War with Russia was at this time expected. Writing so many years later, I can only attempt to describe, from memory, all I then thought, and the pride I felt that I should possibly see active service soon. There was an innate dread of leave-taking--of parting from home for the first time--more especially of separating myself from my mother, a lady beloved by all her children. That was a thought scarce bearable. Many who read those lines will realise too well how sad such moments are: perhaps the saddest that fall to one’s lot. Yet, painful as they are, they have their consolation: as showing the love between mother and son. The more this sentiment is impressed on the youthful mind, the greater the gain in after life; for when the mother is not present, there comes the echo of sweet counsel ringing in the heart, inspiring the wish to act as she would desire--she, the help and guidance in all trouble. CHAPTER II THE “PRINCESS ROYAL” I joined the _Princess Royal_, commanded by my uncle, Lord Clarence Paget, and found that beautiful 91-gun line-of-battle ship lying at Spithead, preparing for sea. The family butler was deputed to see me safely on board and report on his return. He had been long a servant of my father--I believe he had been his valet at Cambridge;--and many were the hours he had spent with my brothers and myself ferreting and hunting with terriers; and we were all much attached to him. It was blowing a fresh gale when we took our wherry from the Hard at Portsmouth, and the double-fare flag was flying on the official tower; but go we must, though our boatman seemed to suggest that we should have a bad time of it outside; and so it turned out, for, besides being drenched to the skin on a cold December day, the butler and I, when we got alongside the noble ship, were sea-sick. My first obeisance to the Quarter-Deck--(I had been warned to be very particular about this)--must have lacked finish. My troubles were not over with that ceremony. I had hardly finished saluting the officer of the watch when a blue-jacket fell from out of the main-rigging on to a quarter-deck gun within a yard of me. He was killed instantly, and the sight was very painful. This was a sad beginning. My next step was to go below and endeavour to look pleasant on being introduced to my messmates. Many were the eyes I felt glaring at me to see what the new cadet was made of. Didn’t this poor boy wish himself elsewhere? Once in my hammock that night, I was thankful to find myself in seclusion. [Illustration: H.M.S. ‘Princess Royal,’ of 91 guns, 1853.]