The party now proceeded through the French and English camps which surrounded Sebastopol. Miss Nightingale expressed a wish to have a peep into the besieged stronghold, and a column was formed to escort her to a convenient point. Some sharp firing was going on, and as the visitors approached a sentry in much trepidation begged them to dismount, pointing to the shot and shell lying around, and remarking that a group of people would attract the enemy to fire in their direction. Miss Nightingale laughingly consented to seek the shelter of a stone redoubt where she could view Sebastopol through a telescope. From this vantage ground she obtained an excellent sight of the doomed city, being able to discern the principal buildings and to see the duel of shot proceeding between the allied armies and the enemy. Miss Nightingale was in an adventurous mood, and proposed to go still farther into the trenches up to the Three-Mortar Battery. Her friends Mr. Bracebridge, Dr. Anderson, and M. Soyer were favourable to her wish, but the sentry was in a great state of consternation. “Madam,” said he, “if anything happens I call on these gentlemen to witness that I did not fail to warn you of the danger.” “My good young man,” replied Miss Nightingale, “more dead and wounded have passed through my hands than I hope you will ever see in the battlefield during the whole of your military career; believe me, I have no fear of death.” The party proceeded and, arrived at the battery, obtained a near view of Sebastopol. M. Soyer was in his most volatile mood, and relates that the following incident occurred: “Before leaving the battery, I begged Miss Nightingale as a favour to give me her hand, which she did. I then requested her to ascend the stone rampart next the wooden gun carriage, and lastly to sit upon the centre mortar, to which requests she very gracefully and kindly acceded.” Having thus unsuspectedly beguiled Miss Nightingale into this position, the irrepressible Frenchman boldly exclaimed: “Gentlemen, behold this amiable lady sitting fearlessly upon that terrible instrument of war! Behold the heroic daughter of England--the soldier’s friend!” All present shouted “Bravo! Hurrah! hurrah! Long live the daughter of England.” When later Lord Raglan was told of this incident, he remarked that the battery mortar ought to be called “the Nightingale mortar.” While in that elevated position the heroine was recognised by the 39th Regiment, and the men set up such ringing cheers as wakened echoes in the caves of Inkerman and startled the Russians in Sebastopol.