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the front, could not have acted effi. them to abandon some of their vehicles. ciently against musketry in a thick Those left on the plain were immediwood; the artillery themselves could ately submitted by the artillerymen not have acted at all; and our own and dragoons to a rigorous examinainfantry, with the exception of a small tion. They appeared to contain the body of the rifles, which presently fol- wardrobe of some luckless cavalry lowed the hussars to the front, was officer. Blue jackets, trimmed with still some miles in rear. Luckily black fur, and laced with silver, silthe enemy, far from adopting any ver sashes, smart shakos, marked such bold measure, at once took to with the number “12" in silver, and flight, the meeting being no more ex- gorgeous shabracks, were among the pected, and much less desired, by him spoils. There were also fine shirts than by us : and our horse-artillery, and other garments, a looking-glass debouching into the open space, opened in an inlaid tortoise-shell case, which at once on the rear of the fugitives, I tried in vain to tempt the captor to who, in their baste, left some car- sell me (he said if he was spared he riages with baggage and ammunition hoped to look at himself in it in Engon the plain.
land) and a sort of altar-piece, in a On this small plain, which is sur- great wooden case with folding doors, rounded by trees, stands a large which, being thrown back, disclosed white house, known as Mackenzie's a goodly assemblage of saints and Farm. From Sebastopol a road crosses sacred personages, whose figures were it at right angles to the one we had gilt'; wbile their faces, appearing come by, ascending very steeply from through holes left in the metal, were the plains below, on the side of the beautifully painted on ivory behind. city, and descending again on the left There was some concealed machinery after passing the farm. Down the by which the figures were moved. My road to the left the troop of borse-artil- own share of the spoil was a large lery (Maude's) pressed in pursuit, and bucket filled with corn attached to came up with some infantry, who, one of the carriages, into which my turning on the skirts of the wood, horse immediately plunged his muzfired a volley, which did no damage, zle, having had but short rations for and ran into the bushes ; when the some days past. artillery, unlimbering, opened with By degrees the divisions of infantry case shot, and killed several. Some came through the wood, and formed of the Scots Greys, dismounting, went on the plain. The cavalry, coming skirmishing through the wood, and back from the pursuit, brought in a about a dozen Russians, throwing few prisoners, mounted on Russian themselves down and pretending to carriages, with some pairs of nice be dead, rose after they were past
and horses. An officer was taken, to fired on them, for which discreditable wbom the Duke of Cambridge put ruse they were, as they deserved to some questions in French about the be, all put to death.
late battle. “Ah," he said, “our men In the mean time, all the artillery fought well enough, but 'tis of no use was brought into the open space and your infantry are the best in the placed in position in both directions, world." so as to open on the force that had Before we resumed our march, a passed us if it returned, or on any dull deep roar was heard behind us, other body which might be following and from amid the trees ascended a it. Going to the edge of the plain column of smoke, itself in shape like opposite the side we had debouched a magnificent tree, its rounded outfrom, we found ourselves on the edge lines spreading, like white foliage, of a steep cliff descending to the plains high and wide. This was the explobelow, along which was retreating a sion of an ammunition waggon of the train of carriages which, cut off by our enemy, which Captain Fortescue of advance, had turned back by the road the artillery bad been ordered to blow they came. A gun was moved down up. Then the divisions moved in this road, and some rounds were fired, their accustomed order of march down with no other effect, however, than the steep chalky hill, on the preci'accelerating their flight, and causing pitous side of which were numerous VOL. LXXVI.-30. CCCCLXX.
carts and waggons, upset by those our allies, following in our steps, were who had fled back by the road they encamping there. came. The march was slow, and the It is not easy to define the object stoppages, from the carriages and of the Russian troops in thus sallying waggons halting on the steep, free from Sebastopol. Probably it was quent; and, though evening was ap- done with a view to operate in the proaching, we still had to traverse woods in our rear during the siege, some miles of plain before reaching on the supposition that we should water. These plains had a surface of attack the fortress from our camp on chalk covered thinly with grass, amid the Balbek. But for the halt which our which the white dust rose in clouds artillery' made in the wood, it would at every step, and chalky hills were have debonched at Mackenzie's Farm, all around. At length, after a long across the middle instead of across and weary march, we reached the the rear of the enemy's column of river Tchernaya, which runs through route. Had the infantry been close, the valley of Inkerman, and pitched in sufficient force to support us, this our tents after nightfall, while the would have insured the discomfiture of rear divisions and batteries did not the Russians, and the capture of many arrive till some hours afterwards. prisoners. But, under the actual cirDuring the night, the redness of the cumstances, we may consider the balt sky above the heights on which Mac- fortunate, and console ourselves with kenzie's Farm stands, showed that thinking all's well that ends well.
