his most invaluable official, a confession was soon made.
Beneath the fellow's dirty bed, the butter was found buried; and, in
its company, a two-dozen case of sherry, which the rogue had, in
flagrant defiance of the Prophet's injunction, stolen for his own
private drinking, a few nights previously.

The thievery in this little out-of-the way port was something
marvellous; and the skill and ingenuity of the operators would have
reflected credit upon the _elite_ of their profession practising in
the most civilized city of Europe. Nor was the thievery confined
altogether to the professionals, who had crowded to this scene of
action from the cities and islands of the Mediterranean. They robbed
us, the Turks, and one another; but a stronger hand was sometimes laid
on them. The Turk, however, was sure to be the victim, let who might
be the oppressor.

In this predatory warfare, as in more honourable service, the Zouaves
particularly distinguished themselves. These undoubtedly gallant
little fellows, always restless for action, of some sort, would, when
the luxury of a brash with the Russians was occasionally denied them,
come down to Balaclava, in search of opportunities of waging war
against society at large. Their complete and utter absence of
conscientious scruples as to the rights of property was most amusing.
To see a Zouave gravely cheat a Turk, or trip up a Greek
street-merchant, or Maltese fruit-seller, and scud away with the
spoil, cleverly stowed in his roomy red pantaloons, was an operation,
for its coolness, expedition, and perfectness, well worth seeing. And,
to a great extent, they escaped scatheless, for the English Provost
marshal's department was rather chary of interfering with the
eccentricities of our gallant allies; while if the French had taken
close cognizance of the Zouaves' amusements out of school, one-half of
the regiments would have been always engaged punishing the other half.

The poor Turk! it is lamentable to think how he was robbed, abused,
and bullied by his friends. Why didn't he show a little pluck? There
wasn't a rough sailor, or shrewd boy--the English boy, in all his
impudence and prejudice, flourished in Balaclava--who would not gladly
have patted him upon the back if he would but have held up his head,
and shown ever so little spirit. But the Englishman cannot understand
a coward--will scarcely take the trouble to pity him; and even the
craven Greek could lord it over the degenerat