Journal Kept During The Russian War: From The Departure Of The Army From England In April 1854, To The Fall Of Sebastopol. By Frances Isabella Locke Duberly [aka Mrs. Henry Duberly] (1829-1903). London: Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1856 (Second Edition).

JOURNAL

KEPT DURING

THE RUSSIAN WAR:

FROM THE DEPARTURE OF THE ARMY FROM ENGLAND IN APRIL 1854,
TO THE FALL OF SEBASTOPOL.

BY MRS. HENRY DUBERLY.

SECOND EDITION.

LONDON:
LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, AND LONGMANS.
1856.

TO

THE SOLDIERS AND SAILORS

OF

THE CRIMEAN EXPEDITION

THIS JOURNAL IS DEDICATED

BY AN EYE WITNESS OF THEIR
CHIVALROUS VALOUR AND THEIR HEROIC FORTITUDE,

FRANCES ISABELLA DUBERLY

THE writer of this Diary accompanied her husband, an officer in the 8th Hussars, who left England, with his regiment, on the breaking out of the war, and she is now with him in the Crimea.

THE EDITOR.

PREFACE.

I AM aware of many deficiencies in this Journal. It was kept under circumstances of great difficulty. I have always put down information as I received it, as nearly as possible in the words of my informant, in letters which I did not myself witness. I have endeavoured to keep free from comment or remark, thinking it best to allow the facts to speak for themselves. When this Journal was first commenced I had no intention whatever of publishing it; nor should I have done so now, had it not been for the kind interest manifested in it by many of my friends.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.	Page
THE VOYAGE	1
CHAP. II
DISEMBARKATION AND ENCAMPMENT AT VARNA	27
CHAP. III.
THE EXPEDITION TO THE CRIMEA	72
CHAP. IV.
BALAKLAVA	97
CHAP. V.
THE CAMP	175
CHAP VI.
THE FALL OF SEBASTOPOL	229

A JOURNAL

KEPT DURING

THE RUSSIAN WAR.

CHAPTER I.

THE VOYAGE.

MONDAY, April 24th, 1854. – Left the New London Inn at Exeter at ten o'clock in the evening, with sad heart and eyes full of tears. The near approach of this long voyage, and the prospect of unknown trials and hardships to be endured for I know not how long, overwhelmed me at the last moment; and the remembrance of dear friends left behind, whom I never more might return to see, made me shrink most nervously from the new life on which I was to embark. We reached the Royal Hotel at Plymouth at midnight, after a bitterly cold journey.

Tuesday, 25th. – After making a few purchases necessary for our comfort during the voyage, we embarked about three o'clock on board the "Shooting Star," lying in the Plymouth dockyard; and towards evening, amid indescribable hurry, confusion, and noise, we weighed our anchor, and dropped down the river, where we lay till three o'clock on Wednesday morning; and then, with a fair and gentle breeze, and every prospect of a prosperous voyage, we stood out to sea.

Friday, 28th. – The breeze, which had been gradually freshening during yesterday, increased last night. I, sick and almost helpless in my cabin, was told the disastrous news that both the mizen-top and main-top gallant-masts were carried away; that fragments of the wreck – masts, ropes, and spars – strewed the deck: one poor fellow was lying seriously injured, having broken his leg, and crushed the bone.

Saturday, 29th. – Weak and nervous, I staggered up on deck, to see it strewn with spars, ropes, and blocks. During the night the gale had fearfully increased, and the morning sun found two of our poor horses dead. The groans of the boy, who was lying in one of the cabins, and the gloom caused by the death of our horses, threw us all into depressed spirits, which were not cheered by looking at the ugly, broken mast aloft. I heartily thank God, who brought us safely through last night's gale.

Although weakened almost to delirium by sea-sickness and awed by the tremendous force of wind and sea, I could not but exult in the magnificent sailing of our noble ship, which bounded over the huge waves like a wild hunter springing at his fences, and breasted her gallant way at the rate of sixteen knots an hour.

Sunday, 30th. – How unlike the quiet Sundays at home! How sadly we thought of them – of pleasant walks to church, through sunny fields and shady lanes! After we had read the service, Henry and I went on deck, and sat there quietly. The wind had dropped to a dead calm; and our good ship, as though resting after her late effort, dozed lazily along at barely two knots an hour Towards evening, we saw several whales and porpoises, and phosphorescent lights gleamed like stars on the calm, dark sea.

Monday, May 1st. – The wind still very quiet, and our ship hardly making any way.

Tuesday, 2nd. – We signalled a vessel which, after much delay, replied that she was the "Blundel," from Portsmouth, bound to Gallipoli. At ten o'clock to-night we arrived off Gibraltar. For some hours previously we were in sight of the Spanish coast; and, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, the clear atmosphere and brilliant moon enabled us to discern the town of Gibraltar and the Rock rising behind it. It was a cause of much disappointment to us that we had not passed it earlier, as we hoped to have conveyed to our friends at home the news of our safe arrival thus far. Another horse died from inanition, having eaten nothing since he came on board.

Wednesday, 3rd. – An almost entire calm. Our lazy ship scarcely vouchsafed to move at all. Such a glorious day, succeeded by a night which realised all one's dreams of the sweet south! – the Spanish and African coasts still visible, and on the former, mountains capped with snow. We put up an awning on the deck, as the heat was very great. During the night, however, a fresh breeze sprung up, filling our flapping sails, and bearing us on at the rate of fifteen knots an hour.

Thursday, 4th. – The breeze continued, and our good ship went cheerily on her course. A fourth horse died last night. They tell me he went absolutely mad, and raved himself to death. The hold where our horses are stowed, although considered large and airy, appears to me horrible beyond words. The slings begin to gall the horses under the shoulder and breastbone; and the heat and bad atmosphere must be felt to be understood. Every effort to alleviate their sufferings is made; their nostrils are spunged with vinegar, which is also scattered in the hold. Our three horses bear it bravely, but they are immediately under a hatchway where they get air.

Friday, 5th. – A day of much sorrow and suffering to me, as I was awoke by our servant (Connell) coming to our door at seven o'clock, and saying that the "Grey Horse" – "Missus's Horse" – my own dear horse, was very ill. Henry ran to him directly, and after examining him, fancied his attack was different from that of the others, and that he might live.

How deeply one becomes attached to a favourite horse! Never was a more perfect creature, with faultless action, faultless mouth, and faultless temper.

Saturday, 6th. – My horse still lives, and they tell me he is a thought easier; but last night was most unfavourable to him, there being a fresh wind and rolling sea. During the forenoon I came on deck, heavy at heart. We passed the island of Galita, of volcanic formation and rocky appearance: it appears to be covered with a rusty brown moss.

During the afternoon we exchanged signals with vessels which had been respectively twenty-eight, seventeen, and fourteen days at sea. We have been ten.

Sunday, 7th. – A lovely morning, and a quiet sea. Although the "Shooting Star" makes but seven knots an hour, we hope to arrive at Malta by dark. Had the wind held, we should have been off the town in time for afternoon service. My letters are ready for S., W., and Mrs. F. Would that we could receive news from home! I hear we passed the Island of Pantelaria this morning, but was not on deck in time to see it; indeed, I had no heart for the distractions of outward objects, for my horse, though he still lives, is at the point of death.

Monday, 8th. – We were awoke at four o'clock by the sound of a matin bell, and knew by it that we were off Malta. Looking through the stern windows, we found ourselves at anchor in the harbour; the massive fortifications bristling with guns were close on either side of us, as we lay quiet and motionless on the waveless sea. At eight o'clock Henry went on deck, and soon after returning, put his arms round me, and I knew that my darling horse was out of pain!

Henry went ashore with Captain Fraser, and, amid the sultry heat, sweltered up the "Nix mangiare" stairs, and through the blinding streets of the town. At ten we received orders to put to sea forthwith; but the wind lay ahead of us, and at five we were barely moving out of port. Shortly after, when the calm evening was dressed in all the gorgeous colours of a southern sunset, and whilst the military calls were sounding those stirring notes he loved to hear, my good horse was lowered to his rest among the nautili and wondrous seaflowers which floated round the ship.

A small French brig, containing a detachment of the Chasseurs d'Afrique, lay becalmed close to us. They told us that their vessel was one of 150 tons; that they had twenty-eight horses on board, and had lost none, although they provided no stalls for them, but huddled them into the hold as closely as they could stow them away.

Tuesday, 9th. – Our orders are to proceed to Cape Matapan, where, if the wind should be against us, a steamer will tow us to Scutari. Some of our crew, having bought spirits from the bumboats off Malta, became mutinous, and several passed the night in irons.

Friday, 12th. – Last night ominous banks of clouds loaded the horizon, and soon proved the truth of my quotation –

"There's tempest in yon horned moon,
 And lightning in yon cloud."

A hurricane of wind thundered in our rigging, and a deluge of rain came down. Endeavouring to make head against the gale, Captain Fraser tried our good ship to the utmost, but was at last obliged to let her drive before the storm

It was a fearful night to us who are unaccustomed to the sea; the rolling was very heavy and wearisome. Neither Henry nor I undressed all night. To-day has been a day of as much suffering as I ever wish to experience. Sick incessantly, too weak to turn, I was lying towards night almost unconscious, when I was roused by a most tremendous roll. The ship had heeled over till her deck was under water. Candlesticks, falling from the table, rolled at their leisure into the corners. Captain Fraser rushed on deck, Captain Tomkinson into the hold, where every horse was down, one being pitched half over the manger. I was shot from the stern locker, on which I was lying, to the far corner of my cabin, and every box and portmanteau came crushing over me.

Saturday, 13th. – Happily, the violent motion abated during the night, though the thunder and lightning were terrific. And this is the "Sweet South! whose sky rains roses and violets, and whose weary, fragrant heat, combined with gorgeous colours, dazzles the senses so that one feels like a phœnix burning on spice wood." This is all very fine, but Singleton Fontenoy must have been more fortunate in his time of year. To me, for the last three days, the Mediterranean has been arid and sickly as the first approach of fever – heaving, nauseating, as the deadly approach of plague. Those who are good sailors may linger over it if they will. Give me the smallest house in England, with a greenhouse and a stable, and I will sigh no more for the violet waves of a Mediterranean sea, nor the brilliant stars of a sometimes golden heaven.

Sunday, 14th. – Ran on deck to take my first longing look at Greece. We were close under the Arcadian shore, about four miles from the Island of Stamphane. The high, bold coast lay hazy and crowned with misty clouds in the early sunlight. I watched for an hour, my mind dreaming poetic fancies: "I, too, have been in Arcadia." A brilliant day coloured the blue waves once more. We had service for all hands on deck. Mr. Coull, the Admiralty agent, officiated; and being somewhat unaccustomed to acting chaplain, he read the prayer for Queen Adelaide straight through.

Monday, 15th. – Almost a calm. We sighted the "Maryanne," with Major De Salis and a detachment of 8th Hussars on board. She sailed a week before us, and our having overtaken her is a great triumph to our ship. The Messenian coast lay close to us all day – snowcapped and cloud-wreathed mountains lying in a half indistinct and dreamy haze, a very Eleusinian mystery in themselves.

Tuesday, 16th. – After dark we passed the Straits of Cerigo; and all this morning have been gliding amongst the islands of the Archipelago, leaving Rock St. George upon our left, and the fertile and beautifully cultivated Zea on our right. They lay in beauteous sleep upon the bosom of the ocean, in colouring half intense, half languid, like the tints of the dog-rose and wild violet. Silently and swiftly our good ship held her way. We sighted the "Echinga," which had sailed ten days before us, but we did not overtake her before nightfall (star-rise would be a better word); but we followed on her track as surely as evil destiny follows a foredoomed soul.

Wednesday, 17th. – As I write we are off Mitylene, an apparently uncultivated island, but full of beauty of outline and colour nevertheless; and after coasting for two hours the fertile and well-wooded shores of Asia, we came to the narrow passage between Tenedos and the mainland. This passage is dangerous, from a reef of rocks; but we spanked through it at eleven knots, closely followed by the "Echinga," while they saluted us from the batteries. Three hours later, our favouring breeze had whispered its own lullaby, and we were lying helpless and becalmed at the mouth of the Dardanelles. A strong current, acting on the ship, swung her round broadside to the forts. The glory of the sunset, the gaily painted little Turkish vessels, with the brilliant fez and long pipes of the sailors, the still water, reflecting every beautiful colour like a lake of mother-of-pearl, made a landscape such as I had never hoped to see save in a picture. The current in the night drifted us twelve miles back, and towards morning we "let go our anchor, and prayed for" a steamer.

