Test Bank For Income Tax Fundamentals 2013 31st Edition

Whittenburg Altus Buller Gill 1111972516 9781111972516

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 Chapter 2: Gross Income and Exclusions
Student:

1. Noncash items received as income must be included in income at their fair market value.

True False

2. Awards, bonuses, and gifts are all included in gross income.

True False

3. Disability benefits are generally taxable to the individual receiving the amounts.

True False

4. Interest income received by a cash basis taxpayer is generally reported in the tax year it is received.

True False

5. Interest on U.S. Treasury Bonds is not taxable.

True False

6. Taxpayers must report interest income on Series EE savings bonds as the interest accrues.

True False

7. A gift received for opening a bank account is not taxable income to the recipient.

True False

8. Child support payments are deductible by the spouse making the payments.

True False

9. If a divorce agreement executed in 2012 specifies that a portion of the amount of an alimony payment is
contingent upon the status of a child, that portion is considered to be a child support payment.

True False

10. Under a divorce agreement executed in 2012, periodic payments of either cash or property must be made
at regular intervals to be deductible as alimony.

True False

1
11. An auto that is received as a prize should be included in the taxpayer's income at its list price rather than
its fair market value.

True False

12. Dr. J's outstanding player award is not includible in income, since the award is in recognition of his
outstanding performance.

True False

13. If an annuitant, whose annuity starting date was January 1, 2001, dies before recovering his or her
investment in the annuity, any unrecovered investment is recognized as a loss on the annuitant's tax
return for the year of death.

True False

14. Payments made to a qualified retirement plan by an employer are considered part of the employee's
investment in the contract for calculation of the annuity exclusion ratio.

True False

15. When calculating the exclusion ratio for an annuity, the ratio should be revised when there is a
significant change in the taxpayer's status or health.

True False

16. If a life insurance policy is transferred to the insured's partnership for valuable consideration, the
insurance proceeds are taxable when received by the partnership.

True False

17. To promote business activity, the tax rules generally are very liberal in treating business gifts as tax-free
income to the recipient.

True False

18. The receipt of an inheritance is excluded from the taxable income of the recipients.

True False

19. Dividend income arising from stock received as a gift is excluded from gross income since the dividends
are considered part of the gift.

True False
20. Amounts received as scholarships for books and tuition may be excluded from the recipient's taxable
income.

True False

2
21. A scholarship for room and board granted in 2012 is fully taxable to the recipient.

True False

22. Amounts received by an employee as reimbursement for medical expenses under a policy provided by
the taxpayer's employer are excluded from gross income.

True False

23. If an employer claims a business deduction for group health insurance premiums paid on behalf of his
employees, the amount must be included in the employees' gross income.

True False

24. Payments made by an employer for health insurance on behalf of an employee are considered income to
the employee at the time the payments are made.

True False
25. Cash allowances for meals or lodging generally must be included in the employee's income.

True False

26. The value of lodging provided to a professor to enable him to live near the campus is excluded from
gross income.

True False

27. Interest earned on bonds issued by a state government is fully taxable.

True False

28. Unemployment compensation is fully taxable to the individual receiving the compensation.

True False

29. Group term life insurance premiums paid by an employer for insurance amounts less than $50,000 must
be included in the employee's income.

True False

30. A "no-additional-cost" service includes only those services in the major line of business in which the
employee is employed.

True False

31. In some cases, Social Security benefits may be partially taxable.

True False

3
32. Which of the following amounts must be included in the gross income of the recipient?

A. Child support payments

B. Welfare payments
C. Gifts
D. Royalties
E. All of the above are included in gross income

33. All of the following amounts must be included in gross income, except:

A. Gambling winnings
B. Partnership income
C. Accident insurance proceeds
D. Dividends
E. Jury duty fees

34. All of the following amounts are excluded from gross income, except:

A. Tips and gratuities

B. Child support payments
C. Scholarship grants for tuition
D. Gifts
E. Veterans' benefits

35. Which of the following is generally excluded from gross income?

A. Dividends
B. Rewards
C. Disability benefits
D. Passive income
E. None of the above

36. Which of the following is excluded from gross income?

A. Prizes
B. Scholarships for tuition
C. Hobby income
D. Rental income
E. All of the above are included in gross income

37. Which of the following is classified as nontaxable income?

A. Unemployment compensation
B. Dividend income
C. Income from real estate rental property
D. Welfare payments
E. None of the above

4
Another document from Scribd.com that is
random and unrelated content:
 Yes, indeed, they were done, for he had removed the paper and
cooked them, feathers and all.

*****

There is a species of dove or pigeon out in Jamaica that the niggers

themselves consider rather delicate eating, or at all events are very fond
of. It (Zenaida amabilis) suffers much from the biting of mosquitoes.
Well, the niggers know this, and so they make a fire under a tree and
heap green wood thereon to make a smoke. This drives the insects off;
and well the doves know it does, for they soon come and settle on the
tree, preferring the smoke to the mosquito bites. But, alas! they are out of
the frying-pan into the fire, as they speedily fall victims to the guns of
the niggers.

*****

But cases of cholera were getting rife, and so the Gurnet was ordered
to sea at last. She now bore up for the lone Bermudas, a group of islands
that lie many degrees to the north and east of the West Indies.

The Bermudas are said to be the loveliest islands on this earth. They
are certainly very beautiful; but, strange to say, one always seems to
think every group of tropical islands he comes to, while sailing here and
there across the ocean, more lovely and fairy-like than the last. The
words of the poet rise to my mind, however, as I think of Bermuda:—

"Where the remote Bermudas ride

In the ocean's bosom unespied,
From a small boat that rowed along,
The listening winds received this song,—
'What should we do but sing His praise
That led us through the watery maze
Unto an isle so long unknown,
And yet far kinder than our own?'"

There are more than a hundred islands here, great and small; but at the
time of the visit thereto of the Gurnet, probably not more than a dozen
were inhabited.
 Steam was up in the ship when she first sighted lights, about four
bells in the middle watch; and owing to the number of rocks and shoals
about, it was deemed advisable to keep well off until morning.

Dr. Reikie and Jack were both on deck early, and the scene that met
their view seemed like one of enchantment. Some of those verdant isles
seemed to be floating in the clouds. But dark rocks were seen here and
there like the backs of monster whales, and over these the sea-green
water broke and moaned and boomed in long lines of snow-white surf.
Farther off to the right and left the ocean was basking in the sunlight, a
deep and cerulean blue, with here and there a patch of opal or green
where the coral or weedy bottom showed through.

