improving the state of the place. Men are at work throwing
stones down into the most Curtius–like gulfs in the
streets. His lordship visited the hospitals in the town,
and conversed with Dr. Anderson for some time. He
then went to Commissary–General Filder's. where he
remained in conversation nearly two hours. It is stated
by people who can know very little of what passed, that
his lordship considers Mr. Filder has deceived him, and
has at various times misrepresented the nature and
magnitude of the means at his disposal, otherwise steps
would have been taken to place our transport on a better
footing. Mr. Filder can, however, point to some
important letters, written both before and after the 14th of
November to Lord Raglan, on the subject of transport
and of the roads, in which he is understood to have
declared he could not be responsible for the evils and
misfortunes which might befall the army, if the
important matters to which he called attention were
neglected."

The correspondent of the Morning Herald, on Jan.
23rd, describes the amount of sickness:—"Advantage
has been taken of the change of weather to get up
considerable stores of provisions at the mid–way depôt; and
a large quantity of ammunition has also been forwarded.
But in spite of full rations and the change in the weather,
sickness is still terribly prevalent among all our troops;
and I think the number invalided this week will be
rather over than under 2000 men, thus making a total
of 5000 in twelve days."

The same writer, in another letter, enters into fuller
details on this painful topic:—"Our men are now feeling
the effects of the cruel privations which all underwent
from the latter part of November almost to the
beginning of this week. An awful proportion of sickness
and mortality prevails. It is not enough to say that our
men are sick and that many die, but it literally seems as
if the army was melting away day by day. That this is
no exaggerated statement your readers will readily
believe when I tell them that I am informed on good
authority, that between the 1st December, 1854, and
the 20th January, 1855, no less than 7,804 officers and
men were invalided at Scutari. This number, of course,
does not include either the men sick in hospital at
Balaklava, or those treated at camp in the various
regimental hospital tents. It is simply the number of men
actually sent out of the Crimea. But, enormous as this
amount of sickness may appear at first sight, it is really
less than that which I was led to anticipate from seeing
the condition of the men in the various regiments and
divisions. For instance, I know that the Guards landed
here upwards of 3000 strong, and I know that they have
received reinforcements of nearly 6000 men since they
arrived at Balaklava. Yet I know also that they have
lost 986 men and officers since Inkermann, and that
yesterday their whole effective strength was 738 men.
The Guards, in fact, are but remnant, a mere shadow,
of one of the finest brigades which ever entered
a field of battle. In single regiments the loss appears to
be something far beyond comprehension. The 23rd, I
am told, buried thirty–five men at camp within one
week. The 28th have merely a nominal existence, and
the 63rd have ceased to have even that. The gallant
46th are reduced to some seventy or eighty men, and the
89th are almost as bad. In fact, I believe there is not one
regiment at this moment in camp which musters 400 men,
and there are not many which could turn out 300. The
mounted staff corps, about which so much fuss was
made in London, have quite disappeared for these three
weeks past. I am told there are only nine here now.
In this state of things, and with an army so reduced
that I should almost fear to state its numbers, how can
anyone feel elated at the prospect before us? We have
fine weather, it is true, but no amount of fine weather
will ever take Sebastopol, and until that end is accomplished
the English troops must suffer more or less."

A non–commissioned officer of the 90th Light Infantry,
writing from the camp before Sebastopol, on 19th Jan.,
to a friend in Glasgow, says:—"To tell you the truth,
the beggar that wanders about the streets is better off
than the British soldier in the Crimea. Winter has set
in, the snow is about four feet deep, and we have
received none of the winter clothing the papers say we
have got, except four extra great–coats for a company,
instead of one to each man; and as for rations, we are
on half—that is, half a pound of meat and biscuit, and
half a gill of rum per diem, and a little raw coffee. That
is the British soldier's fare for a day, and even that we
can't get cooked—no wood to be got. I cannot describe
our miseries. When we are off duty, we have nothing
to shelter us but the tent, which lets in everything—
wind, rain, and snow, often knee–deep in mud—in which
to lie down and rest our weary bones, after doing duty
in the trenches, with only twelve hours off at a time.
Our regiment left Dublin 890 stroneg and, with deaths
and sickness, we are now only 230. Other regiments are
worse. Still, those who are left of us bare up bravely;
we try to keep our spirits up, hoping for better days to
come. Our neighbours, the French, are much better
off than we are; they get their pay, and have canteens
in all their camps, where they sell brandy, tea, sugar,
bread, tobacco, &c. We could purchase of them, too,
but, unfortunately, we have no money, so we are done.
The battle of Inkermann was fought on our side of the
Tchernaya, about two miles from where our regiment is
encamped. There are a number of dead Russians still
lying about, but nobody takes notice of them. As for
Lord Raglan, I have certainly seen him since I came
here; but I suppose if you were to ask some of the
soldiers how they liked him, they would ask you who he
was. Sebastopol stands as strong as ever, and will do
till we take it by storm, which ought to have been done
long ago. We have got scarcely a battery. On our 21–
gun battery there are only three available guns."

An officer of the 3rd division writes as follows on the
27th January:—"Nothing is talked of out here but
peace as a certainty. I am no believer of it myself, and
a crying shame would it be to our arms if peace were
declared and Sebastopol not fall. The only thing I can
say is that it is not the fault of the soldiers that Sebastopol
was not in our possession in September, 1854, and
we should have lost fewer, far fewer, brave men than
we have done. Sebastopol, in September, was not
fortified on the south side; it is now, I suppose, the
strongest place in the world. It is the 'fashion' of our
engineers to laugh at the enemy's works; I can only
say, I wish we had Russian engineers, instead of those
we have; you never hear a Frenchman say anything
but in admiration of the enemy's works, which are
beautifully finished. When fire is opened, the enemy
will open, say three to one guns in proportion to us. Six
weeks ago an order was issued for a new battery on the
left of our second parallel; but nothing has been done
to the said battery, and we shall not open fire any
nearer than the first day. Our engineers are, I really
believe, afraid to go nearer the place. The French very
justly grumble at us; their arrangements are perfection.
We have no arrangement in any department, and how
can it be otherwise? Look over the names in the
Adjutant and Quartermaster–General's departments;
interest and not the qualities of a soldier got these
appointments. I grant you there are some exceptions;
for instance, the best officer out here is Major Wetherall,
late of the 1st Royals, and now of the Scotch Fusilier
Guards. He is a business man, and at the same time a
first–rate soldier. It is very annoying to read the
deliberate falsehoods in the houses of parliament,—the
Duke of Newcastle denying that the men had ever had
anything but full rations, and that green coffee was ever
issued to them; this alone they get, and but few attempt
to use it; but many a time they have had but half
rations of biscuit and their grog, and during the frost
many a man ate his ration of pork raw, and I have no
doubt will soon have to do so again, for we must expect
frost, and have no fuel. I firmly believe that almost
everything that could be required has been sent out
here, but nothing is to be got at."

The correspondent of the Times describes the appearance
of a number of sick and dying men who were sent
to Balaklava, on the 25th of January:—

"They formed one of the most ghastly processions
that ever poet imagined. Many of these men were all
but dead. With closed eyes, open mouths, and ghastly,
attenuated faces, they were borne along two and two,
the thin stream of breath, visible in the frosty air, alone
showing they were still alive. One figure was a horror
—a corpse, stone–dead, strapped upright in its seat, its