Thursday, 18th. – Made up our lost way with infinite difficulty, going at the rate of eight knots for five minutes, and then drifting back for ten with the current. We made a triumphant entry into the Dardanelles, in company with the "Maryanne," "Echinga," a man-of-war the name of which we did not know, a French transport, and a steamer. The coast is well wooded and fertile. We saw many Turks assembled on the fort on the lefthand side, and several women, all attracted by the novel sight of so many fine English vessels inside their unknown sea. The current here is so strong that at eight o'clock we cast anchor; and though every eye was strained towards Gallipoli, looking for the steamers, none appeared; and during the night the ship drifted from her moorings, and we were obliged to lower the bower anchor in forty fathoms.

Saturday, 20th. – Yesterday we opened the sealed book of the Dardanelles, and what beauties did it not disclose! – a hilly, rocky coast, with interstices of lovely and fertile valleys clothed in rich green, and shaded with luxuriant trees; forts at every point; some of considerable strength, others more picturesque. Numbers of cattle and mules were grazing on the shore; and a string of camels, led by a mule with a bell, reminded one more forcibly than anything else, that we were really in the East. Gallipoli, which was visible from a long distance, is a large and apparently a good Turkish town, which means an execrable English one, and is finely situated on a high cliff. It is surrounded by a large English and French encampment. Gallipoli has now many French and four English regiments stationed there. We hove to for orders, and were immediately despatched to Scutari, for which place we started with the evening breeze, and by eight-o clock we were well into the Sea of Marmora. At three o'clock to-day we caught our first sight of Constantinople, and by nine at night were anchored in the harbour. A Maltese pilot, who came on board at five o'clock, told us that the "Echinga," "Pride of the Ocean," and "Ganges," had arrived a few hours before. We hear that there are barracks at Scutari capable of holding 6000 men, and that 16,000 can be quartered there by being encamped in the enclosure. Towards sunset we watched the "Imaum" ascend the minaret close to us, and presently the town echoed with the call to prayer. Coming to us across the water, the effect was very musical, and somehow it touched me.

Sunday, 21st. – A cold, wet, miserable day, during which we remained at our anchorage. Every one except myself went on shore: Henry tells me that the filth, stenches, and dogs on shore are indescribable. The prospect from the deck is not tempting certainly. The captain returned with news of a steamboat to-morrow to disembark the horses, and also a quay for them to land on. I never was more completely désillusionée in my life than with my first day in Constantinople.

Tuesday, 22nd. – Disembarked at last! The tug came alongside very early, and towed us to the quay near Kulali. Such a quay, after our dockyard at Plymouth! – a few old rotten planks, supported on some equally rotten-looking timbers, about three feet above the water's edge. However, they must have been stronger than they looked, for they resisted the plunges and kicks of our horses, as they were tumbled out of the ship, without giving way. No accident befell the disembarkation. Our horses were in wonderfully good condition, and appeared fresh and in good heart. I went ashore, and went up to "Bob;" but the sight of him, and the memory of his lost companion, completely upset me, and I could only lay my head on his neck and cry. A good Greek, who, I suppose, fancied the tears and the horse were someway connected, came and stroked the charger's neck, and said, "Povero Bobo!" After dinner, Mr. Philips, Henry, and I rowed up to the barracks in Mr. Coull's gig. They appear from the outside to be a very fine building, close to the sea, and with a very handsome façade; but the inside – the dilapidation! the dirt! the rats! the fleas!! These last are really so terrible that several officers have been fairly routed by them, and obliged either to pitch their tents on the common, or to sleep on board the ships. No provision whatever has been made for the soldiers; and if Captain Fraser had not put a basket of provisions in the caïque that took the baggage, neither officers nor men would have broken their fast to-night. The stables into which I went first, of course, are more like the crypt of a church than anything else – dark, unpaved, unstalled, of enormous size, and cool: no straw and no mangers!

Wednesday, 24th. – Our orders are to have the ship ready for sea to-morrow, and to re-embark the horses on Friday, to proceed to Varna. We hear that an English frigate has been run on shore by a Greek pilot, and blown up by Russians or Austrians, no one is very clear which. To-day, for the first time since I left England, I induced Mrs. Williams, the sergeant-major's wife, who came out as my maid, to wash a few of the clothes which had accumulated during our voyage. I mention this, as being the first assistance she has ever thought fit to render me since I left England.

Thursday, 25th. – At five this morning a tug came alongside, and took us to the quay at Kulali barracks. Steamers which arrived yesterday evening, confirmed the intelligence respect- the "Tiger." We are under orders to proceed to Varna without delay. A more brilliant morning never smiled upon the earth; and I think I never can forget the coup d'œil that presented itself as I ran up on deck. Behind us on either side lay the beautiful city of Constantinople, embowered in trees, and surmounted by its tall and slender minarets. The gay-coloured houses, painted in every imaginable colour, lit up the already brilliant scene; while the picturesque costumes of the Turkish and Greek boatmen, rowing down the current in their gaudy and well-poised caïques, with the long line of Kulali barracks, with its avenue of shady trees, formed a picture of light and shadow truly fascinating. The horse artillery were ranged on the quay, in marching order, with guns mounted, and several pack horses loaded, waiting the signal to embark on their transport, which was moored alongside. Our horses were being exercised beneath the spreading trees.

Turkish dogs, lazy and dirty, were lying about in all directions; while horribly filthy beggars were hovering everywhere, interspersed with Turkish soldiers and Greeks. The little harbour is filled with cabbages, and refuse of every description, – a dead dog floating out, and a dead horse drifting close to the shore, on whose swollen and corrupted flanks three dogs were alternately fighting and tearing off the horrible flesh.

Beyond this lay the sea, – quiet, blue, serene, and beautiful beyond all words!

We hear that our troopers are to return to their stalls in the hold, and that we are to take government horses on our decks. We expected to have to convey an infantry regiment, so we are let off cheaply.

Friday, 26th. – Lord Lucan, who commands the Cavalry, sent an order to Major De Salis, yesterday, to the effect that, "unless Mrs. Duberly had an order sanctioning her doing so, she was not to re-embark on board the 'Shooting Star,' about to proceed to Varna." Major De Salis returned for answer, that "Mrs. Duberly had not disembarked from the 'Shooting Star,' and he had not sufficient authority to order her to do so."

Up to this time (ten o'clock) I have heard nothing further about it. My dear husband has worried himself into a state of the greatest uneasiness. He looks upon the order as a soldier: I look upon it as a woman, and – laugh at it. Uneasy, of course, I am; as, should the crew refuse to assist me, I must purchase a pony, and ride 130 miles (up to Varna) through a strange and barbarous country, and over the Balkan. Should I find that Lord Lucan has taken other steps to annoy me, I have settled with two of the ship's company, who have agreed to put me on shore and bring me off again after dark, and allow me to remain either on the maindeck or in the hold until we reach Varna; and once landed, and once on horseback, I shall be able to smile at this interference; which is in every way unwarrantable, as I left England by permission of the Horse Guards, and with accommodation provided by the Admiralty.

Our horses re-embarked to-day from a temporary quay made of boats and planking. I spent this lovely day imprisoned in my cabin, – thinking it wisest not to appear on deck.

Saturday, 27th. – Major De Salis let me out of durance by telling me that Lord Raglan had been applied to by Lord Lucan, and had stated that he had no intention of interfering with me; so, after luncheon, Henry, Mr. Coull, and I started in Mr. Coull's gig for Pera, and went to Mr. Seager's store, where we met Captain Tomkinson and Dr. Mackay, and all went together to the Stamboul bazaar. What a walk we had! Alas that the beautiful illusion of this fairy city, as seen from the harbour, should vanish the moment one sets foot in the streets, – paved with small rocks, against which you cut your feet while stumbling over every imaginable abomination!

Ownerless dogs lying and prowling about in all directions, – horses and men heavily laden with enormous weights push through the streets, regardless of your shoulders or your toes.

The bazaar is certainly worth seeing, but will be too often and too well described to make it necessary for me to enlarge upon it here. It is amusing, if only to listen to the enormous prices asked, and the very small ones taken. I bought some crimson slippers embroidered in gold, and Henry bought a chibouque, and then we all started to walk up to the Hotel de Bellevue for our dinner. The dinner was a failure, though the walk was not; for it was a scramble up a perpendicular hill, repaid with an exquisite view from a graveyard at the top. The row home at night refreshed me both in body and mind.

Sunday, 28th. – Our orders are to be ready to-morrow to sail for Varna. Some one brought a report that, immediately on landing, we were to go three days' march up the country. Nothing is arranged until the last moment; – the authorities do not appear to know their own minds. The subject was discussed at grog-time, and the clamour of opinions and tongues, – some witty, some discontented, some facetious, and some fuddled, – was the most amusing thing possible.

Monday, 29th. – King Charles's day! And never had King Charles more vexations to encounter on that day than we! At half-past seven came the major, with an order that all extra tents, picket poles, &c., should be landed without delay (they having all been embarked the day before). I, not feeling well, remained in bed until ten o'clock. Although the "Megæra" steam-ship was ordered to be alongside to tow us at nine this morning, she has not made her appearance, and it is now four. Neither the commanding officers afloat or ashore appear to have the least idea of what they are about. The 17th Lancers have had no order to re-embark; while we, who are only part of a regiment, and without our head-quarters are sent up to encamp at Varna, within sixty miles of the Russian force. Fifteen ponies are purchased to carry the baggage of the regiment; and the allowance for officers is only sufficient to allow Henry and me a bullock-trunk apiece, – rather different to our notions of the "impedimenta" of a regiment! They report the commissariat at Varna as being so ill-arranged that we must not expect to get anything but salt meat for some weeks after our arrival. The "Megæra" has just passed us with the 7th Fusileers on board. I waved my hand to Colonel Yea as they passed, the decks crammed with soldiers. I find, by the shaking of the ship that we are weighing anchor, and that the "Megæra" is going to take us in tow.

The "Maryanne" and "Echinga" have both passed us on their way up the Bosphorus; – transports are coming up fast alongside Kulali barracks; and, in about an hour, we too shall have looked our last upon the (outwardly) fair city of Stamboul

Wednesday, 31st. – "In about an hour!" Why, we began to weigh anchor at four o'clock on Monday, and at one o'clock to-day it is only just out of the water. Our ship, fitted up in such unseemly haste, has not a rope or a cable on board worth sixpence. The anchor, when half out of the water yesterday, slipped, and the cable breaking disabled two of our best men. Our captain, after running through various courses of rage – swearing and cursing – has become philosophical and smilingly indifferent. Captain Johnson, of the "Megæra," who began at the other end is going rapidly mad. We, the "Clipper," the finest ship afloat, who were the first to receive orders to get under weigh, are the last to leave the harbour. Let me shut up my journal, the subject is too disastrous. Oh, the creaking of that windlass! the convulsive shivering of the ship! the grinding of the hawsers! However, at four o'clock we are off at last; and I think there is not one who does not regret leaving the gay and lovely Bosphorus, and Pera, near which we have been anchored so long, refreshing ourselves with strawberries, oranges, and sherbet, lying lazily on the burning deck, and feeling as though excess of beauty overcame our languid pulses.

Eight o'clock. – We have all been on deck, watching the beauties of the coast as they disappeared behind us: Therapia – where is the Hotel D'Angleterre, the resort of the wives of English naval and military officers, who have "accompanied their husbands to the seat of war;" the stone bridge and plane trees of seven stems; the noble viaduct overlooking Beikos Bay, and, finally, the broad surface of the Black Sea. The huge engines and filthy smoke of the "Megæra" made our vessel heave and filled us with nausea.

CHAP. II.

DISEMBARKATION AND ENCAMPMENT AT VARNA.

"Quanti valorosi uomini li quali non che altri ma Galieno, Ippocrate o Esculapio avrieno giudicati sanissimi, la mattina desinarono co' loro compagni et amici, che poi la sera vegnente appresso nell' altro mondo cenarono colli loro passati!" – BOCCACCIO.

