and six stamps. And, as I have no more to say at
present, I must conclude with my kind love and affection
for you both, and believe me to remain your ever
affectionate son, WILLIAM BRADLEY."

A letter from a wounded soldier of the Light Cavalry
to his brother, written from the hospital at Scutari,
draws a picture of the terrible "death-ride"—the
charge led by Lord Cardigan at Balaklava, by far the
most graphic and striking that has yet been given:—
"The battle of Balaklava was certainly a disastrous
affair for our poor Light Cavalry. The cowardly
conduct of the Turks, in the first instance, made a great
odds to us all through the day, the Russians having
such play at us from our own redoubts and using our
own shot and shell. However, our marine artillery,
with a tremendous range, with some ships' guns which
they had planted on the heights close above Balaklava
harbour, soon regularly shelled them out of the redoubts.
They now made a bold stroke for it, in their way, and
came over the hill with most of their army, including a
great many cavalry. The first thing they did (a large
cloud of Cossacks) was to charge about three companies
of the 93rd Highlanders, who, however, gave them such
a warm reception that they turned to the rightabout
pretty sharp. Our heavy dragoons, first the Scots
Greys and Enniskillens, charged slap at the whole
front of the cavalry, with the infantry in rear. They
went down at first like reeds before our Heavies, but as
there was only about one bonnie Grey or bold
Enniskillen to so many Russians, they began to outflank
them, when the rest of the heavy brigade charged and
drove them back like a flock of sheep. The light
brigade was ordered to the pursuit; we and the 4th
Light were on the extreme left flank, covering a troop
of horse artillery, to keep back a division of them who
were trying to outflank us in that direction. After
their artillery and ours had battered away at each
other for some time, the balls coming hot and strong
through the coverers, a French battery of heavy metal
opened on them from the rear of the Sebastopol heights,
drove them back, and we could see the Chasseurs
d'Afrique coming down at a gallop. It was just about
this time we got the order to pursue, so off we went to
the rear after the retiring party; we had to get through
a vineyard, over a mud wall and ditch, and there were a
good many 'downers' and some fun. When we got
through we went tearing up the hill after them. The
Heavies were close on their rear. The Lancers and
others of the Lights were closing on them, and we
were coming up at a good pace and nearly into them,
when they got over the hills beyond the redoubts, into
their stronghold in the valley, and they brought their
guns to bear upon us. We retired out of range, and
sat fronting them, when they formed as nice a trap
as could possibly have been, and which nobody but
a blind man could have missed seeing. They
planted guns on the hills right and left of the
valley, and all their field-pieces at the end right
facing us. I believe Captain Nolan was sent to
reconnoitre the hills on each side. Whatever report
he took to Lord Raglan we know not, but I expect he
reported they were all clear, as he came back with an
order to Lord Lucan for the light brigade to charge and
take the field guns, and the ammunition and guns taken
from the Turks. Lord Lucan asked if Lord Raglan was
aware of the enemy's position? 'There is the order,
and there is the enemy,' Nolan is reported to have said.
Lord Cardigan then got the order as given, and gave
the order for the brigade to advance in two lines—first
the 17th, I8th, and 13th, second the 11th and 4th. Off
we went tearing towards destruction. The round shot
came first, killing many a poor fellow. One most
wonderfully came past my shoulder, striking my rear-rank
man right in the chest. Onward we went. I could see
the shell bursting over our heads, and hear the grape
and canister hissing through us. The cross fire was
murderous—a square of infantry and guns with grape
and canister pelting through us and shelling from the
opposite heights. But I felt or feared nothing—a sort
of wildness came over me, and I seemed to care not
where I went or what I did. Onward still! The first
line had retired, the guns were silenced, and, retiring
behind a large horde of Cossacks, they formed a front
but would not stand our charge, but galloped through
guns and everything. We cut down the gunners, and
literally took the whole lot. The Cossacks came out by
twos and threes, and kept firing away at us from their
long pieces, annoying us dreadfully. We looked anxiously
round for a support, when we perceived what we considered
the 17th Lancers a good distance in the rear of us.
'Hurrah, my boys,' sung out our brave Colonel Douglas,
'let's give them another charge; the 17th will be up
then, and we'll take guns home with us.' 'Come on,
lads,' said Lord George Paget, his gallant brother-in-law,
colonel of the 4th Lights. I found myself as excited
as possible, singing out, 'Come on, boys;' anything
is preferable to sitting quietly and being shot at. At
last some one gave the alarm that it was a large body
of Russian Lancers, formed up to cut off our retreat.
'There's no help for it,' said Lord George Paget, 'we
must retire, and cut our way through them as well as
we can.' We went threes about, and went calmly to
the rear. They did not attempt to cross our front, but
attacked our right flank and rear. I was pretty near
the right flank, and, of course, retiring in the rear rank;
I had allowed my horse to flag a little, when one of the
gentlemen came on to attack me with his lance at a
slanting position, and was making a poke for my back;
I wheeled round in the saddle, parried his lance, and
gave him a second rear point to the left of his right
shoulder, which I expect will spoil his lancing for some
time. I was quite chuckling to myself over this affair,
when we came to the horrid cross-fire again. I had not
gone far through till I got a rap in the leg as if from a
sledge hammer. I looked down and saw the blood gushing
from a good-sized hole. 'Now then, old horse'—he
had carried me well through the campaign—'save my
life now!' (I had seen all over the field four or five
Cossacks spiking any poor fellow who was down.) I
kept the right spur at work, and galloped a mile or
more, when I began to get quite blind and faint; I saw
dimly a tent chum, I hailed to lend a hand, he heard
me and came galloping, he stopped me the first thing,
and gave me a good drink out of his water-bottle; that
revived me, and I just got to where the regiment was
forming and old Cardigan was sitting with the tears
almost in his eyes, when he saw his smart brigade so cut
up; our fellows cheered him, when he said, 'You must
not think, men, this is one of my mad-brained actions;
I would have given almost anything rather than it had
happened.' I moved forward and asked to be taken to
the rear; I was hurried off to the doctor (the assistant),
who had a lot of our officers and men in the nice green
ditch of a vineyard, where we could lie up the slope; I
had lost a tremendous deal of blood, and one of the
officers gave me a good swig of brandy out of his flask.
The doctor stopped the bleeding, and we had to wait
some time for the ambulance, which came at last and
took us off to the hospital, and you know the rest. Give
my love to all our family; break this affair very gently
to my mother, and tell her I shall write in a day or two,
but it is a great exertion; and now, dear———, hoping
and trusting that God will allow me to see you all again,
believe me your most affectionate brother."

This brave fellow had his leg shattered, and it was
amputated in a temporary hospital at Balaklava. "I
was," he says, "sent aboard ship that evening, and
steamed down here in a couple of days. It would have
been a good job for me if I could have disembarked next
day, but the weather came on rough, and only the
slightly wounded could move. I lay between decks in
that steamer for ten days. You could not get any attendance,
but the rain came through the deck above, and
regularly saturated you; the consequence of which was
that by the time I got ashore my leg had taken an
unfavourable turn, and I have since had a very bad bout
with it, but now the doctors say it has taken a favourable
turn again. I think so myself, and thank God for
it. My leg is cut off very long, about a foot below the
knee, so that if I can get on all right I can have a cork
leg; and, having both my arms, I can earn a good
livelihood yet."

The sick and wounded soldiers from the hospital at
Scutari, who, to the number of 200, have arrived at
Liverpool, have received the most hospitable attentions