"Man," said Dr. Reikie, "isn't it fine?"

"Oh, it is charming!" cried Jack, with enthusiasm.

"And," added the doctor, "if we only stay here for a month, let alone
two, as Captain Gillespie expects, the Edinburgh Museum will hardly be
able to docket all my specimens."

"But see, on the flag-staff on the fort yonder they are making signals,"
said Jack Mackenzie.

"Ay, Jack; but no' to us. They're speaking to that wee vision of a
gunboat far away yonder. I guess they'll talk to us presently."

*****

For once in a way Dr. Reikie was disappointed, and the Edinburgh
Museum must have been a very great loser indeed. For when Captain
Gillespie returned from the flag-ship, the news he brought was very
exciting indeed, not to say startling.

War had been declared against Russia, and the very gunboat they had
seen had orders for the Gurnet—which her commander (a lieutenant he
was) had not expected to meet here—to proceed eastwards with all
speed, and wait further orders at Gibraltar.
 END OF BOOK FIRST.

Book Second.

FOR HONOUR AND GLORY.

CHAPTER I.

"BLOW, GOOD WIND, AND WAFT US EAST."

War, war, war! Yes; war was the cry, from Land's End to John o'
Groat's. In England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, war, war, war! In the
drawing-rooms of the wealthy, in the humblest cottar's hut far away on
Highland hillsides, you heard that song; it was sung by prince and peer
and peasant, in theatre and concert and gutter. And even in churches,
bishops, in their sleeves of lawn, prayed to Heaven to bless our arms, and
for the "God of battle" to fight on our behalf.

Oh, Britain was valiant, Britain was brave in those days, just as she
would be were war to be declared to-morrow against any nation, no
matter which.

And we were in the right, too. So everybody believed, so everybody

said.

Turkey, for this once at all events, was a poor, down-trodden country;
Russia the cowardly, Russia the aggressive and grasping, had her heel
upon her neck.

"Holy Russia!" Yes, there were many who made use of those two little
words, and spoke them with a sneer. Holy, indeed! Was she not the vilest,
the most ignorant and tyrannical nation on earth—a nation of slaves and
serfs domineered over by an emperor who, if he could find no one else to
trample under foot, would make war upon his own people, would throw
them into prison if they but dared to call their heads their own; who tore
the newly-married wife from the arms of her husband, lacerated her
tender flesh with the knout, and sent her in chains to die amidst the
snows of Siberia?

Holy Russia, indeed! Nay, but Russia the despot. Every portion of her
bygone history was raked up to help to fill the bill against her—so far,
that is, as Britons knew anything about it; all that poets told us about
poor Poland for instance, and sang to us about Warsaw's last champion;
all about Ivan the Terrible, and goodness knows what else. And Russia
was the same now—just as cruel, just as dark-hearted, as blood-thirsty,
and tyrannical as ever. Down with her! Back with her to her own
Siberian wilds! Crush her, annihilate her!

Yes, certainly; and after we had done all this we should return thanks
to Him who had given us the victory—feast and fête our brave soldiers
and sailors, or what remained of them—make a kind of a Christmas-time
of it, even though it should be midsummer, and eat and drink until we
should be ill. Hurrah for war!

But was Russia wholly to blame for the sad Crimean War? And was
Russia really so bad as she was called? Did we not rather jump to the
conclusion that this great kingdom was all vile and evil, just because we
knew nothing at all about it? When I say "we," I of course refer to the
ordinary British public.

Nowadays, be it remembered, dear reader, what with school boards,

county councils, extra newspapers, and so on and so forth, the public is
becoming more enlightened; and if we were going to war now, the
people would probably ask their leaders, political and otherwise, what
the quarrel was about, and why they were ordered to peel off their spare
clothes and go for the enemy pell-mell. And their leaders would feel it
incumbent upon them to supply the desired information—that is to say, if
they themselves knew anything about it. But in old Crimean times the
people were more easily pleased, and took everything for granted that
was told them. They were led by the nose, not by the intellect. If you had
asked any body of British workmen in those days why the country was
going to war, their answer would have been, "'Cause we are. The
Russians want whopping—the papers all say so—and we're going to
whop them."
 Then if you had said, "But what have they done? what have they
done?" the workmen would have repeated, "Why, what is it they haven't
done? What is it they ain't always a-doing of? Just read the
Parleymintary reports for yourself. Is it likely we would go to war if we
didn't oughter to? Anyhow we're goin' to fight. Fetch 'em out. Hurray!"

I am told—though personally I was but a boy then—that the

ignorance displayed in what is called society, or the "upper circles," was
about on a par with that of the British workman concerning the causes
that led to the war, and that even some so-called statesmen were densely
ignorant on this subject. They had to read up quite a deal before they
dare submit themselves to a "heckling" at dinner-parties or over the
walnuts and the wine.

Over the walnuts and wine, indeed, some of those great statesmen
were less nervous, and could speak more freely, knowing from their own
experience that very little of what was said would be remembered next
day.

And now—although I should be very sorry indeed to hamper this

story of mine by talking politics—it will do you, reader, no harm to
know that at this time the Russian peasant or artisan in town or country
was—and probably is even yet—an ignorant, good-natured, frequently
drink-besotted, credulous, hard-working "sumph," with a good deal of
poetry and romance in his nature, nevertheless, and not a little real piety.
He lived, perhaps, very much the same sort of life as our own peasantry
did before the days of education dawned and the press began to guide
and sway public opinion. Next to things heavenly, this people considered
it their duty to obey the behests of their emperor and those in authority
above them. When I add that ignorance caused them to have just the
same erroneous impressions of us as we had of them, I think I have said
enough to bring the quality of the Russian peasant before your mind's
eye. It was from his ranks that the soldiery were drawn; only after they
joined their regiments they were led to believe that Britain was a nation
of savages, and that the true faith was not in it; rather, indeed, would its
people trample on the most holy things, murder priests at their altars, and
desecrate and burn temples and shrines. The Russian soldier, if he
thought at all, looked upon his country as a kind of Holy Land, and he
himself as a soldier of the Faith and of the Cross.
 Well, my own opinion is that the next best thing to fighting an enemy
is to respect him, and I am quite sure that if we—the Russians and the
British—had known more of each other in those old days, we would
have loved each other a little more, even while cutting each other's
throats. This reads a little paradoxical, does it not? But if my theory is
carried a little further, how then? Why, we should have no bloody wars at
all. For the more nations know each other, the more they sympathize
with each other; sympathy makes us charitable, even to our neighbours'
shortcomings; sympathy begets love, and love makes us sheathe the
sword: so war becomes impossible. It is love of this kind that is to lead
the millennium in; but knowledge has got to go before—we must not
forget that.