ON Thursday, June 1st, our disembarkation commenced. We came in sight of Varna about nine o'clock. It is a small but clean-looking town, and certainly, from the harbour, gives one no idea of the impregnable fortress which resisted the Russians in 1828-29. Here the disembarkation of horses was dangerous and awkward, for they were obliged to lower them into boats, and row them ashore. All were frightened – some very restive. One trooper kicked two men, bit a third, and sent a fourth flying overboard. At half past four Henry and I came ashore in Mr. Coull's gig. We took leave of Captain Fraser and the officers of the "Shooting Star" with great regret, and, as we rowed off, all hands came aft and cheered. It was kindly and heartily done, and I did not expect it; it overcame me, and filled my eyes with tears. The landing-place gave me a greater realisation of the idea of "war time" than any description could do. It was shadowing to twilight. The quay was crowded with Turks, Greeks, infantry, artillery, and Hussars; piles of cannon balls and shells all around us; rattle of arms everywhere; horses kicking, screaming, plunging; and "Bob," whom I was to ride, was almost unmanageable from excitement and flies. At length, horses were accoutred, and men mounted, and, nearly in the dark, we commenced our march, Henry and I riding first. Luckily, our camp was merely about a mile off. I looked at the streets, vilely paved, full of holes, and as slippery as glass; but feeling how useless was any nervousness, now that the die was cast, I gave the dear old horse his head, and he carried me without a trip to the camp. Out tent had to be brought up with the impedimenta.

It was pitch dark, and the dew fell like rain. Major De Salis most kindly came to meet me, and, taking me to his tent, gave me some ham, biscuit, and brandy and water, and allowed me to lie down until my own tent was erected.

Friday, 2nd. – A broiling day. There is no tree or shelter of any sort near our encampment, which is finely situated on a large plain fronting the lake. Artillery, Turkish cavalry, and eight regiments of infantry compose our camp at present, though, through the dust on my right hand, I can discern French troops marching in fast. Some of our infantry tents are pitched on mounds, which mounds are the graves of those Russians who fell in the campaign of 1828-29.

Saturday, 3rd. – About ten o'clock Major De Salis brought us some milk in a bottle, and we broiled a slice of the ham kindly given us by Captain Fraser, of the "Shooting Star," and so, over the camp fire, we made our breakfast. Our dinner at night consisted of the same, as no other rations than bread have been served out; and but for our ham we should have had no meat at all. Later, a welcome sight presented itself in the shape of Captain Fraser and some bottles of beer, one of which I drank like a thirsty horse. The horses are wild with heat and flies, and they scream and kick all day and night.

Lord Cardigan and staff rode into our lines. Henry went into Varna, and bought a very fine grey cob pony, of the British consul, for twenty guineas. Captain Eden, of the "London," called on me and invited me to church and luncheon to-morrow. Captain Tomkinson, Mr. Philips, Dr. Mackay, Henry, and I dine on board the "Shooting Star." Am I not hungry?

Sunday, 4th. – We started on horseback at half-past nine to meet the "gig," which was waiting for us in the harbour. Lady Erroll, whom I am curious to see, was also asked, but as Lord Erroll was detained in camp she could not leave. After service we inspected the ship, a magnificent two-decker of ninety guns, and partook of a most refreshing luncheon. Lord George Paulet, who had written to me in the morning, came and carried us off to the "Bellerophon," and entertained us most hospitably. When we rode home at night, we found the 17th Lancers disembarking.

Captain Wallace, 7th Fusileers, who was killed yesterday by a fall from his pony, was buried to-day – the first-fruits of the sacrifice! We march to-morrow morning at five to Devna, a village about nineteen miles up the country. After I had packed, I sat down outside the tent, and wrapped myself in the novel beauties of the scene – the great plain bordered by the vast lake; the glorious colours of sunset; the warlike confusion of foreground; hussar and artillery horses picketed; infantry encamped; Turkish soldiers galloping here and there on their active little horses; Bashi-Basouks all round us, and the smoke of the camp-fires throwing a blue haze over the whole.

Monday, 5th. – Was awoke by the reveillée at half-past two; rose, packed our bedding and tent, got a stale egg and a mouthful of brandy, and was in my saddle by half-past five.

I never shall forget that march! It occupied nearly eight hours. The heat intense, the fatigue overwhelming; but the country – anything more beautiful I never saw! – vast plains; verdant hills, covered with shrubs and flowers; a noble lake; and a road, which was merely a cart track, winding through a luxuriant woodland country, across plains and through deep bosquets of brushwood.

A most refreshing river runs near our camp, but we have no trees, no shelter. Captain Tomkinson made me a bed of his cloak and sheepskin; and drawing my hat over my eyes, I lay down under a bush, close to "Bob," and slept till far towards evening.

Tuesday, 6th. – The major was busy in arranging and settling the men; but towards the afternoon, Captain Tomkinson, Henry, and I rode into the village, to try to procure some vin du pays for our dinner (wherein we failed); and to the hills, to try for some green forage for our horses, as the straw brought us by the natives is little else than old bed stuffing, and full of fleas. We met one of the commanders of the Turkish army going with an escort to Schumla. His belt and holsters were most magnificently chased. He was on the small horse of the country, and had just mounted a fresh relay. His escort looked like a collection of beggars on horseback; but the little active horses sprang into a gallop at once, and kept it up over tracks that would puzzle many a clever English hunter. After our horses had fed on long grass and flowers, we came home to our dinner. A French colonel in the Turkish service, Colonel Du Puy, called on us in the evening, and interested us much by his account of his last winter's campaigning in this comfortless country.

Wednesday, 7th. – Captain Tomkinson and Mr. Clutterbuck, each with eight men, went out to patrol: they went about ten miles, in different directions, but saw no Cossacks.

Lord Cardigan joined this detachment of the brigade to-day.

Part of the 17th Lancers also marched in.

Saturday, 10th. – The head quarters and Captain Lockwood's troop have arrived at Varna, and were expected up to-day; but as they had no baggage ponies, nor any means of conveyance for the baggage, they were detained until we could send down our ponies to bring them up. This does not strike me as being well arranged. Whose fault is it? The infantry of the Light Division were also ordered up to Devna to-day, to form a large camp in conjunction with us; but as it poured with rain they could not march. Captain Tomkinson, with a sergeant and nine men, has been away on patrol these three days, but is expected back to-night. Lord Cardigan forbids them to take their cloaks to wrap round them at night, as he considers it "effeminate." Luckily it is summer, though the dews fall like rain. Our camp is most picturesque, in the midst of a large and fertile plain, near a sparkling river, and carpetted with brilliant flowers – burrage, roses, larkspurs, heather, and a lovely flower the name of which I do not know. Henry and I wandered among the hills this afternoon; and Bob sped over the long grass and delicate convolvuli, neighing with delight at being loosed from his picket rope, where he has been rained and blown upon incessantly for two days and nights.

Monday, 12th. – Captain Tomkinson returned to-day from Basardchick, bringing me a handful of roses from the ruined village, observing, as he gave them to me, that I now possessed roses from nearer the enemy than any one else.

Thursday, 15th. – A mail came up to-day, brought up by an orderly from Varna. I received letters from S., F., and E. I also got a Devizes' paper, which pleased me much. The morning wet and chilly; the noon hot and sultry.

Friday, 16th. – A report was rife in camp that 57,000 Austrians were marching to our assistance against the Russians; also that the whole force, English and French, will be under immediate marching orders for Silistria, as 90,000 Russians are investing the town.

Saturday, 17th. – Weather intensely hot – no shade, no breeze. Head quarters marched up to-day from Varna. Mr. Philips left to-day for Tirnova, where he was sent to purchase 500 horses. They inform us to-day that the Austrian force is 300,000, and it is uncertain upon which side they will fight. What a comfort we find in our double marquee tent! The lining excludes the heat more effectually than anything else, and it is so much more easy of ventilation than a bell tent. The Bulgarian pony "Whisker," proving too active with his heels, was obliged to be picketted by himself, and not liking it, amused himself, and bothered us, by untying the knot with his teeth, and scampering all over the country. The Light Division are really expected up on Monday, when it is supposed we shall begin our march in earnest. Such an expectation fills all minds with excitement and hope: I pity the Russian army which encounters our men as they are now. We hear wonders of the valour of the Turks. Every day the Russians make breaches in the walls, and rushing on to the attack, are beaten off every day by these dauntless men at the point of the bayonet. The Russians, a few days since, sent in a flag of truce to bury their dead: the Turks not only agreed, but sent a party to assist.

Wednesday, 21st. – The 5th Dragoon Guards and two troops of the 13th Light Dragoons marched to join our encampment to-day. The former took up a position nearer the river, but the 13th came up on our right, between the 17th Lancers and ourselves. Yesterday we performed a "grand march:" we shifted our ground, and went about 200 yards further up the valley. This movement occupied us from six, A.M., to three, P.M. The ground, which had not been previously marked out, took some time to choose, and Lord Cardigan and aides-de-camp were a wearisome time in arranging it; and when it was arranged, we were put more than a mile from the water; whereas, by a different disposition of the troops, all might have been equally near to the river bank.

Thursday, 22nd. – Henry and I started at half-past twelve to ride over to the Infantry camp; Captain Lockwood mounted me on his roan horse, and Henry rode the grey. We missed our track, and made thirteen miles out of seven. We wandered through most exquisite woodlands, through sunny glades and banks of sweet spring flowers, passed trees through whose green leaves the golden sunlight fell dropping in a shower, and through deep shadows and thickets, beneath which our horses could hardly force their way. Arrived at the camp, we inquired for about a dozen of our friends, and found they had every one, without a single exception, "gone into Varna;" so there was nothing for it but to turn our horses' heads homewards through the weary heat. Hurrying home to be in time for dinner (we had had nothing but a piece of bread and a glass of water, kindly given me by a good commissary), we found only disappointment for the bottom of the pot had come out, and all the stew was in the fire.

Friday, 23rd. – The 17th Lancers got up some pony races to-day, over a tolerable course of a mile. Captain Morgan won gallantly, on a pony for which he had paid 50s.

Sunday, 25th. – Was awoke at four o'clock from a profound sleep, by the words, "A general order for the regiment to be prepared as soon as possible to march thirty miles." All the camp was alive No tents were to be struck, but every one was to move. We could make nothing of the order, until we heard that a courier had arrived to say that the Russians had abandoned the siege of Silistria, and had crossed the Danube. We still dressed in hot haste, wondering at the order, when an aide-de-camp came up to say that only a squadron of the 8th and a squadron of the 13th were to go; and that they were to march towards Silistria to make a reconnaissance of the Russian army. The order to "bridle and saddle" was given, and all was ready for a start, when a counter-order arrived – "The squadrons are to wait until three days' provisions are cooked;" so that of the whole regiment roused at four, two troops went away at half-past ten. If it takes six hours and a half to get two squadrons under weigh, how long will it take to move the whole British force? At six o'clock Henry, Major de Salis, and I rode over to the Turkish camp to dine with Colonel Du Puy. We met Mr. G—, the correspondent of the Daily News, also M. Henri, and another officer, aides-de-camp to Maréchal St. Arnaud. These two last were returning from Schumla, whither they had conveyed a fine Turkish horse, as a gift from the Maréchal to Omar Pasha. I saw the little horse. He was about fourteen hands, black, with the exception of two white marks and a white foot. Omar Pasha returned him, as a Turkish superstition prevents the soldiers from riding horses not entirely of a colour. He who rides a black, bay, or chestnut horse with white marks, or a white foot behind, will assuredly be slain in battle. A Turkish officer joined our party during the evening; and after sitting for some time in silence, smoking his chibouque, he informed me, through his interpreter (he had been staring at me for half an hour previously) that it was only permitted him to sit in my presence during war-time; under any other circumstances he could not sit down with a woman who was unveiled.

Monday, 26th. – Henry rode into Varna to procure money from the commissariat chest. I went out to meet him in the afternoon, and Captain Chetwode rode with me. We went as far as the Infantry camp at Aladyn, and on our way passed the head-quarters of the 13th, marching up to join our camp. The lovely evening and clear sky induced us to prolong our ride so far, and we found Henry among the officers of the 23rd Welsh Fusiliers, who most hospitably pressed us to stay and partake of their excellent dinner, which we did. On our way home, in the almost impenetrable twilight, we passed close by Captain Tomkinson's poor horse, which fell under him last night as he was returning from Varna. There he lay stark and stiff, a white mass amid the dark shadows – as fine a fencer as ever strained upon the bit on a hunting morning; and, hark! the gallop and baying of the wild dogs, even now trooping over the hills to feed upon his almost palpitating heart! Ah! mournful sight, that he should lie there, so ghastly and so still!

Thursday, 29th. – Two troops of the 11th Hussars joined us to-day. We had no news of Lord Cardigan's patrol until after dinner, when Bowen rode into the lines on Captain Lockwood's roan horse, who bore him feebly to the picket ropes, and then fell down. For many minutes he appeared dying of exhaustion, but eventually we revived him with brandy and water. Bowen tells us that the squadrons will not return for some days; that their fatigue has been excessive, and their hardships very great. They appear to have been marching incessantly, for which hard work neither men nor horses are fit.

