FIFTY YEARS OF A SHOWMAN'S LIFE 



on our left, the first shot of which killed poor 

 Nolan, a splinter going right through his heart, 

 and his horse carried him back to us. . . On we 

 went, the pace increasing, amidst the thickest 

 shower of shell, shot, grape, canister, and minie, 

 from front and flanks horses and men dropping 

 by scores every yard. The whistling and cracking 

 of shells was beyond all description. Under this 

 we went for three-quarters of a mile, the enemy's 

 guns firing in front of us till we were within a yard 

 and a half of them. Just as I came close to one 

 it went off, and, naturally, round went my horse. 

 I turned him round and put him at it again and 

 got through, the cavalry retreating the other side. 

 Not more than a dozen of the 17th and the same 

 number of the 13th were to be seen, so we turned 

 to come back, knowing we could not hold the 

 guns we had taken. The 8th, 4th, and llth 

 followed us in, and suffered nearly as much as 

 ourselves. We saw the enemy between us and 

 home, and at them we went. I cut down one 

 fellow as he ran one of my fellows through with 

 a lance, and, digging my spurs in my horse's 

 sides, he went at it as he has often gone at the 

 big fences in Monmouthshire. I got through 

 them with only a few lance pokes, which I managed 

 to parry, but the number of men had diminished. 

 We had to retire through a shower of Minie bullets, 

 and we re-formed in rear of the Heavy Brigade. 

 I numbered off 32 men. We went into action 

 145 in the morning. The 13th lost more, and the 

 other three about half their number. Our mess 

 was sadly shortened of seven only two remained 

 sound, one was killed, the others wounded. The 



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