*****

"I say, sir," said Jack Mackenzie to Mr. Sturdy one night, as they sat
together on the skylight, while the good ship Gurnet was speeding
onwards and eastwards over the Atlantic, with every stitch of canvas
drawing that she could bear, and stun'-sails alow and aloft,—"I say, sir,
what is our immediate cause of quarrel with Russia?"

"A very pretty question, Jack; a parson couldn't have put it in better
English. But really, lad, a parson might be a fitter man to answer it than a
rough sailor like me. Seems to me, however, and from what I learned on
board the Limpet, that Russia thinks it is high time to reform Turkey."

"To reform her with the sword?"

"Ay, ay, lad—the old fashion. To improve the greatest portion of her
off the face of the earth, and to sweep all the Turks who won't turn
Christian back into the land of heathendom—that is, clean out of Europe
into Asia."

"Seems very mindful of Russia, doesn't it, sir? And if successful, does
she expect no reward?"

"Reward? why, yes; and a proud reward too. She, and she alone, is to
rule where Turkey now rules; to have complete possession of the
Bosphorus and the Dardanelles—take a look at your map, lad, when you
go below—and thus have the freedom of the Mediterranean, and a sea-
board on the warmer and sunnier southern climes. No wonder that such a
prospect dazzles the Czar, and even his people.

"And no more fitting time, he believes, could be than the present,

Jack. Russia, you see, is trying her hand at the construction of a new map
of Europe. It would be a very handy map for the Czar, but a very
expensive one for other Powers. If we—the British, for instance—
desired to hold our own, to keep Malta, Alexandria, or to open up a near
route to our possessions in India, we should have then to maintain a fleet
in the Mediterranean at least three times as large as it now is. But France,
to say nothing of Prussia and Italy, has also interests to protect. It would
suit neither to see Russia acquiring a splendid new capital—namely,
Constantinople—and therefore holding the key of the Mediterranean."

"Ahem!" said Jack. "Of course I don't know enough to argue on either
side. But, sir, doesn't it seem a little rough on Russia to be locked up in
the icy north, and to have no outlet to the southern seas?"

"She might have, lad—she might have, if she could be trusted. But
she won't play fair. She wants to eat all the pie, and give nobody else a
plum. As for Austria, if Russia gets hold on Turkey, she gets command
of the Danube at the same time, and would in time, no doubt, turn that
country, nolens volens, into a province of her own."

"The Russians must be very ambitious and aspiring."

"Yes; and now the Czar, having, as he thinks, made a friend of the
youthful or boyish Emperor of Austria, believes the time has come for a
coup de main. Well, Jack, if one man desires to pick a quarrel with
another, and to hit him across the bows, some excuse very soon presents
itself. And so war between these two countries—Turkey and Russia—
has been hinged upon some dispute concerning the holy places of
Palestine."

"Holy Russia!" said Jack.

"Holy Russia may be right enough, Jack, as far as the innocent people
are concerned; but I believe the Emperor Nicholas to be a sly, underhand
dog. The dispute was of a very simple nature, lad. There are in Palestine
a Greek Church and a Latin Church. Russia is champion of the Greek,
France favours the Latin Church, and the question came to be which of
these should hold the key of the Church of Bethlehem; and the Turks, in
trying to please both Powers, so offended Holy Russia that she sent south
two great army corps to the Danubian Principalities, and at the same time
dispatched Prince Menschikoff as an envoy to Constantinople to
intimidate, if not to coerce, the Sultan."

"And what did the Sultan do? bastinado the Prince?"

"That might certainly have precipitated matters. But the Turks are an
indolent, easy-minded kind of a people, who fight well, but only when
forced; so they caved in, as we call it."

"Acceded to Russia's demands?"

"That's better English. But listen, lad. The Czar, seeing now that he
couldn't get ends to meet in one way, tried another. There are a very large
number of Christians in Turkey, and over these the Emperor of all the
Russias next demanded a complete protectorate!

"It was the delusion, Jack, therefore, that we did not see through his
ultimate designs, and that the British lion was harnessed to the plough-
stilts, and never likely to lift an angry paw, which led the Czar to be so
threatening towards Turkey as to cause that country to declare war
against Russia, which she did on the twenty-third of October 1853. The
next thing that happened was that, with the view of protecting their
interests, France and Britain sent their combined fleets off to the
Bosphorus.

"'If,' thought the Czar to himself, 'we can get Britain to keep quiet, we
may snap our fingers at the other Powers, and crush Turkey up like an
empty egg-shell. And John Bull is far too busy attending to trade and
making money to bother about the Ottoman Empire. If John Bull does,
why, I can suggest his having Egypt and Candia.'

"The despatch of the fleets to the Bosphorus was not a declaration of

war, but a kind of a display of physique under the title of moral suasion,
just as when two men peel to fight, Jack.

"Meanwhile, you see the people of our isle have been watching the
manoeuvres of the big bully. To begin with, they didn't like the insolent
arrogance of Menschikoff in Constantinople; but when news came that
the Russians, with six line-o'-battle ships, had attacked a squadron of
light Turkish vessels at anchor in the harbour of Sinope in the Black Sea,
and utterly destroyed them and their crews—a holocaust, my boy, of
between 4,000 and 5,000 men—then Britain cried 'Shame!"'

"It was time," said Jack.

"Yes; and we now brought our moral suasion to bear even on the boy
Kaiser of Austria. Russia must evacuate the Danubian Principalities.
This demand was made by united Britain and France in February of this
year, Jack (1854). At this time it was supposed that the war would be one
on the Danube. But the Kaiser moved 50,000 men up to the frontier,
which the Czar had seized—showing plainly that she means to join the
scrimmage if need be.

"Well, Jack, of course we can't tell what is doing now out there, but
very likely they are all at it hammer and tongs, for in March the French
and British declared war."

"Terrible, isn't it, sir?"

"Well, yes, in a manner of speaking," said bold Sturdy; "only, you see,
war means promotion for you and me. As far as I am concerned, lad,
promotion has been a jolly long time of coming, and I'm not going to say
a word against the war now that I see my captaincy heaving in sight
above the horizon, Meanwhile, Jack—blow, good wind, and waft us east;
for whatever happens, I should, I must confess, like to see a little of the
fighting and a bit of the fun."

*****

Lieutenant Sturdy was in all respects a true sailor, and a warrior at

that. It is, indeed, a blessing for our country that our navy—which is still
the best in the world, though far inferior, indeed, to what it ought to be—
is manned by thousands of hearts as brave as his.

