Having had some experience in the army, and a tolerably extensive acquaintance with the men who compose it, I cannot permit this occasion to pass, without pointing out the necessity for and the advantage arising, in a national sense, from the asylum for the children of deceased soldiers in the British army, instituted at Chelsea, by the late Duke of York. No person ever understood and maintained the rights and reasonable solaces of a soldier better than the then commander-in-chief. Nothing on earth can exceed the coolness and intrepidity with which a British column enters into action. Their firm and steady step has often been the theme of foreign admiration; and in the clash and hurrah of crossing bayonets they are known to be unequalled. Yet every one acquainted with the finer workings of human nature must suppose (for the reflection is inevitable), that on entering within the range of a shower of bullets, the bravest heart may be troubled by thoughts of an absent family, especially if left in an unprotected and unprovided condition. But if the man have the consolation of knowing, that in the event of any personal fatality, the shield of his country’s honour and beneficence will be exhibited for the protection of his orphan family, the tendency of the recollection at such a crisis is to arm his mind with triple fortitude, and, if possible, give greater ardour to his moral courage. The mind of a man thus circumstanced is at once relieved from a load of domestic anxiety; and having nothing on earth for which to care, but the maintenance of the national weal, he casts himself upon the protection of the God of armies, and 27cheerfully advances to the assigned position, on the grim and serried ridge of war.