subalterns had voices which no coaxing
could soften down. But I lent them plenty of dresses; indeed, it was
the only airing which a great many gay-coloured muslins had in the
Crimea. How was I to know when I brought them what camp-life was? And
in addition to this, I found it necessary to convert my kitchen into a
temporary green-room, where, to the wonderment, and perhaps scandal,
of the black cook, the ladies of the company of the 1st Royals were
taught to manage their petticoats with becoming grace, and neither to
show their awkward booted ankles, nor trip themselves up over their
trains. It was a difficult task in many respects. Although I laced
them in until they grew blue in the face, their waists were a disgrace
to the sex; while--crinoline being unknown then--my struggles to give
them becoming _embonpoint_ may be imagined. It was not until a year
later that _Punch_ thought of using a clothes-basket; and I would have
given much for such a hint when I was dresser to the theatrical
company of the 1st Royals. The hair was another difficulty. To be
sure, there was plenty in the camp, only it was in the wrong place,
and many an application was made to me for a set of curls. However, I
am happy to say I am not become a customer of the wigmakers yet.

My recollections of hunting in the Crimea are confined to seeing
troops of horsemen sweep by with shouts and yells after some wretched
dog. Once I was very nearly frightened out of my wits--my first
impression being that the Russians had carried into effect their old
threat of driving us into the sea--by the startling appearance of a
large body of horsemen tearing down the hill after, apparently,
nothing. However I discovered in good time that, in default of vermin,
they were chasing a brother officer with a paper bag.

My experience of Crimean races are perfect, for I was present, in the
character of cantiniere, at all the more important meetings. Some of
them took place before Christmas, and some after; but I shall exhaust
the subject at once. I had no little difficulty to get the things on
to the course; and in particular, after I had sat up the whole night
making preparations for the December races, at the Monastery of St.
George, I could not get my poor mules over the rough country, and
found myself, in the middle of the day, some miles from the course. At
last I gave it up as hopeless, and, dismounting, sat down by the
roadside to consider how I could possibly dispo