Fear the British sailor does not know—even death has few terrors for
him; because Jack is really a thinking man, and he counts his chances,
and he knows, too, that he has only once to die.
 Where, then, can he die better than with cutlass or rifle in hand,
fighting for his dearly-beloved country, either afloat or ashore?

Meanwhile the Gurnet speeds on, and so do events in the East.

In order to understand the first plan of campaign that the Russians had
laid down for themselves, quite relying upon the acquiescence of
Austria, I pray you to take a glance at the skeleton map of the Black Sea
and its surroundings.

When I was a youngster myself I did not like maps, and remembering
this, I have placed neither town, river, bay, nor cape that is unnecessary
in this present map of mine, specially made for you, reader.

Well, you will easily find out Sinope, where the Russians massacred
the Turkish sailors. I want you to remember that their fleet had sallied
forth from Sebastopol for this purpose. Now, note the river Danube. It
was by this route that the Russians had meant to make their advance
against Turkey. Further south you will observe Silistria and Shumla, and
south still the Balkan Mountains. It was through the passes of these that
the Russians were to extend their march, and so on to Constantinople.

Our army and that of the French were therefore at first landed at
Varna, and went into camp between that place and Shumla. It was
believed at this time that the Russians would fight us here by land.
 But after having laid siege to Silistria, which the Turks bravely
defended, and being hard pressed by Austria, who seemed now
determined to join the allied armies and declare war, the Czar withdrew
his forces and recrossed the frontier.

The truth is that Russia had counted all along upon the friendship, or
at least the neutrality, of Austria. As soon as the Russians had left the
Principalities, the territory was occupied by the Austrians. They certainly
had the most interest in the threatened invasion and conquest of Turkey
by the Czar, and it is believed that even at this late date the whole
business might have been settled without war, and that Russia could have
been compelled, from the pressure put upon her, to indemnify Turkey for
the injuries done her.

But Britain had not the slightest intention of so inglorious an ending

to the great "weapon-show" she had commenced. Were our splendid
troops, eager and burning for fight, to return to their own country and
homes, with, figuratively speaking, their fingers in their mouths, and
without having once drawn a trigger? Perish the thought!

The Russian Bear must be crushed and humbled, his fleet in the Black
Sea must be destroyed, and Sebastopol, Russia's strongest fortress in this
sea, laid in ashes.

War! war! war!

When I come to think of it now, reader, I don't altogether blame the

people of Great Britain for desiring to humble the overbearing Emperor
Nicholas. Even the Queen herself saw that he was in the wrong, and
talked of the ambition and selfishness of one man and his immediate
subordinates as being the cause of our having to draw the sword. On the
other hand, I do not think that any one who has read the history of this
great war could help pitying the Czar's subjects. The poet Cowper says,
—

"War's a game which, were their subjects wise,

Kings would not play at."
 But the sufferings of our own poor soldiers and sailors, all brought on
by mismanagement, strike closer home to our hearts. We can pity these
still more, while we cannot but be angry with those who were to account
for all their misery, and for all the trials they so bravely bore.

We gained experience in the Crimea, however, and one might almost

say that this is cheap at any price.

CHAPTER II.

A GHASTLY ADVENTURE—THE EMBARKATION—A

STORMY LANDING.

As soon as it was known in Britain that the Russians had retreated

from the Danube, and that their forces would in all likelihood be poured
into the Crimea to reinforce that great stronghold, every scrap of news
from the seat of war was welcomed with the greatest enthusiasm. Every
one, too, seemed to be listening breathlessly and in silence for the first
shot to be fired. It was a silence, all made sure, that would soon be
broken by the pæans of victory. Our soldiers near Varna were not idle.
True, they were waiting for embarkation, and what a wearisome wait it
was! It would have been irksome in the extreme had our troops not been
kept busy collecting wood and manufacturing gabions and bastions for
the siege-works before Sebastopol.

Even already, then, it will be noted that a siege was in contemplation.

Nobody, however, had any idea it would be a long one. The allied fleets
had complete possession of the Black Sea. In a manner of speaking,
Sebastopol was already besieged or blockaded. Our object was, or rather
ought to have been, to isolate the Crimea from Russia. (Vide map.)
Seeing that the neck of land that joins it to the mainland is of no great
width, this ought to have presented but few difficulties. We should thus
have effectually prevented enforcements from pouring into Sebastopol.

But difficulties arose long before the allies were ready for
embarkation that no one had dreamt of. While the French troops were
still on their voyage from Marseilles, some cases of that terrible disease
the cholera had broken out among the troops. The doctors made as light
of it as they could, assuring those in command that, as soon as the army
had landed and commenced active service, the plague would be stayed.

This was very far indeed from being the case. The cholera grew even
more virulent after the men got under canvas. Here was an enemy, then,
that seemed to fight on the side of "Holy Russia," and that, too, with
terrible effect; for before the embarkation for the Crimea, the French
army had about 10,000 dead or hors de combat, while nearly a thousand
of our own brave soldiers had succumbed. The fleet, too, was attacked,
and steamed away to sea in the hopes of safety. In vain. It was a terrible
time on board some of our vessels; for the virulence of the plague
seemed to know neither bounds nor limits, and the healthy part of the
crews was engaged all day ministering to the sick, laying out the dead, or
committing their bodies to the deep.

It was about this time that one beautiful morning—the sunshine

glittering on the sea and casting a glamour over the greenery of hill and
dale and woodland—our old friend the Gurnet steamed into the Bay of
Balchik, some distance north of Varna. Embarkation was here busily
going on, amidst a scene of such confusion and bustle as no one on board
the Gurnet had ever before witnessed. The bay was covered with ships of
every size and description—an immense forest of masts bearing flags of
all kinds and colours, conspicuous among which were the British,
French, and Turkish ensigns. In and out among the shipping plied the
boats, with which the bay was so filled that scarcely could the water be
seen. The noise and din were indescribable.

Well, if the embarkation of our troops was not conducted in so orderly

a manner as one could wish to see, that of the French and Turks was
confusion worse confounded.

Early that morning, before the Gurnet got in, and ere yet the grey
clouds of the dawning day had changed to purple and gold, Jack
Mackenzie, whose watch it was, had gone to the first lieutenant's cabin
to make a report.

"Three men, sir," he said, "are swimming about a quarter of a mile off
our weather-bow."
 "What do they look like?" asked Sturdy.

"I can't quite make out, sir. Perhaps they are the survivors from some
boat that has been capsized."

