ttle distance in front of us.

In the first week of June, the third bombardment of Sebastopol opened,
and the Spring Hill visitors had plenty to talk about. Many were the
surmises as to when the assault would take place, of the success of
which nobody entertained a doubt. Somehow or other, important secrets
oozed out in various parts of the camp, which the Russians would have
given much to know, and one of these places was the British Hotel.
Some such whispers were afloat on the evening of Sunday the 17th of
June, and excited me strangely. Any stranger not in my secret would
have considered that my conduct fully justified my partner, Mr. Day,
in sending me home, as better fitted for a cell in Bedlam than the
charge of an hotel in the Crimea. I never remember feeling more
excited or more restless than upon that day, and no sooner had night
fairly closed in upon us than, instead of making preparations for bed,
this same stranger would have seen me wrap up--the nights were still
cold--and start off for a long walk to Cathcart's Hill, three miles
and a half away. I stayed there until past midnight, but when I
returned home, there was no rest for me; for I had found out that, in
the stillness of the night, many regiments were marching down to the
trenches, and that the dawn of day would be the signal that should let
them loose upon the Russians. The few hours still left before
daybreak, were made the most of at Spring Hill. We were all busily
occupied in cutting bread and cheese and sandwiches, packing up fowls,
tongues, and ham, wine and spirits, while I carefully filled the large
bag, which I always carried into the field slung across my shoulder,
with lint, bandages, needles, thread, and medicines; and soon after
daybreak everything was ready packed upon two mules, in charge of my
steadiest lad, and, I leading the way on horseback, the little
cavalcade left the British Hotel before the sun of the fatal 18th of
June had been many hours old.

It was not long before our progress was arrested by the cavalry
pickets closely stationed to stop all stragglers and spectators from
reaching the scene of action. But after a Blight parley and when they
found out who I was, and how I was prepared for the day's work, the
men raised a shout for me, and, with their officer's sanction, allowed
me to pass. So I reached Cathcart's Hill crowded with non-combatants,
and, leaving there the mules, loaded myself with what provisions I
could car