CHAP. VII.-OCCUPATION OF BALAKLAVA.
On the 27th we only went about able fort. Presently ship's guns were four miles; but the consequences of heard from the sea. Our own contithe long and fatiguing march of the nued to fire from the height on the day before, showed themselves directly left, and dust flew from the walls we started. Men, fallen out of the where they struck; while the garrison, ranks, began to strew the roadside, instead of continuing to reply, ran many of them in the agonies of cholera; along the edge of the wall towards and, within a mile, I saw at least the sea, apparently in great agitation. fifty or sixty Highlanders lying ex- A party of Rifles, moving up the slopes, hausted. On this day Colonel Cox, entered the place and followed the of the Guards, seized with cholera, garrison along the wall, and a white was taken up on one of our gun-lim- fag showed that Balaklava had surbers, and, going on shipboard, died rendered, fortunately without any blood the same evening.
spilt; while a small English steamer, Before noon the first division halted appearing suddenly on the piece of at the mouth of a gorge between very water below, assured us that the harlofty hills ; and up the heights enclos- bour was our own, and our communi. ing it, the brigades of the light division cation with the fleet re-established. advanced, one on each side; while The manæuvre, now successfally some riflemen took possession of a accomplished, of transferring the army low pointed bill in the valley, crowned from the north to the south side of with a white house. From beyond Sebastopol, would, as before remarked, this hill we presently heard some of have been impossible under the old the guns of the light division, and the conditions of war. With a stationary smoke of others also rolled back over depôt north of Sebastopol, convoys the heights on the left, while a shell with munitions could not have been or two from the enemy burst over the taken past the fortress, unless guarded valley. The Guards were moved for- by detachments of such strength as ward into a village at the mouth of could not have been spared from the the gorge, down which appeared a army, and then only with constant piece of water like a small lake, closed risk of interruption and loss. To at the other extremity by a high bill transfer this depôt to the south side crowned by a long wall with towersof the fortress, in sailing ships, the looking in the distance like a respect- first condition must have been a
favourable wind; and, when the fleet being concealed by an abrupt bend. had obtained this and taken advan- I have seen something like it in the tage of it, the manæuvre, detected basins of the hills around Snowdon and from the fortress, would have been Cader Idris. Except at the upper exbaffled by the interposition of a Rus- tremity, where it grows shallow, it sian force on the land side of Bala- shelves down to an extraordinary klava. But, thanks to steam, the army depth close to the shore. Its greatest could afford to abandon its communi. width is about 400 yards. In the cations with the fleet on the Balbek, course of the afternoon many ships confident of resuming them at the came in and ranged themselves side point concerted; and the labours of by side close to the south shore ;the Russian engineers, long directed the Agamemnon, towering above the solely to resist the anticipated attack rest, looked like the old puzzle of the reel on the north side, were, by this un- in the bottle on a magnificent scale. expected movement, rendered un- The town, consisting of several narrow availing.
streets, stands on the south shore ; As Balaklava henceforth becomes the women, apprehensive of ill treata place of importance in the narrativement, had fled to the opposite side, but of the campaign, it is worth describ- a staff officer crossing to assure them of ing, and indeed deserves notice from safety, several boat-loads returned. its picturesque beauty.