"Very well, Jack; lower the first whaler."

"Can I go myself, sir?"

"Certainly. The quartermaster is on deck?"

"Yes."

The Gurnet was hove to, and in a short time, rowed by its brawny
crew, and steered by Jack himself, the whaler was bounding over the
waves towards the men. Yes, men they had been; but now, horrible to
relate, they were but hideous, grinning corpses. Buried they had been—
that is, buried at sea, and hastily, too, with shot to sink them; but this had
not been sufficient. It was a ghastly sight. The men lay on their oars for a
time looking horrified. Silent, too, for a time, till one old sailor spoke
out.

"Them's cholera corpses, sir. Hadn't we better put back?"

Jack had really been wondering whether it was not his duty to take
them in tow, so that they might be properly buried. A cold shudder ran
through him, however, when he learned the truth; and so the boat was put
about and rowed swiftly back to the ship.

"I thought as much," said Sturdy, when Jack went below again to
report. "Ah, lad! if the cholera has broken out among our troops and
seamen, we'll be held in check by an enemy far more terrible than the
Russians."

That evening Dr. Reikie and Jack went on shore to pay a visit to the
camp of the Highlanders under the brave Sir Colin Campbell, who, years
after this, became the hero of India during the awful mutiny. Everywhere
they were met by troops on the march towards the hastily-constructed
piers that our engineers had made to assist the embarkation. Slowly and
sadly these troops marched; so weak and sickly did they appear, that
scarce could they carry their knapsacks. It was but little wonder. The
whole air had the odour of a charnel-house.

They found their way to the Highlanders' camp at last; and rushing
out from his tent-door, the first to bid Jack welcome was his cousin
Llewellyn. He had just come off duty, and had not had time to divest
himself of his accoutrements.

"Duty," he said, smiling a little sadly; "why, Jack, it's all duty just at
present. It is duty all day long and most of the night, and I'm never out of
my war-paint. But perhaps our brave fellows have suffered as little as
any from the scourge, though we have buried quite a number. At first,
Jack, we used to play them to the grave with the 'Dead March,' you
know. But la! lad, there is no music now.—Dr. Reikie, I have heard so
much about you from Cousin Jack's letters that I appear to have known
you all my life. But, bless me, boys, come under canvas. I and Lieutenant
Murray are quartered here. Snug enough? Oh yes; we don't complain
about anything but the delay in getting off. We want to fight. Oh, I feel
sure when we get into grips with the Russians the cholera will be scared
away."

"I hope so," said Reikie; "but I very much doubt it."

"Ah! well, don't frighten us, anyhow," said Llewellyn.

That bold young Highlander certainly did not look as if anything

would frighten him. How handsome and strong he was, and how brave
he seemed! I'm not at all sure that Jack did not envy him his superior
stature—for he bordered on six feet. Perhaps Jack was boy enough yet to
covet that feather bonnet, for he was barely seventeen.

But Llewellyn threw off his Highland bonnet, and ordered his servant
to bustle about and get coffee ready.

It is no wonder that the conversation turned upon home. But at this

stage of the happy meeting it hardly could be called a conversation; for
Llewellyn had so much to say that in telling the news his tongue could
scarcely rattle on fast enough. But the gist of what he said can, after all,
be given in a few words:—
 "Three years and over, Jack, since you were home. Never mind, lad;
we've only got to smash the Russians, to raze to earth the battlements of
Sebastopol, to annihilate the defenders, to hurl back the Bear to his icy
den in the north, and, having covered ourselves with honour and glory, to
return, as the good ships' parsons tell us, 'in safety to enjoy the blessings
of the land with the fruits of our labours.'"

"Loot, eh?" said Dr. Reikie, quietly smiling; "and we have to thrash
the Russians first?"

"Oh yes; that is part of the programme of this grand picnic."

"And mother and sister?" said Jack.

"Both happy and beautiful. And what think you, Jack? I went down to
say good-bye, of course, before my regiment left, and Uncle Tom, who
has all sorts of kindly messages to you, went with me, and your sister
told me that she is coming out, if the war lasts over the autumn, to help
to nurse the sick and wounded! A whole lot of ladies are coming, only I
don't expect there will be any sick or wounded left to nurse by the time
they think of coming out. Well, then, north I went to bonnie Drumglen,
where my sister Tottie is at present, you know."

"My little sweetheart?"

"Yes: the old lady won't want her, and indeed we are all so happy to
be friends again. As she gets older, Jack, she gets more forgiving and less
severely aristocratic. Oh, she has a heart after all. She had tears in her
eyes, Jack, when she bade me good-bye, loading me with tender
messages to her own dear boy, as she still calls you."

"God bless her!"

"Yes, Jack, and Uncle Tom and I went to see the Malonies. Poor Peter
is just the same, only he no longer plays on the street, for, through uncle's
influence, he has adopted teaching music as a profession. The Malonies
haven't altered a bit, and your old cat is still first favourite at the fireside.
And Mrs. Malony told me tell you she prayed for you every morning and
night of her life, and made Malony himself do the same under penalty of
feeling the weight of the potato-masher in case of forgetting."
 It was late that night before the doctor and Jack got back to the
Gurnet; but nevertheless they found everything on board in an uproar,
preparations being made to receive for passage a contingent of one of the
regiments.

Storm and tempest delayed the sailing of the great armada for some
time after it was quite ready. But at last it got to sea; and when once
fairly away from the bay, and bearing up for the unknown land, then as
Jack and Sturdy stood side by side on the quarter-deck, the brave
lieutenant confessed that never in all his experience had he beheld so
grand a spectacle.

The whole peninsula of the Crimea is hardly twice the size of

Aberdeenshire or Yorks; and broadening out from the Isthmus of
Perekop in the north, its whole length to Balaklava in the south (vide
map) is not more than 120 miles as the crow flies. The entire population
of the Crimean peninsula at the time of the invasion is said to have
numbered about 220,000. But looking at a map, although it gives one a
good idea of the lie of the land and water, is not very instructive as far as
the features of the country are concerned; so, just in a sentence or two,
let me tell you what these are like. The northern and the middle portions,
then, are a kind of barren prairie land or steppes, and but sparsely
inhabited by Tartars, who dwell in tumble-down little villages, and tend
their flocks and herds. Not so peacefully, however, as do our Highland
shepherds. Those Tartars may be simple in their ways, but they are wild
and uncouth in nature. But proceeding southward from Perekop, we
come to a far more beautiful or bountiful land. Mountains shelter it from
the storms of the north, and here are hills and glens and wide smiling
valleys with woods of pine and oak, under the shelter of which, and on
the sunny braes, grow olive trees, the pomegranate, and even sub-
tropical fruits, while green grass waves plentiful in spring and summer,
and wild flowers are everywhere.

