Ringing of Bells - Battle of Alma - The Brown Jug - Ale of Llangollen - Reverses.
ON the third of October - I think that was the date - as my family and myself, attended by trusty John Jones, were returning on foot from visiting a park not far from Rhiwabon we heard, when about a mile from Llangollen, a sudden ringing of the bells of the place, and a loud shouting. Presently we observed a postman hurrying in a cart from the direction of the town. "Peth yw y matter?" said John Jones. "Y matter, y matter!" said the postman in a tone of exultation, "Sebastopol wedi cymmeryd. Hurrah!""What does he say?" said my wife anxiously to me.
"Why, that Sebastopol is taken," said I.
"Then you have been mistaken," said my wife smiling, "for you always said that the place would either not be taken at all or would cost the allies to take it a deal of time and an immense quantity of blood and treasure, and here it is taken at once, for the allies only landed the other day. Well, thank God, you have been mistaken!""Thank God, indeed," said I, "always supposing that I have been mistaken - but I hardly think from what I have known of the Russians that they would let their town - however, let us hope that they have let it be taken. Hurrah!"We reached our dwelling. My wife and daughter went in. John Jones betook himself to his cottage, and I went into the town, in which there was a great excitement; a wild running troop of boys were shouting "Sebastopol wedi cymmeryd. Hurrah! Hurrah!" Old Mr Jones was standing bare-headed at his door. "Ah," said the old gentleman, "I am glad to see you. Let us congratulate each other,"he added, shaking me by the hand. "Sebastopol taken, and in so short a time. How fortunate!""Fortunate indeed," said I, returning his hearty shake; "I only hope it may be true.""Oh, there can be no doubt of its being true," said the old gentleman. "The accounts are most positive. Come in, and I will tell you all the circumstances." I followed him into his little back parlour, where we both sat down.
"Now," said the old church clerk, "I will tell you all about it.
The allies landed about twenty miles from Sebastopol and proceeded to march against it. When nearly half way they found the Russians posted on a hill. Their position was naturally very strong, and they had made it more so by means of redoubts and trenches.
However, the allies undismayed, attacked the enemy, and after a desperate resistance, drove them over the hill, and following fast at their heels entered the town pell-mell with them, taking it and all that remained alive of the Russian army. And what do you think? The Welsh highly distinguished themselves. The Welsh fusileers were the first to mount the hill. They suffered horribly - indeed almost the whole regiment was cut to pieces; but what of that? they showed that the courage of the Ancient Britons still survives in their descendants. And now I intend to stand beverage.
I assure you I do. No words! I insist upon it. I have heard you say you are fond of good ale, and I intend to fetch you a pint of such ale as I am sure you never drank in your life." Thereupon he hurried out of the room, and through the shop into the street.
"Well," said I, when I was by myself, "if this news does not regularly surprise me! I can easily conceive that the Russians would be beaten in a pitched battle by the English and French - but that they should have been so quickly followed up by the allies, as not to be able to shut their gates and man their walls, is to me inconceivable. Why, the Russians retreat like the wind, and have a thousand ruses at command, in order to retard an enemy. So at least I thought, but it is plain that I know nothing about them, nor indeed much of my own countrymen; I should never have thought that English soldiers could have marched fast enough to overtake Russians, more especially with such a being to command them, as -, whom I, and indeed almost every one else have always considered a dead weight on the English service. I suppose, however, that both they and their commander were spurred on by the active French."Presently the old church clerk made his appearance with a glass in one hand, and a brown jug of ale in the other.