Pushing aside the grass and rank weeds, we found the names of many friends, and with the aid of parasols and sticks, cleared some graves from the tangled growth of years, and planted upon them tufts of sweet-scented thyme and a little blue flower very like the forget-me-not. From some we gathered a few coarse wild-flowers, and even blades of grass, to bear home to mothers whose hearts are still aching for the brave young dead who have but a soldier's grave so far from home and from those who loved them. Many we had known well, in the brightest hours of their youth and happiness, were sleeping here in bloody graves. No words can adequately express the depression of spirits which must come after passing hours in going from burial-ground to burial-ground, only to see where those, once so loved in life, so honoured in their death, now lie--uncared for, unthought of--in cemeteries that, instead of being evidences of a nation's gratitude and reverence, are now untended and forgotten, a tangled mass of weeds, and but fit homes for the jackal and the fox. Leaving the Woronzoff road on the right, we came to a knoll, or patch of rising ground, from whence an excellent view of the town can be had. It was here that the non-fighting visitors usually took up their position, for not only could a good general view of the camps and town be obtained, but, with glasses, it was easy to see the people walking in the streets. The road passes by a small village, where, standing in the midst of some neat enclosures, with a well-filled farmyard at its rear, is a low one-storied house. This unpretending little building was once the head-quarters of the English staff, and here poor Lord Raglan breathed his last. Notwithstanding the severe losses and sufferings that were caused to its owners by their home and property being seized by the enemy, Monsieur and Madame B---- receive with kindness and hospitality any English who may wander here. We are, however, at present the only foreigners who have visited Sevastopol this year. In a small sitting-room a marble slab has been let into the wall, over the place where the bed stood on which Lord Raglan died. In the wood of the folding doors are cut the names of Field-Marshal Lord Raglan, General Simpson, and Sir William Codrington. The temporary grave in which the body of the noble old soldier was placed previous to its removal to England, has also been well cared for. Willows hang over the spot, and it is surrounded by a border of rose-bushes and flowers.