Captain Morisot and I were invited to go to dinner one day at San Stefano with a party of Russian officers; but, much to my disappointment, something interfered with the engagement, and I missed the only chance I ever had of meeting the famous Skobeleff, who was then quartered at the little port on the Dardanelles. I found Morisot a delightful companion; and now that we were not oppressed with hospital duties, I had plenty of time to enjoy his society. His career indeed was a most romantic and interesting one. He had been shut up in Metz with Bazaine during the Franco-Prussian war, seven years earlier; and when the much criticised marshal capitulated, Morisot became a prisoner of war with the rest of the garrison, and was sent away to Stettin on the Baltic. Though the prisoners were carefully watched, Morisot, who spoke English like an Englishman, managed to arrange a plan of escape; and one dark night he and another French officer eluded the guards, and pulled out in a dingy to a small Scottish schooner, trading between Glasgow and Stettin. The skipper, who was a "braw mon fra Glasgie," and hated the Prooshians with a deep and deadly hatred, received Morisot and his companion with enthusiasm, and landed them after a fair passage at Copenhagen, where they were given quite an ovation. The Schleswig-Holstein affair was still fresh in the minds of the Danes, and they were delighted at the opportunity of doing honour to men who had drawn the sword against Germany. Morisot afterwards went to England; and when the Russo-Turkish campaign broke out, he hurried to Constantinople in search of further adventures. Animated as he was by the true spirit of a soldier of fortune, Morisot found a scope for his energies afterwards in the ideal field of military adventure. "Ex Africa semper aliquid novi," wrote an old historian; and the dashing young Frenchman, recognizing the truth of the remark even in these days, went to the Cape. A feeling was creeping over me that it was high time I had a rest after all the storm and stress of battle; and when a letter came to me one day from my mother, who was in England, I packed up my things on a sudden impulse and stepped on board the Messageries steamer _Gamboge_. Among my fellow passengers were Mr. and Mrs. B---- P----, who were bound on a trip through the Holy Land, and left us at Smyrna. I also met again Admiral Sir William Hewitt, who had entertained us on board his ship the _Achilles_ before I went to Erzeroum. He and I occupied the same cabin on the voyage.