A French colonel on his way to Silistria dined with us this afternoon, and interested us much by his accounts of the Turkish army. He told us no army cost so much to maintain, with such infamous results. The soldiers are neither fed nor clothed. All the money which passes through the hands of the pashas sticks to their fingers. Often, when halting after a long march, they inquire whether any meat is to be served out to them. "No!" "Any bread?" "No!" They shrug their shoulders and betake themselves to cold water and a pipe. A more wretched appearance than that which they present cannot be imagined; but at Silistria they have proved their courage.

Friday, 30th. – Part of the Light Division marched up this morning, and encamped on the opposite side of the valley. The Rifles marched in first; next followed the 33rd, playing "Cheer, boys, cheer;" and cheerily enough the music sounded across our silent valley, helping many a "willing, strong right hand," ready to faint with heat and fatigue. The 88th Connaught Rangers gave a wild Irish screech (I know no better word) as they saw their fellow countrymen, the 8th Royal Irish Hussars, and they played "Garry Owen" with all their might; while the 77th followed with "The British Grenadier." A troop of R. H. A. also came up to Devna. The accession of 7,000 men will be like a plague of locusts: they will eat up our substance. We can get little else but stale eggs, tough chickens, and sour milk, and now we shall not get even that; and the cries of "Yak-mak Johnny!" "Sud Johnny!" "Eur mooytath Johnny!" will be transferred from the cavalry to the "opposition lines."

Sunday, July 2nd. – Captain Tomkinson returned to-day from Silistria, whither he had been sent to ascertain the best road for marching troops. He described the whole Russian force, although they have lately raised the siege of Silistria, as being still in sight of the town, and speaks much of their numerous field pieces. He brought back a Russian round shot, and told me he had seen two of the enemy, but lying cold and still. I hear the Turks are hardly to be restrained from mutilating their dead foes. If they can do so unseen, they will cut off three or four heads, and, stringing them together through the lips and cheeks, carry them over their shoulders, like a rope of onions.¹ The Turks inform us that the Russians say they will treat the Turks whom they make prisoners, as prisoners of war, but the French and English will be treated as felons, and sent to Siberia; and really, if the Russians are as uncleanly, smell as strong, and eat as much garlic as the Turks, it will be the best thing that can happen to us under the circumstances. We have had a hurricane all day, filling our tents, eyes, dinners, hair, beds, and boxes with intolerable dust. Our chicken for dinner was so tough that not even our daily onions could get it down. We were forced to shake our heads at our plates, and relinquish the dinner. The black bread, which is kneaded on the ground, is a happy mixture of sand, ants, and barley – and it is besides so sour that it makes my eyes water.

Monday, 3rd. – At three o'clock we were ordered to turn out as quickly as possible in light marching order, to receive Omar Pasha, who wished to inspect the troops, and was on his road from Schumla to Varna, where he was to hold a council of war. In ten minutes the cavalry were mounted, and Henry and I started upon Bob and the Great Grey, to see the man whom war had made so famous. His appearance struck me as military and dignified. He complimented all our troops, and insisted on heading the Light Cavalry charge, which made me laugh, for he was on a small Turkish horse, and had to scramble, with the spurs well in, to get out of the way of our long striding English horses. He was loudly cheered; appeared highly gratified; made me a bow and paid me a compliment, and proceeded to his carriage to continue his journey.

Thursday, 6th. – Reports of a more peaceful nature reach us. We hear that Omar Pasha is the only counsellor for war. The Russian force is retreating daily. Now the "shave" is, that Austria is beginning to be afraid lest the English and French armies should decline to leave this fertile land, and all the powers, inimical or neutral, appear desirous to hush the matter up. The party which returned to-day from Silistria inform us of the good feeling shown by the Turks to their Russian prisoners. They feed them with their meat and rice, and treat them with every mark of kindness and consideration. The peaceful reports which reach us give dissatisfaction. We are all for one good fight, to see which is the better man; all for one blow, struck so effectually as to crush all warlike propensities against us for ever. We hear to-day of the terrible fate of the "Europa." Report at present speaks so vaguely that we know not what to believe. At first we were told that every soul had perished, and afterwards that only Colonel Willoughby Moore and the veterinary surgeon fell victims to this terrible catastrophe. A more frightful tragedy could scarcely occur than the burning of a transport ship – soldiers ignorant of seafaring, and horses crammed in the hold! Omar Pasha returned again to-day, and on his way inspected the Heavy Cavalry and Artillery. Lord Raglan also came up, and the staff made a brilliant-display. Omar Pasha again expressed himself in the most complimentary manner; and after it was all over, Henry and I turned our horses' heads and went for a ride.

Tuesday, 11th. – The reconnaissance, under Lord Cardigan, came in this morning at eight, having marched all night. They have been to Rassova, seen the Russian force, lived for five days on water and salt pork; have shot five horses, which dropped from exhaustion on the road, brought back an araba full of disabled men, and seventy-five horses, which will be, as Mr. Grey says, unfit for work for many months, and some of them will never work again. I was out riding in the evening when the stragglers came in; and a piteous sight it was – men on foot, driving and goading on their wretched, wretched horses, three or four of which could hardly stir. There seems to have been much unnecessary suffering, a cruel parade of death, more pain inflicted than good derived; but I suppose these sad sights are merely the casualties of war, and we must bear them with what courage and fortitude we may. One of these unfortunate horses was lucky enough to have his leg broken by a kick, as soon as he came in, and was shot. There is an order that no horse is to be destroyed unless for glanders or a broken leg.

Thursday, 13th. – A long morning was spent in investigating the state of the horses by Colonel Shewell, Lord Cardigan, and Mr. Grey. I despatched letters to Captain Fraser, of the "Shooting Star," and Lady Duberly. A sad event closed this day. One of our sergeants, who had been ill for some days previously, left the hospital tent about three o'clock, A.M., and when our watering parade went down to the river, they found his body in the stream: he was quite dead. He was a steady and most respectable man: could he have had a foreboding of the lingering deaths of so many of his comrades, and so rashly have chosen his own time to appear before God? The band of the Connaught Rangers came at seven o'clock to play him to a quieter resting-place than the bed of the sparkling, babbling stream – a solitary grave dug just in front of our lines, and near enough for us, during our stay, to protect him from the dogs.

Three more of the reconnoitring party's horses are lying in the shadow of death. I had been pained by all this, and Henry and I, ordering our horses, rode out, in the cloudless summer evening, to a quiet little village nestled among the hills, where the storks build their nests on the old tree-tops that shade the trickling fountain where the cattle drink. Colonel Shewell met us as we rode into camp with a radiant face, telling us that all the transports are ordered up from Varna, and that we are to embark immediately for Vienna, as the Russians are so enraged with Austria for taking part against us that they have determined on besieging that place.

Saturday, 15th. – The Vienna "shave" turned out false; instead, came an order desiring that all our heavy baggage should be sent to Varna, to be forwarded to Scutari. Heavy baggage! when we are already stript of everything but absolute necessaries, and are allowed barely sufficient ponies to transport what we have!

Letters arrived last night, but were not delivered till to-day. Yesterday evening Henry and I took a lovely ride to Kosludsche, a small town about eight miles from the camp. The pastoral scenes, in this land of herds and flocks, speak in flute-like tones of serenity and repose – the calm, unruffled lives of the simple people, the absence of all excitement, emulation, traffic, or noise; valley and hill-side sending home each night its lowing herds, and strings of horses, flocks of sheep and goats. The lives of the inhabitants are little removed above the cattle which they tend; but to one who "has forgotten more life than most people ever knew," the absence of turmoil and all the "stale and unprofitable uses of the world," the calm aspect of the steadfast hills, the quietude of the plains, and the still small voices of the flowers, all tell me, that however worn the mind may be, however bruised the heart, nature is a consoler still; and we who have fretted away our lives in vain effort and vainer show, find her large heart still open to us, and in the shadow of the eternal hills a repose for which earth has no name.

Sunday, 16th. – Henry and I took a new ride this evening. We turned into the gorge to the left of our camp; but leaving the araba track, we struck into a narrow footpath, embowered with trees, and frowned over by stern and perpendicular rocks, at whose foot ran the narrow fissure along which we rode slowly. Emerging at last, we came on an open plain covered with heavy crops of barley; crossing this for a short distance, we came presently into another thick copse of underwood, down which we had to ride, over precipitous and rocky ground, where the horses could barely keep their footing, and where a false step must have been fatal. The stars lighted our track, and we descended safely. We found ourselves on the road to Devna, and, waking up our horses, we cantered over the plain to our camp.

Wednesday, 19th. – I have mentioned nothing that has happened since Sunday; as, except the usual routine of parades and camp-life, and perpetual fresh reports as to our eventual destination, nothing has occurred. But to-day we lost one of the poor fellows who had returned ill from the reconnoitring expedition. He came back with low fever, and, after being two days insensible, expired this afternoon. Henry and I, accompanied by Captains Hall Dare and Evans of the 23rd, rode to-day to Pravadi. We started at one o'clock, and returned soon after eight. Next to Silistria, Pravadi is the strongest fortified town in Bulgaria. The town lies in what (approaching from the Devna side) appears to be an abyss. High, perpendicular rocks, like the boundaries of a stern sea-coast, enclose it, east and west. Fortifications protect it on the south, and a fortification and broad lake on the north. We rode to it through lovely home scenery, softened by the blue range of the Balkan in the distance. We saw almost to Varna. In the town we found shops, and purchased damson-cheese and some Turkish scarfs. My pony, "Whisker," cast a shoe in going, and Captain Hall Dare started without one; so we stopped at a farrier's and had them shod. My saddle excited immense curiosity. They touched and examined it all over; and several men tried to sit in it, but Henry prevented them. We went to a café, where we got a cup of first-rate coffee; and at about half-past four, we started to ride home. Oh, the heat! We made a ride of about twenty-two miles, but its beauty well repaid us for our trouble.

The Turks have a unique way of shoeing horses. One man fastens a cord round the horse's fetlock, and so holds up his leg; a second man holds aside the animal's tail, and with a horse-hair flapper keeps away the flies; a third man holds his head and talks to him; while the fourth, squatting on the ground, with his head on a level with the horse's foot, hammers away with all his might at eight nails, four on each side.

Friday, 21st. – News came that Sir G. Brown had gone to the Crimea, to discover the best place for landing troops, and that we should follow him before long – at which we were glad.

Sunday, 23rd. – The cholera is come amongst us! It is not in our camp, but is in that of the Light Division, and sixteen men have died of it this day in the Rifles.

We hear the whole camp is to be broken up; the Light Division are to march to Monastir, and we are under orders to march to Issyteppe to-morrow. I regret this move very much, as it will separate me from Lady Erroll, whose acquaintance has been the greatest comfort and pleasure to me; but I trust we shall soon be quartered together again, as no one but myself can tell the advantage I have derived from the friendship of such a woman.

Monday, 24th. – The march is postponed, owing to the difficulty of finding sufficient water at Jeni-bazaar, which is to be our destination. Captain Lockwood volunteered to ascertain for Lord Cardigan what were the supplies of water, and started for that purpose this afternoon. I, acting on Lady Erroll's suggestion, rode down to the 11th lines this evening to call on Mrs. Cresswell, who has arrived with her husband, Captain Cresswell, of the 11th Hussars. I could not but pity the unnecessary discomforts in which the poor lady was living, and congratulated myself and Henry, as we rode away, on our pretty marquee and green bower. Present orders say we do not march till Wednesday. Lord Cardigan has been searching unsuccessfully for another camping-ground. Mr. Macnaghten, who rode into Varna, tells me that the transports are all being ordered up, but that the "Shooting Star" had been cast on account of defective rigging. Henry rode into Varna. Towards evening I started on horseback with Captain Chetwode to meet him, and we rode to Aladyn. The infantry of our division moved to-day eight miles over the hills. They move, in the hope of averting that fearful malady which has crept among them. We hear it is raging at Varna, and that a quarantine is established between that place and Constantinople. For ourselves, we have had a solitary case of small-pox; but the poor fellow has been taken to the hospital at Varna to-day.

Tuesday, 25th. – Orders to march to-morrow morning to Issyteppe.

Two o'clock, P.M. – Captain Lockwood having returned, and reported an insufficiency of water, he was ordered to repair again to the place to endeavour to discover water in the neighbourhood.

Three o'clock. – March postponed till to-morrow night at soonest, Lord Cardigan having taken a fancy to a night march. There is no moon just now.

Five o'clock. – March definitely settled for to-morrow morning at six.

Thursday, 27th. – The cavalry of the Light Division, with Captain Maude's troop of Horse Artillery, marched this morning to Issyteppe, – a wretched village, situated in a large plain about twelve miles from Devna.

