our mess before the day is done."

The Royal Picts formed part of the second division, under the command
of Sir de Lacy Evans, a fine old soldier, who had seen service for
half a century. This division was on the right of the English army. On
the left of Sir de Lacy Evans was the Light Division, beyond that the
Highlanders and Guards. The Third Division was in reserve behind the
Second, the Fourth far in the rear, still near the sea-shore.

The march had hitherto been in columns, a disposition that lent
itself readily to deployment into line--the traditional formation,
peculiar to the British arms, and the inevitable prelude to an attack.

The order now given to form line was, therefore, promptly recognised
as the signal for the approaching struggle. It was rendered the more
necessary by the galling fire opened upon our troops by the enemy's
batteries, which crowned every point of vantage on the hills in front.

Grandly, and with admirable precision, the three leading divisions of
the British army formed themselves into the historic "Thin Red Line,"
renowned in the annals of European warfare, from Blenheim to Waterloo.

This beautiful line, so slender, yet so imposing in its simple,
unsupported strength, was more than two miles long, and faced the
right half of the Russian position. As the divisions stood, the Guards
and Highlanders confronted the Kourgane Hill, with its greater and
lesser redoubts, armed with heavy guns and held by dense columns of
the enemy. Next them was the Light Division, facing the vineyards and
hamlets to the left of the great high road; before them were other
earth-works, manned by a no less formidable garrison and artillery.
The Second Division lay across the high road, opposite the village of
Bourliouk, high above which was an eighteen-gun battery and great
masses of Russian troops.

General Wilders's brigade was on the extreme right of the British
front; its right regiment was the Royal Picts, the very centre this of
the battle-field, midway between the sea and the far left; and here
the allied generals had their last meeting before the combat
commenced.

A single figure, sitting straight and soldier-like in his saddle, with
white hair blanched in the service of his country--a service fraught
with the perils and penalties of war, as the empty sleeve bore
witness--this single figure rode a little in advance of the British
staff. It was Fitzroy Somerset, now Lord Raglan, the close comra