d them to release me. Although I
rather weakened my cause, it was most natural that, directly I was
released, I should fly at the varlet who had caused me this trouble;
and I did so, using my bell most effectually, and aided, when my party
returned, by their riding-whips.

This little adventure took up altogether so much time that, when the
French soldiers had made their apologies to me, and I had returned the
compliment to the one whose head had been dented by my bell, it was
growing late, and we made our way back to Cathcart's Hill. On the way,
a little French soldier begged hard of me to buy a picture, which had
been cut from above the altar of some church in Sebastopol. It was too
dark to see much of his prize, but I ultimately became its possessor,
and brought it home with me. It is some eight or ten feet in length,
and represents, I should think, the Madonna. I am no judge of such
things, but I think, although the painting is rather coarse, that the
face of the Virgin, and the heads of Cherubim that fill the cloud from
which she is descending, are soft and beautiful. There is a look of
divine calmness and heavenly love in the Madonna's face which is very
striking; and, perhaps, during the long and awful siege many a knee
was bent in worship before it, and many a heart found comfort in its
soft loving gaze.

On the following day I again entered Sebastopol, and saw still more of
its horrors. But I have refrained from describing so many scenes of
woe, that I am loth to dwell much on these. The very recollection of
that woeful hospital, where thousands of dead and dying had been left
by the retreating Russians, is enough to unnerve the strongest and
sicken the most experienced. I would give much if I had never seen
that harrowing sight. I believe some Englishmen were found in it
alive; but it was as well that they did not live to tell their
fearful experience.

I made my way into the Redan also, although every step was dangerous,
and took from it some brown bread, which seemed to have been left in
the oven by the baker when he fled.

Before many days were passed, some Frenchwomen opened houses in
Sebastopol; but in that quarter of the town held by the English the
prospect was not sufficiently tempting for me to follow their example,
and so I saw out the remainder of the campaign from my old quarters at
Spring Hill.

CHAPTER XVIII.

HOLIDAY IN THE CAMP--A NEW ENEMY, TIME--AMUSEMENTS IN
THE CRIMEA