After making a long détour, a sentinel let us pass. As we were nearer the Woronzoff Road than the Cathcart Hill Cemetery, we went in that direction, and took up our position to witness the grand spectacle. For some time a profound silence reigned amongst the troops, who seemed as though they were buried in the trenches. The weather, which had been fine the preceding days, and even till sunrise on that eventful morning, suddenly changed. In a short time the elements assumed a threatening aspect, and a furious tempest raged in every direction. A clouded sky had replaced the azure blue, the fierce gusts of wind raised thick clouds of dust, which rolled majestically towards us like a moving castle, blinding every one for a time. The cold air chilled everybody, and was so violent that one could scarcely keep one’s saddle, or see twenty yards in advance. Showers of hail burst here and there over the now excited and infuriated camp and Sebastopol; the scene of action was almost invisible. It appeared as though the evil genius of the storm had on that glorious day attached his seal of destruction to that desecrated spot. Even the sun (_l’ami Soleil_), the world’s friend, seemed to fear to face this scene of horror and desolation, and while smiling upon the remainder of the mighty globe, had, in appearance, withdrawn from the harrowed city of Sebastopol. Suddenly the batteries opened fire in every direction, shaking the very soil on which we stood. Clouds of smoke enveloped the besieged city. Not a thing could be seen or heard but a continuous rolling noise similar to that of an earthquake. All at once the noise ceased, and the rattle of musketry was heard, with, at intervals, cannon and mortar shot. By degrees, thanks to the heavy gale, the atmosphere got clearer, and by the aid of a telescope one could distinctly see the French flag floating from the Malakhoff, and the troops mounting to the assault. An hour had scarcely elapsed when the news was brought of the capture of the Malakhoff by the French, and of the Redan by the English. Aides-de-camp were flying in every direction; and numbers of wounded were on their way to the hospitals. We quitted our post to go to the General Hospital, in order to see whether our services were required. As we were crossing the English camp, a corpse was borne past us, carried by four soldiers. Upon inquiry I learned, with sorrow, that it was the body of Colonel H. R. Handcock, whom, a few days before, I had had the pleasure of entertaining at my kitchens, with his young and very interesting wife. The latter had been an eye-witness of the assault, and I was informed that, by the greatest imprudence, the mutilated body of her husband had just been uncovered before her. She fainted at the sight, and was borne to her residence, where she lay for some time dangerously ill. This will account for the sudden alteration in her appearance before mentioned.