A most uninteresting country led to it, – flat and bare, destitute of trees or water, except one half-dried fountain, with a rotting carcass lying beside it. When we attempted to water our thirsty horses, only few could drink; the rest had to hold on, as best they could, till they reached their journey's end. A now dry, boggy ditch, which runs through the village, brought a plague of frogs to our camp; and a heavy thunderstorm, rattling on our heads as we sat on the sward at dinner, drove us, drenched and uncomfortable, to our tents, and wetted our boxes. Captain Lockwood and I walked down to the village before sunset, to endeavour to procure an araba wheel (ours had come off), also a chicken for to-morrow's breakfast; but we failed in both: there was nothing but old women, cats, and onions in the place.

Friday, 28th. – My husband's birthday! and he is likely to be, for to-day at least, miserable enough. We were roused, wet and dreary, at three o'clock. At six we were in our saddles; and a very distressing march I found it, though it did not exceed fourteen miles. The heat was intolerable, the sun blinding. The horses again started without water, nor was there any between Issyteppe and Jeni-bazaar. We reached the latter place about half-past eleven; and immediately after the piquet poles were put down, there was a simultaneous rush to the fountains of the town to water the horses. Poor wretches, how they rushed to the water! Poor old Hatchet (Captain Lockwood's horse) nearly went head foremost down the well, while others upset bucket after bucket, by thrusting their heads into them before they reached the ground. There was a fine group of trees near a fountain opposite our lines, and under their refreshing shade the brigadier pitched his tent. A feeling of great dissatisfaction was caused by the troops being forbidden either to water their horses, or to obtain water for the use of the officers, from the fountain in question, although the other fountains are so far off. The fountain, being so little drained, overflowed in the night, and a fatigue party were put in requisition to make a drain. If Æsop were alive, I wonder if this would inspire him with another fable? To-night I am thoroughly exhausted with fatigue.

Sunday, 30th. – Lord Cardigan tells us to-day that we shall remain here until we go into winter quarters at Adrianople.

Tuesday, August 1st. – Our tents not being pitched on the right (our place as senior regiment out), Lord Cardigan changed us to-day, causing us to change places with the 13th Light Dragoons. Our tents when changed were not quite in a line, though I confess it was barely perceptible; but at evening we had to strike and move all our tents about a foot and a half further back. We hear to-day that the Light Division have lost 100 men and 4 officers.

Friday, 4th. – I regret to say that poor Captain Levinge, of the R. H. A., is dead. The report is, that having been suffering from incipient cholera, he took an over-dose of laudanum. He is much regretted. An artilleryman of Captain Maude's troop died of cholera, and was buried yesterday. This is our first case of cholera. Captain Stevenson, 17th Lancers, took me for a ride this evening to a wondrous gorge, about three miles from our camp. We passed suddenly from a sunny landscape, laden with grain, into Arabia Petræa. It was as though the hills had been rifted asunder, so high, narrow, sombre, and stern were the gloomy walls that almost threatened to close over our heads. A small torrent ran at the foot, tumbling over huge masses of rock, which had fallen from the grim heights above. I felt oppressed; and reaching the open fields once more, put Bob into a canter, which he seemed as willing to enjoy as myself.

Saturday, 5th. – "I never watched upon a wilder night." At evening-tide it was hot and sultry, but at midnight up came the wind, sweeping broadly and grandly over the plain. We feared for our tent, although well secured; and presently across the hurricane came booming the great guns of the thunder. The lightning seemed to pierce our eyelids. By morning every trace of storm had vanished, and day looked out smiling as before, though her lashes were gemmed with heavy tear-drops, and the deep trees near us at intervals shivered out a sigh. The adjutant-general came to camp to-day. He says the Infantry are under orders to embark on the 16th for the Crimea. Are we to go too? or are we to be left out here, to constitute a travelling Phœnix Park for Lord . . . . . ?

Thursday, 10th. – Rose at half-past three, and by five, Henry, Captain Tomkinson, Captain Chetwode, Mr. Mussenden, and I were starting for Schumla. We broke into a canter after leaving the village of Jeni-bazaar, and in two hours and five minutes reached Schumla, a distance of fifteen miles. Here we met Captain Saltmarshe, Mr. Trevelyan, and Mr. Palmer, of the 11th, and Mr. Learmouth of the 17th, and had a joint breakfast, and a very nasty one, at the Locanda, kept by Hungarians. That over, we walked about the town. It is very picturesque; the houses are nestled in trees, but are irregular, dirty, and mean. In the Greek shops we succeeded in making a few purchases, such as a glass tumbler, five-china plates, a soup ladle (tin), and some Turkish towels. I tried hard to procure some tea, lemons, or arrowroot for our sick in hospital, but I might as well have asked for a new-fashioned French bonnet. They did not know what I wanted. I bought a fine Turkish bridle, and we returned to the Locanda, where I lay down on the boards (Oh, how hard they were!) to try to sleep for an hour. It was impossible. The bugs took a lease of me, and the fleas, in innumerable hosts, disputed possession. A bright-eyed little mouse sat demurely in the corner watching me, and twinkling his little black eyes as I stormed at my foes. Our dinner was tough meat and excellent champagne, which we did not spare; and after admiring the sunset tints on the fine forts of the town, we again got into our saddles; and a great moon, with a face as broad, red, round, and honest as a milkmaid's, shed her hearty beams over us and lighted us home, and afterwards to bed.

Poor Major Willett lies sick in the village of Jeni-bazaar, where he has been moved for the sake of quiet.

Friday, 11th. – Ilinsky (or some such name), the Hungarian commandant, came over and dined with us. Two or three funerals to-day. The 5th Dragoon Guards are suffering terribly from cholera. Two days ago eleven men died. The report of the great fire in Varna, which reached us two days since, proves to be quite correct. It seems to have ravaged the town. Various rumours are afloat concerning its origin; some suppose it was set on fire by the Greeks, at Russian instigation. Many shops, and much of the commissariat stores, are burnt; and the plunder during the fire was said to be enormous. Our supplies must in future be drawn from Schumla. Why has there been no branch commissariat at Schumla? Varna is a two-days' march from us. It is also a fact, that the commissariat chest in Varna was guarded by one slovenly Turkish sentry. Our sad sickness increases. Our hospital tents are full. Poor Mr. Philips is now attacked with fever; and the sun sets daily on many new-made graves. A second hospital marquee arrived for our regiment to-day.

Wednesday, 16th. – To-day's mail brought us the sad news of the death of Miss D., Henry's step-sister, – loved and regretted by us all. This took away the pleasure we felt in the arrival of our letters.

Thursday, 17th. – Henry and I took a long ride, to endeavour to shake off the depression which this perpetual sickness forces upon one. We had never before seen suffering that we could not alleviate; but here there are no comforts but scanty medical stores, and the burning, blistering sun glares upon heads already delirious with fever. I am sure that nervous apprehension has much to do with illness; and, indeed, if the mind abandons itself to the actual contemplation of our position, it is enough to make it quail.

Friday, 18th. – Poor Mrs. Blaydes (my servant), after recovering from an attack of fever, brought on a relapse to-day from over-anxiety to attend to my comforts. She endeavoured to work till her health absolutely forbad it; and a great assistance she was to me. Poor woman! she has been insensible since morning. A woman of the 13th died to-day. Hospital marquees were shifted to fresh ground, as it was observed that men put into them almost invariably died. Henry and I rode to where Captain Chetwode and Mr. Clutterbuck were shooting; and on our return we met Lord Cardigan, who tells me all the talk is of Sebastopol; and he thinks the Light Cavalry will be under orders before long. Another mail, laden with heavy news. Poor little W.! F.'s only son! I have so many feelings in my heart; and yet they must all be absorbed in sympathy for the sorrowing father and mourning mother!

Saturday, 10th. – Rode with Henry to a village on the left of our camp, about six miles off, the name of which I do not know. What a ride that was!

"What a day it was that day!
    Hills and vales did openly
 Seem to heave and throb away
    At the sight of the great sky;
 And the silence, as it stood
 In the glory's golden flood,
 Audibly did bud and bud."

Sunday, 20th. – Poor Mrs. Blaydes expired this morning! Truly, we are in God's hands, and far enough from the help of man! Insufficient medical attendance (many of the doctors are ill), scanty stores, and no sick diet – we must feed our dying on rations and rum! As far as I am concerned, I feel calm, and filled with a tranquil faith: I have the strongest trust in the wise providence of God.

Monday, 2lst – Went out with Henry over the stubble to shoot quail; Captain Chetwode had the gun, and killed several brace.

Tuesday, 22nd. – Henry made a "salmi" of the quail for breakfast that was truly delicious: I could be a gourmet, if I could always feed on such salmis. Mr. Clowes, Henry, and I went out to-day; Henry shooting, Mr. Clowes and I beating from our ponies with long whips.

Wednesday,23rd. – Mr. Maxse, aide-de-camp to Lord Cardigan, who has returned to-day from Varna (sick-leave), says the troops are embarking fast; that the harbour is filled with transports; that siege guns are being put on board, and every preparation making for an expedition to the Crimea. We are reanimated! The sickness decreases; cooler weather is coming on; things look more cheerily now. We rode to-day with Captain Tomkinson – such a pretty ride! Going south for five miles, we turned to our right on smooth, long turf, by a little stream whose course was only marked by the flowers along its banks. Then came large trees bowed down with foliage, and hill sides matted with creeping plants, clematis and vine. Turning homeward, we saw fields of tobacco and Indian corn. We were a long way from home; so waking up our ponies, we left the Turkish camp and conical hill on our left, and galloped over the turf to Jeni-bazaar, and then up-hill to our lines.

Thursday, 24th. – Returning from a ride among the filbert trees – how the nuts fell into our hands and laps! – we met Mr. Maxse riding at a gallop. He bore orders for our immediate embarkation at Varna for Sebastopol. The artillery and 11th Hussars are to march to-morrow; we, and the 13th and 17th, follow on Saturday. The order was heard silently; not a single cheer: we have waited in inaction too long. Sickness and death are uppermost in our thoughts just now. I also am not well – the hard food tells on me; and to become well, rest and change of diet are necessary: but I don't see much chance of getting either.

Saturday, 26th. – We started at ten o'clock on our first day's march. We left our poor colonel on the ground, too ill to be moved. Mr. Philips and Mr. Somers were also left behind in the village, to follow as they best could. We halted at Issyteppe, where we had also stopped on our way up. Here the 13th and 17th remained until Monday; and we fondly hoped to do the same, but are ordered to march on to-morrow to Gottuby. Both our servants, Connell and Hopkins, are ill; and I am very suffering, so much so as to doubt my ability to march to-morrow.

Sunday, 27th. – Marched to Gottuby, and encamped on the cholera-stricken ground just vacated by the Heavies. We had appalling evidence of their deaths! Here and there a heap of loose earth, with a protruding hand or foot, showed where the inhabitants had desecrated the dead, and dug them up to possess themselves of the blankets in which they were buried. Nevertheless, we gladly halted, for the heat was very distressing; though it would have been better if the sick had gone on to Devna, as they will now have no halt in their march to-morrow. The 13th who remained at Issyteppe, lost a man of cholera. He was taken ill at four, and buried at six o'clock. We do not start before nine o'clock to-morrow. I hope to be able to ride.

Monday, 28th. – A cold, showery morning refreshed us all, and made the horses' coats stare. Oh, how much have I, though only slightly ill, felt the miseries attendant on sickness out here! It depresses one to know that every remedy is out of one's power. Come rain, come heat, on you must go: were it not for my trust in the Great Strength my heart would fail. We reached Devna about eleven, glad to see the old place again. And the river! how we walked the horses up and down in it, and how they thrust their parched heads into the stream, than which no stream ever seemed so limpid or so sweet!