The southern end of this peninsula is hilly and cliffy. It is indented on

the west by the great harbour of Sebastopol, and on the south by that of
Balaklava. The capital is Simferopol, lying away to the north and east of
the virtual capital, Sebastopol.

It was on the north and west of the peninsula that the allied armies
landed and commenced their memorable march upon the great Russian
stronghold. In the map you will note the streams or rivers they had to
cross. The first is the Bulganak, and is but a "drumlie" rivulet or burn.
The hills that range here with valleys between are from 400 to 500 feet
high.

Well, the Bulganak flows west, so does the Alma seven miles further
on, and also the Katcha and Belbek, the latter being nearest to
Sebastopol. But the Tchernaya, I wish you to observe, runs north and
west, and falls into the head of the harbour of the great stronghold.

There is but one other point I wish to draw your attention to, and that
is what is called the Upland between Sebastopol and Balaklava. The
extreme western point is called Cape Kherson.

The distance from Varna to Sebastopol is about 300 miles, and had
this city been made, in every sense of the word, a base of supplies, much
of the suffering during the terrible winter of 1854-55 would have been
spared our ill-starred soldiers.

The coast had been well reconnoitred by H.M.S. Caradoc and

Agamemnon, on board of which were not only Lord Raglan himself, the
one-armed hero and commander of the British forces, but General
Canrobert and Sir John Burgoyne.

At last the beach to the north of Bulganak was selected as a landing-

place, owing to its position; being defended inland by two small lakes, so
that the enemy, had they wished to attack, could only have done so by
the narrow strip of beach betwixt these lakes and the sea.

The French and Turks were first got on shore on the fourteenth day of
September; and they landed unopposed by the enemy, but not by the
elements, for a heavy swell tumbled roaring in upon the beach, and the
surf and breakers were so high that boats and rafts were dashed to pieces.

Had a terrible gale from the west come on, this allied fleet might have
suffered as disastrous a fate as the Spanish Armada of olden times.

On the 15th the British landed.

How small in comparison with the forces and huge armies of the
present day was the whole combined force! The Turks numbered but
7,000—they had sixty-eight guns, but no cavalry; the French were
infantry, 28,000 in all; and we ourselves had but 26,000, added to which
was that brave and splendid Light Brigade of cavalry 1,000 strong. Ah!
we shall hear of them again.

The knapsacks of our brave fellows were left on board, for many were
so low and ill that they could not have carried them. Nothing, indeed,
was carried that could be dispensed with—not even tents, bar those for
the sick and for the head officers. Blankets to cover them they had, and
in these were wrapped up only the bare necessaries of life.

Nor was there any available transport landed save a few horses. The
army, however, soon captured country carts from the Tartars to the
number of about 400, and they drove in all the live stock that they could
find.

But on the whole, instead of being prepared for a long and exhausting
war, our soldiers stood on the beach hardly equipped for a review or
picnic.

Providence probably fought on our side, else the Russians, who had a
free hand and a very large force of cavalry, might have terribly harassed
us and rendered our victories impossible. The whole army of the allies
was, be it remembered, a "movable column." It had no base behind it to
which it could send back its sick or wounded. These must be carried
onwards day after day, or left to the tender mercies of a foe that, under
the circumstances, one cannot marvel at being implacable. Moreover, a
movable line of battle must hurry on to death or victory; for if it be
harassed by the enemy's cavalry, and by guerilla bands of the peasantry,
and people whose country is invaded, the limited supplies are soon
exhausted, and there is nothing to fall back upon.

The march of the allied armies, then, onwards to Sebastopol, a

distance of about twenty-five miles, was indeed a daring and
adventuresome one. But the many hopes of the invading army lay in at
once inflicting upon the Russians a defeat that should stagger and
paralyze their whole force.

On the afternoon of the nineteenth of September, our forces in battle

array reached the first of the streams, the Bulganak, and here, for sake of
water, they bivouacked for the night.
 It might have been said that the whole force slept upon their arms; for
on the hills, at no great distance beyond them, the Russians were espied,
apparently about 10,000 strong in all, and well supplied with horses and
artillery.

But the night passed quietly by. The hour of battle had not yet arrived.

CHAPTER III.

A FIELD OF HEROES—"ON, LADS, ON!"—BRAVE

CODRINGTON—PANIC AND TERROR.

It was nearly ten o'clock next day when the allies again moved
forward.

Every heart beat high as the order was given to advance, for it was
known all along the line that the day of battle had dawned. Yes, every
heart beat high; but long ere eventide many of those brave fellows would
be lying still and stark on the bare hillsides.

The enemy had indeed withdrawn from the ridges in front; but no one
doubted that he lay further on awaiting the attack, and on ground that had
been carefully selected.

On and on and on they marched, tired enough already, many faint and
obliged to fall out.

In the regiment of brave Highlanders, the 93rd, in which Llewellyn

Morgan held his commission, every man seemed burning for the fray.
The certainty of battle had raised their spirits, and even those among
them that but the day before had felt weak and sickly, now marched on
with heads erect. Llewellyn was certain in his own mind that, were it not
for the fact that they had to keep in alignment with the vast army which
stretched from their right away towards the sea, the Highlanders would
soon have been far in advance.
 It was not, however, until nearly noon that the sound of great guns
came booming towards them from the west.

"What do you make of it, Grant?" said Llewellyn to a lieutenant who

marched by his side.

"Oh," said Grant, "those are the guns of the allied fleet. They have
found the enemy on the heights beyond the river Alma, and have opened
fire. How do you feel, Morgan?" he added.

Llewellyn smiled. "Well," replied the brave young fellow, "I cannot
say that I feel afraid; but I suppose what I do feel is something very like
it. I am burning with anxiety, and now and then my heart goes pit-a-pat."

Grant laughed. "You are very candid," he said; "and your feelings are
just mine. Confound those French fellows! why don't they come on?"

"Well, a short while ago they had to halt for us. Come, Grant, time
about is fair play."

"Yes, halt the beggars did to make their coffee. But now when we get
to the top of this grassy slope we shall see the river Alma, and see the
enemy also."

And this was so.

I wish, reader, we could remain with bold young Llewellyn and his
friend Grant throughout all the fearful battle of Alma. But we must take a
glance at the whole field.

The plain on which the allies made their last halt swept smooth and
green down to the winding river side. (Vide plan.)

