We had now some hard hitting almost every day or night. We commenced gradually to creep up to the doomed city--here a bit and there a bit, shots being continually exchanged. All the enemy's outworks had to be seized, and that was no child's play. The taking of their rifle pits was fearful work. It was all done with the bayonet, in the darkness of night. For the information of my non-military readers, I will just explain what rifle pits are. They are holes, large or small, constructed in various ways, and manned by crack shots, who tormented us considerably by picking off our artillerymen and the sailors manning our heavy guns; for if anyone showed his head above the parapets of the trenches he was almost certain to have a hole made in it. The taking of these pits was, as I have said, fearful work, and was all done with the bayonet, no quarter being given or taken. This work is generally undertaken by volunteers from the various regiments that happen to be in the trenches at the time. I volunteered to form one of these "nice little evening parties,"--but I wished to go no more; yet, had I been ordered, I would have gone, for I had rather die a thousand deaths than be dishonoured. In a few words I will try and describe the method of capturing rifle pits. About 100 or 150, sometimes 300 or 400, men would be formed up at the point nearest to the pits to be assailed, all hands sometimes taking off their accoutrements; at a sign from the officers who are going to lead, the men would creep over the top of the trench and steal up to the enemy on "all four's;" not a word is spoken, but, at a given signal, in they all go, and, in less time than it takes me to write this, it is all over--the bayonet has done it's work; the defenders are all utterly destroyed or taken prisoners, while the pits are at once turned and made to face the enemy, or are converted into a trench. Therefore, with this sort of work going on, I think I am justified in saying that hard knocks were given and taken almost every night. As far as the camp was concerned, things began to look much brighter. Thanks to the kind-hearted friends at home, we now had plenty of good food, and sickness was on the decrease. We had a few petty annoyances, such as being compelled to wear socks, and to pipe-clay our belts so as to make us conspicuous targets for the enemy. As for the fighting, we had plenty of that, but we managed to get over it, I think, as well as our forefathers had done. It was "give and take," but we generally contrived to let the enemy have "excellent interest." The following letter, giving additional details of the fighting on March 22nd, may be of interest here:-- Camp before Sebastopol, March 29th, 1855. My Dear, Dear Parents,