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OF THE 17TH LANCERS.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY.
250. v 3201
“A still small voice spoke unto me,
"Thou art so full of misery,
TENNYSON, The Two Voices.
THE fall from my horse, resulting from extreme exhaustion, more than actual hurt, had stunned me completely, and for several minutes I remained in a fainting condition. Aroused again to full consciousness, I found myself lying in the corner of a small, dark room, crowded with Russian soldiers, many of whom were hurrying in and out, evidently in a state of great excitement. My first thought was of Donald, but strain as I did my eyes in all directions, I could not perceive him anywhere. There seemed to be no longer a doubt that he was killed. The