This is the darker side of the picture. It had a brighter one, and not a few of those who, entering the hospital with but frail hopes of recovery, are now restored to health and strength, will ever recognise with gratitude the tender care and constant attention of which they were the objects at the hands of the overworked and scantily rewarded men, on whom was thrown so fearful a responsibility of life and death. And in their humble prayers for their benefactors at the throne of grace, Iwr name assuredly will not be the least fervently uttered, who, quitting the luxuries and refinements of an English home, braved on her errand of mercy with unquenchable fortitude the fury of the elements, and the stealthy attacks of the pestilence that walketh in darkness; whose gentle hand soothed the fevered brow, and whose consoling accents calmed the troubled spirit in the hour of distress and anguish — who stayed not day or night in her ceaseless labour of love, until she herself well-nigh fell a victim to her care for others.
The drawing represents the Sick Wharf at the moment of embarkation, and the spectator is supposed to be looking in the direction of Kadikoi and the Camp. The Naval Officer in charge, in the foreground, who is supporting the sick soldier into the boat, is Lieutenant Goss. On the right of the picture is Dr. Costello, and behind him Dr. Anderson. The large building on the hillside, in the background, is the General Hospital at Balaklava.
PLATE XXIV.
A QUIET NIGHT IN THE BATTEEIES. A Sketch in the Greenhill Battery (Major Chapman's), 29th January, 1855.
This picture forms the pendant to that entitled, "A Quiet Day in the Batteries," which has already been noticed. A full moon pours its broad calm radiance on the landscape, shedding " beauty and deep softness " even on the stern interior of a battery. The brightness of the atmosphere renders alike impossible the stealthy sortie of the garrison and the furtive labours of the working party, and the guns, which have neither friend to shelter nor foe to repel, have stilled for a moment their iron-throated clamours, and left free utterance to the truer and holier, but too often unheard, "voices of the night." Leaning against the traverses, or stretched on the ground, with a gun-platform for a pillow, the defenders of the work are enjoying a repose troubled by no dreams of coming strife; a group of officers, amongst whom, wrapped in.his
THE EAST.
ami^le capote, is the field-officer of the night, are whiling away the long hours in pleasant chat; while a few of the more wakeful among the men are seated round the cheerful blaze of a fire, enjoying the benign influence of the soothing weed, or absorbed in reveries of which the distant home and the absentloved are the ever-recurring theme.
Sebastopol is not visible, but the direction in which the guns are pointed sufficiently hints its position. The gun on the right is distinguished as No. 1 gun, No. 2 battery siege train; it weight 56-cwt. and throws an 8-inch shot; but its powers are in abeyance, and the sand-bag with which the breach is muffled is emblematic of the lull in hostilities. Cape Chersonese is seen in the distance; and the silver- white waters of the bay, studded with ships lying peacefully at anchor, complete and sustain the unbroken tranquillity of the scene.
PLATE XXV.
THE CAMP OF THE SECOND DIVISION, Looking East, January, 1855.
This is a companion picture to that of the First Division Camp, and, like it, requires but little explanation. The main features of the landscape are the same, relieved, however, by the bold forms of the high range of hills in the background. The camp of the First Division is now seen in the distance, on the far edge of the plateau, and between it and the windmill is a camp of Zouaves. This windmill was one of the most conspicuous landmarks in the position, and of inestimable value to a bewildered wanderer amongst the mazes of tents which stretched for miles away in every direction, with a provoking uniformity not unfrequently puzzling to the "oldest inhabitants" of the camps. Not the least comfortless among the numerous sufferers from the rigour of winter in this Ishmaelitish form of existence were the wretched horses, which may be seen picketed in various directions amongst the tents, and exposed to the bitterest weather, with but scanty clothing at the best, and too often with none whatever. Of the results of this al fresco stabling, with the thermometer below zero, we have already had a striking illustration. At this period many attempts at huts were beginning to spring up about the camp, but want of transport and the long distance from Balaklava rendered it almost impossible to bring up the wood for roofing them; and tents, as the reader will perceive, were still in a decided majority.