Tuesday, 29th. – "March at half-past six to Varna." March delayed till half-past seven, at which time we started (I with an æther bottle) over the hills to Aladyn, and so to Varna by the upper road. The colonel was unable to leave his bed, and followed in an araba. The ride was beautiful. We passed a singular geological formation of large rocks, resembling the ruins of a huge temple with many towers. We reached our camping ground (the middle of a stubble field) at twelve o'clock. We passed two camps on the road – one Sir De L. Evans's; the other a part of the Light Division, consisting of the 19th, 77th, and 88th. The 88th seemed in sad spirits: they lost their surgeon yesterday of cholera, and the major was then supposed to be dying. All round us are camped the various regiments – French and English Cavalry, Infantry, and Artillery, and Turkish Infantry and Cavalry. The Rifles embarked to-day. I heard that Lady Erroll was seen riding into Varna, to embark with them. Colonel Yea (7th Fusiliers) called on me, and told me that his regiment was to embark to-morrow in the "Emperor;" he also said his regiment was to be the first to land. At five o'clock we saw no chance of getting anything to eat (we had had nothing since six in the morning), and I could not bear it any longer; so we saddled the ponies, and cantered into Varna. Here of course we found all the shops closed, but at length discovered a small restaurateur in a back street, who gave us some excellent soup, vile cutlets, and good macaroni. In the almost pitchy darkness, we felt for our ponies, and were groping our way home, when we passed the hospital in which Dr. Mackay, who came out with us in the "Shooting Star," and who was appointed to the staff from the 12th regiment, resides. We ran up-stairs, and found him, with one or two brother medicos, drinking rum-and-water, and "smoking a weed." He made us most welcome; and, from his account of his patients, appears to be working hard and most self-sacrificingly in the good work of trying to alleviate pain. We soon left him to continue our way home. Lord Cardigan, immediately on my arriving at Varna, went to head-quarters to ask Lord Raglan's permission for me to accompany the troops to the Crimea. Lord Cardigan was at the trouble of bringing me Lord Raglan's answer himself. It was a decided negative. "But," added Lord Cardigan (touched perhaps by my sudden burst of tears, for I was so worn and weak!), "should you think proper to disregard the prohibition, I will not offer any opposition to your doing so."

Wednesday, 30th. – Too weak to rise. I thank God we remain here to-day, and perhaps to-morrow, as the "Himalaya" has not yet come in. Captain George and Major Eman called on me, but I was not able to see them. Two men who marched in with us yesterday are dead of cholera to-day. "Oh God, in whose hands are the issues of life and death!"

Thursday, 31st. – I was congratulating myself on the chance of another quiet day, when an aide-de-camp galloped up to say that the "Himalaya" had arrived in harbour, and we were to turn out immediately to embark. It was then one o'clock. I tried to rise, but at first could hardly stand, and gave up all hope of packing. As soon as they could be got under weight, the bullock waggons started for the quay. Wrapped in an old hat and shawl, Henry lifted me on my dear, gentle pony's back, and we crept down to Varna. But no embarkation for us that night. Till ten o'clock I waited before our arabas arrived, and our tent was pitched; a kind-hearted woman of the regiment gave me a boa, and at half-past ten we got a little dinner, and turned into bed.

CHAP. III.

THE EXPEDITION TO THE CRIMEA.

FRIDAY, September 1st. – The embarkation began at six o'clock. Whilst the troops were filing down, Captain Lockwood, one of Lord Cardigan's aides-de-camp, rode up with an order from Lord Lucan that no officer was to embark more than one horse; those who had embarked more were to send them ashore again. Pleasant news this for me! However, I had no time to grumble, but hoisting myself into an araba full of baggage, and disguised as much as possible, I went down to the shore. Lord Lucan, who was there, scanned every woman, to find traces of a lady; but he searched in vain, and I, choking with laughter, hurried past his horse into the boat. Here the crew received me very hospitably, gave me some water, and a compliment on the clearness of my cheeks, which "did not look as though I had done much hard work in the sun," and finally put me safely on board the "Himalaya," where I was immediately handed down to my cabin.

Monday, 4th. – We hoped to sail to-day.

Tuesday, 5th. – I have remained in my cabin ever since I came on board. Well may we pray for "all prisoners and captives." After my free life under the "sweet heavens," to be hermetically sealed up in the narrow cabin of a ship – I cannot breathe, even though head and shoulders are thrust out of window.

Since I have been here death has been amongst us. Poor Captain Longmore, who on Friday helped me up the ship's side, was dead on Sunday morning –

"Stretch'd no longer on the rack of this rough world."

Death with such inexorable gripe appears in his most appalling shape. He was seized but on Friday with diarrhœa, which turned to cholera on Saturday, and on Sunday the body was left in its silent and solemn desolation. During his death struggle the party dined in the saloon, separated from the ghastly wrangle only by a screen. With few exceptions, the dinner was a silent one; but presently the champagne corks flew, and – but I grow sick, I cannot draw so vivid a picture of life and death. God save my dear husband and me from dying in the midst of the din of life! The very angels must stand aloof. God is our hope and strength, and without Him we should utterly fail.

To-day the signal came to proceed to Balchick Bay; and having hooked ourselves on to No. 78., with the Connaught Rangers on board, we steamed to join the flight of ships sailing from Varna. About two hours brought us to Balchick; and the appearance of the bay, crowded with every species of ship, from the three-decker man-of-war down to the smallest river steam-tug, filled the mind with admiration at the magnificent naval resources of England.

Delay prevails here as everywhere. The fleet are all collected and awaiting the order to proceed. Sebastopol is within thirty-six hours' sail, and apparently there is no impediment: but not a vessel has weighed anchor.

Wednesday, 6th. – Some say we are waiting for the wind to change, or lull; others that we are to wait until the "Banshee" arrives with despatches from England. Many more are betting that peace is proclaimed, and that we shall be met at Sebastopol by a flag of truce. I incline to the opinion that we are waiting for the "Banshee." The weather continues lovely. The master of the "Echinga" came on board to-night, and tells me that Lady Erroll is in his ship, and that she intends remaining on board during the siege. I had fully made up my mind to, and until this unhappy order of "Only one horse" threw over all my plans. My husband, too, seems to think that I could not encounter the fatigue on foot, so I fear I must (most reluctantly) consent to follow him by sea to Sebastopol. Our sick list increases frightfully.

Thursday, 7th. – We sailed in company of the fleet, a truly wonderful sight! News arrived last night of the taking of Bomarsund, which put us all in spirits; and as no accident occurred beyond the snapping of a hawser, we made a successful start.

Friday, 8th. – No motion is perceptible in this magnificent ship, though her mighty heart throbs night and day, and there is sufficient sea to make the transport behind us pitch disagreeably. Were it not for the rush of water beneath the saloon windows, I should fancy myself on land. Walking on the deck, between the lines of horses, I cannot fail to have made friends with two or three – one in particular, a fine large Norman-headed chestnut, with a long flowing mane, and such kindly eyes.

Saturday, 9th. – At a signal from the flag-ship, we pulled up to anchor, in order to concentrate the fleet and allow the laggards to come up. Ignorance concerning our movements prevails everywhere, and conjectures are rife. Many absolutely doubt whether Sebastopol is to be our destination or not. Henry has been very far from well these last few days, and is laid up with an attack of lumbago, particularly unwelcome just now. Dr. Evans, who has been appointed to the regiment, shows very humane feeling; and I trust, under his kind care, my dear husband will soon recover. Poor Connell, our soldier-servant, still lies sick and suffering; but I hear from Sergeant Lynch that he is, if anything, better.

Sunday, 10th. – Still at anchor, 160 miles from Sebastopol. Yesterday, when we stopped our engines, we were nearly meeting with a serious accident. The transport ship behind us, having too short a hawser, and too much way on her, ran into us, smashing our jolly-boat, and crashing through our bulwarks and taffrail like so much brown paper.

Monday, 11th. – The "Caradoc" and "Agamemnon" have returned. Signals fly from the mast-head of the flag-ship: "Prepare to get under weigh." Discussion of our unknown destination; some say Odessa – some Sebastopol.

Sunshine above, and smooth water below. On board not half-a-dozen men feel "as if they were on the eve of fighting."

Tuesday, 12th. – At 9, A.M., we came in sight of the Crimea. We have been on board twelve days to-day. Twelve days accomplishing 300 miles! The delay puzzles as much as it grieves and disgusts. Lord Cardigan, too, is growing very impatient of it. Towards evening the ships drew up closer together. Magnificent two- and three-deckers sailed on each side of the transport fleet. A forest of masts thrust their spear-like heads into the sunset clouds. Birnam Wood is come to Dunsinane! At even-fall, the Brenda, a little Danube boat, drawing four feet of water, was ordered off to Sebastopol to reconnoitre. An answering pendant was run up to her peak: a puff of smoke, a turn of her paddle-wheels, and away flew the little craft, shaking out her white wings like a bird.

Wednesday, 13th. – The entrance to the harbour of Sebastopol is distinctly visible. Every one is roused up and full of energy, except my dear husband, who lies sick and full of pain in his cabin. I much fear he will not be able to land. A signal at twelve o'clock to "Keep in your station." We are near enough to the shore to see houses, corn, cattle, and a horse and covered cart.

Not a shot has been fired; all is tranquillity in the serene sky above, and the unrippled waters beneath. All are quiet except Lord Cardigan, who is still full of eagerness. Poor Connell is not nearly so well. There is a soldier's wife on board, too, suffering severely from fever. What will become of her when the troops disembark!

Thursday, 14th. – Leaving Eupatoria behind us, we hauled close in shore, about nine o'clock, about thirty miles from Sebastopol. The French began to disembark forthwith, and by ten o'clock the tricolor was planted on the beach. I have a painful record to make. During last night our poor servant Connell, after struggling long with fever, succumbed to it, and closed his eyes, I trust, in peace. I did not know of his danger till I heard of his death. To-day he was committed to the keeping of the restless sea, until the day when it shall give up its dead.

Friday, 15th. – English troops disembarking in a heavy surf. The landing of the horses is difficult and dangerous. Such men as were disembarked yesterday were lying all exposed to the torrents of rain which fell during the night. How it did rain! In consequence an order has been issued to disembark the tents. The beach is a vast and crowded camp, covered with men, horses, fires, tents, general officers, staff officers, boats landing men and horses, which latter are flung overboard, and swum ashore. Eleven were drowned to-day. I am glad to say we lost none. Lord Cardigan begins to be eager for the fray, and will be doing something or other directly he has landed, I fancy. He landed to-day at five.

Saturday, 16th. – All our horses were ashore by half-past ten, and started immediately on outpost-duty, for which they tell me Lord Cardigan has taken a force of Rifles and Artillery as well. At ten o'clock to-day, with failing heart, I parted from my dear husband, and watched him go ashore; whilst I, alas! having no horse, cannot follow him, but must go on board the "Shooting Star," and get round by sea. How I hate it! How much rather I would endure any hardship than be separated from him at this time! But my reason and strength both tell me it is impracticable, and so I must make up my mind to it. Captain Fraser received me with his usual most considerate kindness, and tried by every means to make me forget my wretched position.

Sunday, 17th. – Artillery disembarking all day from the "Shooting Star." One poor fellow caught his hand in a block, and tore it terribly.

Monday, 18th. – To-day I set my foot in the Crimea.

A lovely day tempted me to disembark and try to see my dear husband on shore. Captain Fraser and I started at twelve o'clock. On landing amongst the Artillery, we first inquired for the poor fellow who was hurt yesterday, and then for the Light Cavalry. "They are seven miles inland!!" I never can forget, or be sufficiently grateful to the officers of Artillery for, the kindness they showed me this day. After looking about for a quiet horse to carry me, they decided on stopping a party of Horse Artillery, and getting them to give us seats on the gun-carriage. Mr. Grylls, who had charge of the party, most courteously assented, and by his kindness I was able to reach the outposts. Here I surprised my husband, who shares a tent with five officers, and who was delighted to see me. Whilst I remained there, a patrol of the 13th Light Dragoons came in, commanded by Colonel Doherty. They had seen a body of about six hundred Cossacks, who had fired at them, but without effect. These same Cossacks, a few minutes later, had set two of the neighbouring villages, and all the corn, on fire.

After about an hour spent in camp, Henry put his regimental saddle on his horse, and I mounted him, Henry and Captain Fraser walking by my side, and we returned to the shore. Our road was lurid with the red glare of the vast fires. This country is as fertile as Bulgaria, and has all the advantages of cultivation. In the village close to the outposts, of which the Rifles had possession, were found comfortable and well-furnished houses, with grand pianofortes, pictures, books, and everything evincing comfort and civilisation. Several of our riflemen have been killed by the Cossacks, who hover round the army like a flying cloud. We reached the beach at dusk; and again taking leave of my husband, with a heavy heart I stepped into the boat and was rowed on board.

Tuesday, 19th. – The troops have all advanced to-day; and about half-past three we heard the heavy sound of the guns booming across the water, as we lay quietly at anchor. What can those guns mean? I wonder if, among the annals of a war, the sickening anxieties of mother, wife, and sister ever find a place. Let us hope the angel of compassion makes record of their tears.

Wednesday, 20th. – Left Kalamita Bay, and, with several other ships, joined the rest of the fleet off Eupatoria.

