A Gallant Grenadier: A Tale of the Crimean War

Russia had lost heavily in men and money, and, moreover, Europe was in conceit against her. Nicholas had died on March 2nd, and now the new czar was prevailed upon to listen to reason. A treaty was drawn up and signed in Paris on March 30th, by which, amongst other terms of peace, the Black Sea should be neutral in future, and no power should interfere between the Sultan and his subjects. On April 2nd a last salvo of artillery from the batteries on the upland slopes announced that the Crimean war was over.

Phil did not return to Russia, for his wound proved more severe than was at first imagined, while Douglas was still too lame to be fit for active service. They therefore remained in England.

There is little more to tell about them. Phil did not find Mr Western altered. Indeed he seemed more austere than ever, especially as his adopted son had risen instead of going to the dogs, as he had prophesied. But Joe was jubilant.

“Didn’t I tell him you’d be no disgrace to him!” he cried, taking up his favourite position in front of the fireplace. “You’ve done well, Phil, my lad, and I am proud of you. Fancy, now! It seems to me only a year ago since you got into that scrape with the mayor. Ha, ha! what a mischievous young monkey you were! And now you’re an ensign in the 30th, and have brave deeds to boast of. But there, you’ll get conceited if I praise you. No, my dear boy, old Joe is right glad to witness your success, and still more pleased to find that your relatives have turned up. A year ago you were the adopted son of poor parents. Now you are the long-lost orphan, the offspring of gentlefolks, and heir to a tidy fortune when you come of age. Besides – I was forgetting – there are the cousins, the girl cousins, Phil;” and with a roar of laughter he pinched our hero’s ear.

Phil had, indeed, to use a common expression, fallen on his feet. He had learnt that he was of no obscure parentage, and in addition, he had made some excellent friends amongst his relatives, in whose eyes he was now a young lion, covered with no small amount of glory.

Years rolled on in rapid succession, and in due time Phil reached the age of twenty-six, when he married his cousin Eva, Douglas McNeil’s sister.

When one meets him now, as he follows the hounds or stalks through the streets of London, one unconsciously turns round and takes a second look, with the muttered remark, “What a fine, soldierly-looking fellow!” For he still stands as straight as an arrow, carrying his years easily, while his fine face and big, grey moustache give him a most distinguished appearance.

That Crimean veteran has many scenes to look back upon. He remembers his youth, his struggle to rise in the world, and the lifelong friends he made in achieving his object. He recollects with a happy smile his marriage, the toddlers who one by one made their appearance, only to grow up and flit away like fledglings to form nests of their own. Yes, he remembers all – that happy, gay old bachelor Joe, and his staunch, true-hearted Tony. Sometimes, too, when he sits in his chair and slumbers, he dreams that he is once again in the Crimea, and that his comrades, having heard of the laurels he has won, are still carrying him shoulder-high, and calling him “A Gallant Grenadier.”

The End