up, and, firing as it ran, drove him and his escort back into the works. The darkness then fell, and the troops awaited the signal. With respect to myself, I could not help largely sharing in the general desire to advance; indeed, our duty in the trenches had been so severe that, in spite of approaching peril, we had no objection to move. I had been stationed in battery number six, and was frequently exposed to a terrific raking fire from the besieged. Directions, I remember, were given on one occasion to fill a quantity of sand-bags. Poor Woollams, a private in the regiment, and myself, worked together; he held the mouth of the sack open, while I threw in the sand with a shovel; before we had been long thus engaged, a shell struck his knee, and in an instant severed his leg, which dropped on the ground; he fell backwards, while the shell, which lodged in the earth, at a few feet distance had burnt nearly to the exploding point. Aware of the approaching danger, I threw myself on my face; and I had scarcely taken the precaution when the shell burst with ruinous effect. Stones, dust, and fragments of timber were scattered in all directions; and among other substances whirled into the air, was the lost limb of my comrade. I knew it while descending by the pattern of the gaiter. As the leg was useless, I ran to the sufferer to whom it had belonged, tied my coat-strap round his thigh to check the effusion of blood, and, after placing him in a blanket, carried 168him to the nearest hospital, where surgical assistance was promptly afforded. On my return to the trenches, another friend was borne off, greatly hurt; a comrade was loading