Thursday, 21st. – Captain Tatham, of the "Simoom," took me ashore in his boat. It was a lovely day. We walked about Eupatoria; and Captain Tatham introduced me to the governor, Captain Brock, who showed me great kindness and attention. In his house (a very comfortable one, with polished oak floors and large windows) he had safely secured in "durance vile" two prisoners, the land steward and shepherd of Prince Woronzow. After leaving Captain Brock, we met a Russian propriétaire – one of the very few who remained in the town. He conversed with us in French for some time, and showed us over the Greek church. Nearly all the inhabitants, terrified at the apparition of an enemy's fleet, had fled. Captain Brock, in the hope of procuring prompt supplies, has fixed a tariff regulating the price of all kinds of stock; and the Tartar population, delighted at the ready and large circulation of money, bring in provisions freely and willingly. Eupatoria is rather a pretty town, interspersed with trees, with large, low, comfortable-looking, detached houses.

Friday, 22nd. – Was awoke from a restless sleep by the entrance of my maid – a soldier's wife – with her apron over her eyes. I naturally asked what was the matter. "Oh, ma'am! Captain Tatham has sent to say he has received despatches, which will oblige him to leave Eupatoria to-day. And there has been a dreadful battle – 500 English killed, and 5000 Russians; and all our poor cavalry fellows are all killed; and, the Lord be good to us, we're all widows."

God, and he only, knows how the next hour was passed – until the blessed words, "O thou of little faith," rang in my heart.

At breakfast I asked Captain Fraser for the particulars of the message; but he, from a feeling of kindly wishing to save me anxiety, assured me he had heard nothing about the battle, and did not believe a word of it. However, at two o'clock, I went ashore to see the Governor, and ascertain the words of the despatch. He told me that there had been a severe battle at the river Alma, but no official particulars had yet reached him.

Saturday, 23rd. – I heard more particulars of this great fight, though very few: 2090 English killed and wounded; the 7th and 23rd Fusiliers almost destroyed, and, thank God! the Cavalry not engaged. How can timorous, nervous women live through a time like this!

The guns which we heard as we were breasting our swift way from Kalamita to Eupatoria, were merely messengers to us of the heavy firing inland, causing wounds, blood, and sudden death – lives, for which we would gladly give our own, extinguished in a moment; hands flung out in agony, faces calm and still in death; all our prayers unavailing now: no more speech, no more life, no more love.

Sunday, 24th. – Again awoke by the guns. Captain Fraser assured me they were the guns of the fleet. The Cossacks, last night, made a descent upon Eupatoria, and having secured some plunder, fired on our soldiers. Their fire was returned with such interest that they were soon glad to retire.

The "Danube" steamboat went this afternoon to Katcha, laden with sheep, and taking with her a Russian prisoner – a gentleman – and supposed to be a spy. I met him directly after he was taken, as he was walking from the guard to the shore.

Monday, 25th. – A steamboat came in this morning, and Captain Fraser immediately sent off a boat to the "Simoom" (which had not left, as she threatened, on Friday) to ascertain the news.

Until as late as six o'clock we had been listening to the guns, but were little prepared for such news as Captain Tatham sent back to us.

The fleet are at the Katcha, and the army also. The fleet stood in yesterday, and fired about twenty shots. The Russians sunk five line-of-battle ships and two frigates across the harbour. Three remain, which cannot get out, nor can we get in. A prisoner reports that all is consternation – Menschikoff in tears. At Eupatoria news flies from mouth to mouth. They say that, at Alma, the charge of Highlanders was most magnificent; that they swept over the Russian entrenchments like a sea. Our Cavalry being so weak we were unable to follow up our advantage, or we might have cut off the enemy in their retreat. It is said that the whole garrison of Sebastopol was engaged at Alma – 50,000 Russians to about 45,000 English and French. I hear the English bore the brunt of the fight.

Went ashore this afternoon, and rode with Captain Brock, who most kindly provides me with both horse and saddle. After we had finished our ride, we went to one of the deserted houses, where we found a grand pianoforte – the first I had played on for so long! It was like meeting a dear and long absent friend.

The house and garden were soon filled, and echoing to the magnificent chords of "Rule Britannia;" whilst Tennyson's sweet words, "Break, Break, Break," and the "Northern Star," fitted both the occasion and the place.

One more song and I must hasten back, to be on board my ship by twilight. Heavy guns are pouring their dull broadsides on our straining ears. What shall the song be, sad and low, or a wild outburst of desperate courage? I have it:–

"Non curiamo l'incerto domani:
 Se quest' oggi n' è dato goder."

Tuesday, nine o'clock. – The day rose foggy and gloomy, and my heart, notwithstanding its elation yesterday at the brilliant conduct of our troops, was dull, anxious, and sad. I am engaged to ride with Captain Brock, and am restless to go ashore, in the hope of hearing news. Oh this suspense! How could I be so weak as to allow myself to be separated from my husband? A life-time of anxiety has been crowded into these ten days.

Eight o'clock found me on board the "Danube," steaming, trembling, rushing through the water towards the fleet at Katcha. A note from Captain Tatham, brought up by the "Danube," at three o'clock, induced me to go and see whether I could not get on board the "Star of the South," and so go down to Balaklava with the siege train. I had one hour to decide; and, packing up a few things in a carpet bag, and taking my saddle, I went on board at four o'clock.

September 27th. – Mr. Cator having duly reported my arrival to Admiral Dundas, the admiral did two things: first, he sent on board some excellent white bread, milk, eggs, &c. &c., for breakfast; and, secondly, he proposed either that I should go down to Balaklava in the "Simoom," and so be passed to the "Star of the South;" or else, if, as was most probable, this latter ship had been sent to Scutari with wounded, that I should return to Eupatoria, and be sent down by the earliest opportunity. I decided, therefore, on availing myself of Mr. Cator's kind offer to take me back to Eupatoria, and we started at eleven o'clock. To-day we stood close in shore, on the coast of ALMA. On our right stood heights occupied by the Russian army; on our left the place where our army bivouacked. Huge volumes of thick, smouldering smoke still rolled heavily over the plain. The "Albion," close in shore, was occupied in removing wounded. Here and there dark masses lay about, war's silent evidence; and over all was the serene heaven, smiling on a lovely landscape, sunny and bright. And I, too,

"Smil'd to think God's greatness shone around our incompleteness,
 And round our restlessness – His rest."

The cabin of the "Danube" was full of trophies of the fight – helmets pierced with shot and dabbled in blood, little amulets of brass, all blood-stained and soiled, muskets, bayonets, and swords stained with the red rust of blood. We hear that our army have taken Balaklava, after a slight resistance. Balaklava is a small harbour to the southward of Sebastopol, affording, from its depth and shelter, a wonderful anchorage for ships. This we suppose will be the base of operations; here all our ammunition stores, troops, &c., will be disembarked. They compute the number of men inside Sebastopol at about 16,000. On arriving at Eupatoria I heard, with feelings of great sorrow, that Colonel Chester and Captain Evans, of the 23rd, are both killed; that Lord Erroll is wounded; and that poor Mrs. Cresswell is a widow. God help and support her under a blow that would crush me to my grave! The last tidings heard of Mrs. Cresswell were, that she had gone down to Varna in the "War Cloud." I conclude by this time she has gone home, as Captain Cresswell died of cholera on the Monday of the march. Major Wellesley also died about that time, on board the "Danube;" and his boxes, sword, hat, &c., were lying in the cabin – a melancholy sight! How full of anxiety I am!

About two o'clock we were safely at anchor off Eupatoria. We went ashore. Captain Brock very kindly mounted Mr. Cator and me, and we three rode round the fortifications. Captain Brock received information, last evening, of 1800 Cossacks within a few miles of the town. We, too, shall have to record the Battle of Eupatoria. The ride over, I adjourned to the "Shooting Star;" but during the afternoon I met, and was introduced to, Captain King, of the "Leander," who very kindly asked me to dine to-morrow. Thus ends my birthday! – day ever to be remembered, as on it I saw my first battle-field. How many more shall I see ere I am a year older? Shall I ever live to see another year? Look on into the winter, with its foreboding of suffering, cold, privation, and gloom!

                              "What wilt thou become
Through yon drear stretch of dismal wandering?"

September 28th. – The "Leander's" boat came for me at two o'clock, and I had a very rough and wet passage on board. I met the captain of the "Jena," a French man-of-war, Colonel D'Osman, in command of the French troops, Captain Brock, &c.; a very agreeable party, at which we were most hospitably entertained.

Friday, 29th. – I take a letter to Henry ashore with me to-day, as I trust to find some means of forwarding it, and I cannot bear the suspense any longer.

To-day I am all unnerved; an indefinable dread is on me.

Captain Fraser caught a magnificent Death's-head moth, and gave it to me. I shivered as I accepted it. This life of absence and suspense becomes at times intolerable. Oh, when shall I rejoin the army, from which I never ought to have been separated! Any hardship, any action, is better than passive anxiety.

A friend of Captain Fraser's, who came on board, tells me that none have had the courage to acquaint Mrs. Cresswell with her loss; and she is actually coming up to Balaklava with troops. Cruel kindness!

Saturday, 30th. –

"Oh that my grief were thoroughly weighed, and my heaviness laid in the balances together, for the sorrows of the Almighty are within me, and terror sets itself in array before me."

Sunday, lst October. – The "Shooting Star" is under orders for Katcha; and I am engaged to ride with Captain Brock ashore. Not a ripple stirred the water; so, trusting to Captain Fraser's assurance that the ship would not move to-day, I went ashore after breakfast. It was indeed a heavenly day! Our horses sauntered along, and my heart involuntarily looked up, through the radiant sky, to the universal God of peace and war, sunshine and storm!

We saw an immense cloud of locusts making for the sea. The air was quite obscured by them. Returning about one o'clock, what was my dismay to see the "Shooting Star" spreading her white wings, and dropping quietly out to sea! Fortunately, the "Danube" was going down at two o'clock. I did not lose a moment, but after taking a most regretful leave of pleasant, cordial Eupatoria, I went once more on board the "Danube," and started in pursuit of the "Star." The breeze had got up considerably, and favouring her, we found her at anchor at Katcha when we arrived.

Monday, 2nd October. – To-day my adventures have been more amusing still. Not liking a dull day alone on board, I wrote a note to Lord George Paulet, who called on me immediately after breakfast, and took me away to the "Bellerophon." Here I was in the middle of a most agreeable, lazy morning, looking out on the sparkling sea, and listening to the wondrous harmonies of a most perfect band, when Admiral Dundas sent on board to say, that if I wished to go down to Balaklava, "the 'Pride of the Ocean' was then passing with troops, and he would order her to be hove to; but Mrs. Duberly must not keep her waiting a rnoment longer than necessary." My transit from the Bellerophon (through one of the lower ports), laden with a ham, some miraculous port wine, and all sorts of good things provided by Lord George's kind hospitality, was accomplished in a very short space. The admiral, however, was impatient, and Captain Christie more so. Mr. Cator was sent in the "Britannia's" galley to take me on board; and after accomplishing my packing in ten minutes, and taking my desk and carpet bag, I started in the galley and had some difficulty in overtaking the "Pride of the Ocean."

Tuesday, 3rd. – We expected a three hours' sail; but the wind dropped, and we were becalmed for four-and-twenty. By three o'clock we were lying almost stationary before the forts of Sebastopol, and within range of the guns. It was a moment not altogether free from nervousness; but no guns molested us, and we passed unharmed. Presently we passed the light off Chersonese. We lay off the point beyond the Monastery of St. George all night; and at morning, the "Simla" came to tow us to our anchorage just outside Balaklava harbour. This anchorage is a wonderful place; the water is extremely deep, and the rocks which bound the coast exceed in ruggedness and boldness of outline any that I ever saw before. The harbour appears completely land-locked. Through a fissure in the cliffs you can just see a number of masts; but how they got in, or will get out, appears a mystery; they have the appearance of having been hoisted over the cliffs, and dropped into a lake on the other side.

At three o'clock, tugs came alongside the "Pride of the Ocean," to disembark her troops, the 1st Royals, who, horses and all, were landed before dark.

At dinner, whilst I was quietly eating my soup, I heard some one enter the cabin, and looking up saw Henry, who had heard of my arrival, and had come on board. I need not say that the evening passed happily enough! He brought me a handful of letters, which occupied me till late at night.

CHAP. IV.

BALAKLAVA.

WEDNESDAY, October 4th. – This morning I landed at Balaklava, having left the "Pride of the Ocean" with regret, after endeavouring to express to Captain Kyle my deep sense of the great consideration and kindness he showed me whilst on board his ship.

