terrible in history; but the dawn is cloudless and quiet. Away
beyond the slope of the valley, across the grey flow of the river and
half-way upon the northern slope, the pacing sentries, or such of them
as are sharp-sighted, can perceive what looks like a wrinkle in the
hill. It is some three or maybe four miles from the long line of
sleepers, and it indicates the outlines of that great Redoubt around
which the memories of Englishmen will cling for centuries to come.

Near five o'clock, and a soft warm morning wind blowing under a
stainless sky. Gallopers from headquarters pass here and there with a
quiet word, 'Wake your men, and make no noise.' There is no sound of any
bugle call at that _reveille_, and the men silently arise, sit up and
shake themselves, and mostly make their toilet by a simple process of
eye-rubbing and the assumption of their headgear. Then the camp fires
are lit here and there where a clump of officers gathers together over
their morning tea and coffee. For thus early in the campaign all the
luxuries of home are not abandoned or forgotten. Troop and company
orderlies stroll down to the river, bearing buckets, and the rank and
file munch their ration of ship's biscuit. And before the simple meal
is barely over, the stealthy word passes along the ranks, and a forward
march begins, ghost-like in the dawn. Somewhat clumsily manoeuvred
by their chiefs, the line, three or four miles in length, dips; down
towards the river and crowds at a few chosen fording places. Then
it spreads out again like an open fan, and marches up the further
slope--the infantrymen dripping from the arm-pits downwards, and the
handful of cavalry on the right of the British flank shining in the
rising sun to the horses' shoulders.

Then a pause, and a long pause. Vine yards along the hill and spaces of
field and farm, and scattered houses here and there, and on the left the
village of Vourliouk, set aflame by the foe for some as yet undiscovered
reason. The smoke goes circling up into the pure air, and a faint scent
of burning is discernible. Still a mile and a half away on either side
the great Redoubt, and in front of it there are cubes and oblongs which
look like masses of grey stone, and might pass for such except that now
and again they may be seen to move. These are the infantry troops of
Russia, with whom our own men are soon to be in deadly conflict. The
fields of Europe have heard no sounds of any cannon fired in anger