greatest rabble I ever saw, commanded by Sir De Lacy Evans.

For fear any objection or misapprehension be applied to the word
'rabble,' I must at once state that these volunteers, though in
appearance so motley and undisciplined, fought splendidly, and in that
respect did all honour to their country and the cause they were
fighting for.

Very soon after we had disembarked I received what is usually called my
'baptism of fire,' that is to say, I witnessed 'the first shot fired in
anger.' The Carlists were pressing hard on the Queen's forces, who were
returning towards the sea; it was of the greatest importance to hold
certain heights that defended San Sebastian and the important port of
Passagis.

The gallant marines (as usual to the front) were protecting the hill on
which Lord John was standing; the fire was hot and furious. I candidly
admit I was in mortal fear, and when a shell dropped right in the middle
of us, and was, I thought, going to burst (as it did), I fell down on my
face. Lord John, who was close to me, and looking as cool as a cucumber,
gave me a severe kick, saying, 'Get up, you cowardly young rascal; are
you not ashamed of yourself?'

I did get up and _was_ ashamed of myself. From that moment to this I
have never been hard upon those who flinched at the first fire they were
under. My pride helped me out of the difficulty, and I flinched no more.
For an hour or so the battle raged furiously.

By degrees all fear left me; I felt only excitement and anger, and when
we (a lot I had to do with it!) drove the enemy back in the utmost