Mr. Cunningham, the admiralty agent, was going on shore, and I availed myself of a seat in his boat, notwithstanding the day was a rough one; and then I learned the entrance to this wonderful harbour, where the ships lay side by side, moored to the shore as thickly as they could be packed.

In the afternoon, Henry came down to see me; and scrambling into his regimental saddle – for I had left my own on board the "Shooting Star" – we rode up to see the Cavalry camp. Here I was obliged to confess, though sorely against my will, that it was impossible I could live in the camp. Henry shares his tent with three men. The cold – the impossibility of getting a separate tent, has made me resolve to remain on board ship, and go daily to the camp.

Thursday, 5th. – I rode all over the camp; went on to the Light Division, to the 63rd and 68th; took my first look at Sebastopol from the land as it lay in a hollow about two miles from us. It is a much finer town as seen from the land. The fortifications appear of great strength and number, and the buildings struck me as being large and handsome. They were busy throwing shell into our lines, but the range was too long to do us any harm. The shells fell into a hollow at our feet; and all that I saw exploded harmlessly; though two days before one had burst in a tent of the 68th, killing one man, and wounding two. We returned through the French lines. The French soldiers seemed astonished at the apparition of a lady in their lines, and made various but very flattering remarks thereon. Late at night Mr. Cator arrived in Balaklava, and came on board the "Star of the South" to see me.

Friday, 6th. – The "Shooting Star" arrived outside Balaklava last evening. Mr. Cator sent off a gig to her for my saddle, which came ashore about twelve, and will save me much fatigue, as I find the big grey and the regimental saddle very tiring, especially in trotting.

I hear to-day of poor Dr. Mackay's death with great regret. He died from the effects of over-exertion in the zealous discharge of his arduous duties amongst the sick.

Sunday, 8th. – Lord Cardigan very kindly lent me a horse, and Mr. Cator and I rode up to the front. Here we saw Captain Hillyar, of the Naval Brigade, who is working hard to get his guns into position.

These seamen appear to work with the greatest energy and good-will. One meets a gang of them harnessed to a gun, and drawing with all their might and main; or digging at entrenchments, singing, laughing, and working heartily and cheerily. But their experience of camp-life is short indeed in comparison with that of our poor soldiers, with whom they contrast so gaily.

Returning home, we met Sir Edmund Lyons, to whom I was introduced, and who asked me to dine with him to-night on board the "Agamemnon," where I met a very old and valued friend, Captain Drummond, of the "Retribution."

To-day an affair took place which was severely canvassed at dinner. Some Russian Cavalry drove in our out-lying piquet in the morning, and in consequence all the Cavalry, and Captain Maude's troop of H. A., turned out under Lord Lucan. By judicious generalship, they say, the whole force might have been taken, or severely punished; but a hesitation at the wrong moment allowed them all to retire out of range, after having killed two or three of our men, while they escaped unhurt.

Monday, 9th. – Walked up to camp with Mr. Bosanquet. Found Henry, who accompanied us part of the way back, and then went on board the "Danube" to luncheon. Henry and I dined there at six o'clock. In the afternoon I walked along the ridge of the stupendous rocks overlooking the sea. The spray dashed into my face – the sea foamed far beneath my feet. There was something in the strong wind, the beetling cliffs, the churning sea, and boundless view that filled me with glorious admiration and delight. Last night our dear horses "Bob" and "Whisker" arrived from Varna, and were taken to the camp this afternoon. I look forward to to-morrow, when I shall see them again.

Tuesday, 10th. – Henry brought down the grey horse, and "Whisker." The day was intensely cold, a bitter wind swept through us, chilling every pulse. When we reached the camp, we found poor "Bob" half dead with cold; so, shifting the saddles, Henry got on his back, and we stretched away at a rapid canter for the front.

Here we met Major Lowe, of the 4th Light Dragoons, and Captain Portal, who asked us to dine. We gladly accepted; and while dinner was preparing, he rode with us to the extreme right, to show us Sebastopol from a fresh point of view.

Close to us, hid in brushwood, was our own piquet; about 1000 yards from us was the Russian piquet. From the forts of Sebastopol the shot and shell came hissing every two minutes.

I could not but feel a high degree of excitement, and I think it was not unnatural. We were standing on the brow of a hill, backed by our magnificent troops, and fronting the enemy; the doomed city beneath our feet, and the pale moon above: it was indeed a moment worth a hundred years of every-day existence. I have often prayed that I might "wear out my life, and not rust it out," and it may be that my dreams and aspirations will be realised.

Wednesday, 11th. – A French transport got aground yesterday before Sebastopol. The Russians fired at her, and carried away her bowsprit. The crew deserted her, but endeavoured to get her off during the night. The garrison made a sortie this morning with the bayonet, but retreated as soon as our men turned out.

Friday, 13th. – A report was current that the fire of the siege was to open to-day, but hardly a shot disturbed the warm serenity of the air. What a variable climate! Three days ago the cold was intense, to-day the sun is oppressive. Captain Lockwood rode down to call on me. He told me with a melancholy face, that the Russians had made a successful descent on Eupatoria, and had wrested the place from us; but a lieutenant in the navy who came in shortly after, declared this information was false, as, although driven back, the force had returned, and effectually driven out the enemy.

The arrival of ships from Eupatoria laden with supplies, would seem to say that at any rate the Russians had not possession of it. The "Cambria" and "Medway" arrived to-day, each with a regiment of 1300 Turks.

Saturday, 14th. – Since last night two yachts have come into harbour, the "Dryad" (Lord Cardigan's) and the "Maraquita" (Mr. Carew's). What a satire is the appearance of these fairy ships amidst all the rough work of war! They seem as out of place as a London belle would be; and yet there is something very touching in their pretty gracefulness.

Henry, Captain Fane, Mr. Goss, R.N., and I started on horseback for the camp. We lunched at our own tent. Our ride took in nearly the whole front line of the camp, commencing on the right, at the ground lately occupied by the 4th Light Dragoons, passing the Rifles and the 23rd, and then returning by the French.

The entrenching work progresses rapidly, under a heavy and continuous fire. I hear that Lord Raglan was in the foremost trench last night till one o'clock. A rifleman standing near him had his head taken off by a round shot.

Either to-day, or yesterday, a rifleman, seeing a shell light in the entrenchment, knocked out the fuse with his rifle. He was mentioned in general orders. I cannot but think it a pity that our service provides no decoration, no distinctive reward of bravery, for such acts as this. If it were only a bit of red rag, the man should have it, and wear it immediately, as an honourable distinction, instead of waiting for a medal he may never live to obtain, or may only obtain years hence, when it shall have lost half its value.

Guns are run into position to-night; the wheels were being muffled in sheep-skin when I was in camp. I heard of a sortie on the French this morning, but no particulars.

Sunday, 15th. – Awoke exhausted.

What an exhaustion! It seemed to me as though my life was ebbing away, my sands running quietly down; so I lay for a long time, becalmed in soul and body. I cannot account for this at all. I remained in this state all the morning, and did not get up till twelve o'clock; at which time Captain Nolan came in, and we had a long and interesting conversation. After discussing my afternoon's amusement, I determined on accepting his horse and saddle, with a tiger-skin over the holsters; while he borrowed a pony, and we rode together to see Henry at the camp. After spending an hour in his tent, Henry and I walked down to the "Star of the South" to dinner, Henry returning on foot at night.

Monday, 16th. – For three days the firing has been continuous. Captain Nolan told me yesterday that the siege would open in earnest on Tuesday. A party of us sat till late on deck, watching the flashes of the guns.

All night they kept it up, but now, 11 A.M., are quiet. The "Agamemnon" steamed out yesterday from Balaklava to join the fleet. The French are at this moment landing a fresh regiment of Cavalry, and the "Medway" is being cleared of her cargo of Turks. We wait, with some little excitement, for to-morrow. I have ordered my horse at eight o'clock in the morning.

Tuesday, October 17th, 10 P.M. – At half past six o'clock began that fearful rain of shot and shell, which poured incessantly on the forts and batteries of Sebastopol, until night befriended the city, and threw her shade over it. At a quarter past seven the Round Tower was silenced, though the battery at its foot still kept up a fire from two guns, which we could not enfilade. Soon after ten Henry and I had arrived, and took our place opposite the Fourth Division.

At ten o'clock a French powder magazine exploded, which dismounted fifteen guns, and killed about forty of their men.

At half-past one, the French and English fleets, with the "Mahmoudie," brought in their fire. The "Agamemnon," with Sir E. Lyons on board, went close in, followed by the "Sanspareil." The "London," "Albion," "Bellerophon," "Retribution," were all more or less severely mauled, as they poured in broadside after broadside, with incredible and incessant noise. I merely mention the names of such ships as I know something of. There were many others, amongst them the "Rodney," "Arethusa," "Trafalgar," and the "Tribune." The "London" was twice on fire. The "Albion" had a shell which, by unlucky chance, pitched into Captain Lushington's stores, destroying his cellar and his clothes. The "Bellerophon" had a shell through Lord George's cabin; the "Retribution" lost her mainmast.

At ten minutes past three a magnificent sight presented itself – a huge explosion in the Mud Fort (Redan), the smoke of which ascended to the eye of heaven, and then gathering, fell slowly and mournfully down to earth. I thought of torture and sudden death, and was softened to tears, while round me cheers burst from every throat –

"All down the line one deafening shout."

We left at dusk, and rode slowly down to Balaklava, our hearts and ears filled with the magnificent din of war. Our casualties have been very few. Poor Captain Rowley and the assistant-surgeon of the 68th are dead. The gathering twilight prevented our seeing much of the damage done to the town. We fancied it greater than it proved. One of our Lancaster guns burst to-day; the other is doing good work. The shot rushes with such vehement noise through the air that it has been surnamed the "Express Train." We fired 170 rounds a gun yesterday (so they say). I was not sorry to find rest on board ship, being tired out with the excitement and exertion o£ the day.

Wednesday, 18th. – Did not intend going out early, but at nine o'clock I saw my horse saddled on the beach. A large Russian force is collected on the plains, at whom, as is evident, we are firing hard. I dressed in all haste, and started to the front. Here I found Cavalry, Artillery, and Turks drawn up beyond our camp, and a Russian force in the valley, at some 1,800 yards distance, standing gazing at them. The firing had all ceased, and the greater part of the Russians had retired under shelter of a hill. As soon as we were tired of looking at them, and tired of waiting for them to advance, we left the field battery, behind which we had taken our places, and went slowly on to the front.

The French batteries were unable to reopen fire. The ships were a great deal too much mauled yesterday to be able to go in again for some time. The English guns were firing, and we had some red-hot shot, in the hopes of setting fire to the town; but the town appears built of incombustible materials, although it was twice slightly on fire yesterday, the flames were almost immediately extinguished I am told that the men of Captain Lushington's battery last night refused to be relieved, though they had been at work all day. They said they had "got their range, and were doing good work, and would not go away, – all they wanted was something to eat, and some grog."

Sir George Cathcart sent them down immediately all the food and grog he could muster. "Ah!" exclaimed one of the riflemen who had been firing at the gunners in the Mud Fort before the explosion took place, "When it blew up, in the confusion, there was beautiful shooting!"

We had luncheon in Major Wynne's tent, of the 68th, and left again about three o'clock to ride back to Balaklava. Passing the fortifications between the front and rear, we found the French mustered in rather a strong force in the battery overlooking the Russian army. No movement had been made by the Russians. They will probably remain in the shelter of the hill until they are drawn. Artillery and Cavalry were coming slowly home as we approached our lines. The heavy guns of the siege still follow us with their ceaseless sound.

Colonel Hood, of the Guards, was killed to-day, and the ambulance corps brought down forty sick, to be embarked on board ship at Balaklava. I saw, with the aid of glasses, to-day a loose horse going with a strange halting gait before the batteries of the Russian forts. He was thought to be an English Artillery horse wounded yesterday; strange that, among all that thunder of shot and shell, not one bullet could be spared for him.

Thursday, 19th. – We thought Sebastopol to stand, perhaps, a three days' siege – more likely a single day's; while some, more arrogant still, allowed it eight hours to resist the fury of the allies!

Now there are orders that no shot is to be fired into the town for fear of destroying the houses. Is this because Lord Raglan is confident of the speedy possession of the town, or from the estimable amiability of his private character, which makes him shrink from inflicting wanton damage or death? This order to spare the town is much commented on. However commendable the greatest humanity may be, we cannot but remember that the blood of 2090 men, lying on the field of Alma, calls to us from the ground. Were we besieged, the Russians would not show the like consideration to us.

To-day we moved our ca