Wardroom officers gave a dinner to our Generals and staff. Sat down sixty-three: some speeches made and much harmony. [Sidenote: Jan. 30.] 1 A.M.--Made the Khersonesia Light. 2.--Came to between the _Algiers_ and _Agamemnon_, the latter flying the flag of Sir Edmund Lyons, off Sevastopol Harbour. Went on board; found Admiral in bed. At 8, Generals and self breakfasted with him, and then shifted round to Balaclava. [Sidenote: Jan. 31.] [Sidenote: Feb. 1.] Generals disembarked this morning. I also landed, and picked up Wenny Coke, who had a bad cold. Put him on our sick list. The Generals returned on board to dinner. I had brought some Southdown sheep, knowing how welcome they would be. After breakfast guests off to their respective posts. On landing near the head of the harbour, found the snow a foot deep, with the exception of the foot-trodden paths. The Royal Marines occupied the lower ground. To the north, above them, were the Guards, and on higher land were the 93rd Highlanders. I was looking for Sir Colin Campbell. The first person I came up with was a long soldier, without coat or jacket, braces hanging down his back, carrying a bucket of water in one hand, and lugging a goat up with the other. He accosted me with, “How are you, Keppel?” I replied, “All right, thanks,” and passed on. On arriving at the Guards’ ground, the first person I saw standing at his tent door was friend Mark Wood. While chatting, the soldier with braces down passed. I asked, “Who is that soldier? he seems to know me.” Wood said, “Of course he does; that is Prince Edward of Saxe-Weimar.” I found Sir Colin Campbell on the high ground, his jacket flying open as if it were summer. Our meeting was cordial. I asked him whether he would have his Southdown cut up, or whole. He preferred it home fashion, with the saddle. I got him to tell me whether it was true he had refused to form square to resist the Russian Cavalry at Balaclava. He said a double line of Highlanders was enough, and if I did not mind the snow he would show me the Russian horses. Seeing the carcases lying in the snow, I remarked I was not aware that the Russians docked their horses so close; he said it was done by the French, who took them to make bouillon soup. When I got down I was anxious to write my name in Lord Raglan’s book, and inquired my way to headquarters. A soldier informed me that at the next bend on the right I should find “a dead horse and a nasty stink on the left. The same all the way up.” As “all the way up” was four miles, I preferred returning to the ship. [Illustration: “_All the way up._”] [Sidenote: Feb. 2.]