If a small boat at sea were sailing north from the direction of

Sebastopol, she would find on her right a high wall of rugged rocks.
Well, on coming to and entering the river, these cliffs are still continued
up the south side of the stream for a mile and a half. After this the wall of
rocks ends in a range of hills or heights, subsides into these, as it were,
and the braes are now climbable even to Englishmen, and far more so, of
course, to the Scottish mountaineers.
 Now for the villages on the northern bank of the stream. The first is
Alma Tamak, higher up is Bourliouk, and higher up still the little village
of Tarkhanlar. As to the roads leading up through the cliffs or up the
hills, the first is near to the mouth of the stream, which is here fordable,
and the path goes up the cliff. At Alma Tamak there is, when you get
over the river, a road up a kind of glen in the wall of rocks, and along
this guns may be taken with difficulty. Further up still, and near to a
farm, is a third road; then a better and wider one not far from Bourliouk,
which takes the traveller right away up to Telegraph Hill.

Having ascended the wall of rocks through the gaps, or climbed the
braelands, our troops would find themselves on a rugged tableland which
stretched south and away as far as the next river—Katcha—which, with
Belbek, lay between them and the goal of their expectations, Sebastopol.

The disposition of the forces is plainly laid down in the plan herewith
presented, so I need not describe it in the text. As to the fleets, the
Turkish squadron was farthest south, then came the French, and next the
British.

It will be noticed that the whole front of battle fell to the share of the
British, the French having undertaken to reach the heights between the
enemy and the sea, and so turn the Russian left flank. But the main
portion of the enemy's forces was massed to the east of the road from
Eupatoria to Sebastopol. Observe, please, their batteries, their cavalry
stretching along from Kourgané Hill, and note the position of the
Vladimir Regiment. When you have done so, we are ready for the great
fight.

Lord Raglan himself, in company with brave St. Arnaud, reconnoitred

the enemy's position during the last halt, and after that, towards one
o'clock, the signal for battle was given. We must follow the French, for
they had the honour of commencing this bloody affray.

General Bosquet's division, then, which had been hugging the sea-
shore, was divided into two brigades. One of these was ordered to leave
their knapsacks behind—alas! many a poor fellow never saw knapsack
more—and, fording the stream, ascend the first path I have mentioned.
This brigade was followed by the Turks. The other brigade ascended
opposite Alma Tamak, and the artillery were taken up this road also.
Farther inland, General Canrobert's division got on by the road opposite
the farm, and, next to Canrobert's, Prince Napoleon's division.

But note this early: that the seaside brigade of Bosquet's and the Turks
never got near enough to the enemy to fire a shot. So that disposes of
them. Indeed, if you imagine the field of Alma to be a chess-board, you
can suppose this brigade and the Turks as useless.

Canrobert's guns had to follow Bosquet's left brigade a mile to the

west of him, and he himself was a mile to the west of Telegraph Hill.
 He has seized the colours, and his wild slogan can
be heard high above the roar.

Well, now, many of my readers will at once ask the question: Why
didn't the Russian general destroy, block up, or defend these roads?
Perhaps he forbore to defend them because he would have placed
himself within reach of the ships' guns; but a little engineering skill
might have rendered them entirely impassable, to artillery at all events.

While the French were ascending to the right then, even as it was, the
guns of their fleet were throwing their shot and shell far on to the plateau
beyond them.

And now the British began to move onwards to take up the ground
they were to occupy. There were, therefore, confronting our British
soldiers at least 21,000 men, with eighty-four guns on hastily-
constructed batteries.

I should be sorry to ask the reader to burden his memory

unnecessarily; but as the Second Division and Light Division took such a
prominent part in the battle, it is well to remember of what regiments
they were made up.

The Second Division, then, which was on the right, with the Light on
the left, was composed of the 30th, 55th, and 95th regiments, under
Pennefather; and the 41st, 47th, and 49th, under Adams. It was
commanded by Sir De Lacy Evans, who was a true hero and a good
soldier. He had fought in the Peninsula, in America, and at Waterloo.

The Light Division (Sir George Brown's) had also six regiments—the
7th, 23rd, and 33rd, under brave Codrington; and the 19th, 77th, and
88th, under Buller.

Between the villages of Bourliouk and Tarkhanlar were many

enclosed gardens, their stone walls running towards the river. Many of
these were all a-tangle with vines. Right opposite, on the other side of
the river, was the famous Kourgané Hill, and its batteries some distance
back.

Our skirmishers, going on at the double, first encountered the Russian

fire from the village of Bourliouk and those vineyards; but the enemy
was driven from there after setting fire to the little town, the flames and
smoke of which added much to the terrible character of the scene. Our
Light and Second Divisions began to deploy as the shot and shell from
the Kourgané battery tore through their ranks and burst over them. There
was here another delay, owing, I believe, to our right being too close to
and hampered by the French.
 This delay, it is said, was not accidental but part of the plan, and our
divisions were waiting to let the French artillery get up by the road I
have already mentioned. For Canrobert's infantry and Prince Napoleon's
division could not advance without the support of its guns.

Soon, however, and before the proper time, a staff officer rode from
the French commander asking Lord Raglan to push on.

Then, indeed, the tug of war began in deadly earnest; for the order to
advance was given, and on dashed our troops.

About the same time Lord Raglan, singularly enough, with a few of
his staff, rode round the right of the village, crossed the Alma, and
stationed himself on a height well within the enemy's lines, from which,
while he could observe what was going on, he could scarcely be
expected to issue orders. Moreover, he was in a position of danger. This
certainly proved him a brave man, but was not quite in accordance with
the tactics of the best generals.

But come, reader, you and I shall, for a time, join Brown's command
on the left, for it is the first to advance; and like Llewellyn yonder with
his Highlanders, we are burning to fight. He, however, has not the
chance afforded him yet. We have, so hurrah!

Here we are at the first low wall, which we leap nimbly, and find
ourselves among the tanglement of bushes and vines. We must cut and
fight our way through these till we reach the river. Did ever you pause on
the banks of a stream and wonder whether it was fordable or not, or
whether it would be unadvisable to wet your feet! Whiz! That was a
round shot, that flew close over us; and shells are now tearing up the
vineyard behind us, and shattering the stone walls. The bullets from
above are pattering on the water, and men are falling here and there. So
we hesitate not, but dash into the stream. The swords of our brave young
officers are pointing onwards. Yonder is the hill. Up we must charge!

