by the Russians after being wounded. Some further
details, of great interest, are given of this memorable
conflict. "When the mortar battery," says the Times
correspondent, "was carried by an enormous force of the
enemy, they held it for about fifteen minutes, and were
dislodged by a handful of men, who, according to the
statements made to me, displayed the utmost gallantry
and daring. Our men do not relish night fighting.
They would sooner meet 10,000 Russians by day, than
2000 in the dark, but the circumstances attending this
act evince the greatest coolness and bravery on the part
of the men and officers engaged in it. At the time the
heavy fire between the French and Russians was going
on a portion of the 90th Regiment were employed on
fatigue duty on the right of the new advanced works on
our right attack. They were in the act of returning to
their posts in the Gordon battery just at the moment
the heavy firing on the right had ceased, when a
scattered irregular fusilade commenced in the dark on
the left of their position close to the mortar battery.
Captain Vaughton, who commanded the party of the
90th, ordered his men to advance along the covered
way to the works. They moved up in double time, and
found the Russians in complete possession of the mortar
battery. The 90th at once opened as heavy a fire of
musketry as they could upon the enemy, who returned
it, but the coolness and steadiness of our men were
giving us the advantage, when an alarm was given that
our men were firing on the French; but the mistake
was speedily discovered by the enemy's fire being poured
in with more deadly effect, and the small party of the
90th were thrown into great confusion. Captain
Vaughton at this moment shouted, 'Men of the 90th
follow me!' and Sergeant Henry Clarke, Sergeant
Brittle, a sergeant of the 7th Fusiliers, about fourteen
men of the 90th, and a few of the 7th, dashed out of
the confused ranks, and rushed right into the mortar
battery. In a few moments these brave fellows drove the
enemy beyond the first traverse, and at the narrow way
leading into the second traverse they made a stand, and
opened a heavy flanking fire on the parapet, over which
the Russians were making determined efforts to come
upon them. The narrow pass was meantime defended
by the sergeants and a few men, who delivered fire as
fast as they could load right into the Russians, who
gradually began to give way. With a loud 'hurrah'
the gallant little band sprang with the bayonet upon
the enemy, who at once precipitately retired over the
parapet, followed by our rifle balls, which were poured
in upon them incessantly, till every round in the men's
pouches was expended. In order to keep up the fire,
the men groped about among the dead Russians, and
exhausted all the cartridges they could find in the
enemy's pouches. At the first charge at the Mortar
Battery the Russian leader, who wore an Albanian
costume, and whose gallantry was most conspicuous,
fell dead. As an act of justice, the names of the
officers and men of the party of the 90th Regiment
whose conduct was distinguished in this affair should
be recorded. They are—Clarke, Brittle, and Essex
(sergeants), Caruthers, severely wounded (corporal),
Fare, Walsh, Nicholson (wounded), and Nash.
Captain Vaughton received a severe contusion in the affair.
The courage displayed by Captain Cavendish Browne,
of the 7th, in another part of the works, was most
conspicuous. He was severely wounded at the
commencement of the attack, but he refused to go to the rear,
though nearly fainting from loss of blood. He led on
his men, encouraging them by voice and gesture, to the
front. When his body was found, it lay far in advance
of our line, with three balls in the chest. The 77th
Regiment behaved admirably, and Major-General
Codrington has communicated to the 88th (and I
believe to the other regiments of the brigade of the
Light Division engaged) the satisfaction of Sir George
Brown at their gallant conduct. It is not known how
many Albanian chiefs there were with the Russians,
but certainly the two who were killed led them on with
intrepidity and ferocious courage. One of them, who
struggled into the battery in spite of a severe wound,
while his life-blood was ebbing fast, rushed at a powder
barrel and fired his pistol into it before he fell.
Fortunately the powder did not explode, as the fire did not
go through the wood. Another charged, with a cimetar
in one hand and a formidable curved blade, which he
used as a dagger, in the other, right into our ranks
twice, and fell dead the second time, perforated with
balls and bayonets. They were magnificently dressed,
and it is supposed they were men of rank."

On the 24th of March there was an armistice of two
hours, to bury the slain. The scene is described by the
same graphic pen:—

"It was arranged that two hours should be granted
for collecting and carrying away the dead bodies on
both sides. The news spread through the camps; and
the races which the Chasseurs d'Afrique had got up in
excellent style were much shorn of their attractions by
the opportunity afforded us of meeting our enemies on
neutral ground. All the ravines leading to the front
trenches were crowded with officers hastening on horse
and foot down to the scene of so much hard fighting.
The crests of the hills and the slopes in front of the
batteries were covered with men; and they dotted the
deadly interval between the batteries, which had been
before occupied alone by thousands of tons of shot and
fragments of shell discharged by French and English
and Russians during this protracted siege. The day
was beautifully bright and warm. White flags waved
gently in the faint spring breeze above the embrasures
of our batteries, and from the round tower and
mamelon. Not a soul had been visible in front of the
lines an instant before the emblems of peace were run
up to the flagstaffs; and a sullen gun from the mamelon
and a burst of smoke from Gordon's batteries had but a
short time previously heralded the armistice. The
instant the flags were hoisted, friend and foe swarmed
out of the embrasures. The riflemen of the allies and
of the enemy rose from their lairs in the rifle-pits, and
sauntered towards each other to behold their grim
handiwork. The whole of the space between the
Russian lines and our own was filled with groups of
unarmed soldiery. Passing down by the middle picket
ravine, which is now occupied by the French, and
which runs down in front of the Light Division camp,
I came out upon the advanced French trench, within a
few hundred yards of the mamelon. The sight was
strange beyond description. French, English, and
Russian officers, were walking about saluting each other
courteously as they passed, and occasionally entering into
conversation; and a constant interchange of little civilities,
such as offering and receiving cigar-lights was going
on in each little group. Some of the Russian officers
were evidently men of high rank and breeding. Their
polished manners contrasted remarkably with their plain
and rather coarse clothing. They wore, with few
exceptions, the invariable long grey coat over their
uniforms. The French officers were all en grande tenue,
and offered a striking contrast to many of our own
officers, who were dressed à la Balaklava, and wore
uncouth head-dresses, catskin coats, and nondescript
paletots. Many of the Russians looked remarkably like
English gentlemen in 'style' of face and bearing. One
tall, fine-looking old man, with a long grey beard and
strangely-shaped cap, was pointed out to us as Hetman
of the Cossacks in the Crimea; but it did not appear as
if there were many men of high military rank present.
The Russians were rather grave and reserved; but they
seem to fraternise with the French better than with
ourselves, and the men certainly got on better with our
allies than with the few privates of our own regiments
who were down towards the front. But while all this
civility was going on, we were walking among the dead,
over blood-stained ground, covered with evidences of
recent fight. Broken muskets, bayonets, cartouch-boxes,
caps, fragments of clothing, straps and belts, pieces of
shell, little pools of clotted blood, shot, round and grape,
shattered gabions and sandbags, were visible around us
on every side; and through the midst of the crowd
stalked a solemn procession of soldiers bearing their
departed comrades to their long home. I counted
seventy-seven litters borne past me in fifteen minutes,
each filled with a dead enemy. The contortions of the
slain were horrible, and recalled the memories of the
fields of Alma and Inkermann. Some few French were
lying far in advance towards the mamelon and Round
Tower, among the gabions belonging to the French