brought up two large guns to the front with great
alacrity, but I believe it was not found possible to
assign a position for them. Late in the day, hearing
that there was nothing likely to take place on Monday,
I left the front, and returned to Balaklava, but in the
course of the evening I received an intimation at my
quarters that fire would open at daybreak the following
morning. It was then black as Erebus, and raining
and blowing with violence, but there was no choice for
it but to take to the saddle again, and try to make one's
way to the front. The rain fell incessantly and heavily,
and the wind blew with violence all night. At 4 o'clock
on Monday morning a small party, disguised in
waterproofs and long boots, left the camp for the front, as it
was quite certain that orders had been sent to the
batteries to open fire at daybreak. The horses could
scarcely get through the sticky black mud into which
the hard dry soil had been turned by one night's rain,
and, although it was early dawn, it was not possible to
see a man twenty yards off. A Scotch mist, mingled
with rain, settled down on the whole camp. As we
approached the front there was a profound silence
in the camp. Suddenly three guns were heard on the
left towards the French lines, and the whole line of our
batteries opened at once. The volume of sound was
not near so great or so deafening as that of the 17th of
October, and the state of the weather rendered it quite
out of the question to form a notion of the gradual
effect of our fire, so that the most interesting portion of
the day's proceedings was lost. Just as the cannonade
opened the sailors came streaming over the hills from the
batteries, where they had been relieved, and a few men
turned out of the huts in the Third Division to the
front, evidently very much astonished at the sudden
opening of the fire. On Cathcart's-hill only one or two
officers were visible, and Sir John Campbell and an
aide-de-camp on foot in front of the general's tent
watching the fire. The rain then descended in torrents,
and, as there was nothing to be seen, heard, or learnt,
everyone withdrew to shelter after a long and hopeless
struggle with the weather. Colonel Dacres was the
only officer I saw out in front of Cathcart's-hill when
I went up, with the exception of Sir John Campbell.
General Jones visited the batteries during the fire, and
Lord Raglan, I presume, stationed himself at his
favourite place, which it would be hazardous to mention,
lest the siege might last longer than we hope, whence
he can get a fair view of almost the whole of the
batteries in fine weather. The storm was so heavy that
scarcely a soul stirred out all day. It was dark almost
as night. About five o'clock the sun slowly descended
into a rift in the dark grey pall which covered the sky,
and cast a pale yellow slice of light, barred here and
there by columns of rain and masses of curling vapour,
across the line of batteries. The outlines of the town,
faintly rendered through the mists of smoke and
rain, seemed quivering inside the circling lines of
fire around and from them, but they were the same
familiar outlines so well known to us for the last
seven months—the same green cupola and roofs, and
long streets and ruined suburbs, the same dockyard
buildings, and dark trenches and batteries. The little
details of ruin and destruction which must have taken
place after to-day's fire could not be ascertained. The
eye of painter never rested on a more extraordinary
effect, and his art alone could have rendered justice to
the scene which shone out on us for a moment, as the
sickly sun, flattened out, as it were, between bars of
cloud and rain, seemed to have forced its way through
the leaden sky to cast one straitened look on the
conflict which raged below. The plateau beneath our
standing place was lighted up by incessant flashes of
light, and long trails of white smoke streamed across it,
spirting up in thick masses, tinged with fire, for a
moment, till they were whirled away in broader
volumes by the wind. In the deep glow of the parting
gleam of sunset the only image suggested to me
calculated to convey the actual effect of the fire of the
batteries to our friends at home was a vision of
the Potteries' district as it is seen at night, all
fervid with fire and pillars of smoke, out of the
windows of an express train. This glimpse of the batteries,
brief as it was, proved extremely satisfactory. On
the extreme left. the French batteries were firing with
energy on the long line of batteries in front of the
loopholed wall, and on the Flagstaff and Garden Batteries,
which were replying very faintly and feebly by one
or two scattered guns. Our left attack (Greenhill or
Chapman's Batteries), working with vigour and
precision, was principally directing its fire against the
Redan, which only answered by five or six guns, which
did not appear to be remarkably well served or aimed.
Our right attack (Gordon's Batteries), aided by the
advanced battery and by the French redoubts, had silenced
the Mamelon, and fired some three or four shots for
every one from the Round Tower, and the Russian
batteries to the right of the Mamelon were voiceless.
So much could be seen when rain and mist set in once
more, and shut out all from view, save one faint blear
of yellowish haze to the west." The writer concludes
his letter at half-past eleven at night. "The rain has
ceased and the night is fine. A tremendous cannonade
has raged along our lines since six o'clock, to which the
enemy reply feebly. Great quantities of shells have
been thrown into the place within the last four hours.
Some trifling affairs of advanced posts have taken place
in the ravines, but as yet there is no appearance of a
strong sortie. The Russians seem to lack ammunition.
No fires are visible in the town, nor can it be ascertained
if the cannonade has caused much damage. The
trumpets of the artillery of the third division have just
sounded close at hand, and I must cut short my letter
for the present."

The latest intelligence of the progress of the siege is
contained in a despatch from Admiral Bruat to the
French Minister of Marine. The Admiral says:—"In
front of the central tower we have carried a series of
ambuscades, and have established ourselves in these
works, which are now comprised in our lines. We have
crowned a ravine in the same direction, which runs
along the fortifications of the town, where the enemy
formerly kept its reserves in safety. Before the
flagstaff bastion we have sprung mines, at a distance of
about fifty metres. This operation having perfectly
succeeded has given us a new parallel, which has been
successfully joined to the others. From the 12th to the
14th, notwithstanding the offensive returns of the
Russians, we had only about 300 men hors de combat."

The commander of the frigate which brought the
Admiral's despatch from Sebastopol states that in the
camp the general state of affairs was considered very
satisfactory.

Eupatoria, which is garrisoned by Turkish troops,
has been strengthened by new works enclosing a large
circuit. On the 28th March the Bashi-bazouks made a
reconnaissance with signal success and signal ferocity,
fairly surprised the Cossack outposts and drove them
in; but out of about 400 engaged on either side, the
Bashi-bazouks only lost one man and two horses, the
Cossacks two men and three horses killed and one
wounded. The Bashi-bazouks behaved with
characteristic ferocity to the only officer who fell into their
hands. But the surprise was admirably managed and
the enemy was fairly defeated.

The correspondent of the Daily News, in speaking of
this affair, gives a remarkable description of these
irregular troops, the Bashi-bazouks:—

"Attempts to discipline these men are useless. They
must be taken and used as they are, or not at all. They
do the work of scouts excellently; they would annoy
and alarm the enemy, threaten his convoys, harass
infantry, &c., as well as any Cossacks, but they can
never be prevented from plundering, burning, slaughtering
the wounded, unarmed, defenceless. Three days
ago, about four in the afternoon, the Bashi-bazouks
went out, two or three hundred strong, pushed over
the plain to the left, came suddenly on the Cossack
outposts, drove them in, and opened a smart fusillade with
the supports. The Cossacks were repulsed, three or
four were knocked over, and, as they lay on the ground
wounded, were massacred without mercy. An officer,
whose horse became unmanageable, found himself
surrounded by half a dozen. He fell under repeated
blows of the lance and sabre; in one instant he was
despoiled of all that was valuable of his arms and