Now over the stream, we find a little shelter, for a few moments only,
under the opposite bank. Some of us, weak from illness, are already
pumped. All are glad to have this breathing spell. We look back across
the stream. Yonder is the blazing village, flames leaping in tongues high
in air through the clouds of smoke and sparks that roll slowly to leeward.
Evans's men, their belts and accoutrements glittering here and there in
the sunshine, are half hidden by the smoke, but soon they too reach the
stream and commence to ford.

"On, lads, on!"

It is the bold voice of Sir George Brown, who, on horseback, is the

first to clamber up the bank. We draw a deep breath, and nerve ourselves
to follow. Nay, but it needs but little power of will to get up nerve. Are
we not Englishmen?

So we answer our general with a blood-rousing cheer.

We are up! The fight is raging now all around us. Last night, as we lay
under the stars wrapped in our humble blankets, we wondered if in the
heat of battle we should experience aught of fear. Fear? no, no, here is
none of it. We hardly know just at present what is going on. We hear no
orders. The din of battle—the shouts of rage or agony, the clash of arms,
and the roar of artillery—deafens us. The air is filled with smoke and
flame. At times we are in touch with our companies, and charging two
deep against the four-deep masses of the grey-clad foe in front of us; but
as often as not do we find ourselves in no line at all, only fighting in
daring groups. We in the Light Division, though at present we know it
not, are supported by the 95th, one of Codrington's regiments.

This is awful work! Not three hundred yards ahead and above, the
shot from the Russians' greatest battery is tearing through our ranks.
Again and again we stumble, sometimes on the blood-slippery glacis,
sometimes over a fallen friend. Yet on we dash towards the fiery mouths
of those roaring guns. Away to our right the 7th Regiment is hurling all
its force against the left wing of the Kazan Regiment. That was indeed a
terrible tulzie!

Hurrah! It is a wilder shout than ever. Just for a moment we see the
impetuous Codrington urging his regiment even to greater speed. It was
their war-cry we heard, and it steels our every nerve.

But see, the guns above us give no longer voice. Have we won? We
know not. The guns, however, are rapidly being withdrawn. And we
know afterwards that a greater mistake could not have been made by our
surly foe. Yet every gun is valuable, and I suppose they knew we would
take them anyhow.
 But bravery is not everything in battle. The guns, it is true, hurl no
more their deadly missiles, to decimate our ranks, but there are now
rushing on to meet our four regiments the brave Vladimir Regiment,
supported by a field battery, and another great regiment, with the right
wing of the Kazan.

Can we stand it? Our men are falling on every side—officers, sword
in hand, sergeants, rank and file, piled here and there, or crawling in
agony and writhing in anguish and pain.

How hot the fire! how wild the din! We are being annihilated. Where
are our supports, and why do they not make haste to help us? We know
not. We do not know that the Guards are even then hurrying up to our
support. Yet Codrington seems to have done about all a brave man could
do.

He is outnumbered—beaten and flying. Ah! there was no fear before,

but now as we are hurled down the hills, something more than fear, and
akin to the nightmare terror that seizes a runaway horse, fills our breast,
and it is sauve qui peut.

A few minutes more and our supports would have been on the field of
battle.

There come the Guards. They have advanced in good order. They
have forded the stream, and are bravely rushing on up the hill thus:—

Left Battalion. | Centre Battalion. | Right Battalion.

THE COLDSTREAMS. | SCOTS FUSILIERS. | GRENADIERS.

Now, what happens? Alas! our broken and retreating ranks sweep
down on that centre battalion, and carry it right before us to the banks of
the stream.

Are we beaten? Is the battle lost? These questions we may put to

ourselves, even to each other, but we cannot answer.

Personally—that is, as far as our four regiments are concerned, to say

nothing of the Scots Fusiliers that were hurled back by us—we are
defeated. There is no other name for it.

Our losses, though we are ignorant of this at present, are fifty

commissioned officers, about the same number of sergeants, not
including twelve officers of the daring 7th. In rank and file altogether
over one thousand men lie dead or wounded.

But see, although the Scots Fusiliers are swept down by our pell-mell
retreat, the Coldstreams and Grenadiers continue their advance in
splendid lines and quite unbroken.

Ah! there is something in bravery and daring that at times leads on to

victory against odds too fearful for the mere tactician to contemplate.

CHAPTER IV.

THE KILTED WARRIORS OF THE NORTH—THE

TERRIBLE
STRUGGLE FOR KOURGANÉ HILL—THE
IMPETUOUS
93RD—VICTORY!

At this stage of the battle all our available forces were being hurried
into action.

The three regiments that had remained with Evans were terribly cut
up in attempting to hurl back the Russian infantry, supported by batteries
that disputed possession of the post-road.

The 41st and 49th were advancing towards the eminence on which
Lord Raglan and his staff were situated; while the Third Division, under
General England, with six regiments and two field batteries, was
crossing the Alma to their support.

But we must leave General Codrington doing his best to rally his
regiments and form another division to advance, while we seek
adventure farther to the left. Not, however, till I tell you one incident of
this heroic fight. As I have already said, then, the centre battalion of the
Guards—namely, the Scots Fusiliers—was hurled back with
Codrington's beaten men, and with, alas! a loss to the Scots of Lord
Clinton and three sergeants killed, ten officers and thirteen sergeants
wounded, and 154 rank and file lying dead or wounded on the brae side.
This left a gap between the Grenadiers and the Coldstreams. Well,
having got together some of his brigade, Codrington sent forward to ask
Colonel Hood of the Grenadiers if he should place his newly-formed
men between the two battalions to fill up this gap.

One cannot help feeling for Codrington, for the answer from Hood
was a snappish one. "No; certainly not," he said.

Colonel Hood, with his now-open left bravely advancing to the attack,
was in reality disobeying the last order he had received. This was that he
should conform to any movement on his left.

"Mercy!" he exclaimed, when the centre battalion was swept down

the hill, "the movement on my left is defeat and retreat. Am I to conform
to that? I'll be hanged if I do. On, men. Forward!"

"Thank Heaven!" he afterwards said, "I disobeyed orders."

So might our sailor-hero Nelson have said, for he disobeyed orders,

and put the glass to his blind eye.

Let Hood continue to advance with his Grenadiers; and the cool,
courageous, precise Coldstreams go onwards too. Both have deadly work
before them.

But here we are among the Highlanders; and is it not true what Scott
says?—

"Ne'er in battle-field throbbed heart more brave

Than that which beats beneath the Scottish plaid."

And now they were going into action—to do or to die. Yes, to do or to

die. They have never been in battle before—that is, in a real fight like
this. But it never occurred to them that they might or could be beaten.
They were nearly all young soldiers those kilted warriors of the north—