The Tcherné divides here into several channels, all too shallow for the boat, so we landed, and establishing ourselves under some large trees, found a pleasant shelter from the sun, whose rays had now become both fierce and overpowering. We spread our breakfast on the grass, close to a delicious little ford, where the water, quite put out of temper by the impeding stones, dashed and tossed itself about in sparkles of brilliant rage. At length, throwing itself down in a fierce little set of passionate cascades, it recovered its calmness, and quietly subsided into the gentle stream beneath. Can anything be more beautiful than such a stream? and what delight greater than to rest thus under the shadow of great trees, watching the sunshine as it plays on bank, and tree, and meadow, and to know also one is far away from the working, weary troubles and pleasures of the world? Seated on the warm, dry turf, we passed a couple of hours very luxuriously, and somewhat idly. In fact, some of the party indulged in a little slumber, a weakness quite to be forgiven, for the day and place seemed alike made for repose. Not a breath stirred the air, the leaves hung motionless on the trees, the bees hummed drowsily among the flowers. The very birds were silent, the reed-sparrow alone sending forth her monotonous piping note from some neighbouring bushes, and the tinkling sound of the falling water made the most soothing music imaginable. However, after a time we crossed the stream by means of the little ford, and ascended the cliff to the church and village; but church and houses were alike deserted. The door of the former was locked and the houses were empty. Not a soul was to be seen anywhere. We hunted about some time in hopes of finding the key--for we had been told the chapel was well worth seeing, and contained some curious old pictures--but in vain. The door was so old and shaky that a vigorous blow would have broken it open, but not thinking so felonious a mode of entrance suitable to the character of the edifice, we walked back towards Inkerman by a path that gave us beautiful views of the valley and mountains. The village of Inkerman no longer exists; a few blackened walls alone mark its site. The battle was fought on the rising ground immediately above the valley, and the earth still retains many memorials of the bloody strife. Half buried in the soil, close to a low wall, we found part of a broken sword; and any number of flattened bullets, buttons, and portions of soldiers' decorations could be easily had by digging up the earth with parasol handles or sticks. On the highest point has been placed a simple stone monument to the memory of all the combatants who fell in that terrible struggle. English, French, and Russians there share alike in the honour of that fatal day; and truly a soldier's glory seems but a very little thing.