At length we arrived at Kamiesch, which I had so long seen from my quarters, but could not reach before, owing to the engrossing nature of my occupations. This French town of pasteboard, or light wood, was so different from Balaklava, that I cannot give my readers a better idea of it than by stating that it bears the same resemblance to Balaklava that Ramsgate does to Boulogne in the height of the season. The traffic, business, markets, restaurants, cafés, billiard-rooms, theatre, &c., display the difference of character between the French and English, as forcibly as Balaklava does the English from the French. It was really remarkable to see the type of two great nations, such near neighbours, on the same foreign soil, so far from their native homes, so distinctly preserved, while the people agreed so well together. Some of the restaurants were pretty good, very expensive, not very clean, but always full. Money seemed of no consequence, as every one tried to get it out of you if you were rash enough to eat, drink, or purchase anything. The sea-port was very fine; Kamiesch, flat, sandy, and unpicturesque. Balaklava was a perfect garden; Kamiesch a well populated desert. The evening of the 7th of September was a memorable one. Each mind was animated; men of the most pacific disposition were transformed into lions or tigers, furiously seeking to devour their prey. Amidst the most terrible discharges of cannon, the order for the general attack was announced to the troops for the following day. The news acted like an electric spark, and inspired all hearts. Each soldier appeared to breathe more freely; hope, the enchantress, filled the hearts of the brave with enthusiasm; fear was unknown; all faces were radiant with lust of glory and vengeance. Having heard that the attack was to take place, at midday I visited the French camp with my Zouave, where we found the same animation and excitement. One of the soldiers said to my Zouave: “By all the camels in Arabia, Bornet, are you coming to join in the dance? If you are, I invite you for the first quadrille; but you must play the clarionet (slang term for gun). Here’s a chance of having your portrait spoiled--it just suits me.” “What do you think of it, governor--shall I go?” “It is impossible, my dear fellow, for me to oblige you upon this occasion, as your services will be more useful to-morrow, when no doubt, whichever way the victory may turn, the hospitals will be full. Therefore I hope you will forgive me for saving your life against your will. I am sure, if you had a chance, you would be the first to mount the breach, and consequently the first to be knocked over.”