I do not intend to say much about Balaclava to-day because you have heard the old story over and over again, and I am too old now to invent stories of Balaclava. On my way down here I stopped to receive a telegram worded in these terms:--"Fifteen survivors of the Balaclava Charge send your lordship hearty congratulations and affectionate remembrances on this day, the 54th anniversary." Well, recollections of a sad event are at any time, of course, unpleasant, but it is particularly sad to think that there are now only 15 survivors remaining out of the Light Brigade of 600. That attenuated number does not include myself, and there are three other officers still alive. You may be pretty confident that of these few survivors there were at least two or three with whom I conversed within a few hours of the Balaclava Charge. You can imagine those conversations. They were not very lively ones. They referred probably to some comrade who had been killed or to the difficulty of filling the place of some officer who had fallen; because when we drew up after the Balaclava Charge I was the officer in command of the decimated regiment. All my superior officers had been either killed or wounded, and I was placed in the difficult position to find men suddenly to fill the vacancies. So you can imagine the recollections of those survivors. Since that time there have been a number of gallant deeds on the part of the British army, and I hope that those gallant deeds will be remembered, just as the Balaclava Charge is remembered here. I hope the British nation will never forget such events as Trafalgar and Waterloo, but will always hoist a flag or do something else to commemorate them. _Balaclava Dinner, Bassaleg, October 25th, 1908._ My own courage in the memorable charge was small, but the deed of daring conferred everlasting credit on the Senior Officers who took part in it. I trust that you will keep your offspring fully acquainted with the heroic deeds of the British Army, and induce them to display similar courage in the hour of their country's danger. _Balaclava Dinner, Castleton, October 25th, 1890._ When a person gets beyond the allotted age of man there must, I think, be in his mind a melancholy thought regarding the possibility of his being present on a similar occasion twelve months hence. I am afraid that some men of my age would have to limp into a room, probably assisted by a crutch. Fortunately, however, I was able to walk into the room without a crutch and without assistance, and I am thankful for that to the Power above. The term "hero" is a term with which many soldiers do not agree. The mention of the word recalls to my mind the well-known lines of Rudyard Kipling: "We aren't no thin red 'eroes, An' we aren't no blackguards, too, But single men in barracks, Most remarkable like you."