Amongst them was a poor lady who The valley, extending less than a told me in French that she had left mile from the gorge to the edge of Sebastopol only the day before, “ to the harbour, consists of gardens, mea- escape from the English”: she subdows, and vineyards, the latter spread- mitted with exceeding good grace to ing a little way up the slopes on each the will of fate. Outside the guardside till the hard rock forbids further room were ranged in order the garricultivation. To the soldiers, long son to the number of eighty, with their accustomed to eat their ration, fresh venerable white-mustached command.' or salt, with the vegetable accompani- ant, prisoners of war, their arms being ment of rice only, the vineyards, rich piled on the ground in front. Behind with clusters of ripe grapes, and the the town the rock slopes very steeply gardens, abounding overhead in apples up to the wall and the towers at the and plums, and underfoot in pump- top. These, built in rude times, and kins, tomatas, and cabbages, all of unrepaired for centuries, are absolutely excellent quality, appeared a para- useless for defence. The ruinous dise. The last-mentioned vegetable towers seem ready to topple over with seemed especially agreeable to the the first footstep that ascends their military palate; and men of all arms broken stair; huge gaps yawn in the of the service might be seen crossing intervening walls; and the portions of the meadows, bearing on their shoul- the latter still standing show, by their ders long poles, on which whole rows thin parapet raised in front of a narof cabbages were impaled. Clusters row path, that they were intended to of trees were intermingled with the resist an enemy who knew not the use spots of tillage, and a small stream, of cannon. Nevertheless, at a distance filling wells as it went, flowed along these shattered stones wore an imposthe meadows.
ing and martial aspect, like an ancient The harbour, a narrow inlet of the sea suit of mail in an armoury. There winding between steep barren heights, were no guns in the place, and the looked more like a fresh-water lake shells fired at us were from a than an arm of the ocean, its mouth mortar.
ZAIDEE: A ROMANCE.
CHAPTER 1.—THE GRANGE. "Some call it the Uplands, sir, and dery sand, and the hidden shifting some call it the Grange-to us here- banks that make this shore so danabouts it is nought but the Squire's gerous, and without either beauty or house; that's the name."
interest to claim a second glance from Such would be the answer of the an unacquainted eye. Cheshire peasant of whom you asked The trees of the district are few and the designation of this old-established scanty; twisted and struggling oaks, family dwelling-place: it is both the Scotch firs, gaunt and defiant, bits of Uplands and the Grange in reality, half-grown hedgerow, and wild di, but the Squire's house, its simplest shevelled willows. On the sheltered and most common distinction, is suffi- side of this hill alone a young plantaciently satisfactory. The scenery tion fourishes; and under the shadow about is Cheshire scenery-nothing of these trees, closely folded into a grand or elerated certainly, but, after cozy nook of this strong-ribbed iron its bare, bleak, windy fashion, wild miniature of a mountain, lies the enough to please a moderate taste for Grange or Uplands, the Squire's house desolation. The principal feature in of the adjacent village, and the scene the landscape is a low rocky hill, of our tale. where a shelf of bare brown whin. The house is such a moated Grange stone, almost as hard as granite, alter- as Mariana herself might have inhapates with a slope of that close, slip- bited; a far-seeing, wistful, solitary pery hill-side turf, rich with thyme house, commanding long lines of road, and low-springing plants of heather, along which nobody ever travels. The with bits of cover and crow flower, freest heart in the world might pine and infant prickles of furze, which at one of these deep antique windows
, seems to seize and hold fast the and grow aweary of its life, looking warmth of sunshine better than the along the roads from the Grange; most velvet greensward. A strange, and the Grange stands straining all eerie-looking, solitary windmill, the its dark glowing eyes into the day and very picture of useless labour, flapping into the night, as if on constant watch its long solemn wings in the air, for the expected stranger who never crowns one dreary mound; on the comes out of the wintry windy horizon. other is a small round tower of obser- It is a rare chance, indeed, when vation, surmounted by a gallery, there is not a reddening of storming whence you can look out upon the the sunset which blazes upon this sea ; and the summit of this dreary uplying house-a still rarer joy when little hill
, and these two buildings the morning comes without the chill standing out abrupt and gaunt from breath
