The Sun.
London, England, 1854-11-24 00:00:00

troops easily marched, is being broken up and diked in
certain parts. Had it not been for the artillery which the
enemy were able to bring up, our loss would have been
considerably lessened, and their advance repulsed at a
much earlier hour of the day. In all probability the
leading troops of the Russians took up their position
during the fog of the night, and concealed themselves
among the bushes which cover the sides of the hills close in
front of our advanced picquets.

AN ENNISKILLEN DRAGOON IN BATTLE.
The following remarkable letter, which we find in the
Dorset Chronicle, is from a captain in the Enniskillen
Dragoons, a regiment whose olden fame has been bril-
liantly maintained in the recent cavalry action in the
Crimea :

CAMP NEAR BALIKLATA, Nov. 2, 1854.
Dear Jack,—* * I am, you see, alive at this date, but
God knows for how long after. You have, I presume, de-
voured all the accounts which have boon sent home as to
our glorious charge. Oh, such a charge Never think of
the gale') and trot which you have often witnessed in the
Phmnix-park when you desire to form a notion of a ge-
nuine blood hot, all-mad charge, such as that I have come
out of—with a few lance probes, minus some gold lace,
a helmet chain, and Brown Bill's (the charger's) right ear.
From the moment we dashed at the enemy, whose po-
sition, and so forth, you doubtless know as much about as
I cau tell you, I know nothing, but that I was impelled
by some irresistible force onward, and by some invisible
and imperceptible influence to crush every obstacle
which stumbled before my good sword and bravo old
charger. I never in my life experienced such a sublime
sensation as in the moment of the charge. Some fellows
talk of it being " demoniac." I know this, that it was such
as made me a match for any two ordinary men, and gave
me such an amount of glorious indifference as to life, as I
thought it impossible to be master of. It would do your
Celtic heart good to hear the most magnificent cheer with
which we dashed into what P— W-- calls "the gully
scrimage." Forward—dash—bang—clank, and there wo
were in the midst of such smoke, cheer, and clatter, as
never before stunned a mortal's ear. It was glorious
Down, one by one, aye, two by two, fell the thick-skulled
and over-numerous Cossacks and other lads of the tribe of
old Nick. Down, too, alas! foll many a hero with a warm
Celtic heart, and more than one fell screaming loud for
victory. I could not pause. It was all push, wheel,
phronsy, strike, and down, down, down they went. Twice
I was unhorsed, and more than once I had to grip my
sword tighter, the blood of foes streaming down over the
hilt, and running up my very sleeve. Our old Waterloo
comrades, the Greys, and ourselves, were the only fellows
who flung headlong first into the very heart of the 3.fus-
coves. Now we were lost in their ranks—now in little bands
battling—now in good order together—now in and now
out, until the whole " Levies" on the spot plunged in to a
forming body of the enemy and helped us to end the fight
by compelling the foe to fly. Never did men run so vehe-
mently. But all this you have read in the papers. * * *
I cannot depict my feelings when we returned. I sat

down completely exhausted and unable to eat, though
deadly hungry. All my uniform, my hands, my very
face were bespattered with blood. It was that of the
enemy ! Grand idea ! But my feelings,—they were
full of that exultation which it is impossible to de-
scribe. At least twelve Russians were sent wholly out
of the "way of the war" by my good steel alone, and at
least as many more put on the passage to that peaceful exit
by the sage excellent weapon. So also can others say.
What a tEing to reflect on ! I have almost grown a soldier
philosopher, and most probably will ono of these days, if
the bullets which are flying about so abundantly give me
time to brush up.
My dear fellow, our countrymen have not tarnished their
fame in the Crimea. Gallantry and glory will never aban-
don the march of Celtic bands—never ! Oh that I could
have patience to write you of such deeds of individual
heroism as have come within my notice ! Fictionists are
shabby judges of true bravery. No novel ever had a sham
hero who comes up to the realities I have witnessed. One
of my troop, for instance, had his horse shot under him in
the mcjec. " Bloody wars," he roared, " this won't do,"
and right at a Russian he ran, pulled him from his horse
by the sword hand in the most extraordinary manner—
then deliberatelycutting off his head as he came down,vaulted
into the saddle, and turning the Russian charger against
its late friends, fought his way. This took legs time to do
than I to tall it.. I saw another of our fellows unhorsed,
and wounded, creep under a Russian charger, and ran the
sword up his belly. The animal plunged and fell on his
slayer, crushing him to pieces. * * * We must take
this doomed place, even as O'Grady says, if we be doomed
who take it. Any one of our fellows is a snatch for three
Russians. * * * The Light Cavalry charge was a des-
perate, but a grand affair. Lord Raglan is blamed. The
general belief is that Nolan gave his order literally.
Lucan is a regular fire-ball, but not mad enough to hays
done that without strict commands. * * * We want
reinforcements very badly ; without them we cannot con-
tinue to contend against fearful odds.

SEI3ASTOPOL CAMP, Oct. 23, 1854.

My dear Father,—You must excuse mo for not send-
ing you word about the 'fight we had with the Russians at
the Alma heights, for I could not get any paper; for wo
have been on the march and in camp over since I wrote to
you last, and I could get no such thing as paper or ink. But
to describe to you any particulars about the fight I cannot,
only that the men fell dead about me just like knocking
calebones (skittles) down, but we bad fine sport with our
cannons. We shot the Russians like shooting flocks of
sparrows, and we made them run in three hours and 20
minutes. We have been fighting now seven days, and they
stand hard to us yet ; but to-night, I believe, ws shall
come to closer quarters. Srhould it be so, then, if Old Nick
is in Sebastopol ho will get his ribs drummed properly ;
and I can tell you that I have had the pleasure of drum-
ming a few of his subjects at Alma heights; but no doubt
you hear and see more in the papers than I can tell you
about these affairs except I was at home, and then I could
tell you all about it. Ido not think, however, should it
please God to spare me, I shall bo at home these next
two years; but I do feel thankful to God that ho, in his
mercy, has spared me thus far, and I hope and trust He
will do so all through the campaign. To tell you the truth,
however, I do not care how soon it is over, for we get no
rest either night or day ; for in the day we are hard fight-
ing, and in the night repairing the work.—Dear father,
you must excuse mo not sending you more, but I have not
time, for this I have written in the field on my knee, and
have had to beg both paper and ink. However, I hope
this will find you and all the family in good health, as this
leaves me at present ; but I cannot tell the minute I may
get popped off, but I have run clear so far, and I hope,
with the help of God, I shall do so endways. Dear father,
do not fail to give my love and respects to all ray old
friends and companions, but more especially to Jim i'th'
Well, or James Greenhalgh, and tell him that a beefsteak
dumpling would be very acceptable here in the camp ; but
my time is up, and I am again called to ray duty in order
to give the Russians a few more of OM Parr's pills before
dinner.—Farewell. Yours affectionately,
JOHN BROOKS,
Gunner and Driver, Royal Artillery,
No. 3 Company, 11th Battalion.