company as the one worthiest to receive the
French medal. He was quite a Samson in his
way, shooting here and bayoneting there; and,
when the Redan was finally taken, was seen inside
fighting hand to hand in a manner that
would set up a Rustum or a Zal at once, with any
people less imaginative than the English. Again,
Private Matthew Hughes proved himself a true
hero, when, at the storming of the Quarries, he
twice coolly went across the open for ammunition
under a very heavy fire; and, when he went
to the front, while the fight was hottest, for
Private John Hampton, lying there severely
wounded. He volunteered a second time on the
same service to bring in Lieutenant Hobson,
but he was wounded this time himself, and the
gallant care he had been so willing to show to
others had now to be transferred to himself.

These are only a few of the more dramatic
incidents of the war for which the Cross of
Valour was awarded; but many more than can
be chronicled here, earned it for deeds as brave
and no less striking. Selection does not mean
exclusion; but space is arbitrary, and when
type has to be economised it is absolutely necessary
to make extracts serve as examples of
the whole.

Every one was brave. Men thought nothing
of seizing live shells, as Sergeant Ablett
did, when one fell right among the powder;
or of crawling close to the enemy to reconnoitre,
like Private William Stanlock, of the
Coldstreams, who got within six or seven
yards of the Russians; neither was it thought
anything wonderful that Sergeant McKechnie,
and Private Reynolds, of the Scots Fusiliers,
should rally the men round their colours (they
both got the Cross for that same act of gallantry);
nor that Captain Henry, of the Land Transport,
should defend his guns after he had received
twelve bayonet wounds. Then there was Private
John Roper, of the Third, who brought in a deserter
under two cross-fires—worse luck for the
deserter!—and who went out again and brought
in a wounded comrade under the same cross-fires.
There was Sergeant Maynahin, who killed
five Russians with his own hand at the taking
of the Redan; and Major Lindsay, who did
at the Alma what his sergeant and a private did
elsewhere, when, " all the colour-sergeants being
shot down around him and his brother officer,
the late Lieutenant Thistlethwaite, he rallied the
men round the colours, and steadied them in
the face of the enemy, under a very heavy fire."
There was that calm, devoted, heroic Corporal
Shields, who, after the unsuccessful attack on
the Redan (September 9, 1855), missed his
Adjutant, Lieutenant Dyneley. The corporal
was much attached to his friend and officer, and
volunteered to go out and look for him, and
bring him in, dead or alive. Under a very heavy
fire he quietly searched over all the ground,
when at last he discovered his adjutant mortally
wounded. He ran back to the trenches
for Dr. Sylvester—for the wounded officer was
not able to bear the pain of being carried on his
back, as he attempted—and then they both bore
him in between them, a sharp fire of musketry
rattling round them at every step. The corporal
was in the Twenty-third Royal Welsh Fusiliers,
and received the Cross for this act of valour.
Lieutenant Dyneley died during the night.

Sir Charles Russell's affair was one of the
most brilliant of the whole campaign. It will
be best told in his own words, quoted by Mr.
Desanges in his pretty little sixpenny romance,
serving as the catalogue of his gallery:

"An old sand-bag battery became an object of
peculiar contention. The enemy had scrambled up
to it, but out they must go, and go they did. Once
gained, it became a serious object to keep. Poor
Butler (brother of the hero) was shot dead behind
me, and many comrades were falling. At last, by
overwhelming numbers we were outflanked, and with
great difficulty effected an orderly retreat, and the
battery once more fell to the Russians. Just then
the 20th appeared in support of us, and with a cheer
we dashed once more at the battery. Percy most
gallantly rushed at this moment to the front. Our
ammunition was failing us, and the men, armed with
stones, flung them into the masses of Russians, who
caught the idea, and the air was thick with huge
stones flying in all directions; but we were too much
for them, and once more a mlée of Grenadiers, Cold-
streams, and Fusiliers held the battery their own,
and from it on the solid masses of the Russians still
poured as good a fire as our ammunition would
permit. There were repeated cries of ' Charge!' and
some man near me said, 'If any officer will lead
us we will charge;' and as I was the only one
just there, I could not refuse such an appeal, so I
jumped into the embrasure, and waving my revolver
said, ' Come on, my lads; who will follow me?' I
then rushed on, fired my revolver at a fellow close
to me, but it missed fire. I pulled again, and think
I killed him. Just then a man touched me on the
shoulder, and said, ' You was near done for.' I said,
' Oh no, he was some way from me.' He answered,
' His bayonet was all but into you, when I clouted
him over the head.' And sure enough a fellow
had got behind me, and nearly settled me. I must
add that the Grenadier who accompanied me was
publicly made a corporal on parade next morning.
His name is Palmer. I did not know it, but I said,
' What's your name? Well, if I live through this
you shall not be forgotten.'"

For his conduct at this battle Sir Charles Russell
received the Order.

Besides Private Anthony Palmer, who afterwards
won more laurels at Inkermann, Sergeant
Norman and Private Bailey (who was killed)
accompanied Sir Charles; and altogether this
thing was one of the most brilliant and successful
of the campaign.

Sergeant William M'Wheeney of the Forty
Fourth, was as gallant as any of them. In the
beginning of the war he volunteered as a sharp-shooter,
and had charge of a large party of his
own regiment. Once he brought off Private
John Keane upon his back, under a murderous
fire, and another time he rescued Corporal Courtenay,
severely wounded in the head. Finding
the fire too hot for him, he threw up a cover
for his companion with his bayonet, and then
brought him into camp safely after dark.
M'Wheeney was a volunteer for other hard services,
and was never once absent during the