of a sea gale--and the sea ito its points, strike sheer upon the sky self could not witness a wilder riot of without a softening tree. To be so wind and brewing tempest than rings minute in real extent, and so slightly about the ears of the dwellers here elevated, the loneliness and silence of through many a winter night. The this place is remarkable; below it, à old house never wavers of its footing long stretch of pasture, the flattest for such an argument, but stands firm and least varied of Cheshire fields upon the little rocky platform over stretches away towards the bleak sand- which a lawn, which has been green banks and up featured coast–a trea- for centuries, 'mantles warmly, and, cherous shore, where the waves roll in stontly defiant of the winds to which strong and wild, with a tawny foam it has been used so long, sets its back and ocean force, but where there is against the bill, and holds its ground, scarcely either rock or headland-nothing but the border of dry and pow. the Grange is the moat, which in
In a semicircle round the front of
these peaceable days is nothing better ago, carrying his tray to the modern than a pond enclosed in broken ma- drawing-room-and as be opens the sonry, the evil qualities of wbich bit door, the modern luxury of a soft of half-stagnant water are numerous, Persian carpet appears just edging and would be more so in a less breezy the pavement of the hall. The wonlocality, while its sole good one is an der is, after all, that there is so slight innumerable crop of water-lilies; but an incongruity felt and visible beno one has the heart to destroy this tween the antique life, chill here withbit of antiquity, and every one is out in the ancient apartment, and the proud of the swan-like floating flowers. modern life, warm and full of comfort, Behind the house rises the rocky de- which meets it on the threshold of the fence of the bill, so sheltered here that modern room. it is green with the richest turf, and It is an autumn evening, and the draped with wealth of hardy, ruddy, whole family are assembled within. half alpine flowers. Fruit-trees and The room is large-very large for the blossoming shrubs do not refuse to dimensions of the house-stretching grow under this verdant shadow, and from the broad and heavy mullioned within the warm and well-defended window which looks towards the front, enclosure; and they say it is summer to the long narrow modern sashes in the garden of the Grange many a which open upon the green turf and day after the autumn winds are wild trim walks of the garden bebind. upon the dreary fields of the level More than one smaller room opens country, and when the last hollyhocks from this drawing-room, and the are dying in the cottage flower-plots family must be a tolerably affectionbelow. Modern requirements have ate and barmonious family, or it could made sad havoc in the regularity of the not bear such close neighbourhood. building-modern improvements, be- One door, which you would fancy to ginning in the days of Elizabeth, have open directly into the wall, opens inthrown out oriel windows, and en- stead into one of the oddest little larged casements, and built additions, nooks of building, as bright as daytill the Grange, though still not very light, all aglow with a great round large, is a cluster of houses, a domes- window, where, with fairy booktic chronicle of architecture in its own shelves and a miniature piano, with person, and has just that graceful little ottomans and couches, dainty medley of styles and periods, which, with their own needlework, the young with the ivies and mosses of old cen. ladies of the house bave made themturies, and the living flowers of to- selves a bower—for only the young day, combine to form the finest har ladies' maid, who is much the finest mony of a hereditary dwelling place. person in the family, calls it the boudoir.
Within, there is an old hall, no Just at the opposite end, running off longer used or possible to use in these at an angle, a low one-storeyed addidays. Remnants of old armour, a tion to the original house is the genfaded banner, and an emblazoned tlemanly retirement, the library, a coat-of-arms, give something of an larger, graver apartment- less gay cestral dignity to this ancient apart, and more comfortable; while the ment; but the modern servant, who mother claims as her own exclusive goes soft-footed across its echoing property, a door opposite the everstones towards one of those closed open door of the young ladies' room. doors, which break the wall, looks The matron's “ closet" is always strangely out of keeping with the closed, and is a sober, lady-like variegated pavement, the great wide housekeeper's room; so each separate chimney, and lofty window, which he interest having its separate possespasses in his way. No longer the rude sion in a cluster round the drawingretainers of an old Cheshire barony to room, it is less wonderful to find the make this vaulted roof ring again, whole family assembled here. and yonder old oaken table groan- You cannot mistake the lady of the one mild-spoken man of all employ, house in dignified possession of her little ments, in his rusty black coat and work-table and her easy chair ; but white neckcloth, like what the parish that rich gown of dim black silk, and vicar might bave been a hundred years that snowy widow's cap, coming close