Aware that the General--now Sir John Jones--was the siege and trench engineer, I thought that he referred to my wild expedition when I lost my way in the blood-stained labyrinth. I was, however, quite mistaken. He informed me that it was in Ireland, when I opened my kitchens in the year 1847. I then recollected the circumstance, as I had myself shown him round the kitchens, and explained the method and the process of cooking by steam for ten thousand people, if required, with only one furnace, and by means of steam-pipes connected with a double boiler--a plan, I believe, still in use in many large governmental and civil institutions.[19] I gave Sir John to understand what great pleasure it afforded me to hear of such reminiscences, and inquired if he intended to go for a ride as far as the First Division. “No, Monsieur Soyer,” said he, “I don’t think I can. In fact, I have to be in the trenches, where I shall be happy to see you when you have fixed upon the spot for your field-kitchens.” “I thank you, general, for your kind invitation, but would rather see you out of them, and a good distance off, particularly as a person is more exposed to the fire of the enemy on entering or leaving than when inside.” Finding that I had hardly time to go as far as the French head-quarters, I went to the kitchen and inquired what there was for dinner. The _chef_ was named Nicolo, and had lived with Sir George Brown. The horses were at the door in readiness for the general. All the Staff were in attendance before the house, some sitting on the steps, others standing. Among them were Generals Barnard and Airey, Colonels Steele and Blane, Captains Colville, Lindsay, &c., with whom I conversed upon various matters, especially upon my long stay at the Reform Club. General Barnard, as usual, was very talkative and witty. When Colonel Steele saw General Simpson coming, he called to me to mount, and a few minutes after we set off to the First Division. On our way, we conversed upon various topics, particularly respecting a poor fellow named Harvey, who had been shot in his tent during the night. A ball from one of the enemy’s long-rangers had fractured both his legs, and he died a few hours after receiving the wound. The most remarkable part of the occurrence, as I told the General, was this:--The person who usually occupied the spot got drunk the night before, and was put in the guard-house: this saved his life. The ball made a hole about two feet deep at the very spot where he generally slept, every inch of room being turned to account in the tents. He must have been smashed to atoms, had he been there. The man who was killed had his legs close to this spot, and the shot falling in a slanting direction, cut them both off. The general said he had heard that a man had been killed during the night, but that he was not aware of the circumstances.