At three o'clock the beautiful valley of the Katcha came in sight, formed by a ridge of hills clad with verdure and with small forests of shrubs, through which here and there shone the white walls of villas and snug cottages. The country over which we marched slid down gradually to the level of the river, whose course was marked all along the base of the hills to the stream by lines of trees, and by the most luxurious vegetation, forming a strong contrast to the barren and bleak-looking tract on which our troops advanced. Lord Raglan and his staff rode on considerably in advance of the troops, to the great astonishment and indignation of a Prussian officer (Lieut. Wagman), who loudly declared such conduct was quite opposed to the rules of war. Fluellen himself could not have been more angry at such disregard of martial etiquette than the gallant gentleman in question, and certainly we did show marked contempt for the enemy, and the most superb disdain of his famed Cossacks. Lord Raglan, his aides, his generals of artillery and engineers and their staff, his quartermaster-general and his staff, his adjutant-general and his staff, Sir John Burgoyne and his staff, and all the staff-doctors, actually came within a few hundred yards of the shrubberies and plantations at the river, a mile in advance of even the cavalry, and were riding on towards it in the same _poco curante_ fashion, when Captain Chetwode and his troop of the 8th Hussars pushed on in the front to reconnoitre. The Katcha is a small and rapid rivulet, with banks like those of the Alma; its course marked by neat white cottages, the most delicious vineyards and gardens, but no inhabitants were visible. Wheeling over the bridge, we turned eastward towards the little village of Eskel, on the left bank. The first building on the road was the Imperial Post-house, with its sign-post of the double-headed eagle, and an illegible inscription. The usual wooden direction-post, with a black and red riband painted round it diagonally on a white ground, informed us we were on our way to Sebastopol, distant ten miles. The road now assumed the character of an English by-way in Devonshire or Hampshire. Low walls at either side were surmounted by fruit trees laden with apples, pears, peaches and apricots, all ripe and fit for use, and at their foot clustered grapes of the most delicate flavour. The first villa we came to was the residence of a physician. It had been destroyed by the Cossacks. A verandah, laden with clematis, roses, and honeysuckle in front, was filled with broken music-stools, work-tables, and lounging chairs. All the glasses of the windows were smashed. Everything around betokened the hasty flight of the inmates. Two or three side-saddles were lying on the grass outside the hall-door; a parasol lay near them, close to a Tartar saddle and a huge whip. The wine casks were broken and the contents spilt; the barley and corn of the granary were thrown about