In Kensal Green Cemetery is a handsome altar monument to the memory of Sir De Lacy Evans, his wife, and his brother, Maj.-Gen. Richard Evans, C.B., Col. of the Madras Grenadier Regt. The epitaph to Sir De Lacy and Lady Evans is as follows:— “Beneath this monument lie the remains of JOSETTE, Lady EVANS, the beloved and deeply mourned wife of Gen. Sir DE LACY EVANS. Born 1787. Died 1861. Here, too, lie the remains of Gen. Sir DE LACY EVANS, G.C.B., Col. of the 21st Rl. N. Brit Fusiliers. Born 1787. Died 1870. He commenced his career in India. Fought under Wellington in the Peninsula and South of France. Served with distinction in America. Was engaged at Quatre Bras and Waterloo. Commanded with marked ability the British Legion in the service of Spain. And in old age nobly led the 2nd British Division in the Crimea. During 30 years he was M.P. for the City of Westminster. An enterprising and skilful commander. An accomplished politician. His comrades mourn the chivalrous soldier, And many friends affectionately cherish his memory.” Letter from Capt. (aftds. Lt.-Gen.) Alexander Macdonald, R.H.A., to Col. Sir W. Robe, K.C.B., R.A., regarding the death of Lt. W. Robe, R.H.A., at Waterloo. From a copy in the possession of Col. F.A. Whinyates, late R.H.A.:— “Amiens, _7th August, 1815_. “MY DEAR SIR WILLIAM,—I should have written to you long ere this had not a wound, which deprived me of the use of my arm, prevented me. As to the fall of your son, and my esteemed friend, I can only say that few young men have left this life more sincerely regretted, and his exertions on the 18th will ever endear his memory to all who witnessed his noble conduct on that day. Major Ramsay’s last words to me were as follows: ‘Did you ever witness such noble conduct as that of Brereton and Robe?’ In short, it is a most painful task to relate the history of a man whose fall I sincerely lament, and I cannot without tears of sorrow think of your son, and my esteemed friend Major Ramsay. About five o’clock on the 18th your son received a mortal wound, and about the same time the following day he died at the village of Waterloo, after twice having taken leave of me in the most friendly and affectionate manner. I was too ill to ask him any questions; indeed, I was so distressed when I saw him at his last moments, that I could only shake him by the hand, and in the course of a few minutes he expired. His remains were interred in a beautiful spot of ground in the village of Waterloo, where I intend to raise a monument to his memory.—Yours most truly, “A. MCDONALD.” ------------------