VC -- A Chronicle of Castle Barfield and of the Crimea

ere being said about the staring incapacity of our commanders and the crass dishonesty and stupidity of our contractors. The army which left home in su

cial branches of the military service are cast aside, and men of every arm are working in the trenches together. A crowd of vagabonds we are to look at, to be sure; but a year of war, if you only think of it, makes a boy a veteran, and the bronzed, weatherbeaten, and ragged lads of whom the army is in the main composed, have

s not because of any special danger of the siege or any threatened imminent assault, but simply and merely because of the

as ragged as any Connemara harvester by this time, and as tanned, as plucky, and as impudent in the face of death and hardship as he knows how to stick; and it is he

and knees so as not to expose himself against the sky-line, and dropped into his own place in the trench. He dropped with his feet on the stomach

rdon, and be damned to you. And now will

the air from barely a third of a mile a

ans be this time. But bhoys,' the speaker went on, with a whispered emphasis, 'we're Christian men, I hope, and we can't dream of allowing those poor infidels to peril their immortal salvation by the e

n of a meal were wide awake. 'Sergeant, darlin', just be giving me half-a-dozen men and we will make an exploitation, and be back in no tim

wned a solitary lucifer; but was afraid th

e blessed Bazouks get a fork into piggy,

e man with the solitary lucifer. 'But how are we to start

s' faces dimly, and they all clustered in a rough ring, some kneeling, some standing, and the centre of the throng was the man with the match. Near him, second only in importance, was th

rd, and proffering his midnight find to the man with the match.

olished it to complete dryness on the lining of his overcoat. Then he struc

sorbing centre of interest just then, and the scratch on the pebble was a much more important sound than any bellow of cannon from the fort. The lucifer was barely equal to its duties, and half-a-dozen times it gave its feeble spark of phosphorescent light in vain; but at last it struck, and the blue and yellow sulphur bubbled and crackled into flame. The man with the newsp

e of Dragoons. 'And now, Sergeant darlin', give me half-a-dozen rank

e, 'and just as hungry; but be very quiet about the business, P

Honourable Mr. Erroll, 'and nur

rew, it drew the attention of the gunners of the Malakoff, who banged at it sulkily from time to time. But the reckless contingen

of fortune, who owned pipes and tobacco, plucked bright embers from it, and, nestling under t

you ever Hingry before you s

en hungry ever since. But if the Honourable Paddy finds that 'og, and I g

ct that it was Christmas Eve, and coming fast towards Christmas morning. But the thought of the slain porker was in all men's minds, and made them expansive and generous and reserved by turns. Boom! said the gun from the Redoubt, and the earth spluttered betwee

g footsteps in the dark, and the hungriest of the whole crowd in the trench climbing to peer into the bl

'll be hurting somebody by and by, if they're not careful. But here's the pig, boys, and there's nobody but poor lit

the loveliest loin of young pork in the middle; and the two, with scorched hands and scorched faces, turned, and turned, and turned the improvised spit. And there were some less nice in appetite who had raked out heaps of glowing cinders from the fire, and had lain succu

s?' said a voice out of the darkness

r,' responded one man

illo-that you, Sergeant? You're in luck. I'

ir,' said Polson. 'Find that old bread-box,

is maddening. How did you men come

he Honourable Paddy, t

I'm going to confiscate a leg for our Christmas mess. You don't think you fe

by the shadow, an

ng hungry amongst yo

Volnay answered, with his sunny laugh. 'Life isn't all

ange, sir,' sai

But we all have enough to grumble at, and to spare, if we hap

'It's a deadly pity, but there's no such thing as a hint of crackling

a voice in the darknes

de Blacquaire's, and Polson had not heard it sinc

unds, and give

ie Du

rounds, and

he trench and the men about the f

d De Blacquaire. 'Wh

Polson answer

t you're drawing the enemy's fire? Report yourself to me

ly. The Major recognised his enemy, and looked from his eyes

wn coat?' he as

I'll break you fo

We've got no end of a find here. Whole pig. If you'll let me know where to find you, I'v

le. I shall find it my duty to report this

by, and the scat

ce of that pork off, Sergeant!'

,' said Polson. 'Who's go

in it, 'that there's hours of difference between here and Limerick. Won't

of risin' in the east, my lad, and we're far east of Ireland, or Aberdeen for that matter. I'm not mindin' the exact particulars, but it's a matter of some

a hundred miles? Sergeant, this pork is like manna in the wilderness. Look me up before you report yourself to Major de Blacquaire, will you? I'm responsible for the fire, you understand. It wa

sir.' 'A merry Christmas and a loight

anybody. He's got a kind of a way with him an' he sits dahn with the like of huz, and he talks to us as if we was men in place o' bein' cattle, which is the way with

ted, and the scent of the sacrifice was yet in the air, and th

lad, 'if half th

in the fragrant dark. 'How f

said the voic

t. I'd ha' guessed it. I niver heerd your voice afore to-night,

in the grey, cold patience for the expected relief from duty. It was long in coming, and they learned afterwards that the regimental Sergeant-major, whose duty it ought to have been to relieve them on that

musical ear and had rigged up a kind of gallows from which he had hung carbine and rifle barrels of varying lengths and calibre, on the which he was beating with an iron rod. The sulky dull beginning of the dawn on Christmas Day, and there in the trenches the Christmas bells ringing as they might have rung in any village church in old England, two thousand miles away. And the hearts of the listener

d him, and he turned and climbed, digging his fingers into the half-frozen turf on the Russian side. There was the grim Redoubt at which the English guns had hammered in vain this many and many a day, still solidly silhouetted against the clearing sky of morning, dark and lowering, quiet as death and yet from old experience holding a threat in the entrails of it. The men-three or four thousand of them, as one might guess-climbed into the tren

words were silent, and he felt a simple throb of admiration for the set mouth and

erest and admiration alike prompted Polson's eyes to follow the slim, active figure with the waving sword which silently beckoned on his followers. The Redoubt opened, as it were, with an earthquake crash, and all the black front of it went fiery red and yellow, and at the first discharge of this inferno, the figure with the flourished sabre in his right hand fell prone. The double line of the invaders shook and wavered from right to left, and men dropped amongst them as if the scythe of Death were literally sweeping there. The lines advanced, wavered, paus

older than it was in the nineteenth Christian century. Whether it was hate, or personal pride, or a sudden flas

, racing towards that prone figure. He dropped into the front trench and trod upon a wounded man who screamed beneath his heel, and climbed out on the further side. The air was musical with hooting shell and singing shot and hissing bullet as if a whole diabolic orchestra were fiddling and bugling. Polson found the fallen body

ot and shell in his ears. 'And I'm to report myself to you to-morrow, am I? We may r

excited fancy crossed his mind, and at that instant a musket shot took