ry, and--it was a work of no little difficulty and
danger--succeeded in reaching the reserves of Sir Henry Barnard's
division, which was to have stormed something, I forget what; but when
they found the attack upon the Redan was a failure, very wisely
abstained. Here I found plenty of officers who soon relieved me of my
refreshments, and some wounded men who found the contents of my bag
very useful. At length I made my way to the Woronzoff Road, where the
temporary hospital had been erected, and there I found the doctors
hard enough at work, and hastened to help them as best I could. I
bound up the wounds and ministered to the wants of a good many, and
stayed there some considerable time.

Upon the way, and even here, I was "under fire." More frequently than
was agreeable, a shot would come ploughing up the ground and raising
clouds of dust, or a shell whizz above us. Upon these occasions those
around would cry out, "Lie down, mother, lie down!" and with very
undignified and unladylike haste I had to embrace the earth, and
remain there until the same voices would laughingly assure me that the
danger was over, or one, more thoughtful than the rest, would come to
give me a helping hand, and hope that the old lady was neither hit nor
frightened. Several times in my wanderings on that eventful day, of
which I confess to have a most confused remembrance, only knowing that
I looked after many wounded men, I was ordered back, but each time my
bag of bandages and comforts for the wounded proved my passport. While
at the hospital I was chiefly of use looking after those, who, either
from lack of hands or because their hurts were less serious, had to
wait, pained and weary, until the kind-hearted doctors--who, however,
_looked_ more like murderers--could attend to them. And the grateful
words and smile which rewarded me for binding up a wound or giving
cooling drink was a pleasure worth risking life for at any time. It
was here that I received my only wound during the campaign. I threw
myself too hastily on the ground, in obedience to the command of those
around me, to escape a threatening shell, and fell heavily on the
thumb of my right hand, dislocating it. It was bound up on the spot
and did not inconvenience me much, but it has never returned to its
proper shape.

After this, first washing my hands in some sherry from lack of water,
I went back to Cathcart's Hill, where I found my horse, and heard that
the good-for-nothing