I remained in England until the following January. Then, being quite re-established in health, I received orders to rejoin the _Princess Royal_ off Sebastopol. It was while I was at home that the news of Balaclava and Inkerman arrived. Many of our friends and relations were laid low on those battlefields. I can well recall the wave of mixed joy and sorrow that swept over England as the detailed accounts came slowly to hand. My uncle, Lord George Paget, at the head of his regiment, the Fourth Light Dragoons, commanded the second line in that fatal and memorable charge, where his regiment was well-nigh destroyed. It was to him, as he was riding off the field, that were addressed those words by the French Marshal, which have since passed into proverbial use: “C’est magnifique; mais cela n’est pas la guerre.” One of Lord George’s troopers, who (I think) was his servant, was made prisoner, and for some reason was taken before the Tzar of Russia. Observing the man standing six foot two in his stockings, His Imperial Majesty inquired what regiment he had belonged to, and, being told that he was in a Light-Cavalry regiment, said, “Well, if you are a Light-Cavalry man, what the devil are the heavies?” I took passage to the Crimea in a hired transport, and we sailed from Plymouth early in January 1855. We carried a few troops, and a large quantity of stores for the army. Touching at Gibraltar and Malta, we arrived at Constantinople after a three weeks’ passage. I shall never forget my first sight of the entrance to the Golden Horn. Those who have seen it will bear me out when I say that of its kind the view is second to none in the world. It was a beautiful still morning, and as the sun rose and reflected its golden rays on all the minaret towers and the great edifice of St. Sophia, one seemed in fairyland. The caiques, the colouring, the costumes, and the novelty of this oriental scene--all enchanted me. Before leaving England I had been told to quit the transport at Constantinople, and to report myself on board the _Carodoc_, the man-of-war appointed to our Ambassador as his despatch vessel. I was most kindly received by dear old Derriman, the Captain, who told me to present myself up at the Embassy, where Lord Stratford de Redcliffe wished me to stay until I could get a passage to rejoin my ship on the Black Sea.