I had seen the fields of the Alma, Balaclava, and Inkermann, and, in fact, everything of importance since the commencement of the campaign, but I had never seen anything to equal the sight that presented itself that morning; the enemy lay in columns as they had stood, or in places pile upon pile, four or five deep, in every conceivable position that mind could imagine. The Minie balls had done some fearful work. Into that part of the trench on our right, manned by the Rifles, Guards, and Highlanders, the enemy had, in spite of the terrible fire, entered, but they were there met by the bayonet, and never went back to Holy Russia. The trench was in places completely choked, the dead lying heaped up level with the top. Some of our nice boys joked the Guards and Highlanders next morning about leaving no work for the doctors, and some of those "feather-bed gentlemen" replied that they liked to do things well--they had been taught the first point. People may say what they like about our Guards, but they have proved themselves on many a hard-fought field very devils, particularly in a close fight. Again I found opportunity to write to my parents, as follows:-- Camp before Sebastopol, June 28th, 1855. My Dear Parents, Just a few lines to inform you that we have got out of debt. My letter of the 18th told you of the terrible thrashing that the enemy gave us that morning. Well, we have met them again, and paid them off for it; and I think we have proved that we can hit just as hard as they can. On the 26th, about 11 p.m., they made a general attack all along our trenches--both French and English. We were ready for them, as they were for us on the 18th, and have paid them off in their own coin. It lasted about three-quarters-of-an-hour, and they have left close upon 4000 upon the field, dead and wounded; they boasted that they were going to put us into the sea; I for one, had a strong objection to this, as I cannot swim. I never before saw our men fight so spitefully. Volley after volley was poured into their advancing hosts, and then, with a ringing cheer for old England, we closed upon them with that weapon they so much dread. Some of our men's bayonets were bent like reaping-hooks, which was a clear proof of the work we had been at. Although they beat us for once, we let them know that the Lion was on the war-path, and that he was well roused. I think out Allies got out of debt too, for they stuck to them well; we can always tell when they are winning, for they do not forget to shout. Our men are as quiet as a lot of lambs until the bayonet comes into play, and then it's three British cheers, and sometimes three times three. The sights all over the field next morning, (the 27th), were horrible. We had a flag