The light division landed at Old Fort in the Crimea. There was no opposition from the Russians, not one of whom was visible, except some Cossacks on a distant hill. We marched only a few miles from where we had disembarked, and halted in what appeared to be a stubble-field, but, as darkness had come on, it was difficult to know where we were. While we were in this state of perplexity, it began to rain. I was dressed in, I believe, the identical coat in which I had appeared at the Tuileries ball, which was uncomfortable for even a drawing-room, but quite unsuited for a wet night in a ploughed field. For hours the rain continued, and we were all wet through. The men, in the morning, managed to light a fire, and one of them brought me a mug of hot rum and water, which was most delicious. What kindly fellows these private soldiers were in those by-gone days! I daresay they are the same now, but I only testify to what they were then, from my experience of them. In a day or two we got our tents and were comparatively comfortable. One night some firing was heard, which was taken up by the whole line of sentries. What an excitement it was! Stevens and I shared the same tent, sleeping on the ground, without light of any kind, in total darkness. When the hurly-burly began--the buglers sounding the alarm, followed by the assembly--we both jumped up, and struggled to get our shakoes, which, of course, had hid themselves. Scrambling in the dark, our two heads came bang against each other, and nearly floored us both, but at length, after a fall over the tent ropes, we reached my company. One of our staff-sergeants was an excitable man. It is reported of him that on that night he rushed about with a drawn sword in a most frantic way, and nearly knocked over a bugler, who, seeing this wild man rushing at him, fell on his knees, exclaiming, in terrified accents, ‘Spare me, spare me, I’m a frind!’ This was our first scare in the Crimea, and was caused by some horses having got loose and surprised the sentries. The story of the Crimean War has been told so often that I am not going to inflict the oft-repeated tale on my friends, but only mention a few facts which are not universally known. It was the day before the battle of the Alma, when one of my brother officers was taken very ill with symptoms of cholera. There was a small house, I think a post-house, near our bivouac, and my friend took refuge there. He had not been long established in these humble quarters when a staff officer came and informed him he was sorry he must turn him out, but that Lord Raglan’s head-quarters had been fixed there, and that his lordship was then approaching.