Soon after the commencement of the action I rode over towards Ibrahim Bey's redoubt, taking Lauri, the newly arrived German artist, with me. As we rode along together a Russian shell struck the ground about a hundred yards in front of us, and, ricochetting, flew over our heads and lodged in the ground behind us. Lauri was tremendously excited. He rushed off and picked up the shell, which he held in his arms as if it was a baby, exclaiming at the same time in his broken English, "I am forty-three years of age, and this is the first time that I haf seen a gun fired. Ah, what would my wife say if she could now see me!" With some difficulty I induced him to moderate his transports and drop the shell, which I was afraid every moment would explode and dissipate poor Lauri into space. By keeping on the lee side of the hill and dodging up at intervals we could catch glimpses of the "mammoth battery" scarcely a mile away, and could see the spirts of flame enveloped in white smoke as the guns were fired in a tremendous volley. Sometimes the shells struck the redoubt, and clouds of earth flew up; while at other times the projectiles went screaming over the crest of the hill, and fell in the low ground near the town. I occupied myself in my hospital for the next few days, riding out at intervals to watch the progress of the bombardment, which was being prosecuted with terrific force. On the 10th the village of Radishevo, where the Russian batteries were in position, caught fire, and the conflagration lit up the wet grey sky in the east. Little damage was done to our redoubts, and the artillery preparation was so far a failure.