After a march of an hour a halt took place for fifty minutes, during which Lord Raglan, accompanied by a very large staff, Marshal St. Arnaud, Generals Bosquet, Forey, and a number of French officers, rode along the front of the columns. The men of their own accord got up from the ground, rushed forward, and column after column rent the air with three thundering English cheers. It was a good omen. As the Marshal passed the 55th Regiment, he exclaimed, "English, I hope you will fight well to-day!" "Hope!" exclaimed a voice from the ranks, "sure you know we will!" Many sick men fell out, and were carried to the rear. It was a painful sight--a sad contrast to the magnificent appearance of the army in front, to behold litter after litter borne past to the carts, with the poor sufferers who had dropped from illness and fatigue. However, the march went on, grand and irresistible. At last, the smoke of burning villages and farm-houses announced that the enemy in front were aware of our march. It was melancholy to see the white walls of the houses blackened with smoke--the flames ascending through the roofs of peaceful homesteads--and the ruined outlines of deserted hamlets. Presently, from the top of a hill, a wide plain was visible, beyond which rose a ridge darkened here and there by masses which the practised eye recognised as cavalry. It was our first view of the enemy, and we soon lost sight of them again. On the left of the plain, up in a recess formed by the inward sweep of the two ridges, lay a large village in flames; right before us was a neat white house unburnt, though the outhouses and farm-yard were burning. This was the Imperial Post-house of Bouljanak, just twenty miles from Sebastopol, and some of our officers and myself were soon busily engaged in exploring the place. [Sidenote: FIRST SKIRMISH WITH THE COSSACKS.]