While these stirring events were taking place among the mountains, I had made arrangements to quit the hospitals at Sistova and proceed with a detachment of Russian troops to the front.

 

The evening before my departure I received a most unexpected and interesting letter from my friend U. Biquitous, the effects of which were so surprising, and I may add unparalleled, that I cannot forbear quoting it. After a few of those sage reflections in which Biquitous is prone to indulge, he went on to say:—

 

    “You will be surprised to hear that there is some probability of my meeting you shortly, as I have become a special correspondent, like yourself. My paper, however, is an illustrated one, an Irish weekly of some merit, named the Evergreen Isle, which will now, it is expected, advance to the front rank of such periodicals. I purpose using the pencil as well as the pen, and, unlike you, and subject to no restrictions of any kind. I have carte-blanche, in fact, to draw what I like, write what I please, go where I feel inclined, stay as long as I may, and quit when I must. Veracity is no object. I am told to keep as many servants and as large a retinue as I find convenient, and to spare no expense. For the duties of this situation I am to receive no salary, but am at liberty to pay my own expenses. The honour of the thing is deemed more than sufficient compensation.

 

    “In virtue of this appointment I went recently to see and take notes of Her Majesty’s famous ironclad turret-ship, the Thunderer. Knowing how much you are interested in the navy of England, I will relate a little of what I saw, premising, how ever, that although strict veracity is not required of me, I am, as you know, a man of principle, and therefore impose it on myself, so that whatever I say in this letter in regard to this splendid man-of-war may be relied on as absolutely true.

 

    “Well, then, the gallant captain of the Thunderer, who is said to be one of the best disciplinarians in the service, and to have done many a deed of daring in the course of his adventurous career, received me very kindly. He is every inch a sailor, and as there are full seventy-three inches of him, I may be excused for styling him a splendid specimen. In consequence of my being a friend of a friend of his, the captain invited me to spend several days on board. During my stay I inhabited the captain’s ‘fighting cabin,’—and this, by the way, reminds me that I was introduced to a young lieutenant on board, named Firebrand, who says he met you not long ago at Portsmouth, and mortally offended your mother by talking to her about the Thunderer’s crinoline! The ‘fighting cabin’ is so styled because it may be inhabited in safety while the ship is in action, being within the ship’s tremendous armour plating. In times of peace the captain occupies a large handsome cabin on the deck, which, although made of iron capable of resisting winds and waves, and beautifully furnished, is nevertheless liable to be swept bodily into the sea if hit by the giant shot of modern days. A corresponding cabin on the port side of the ship constitutes the ward-room. This also might be blown to atoms, with the officers and all their belongings, if a shell were to drop into it. But the officers also have places of refuge below while in action.

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