portunity of writing these few lines to you. I hope you have received my last letter and that this one will find you all in good health, as it leaves me at present, except a touch of the ague, which is not a pleasant companion. ... We remained pretty quiet after the affair of the 25th ult., until the morning of the 5th of this month. It had been raining all the day before and all the night, and was dark and still raining heavily when we heard a bell in Sebastopol give three dull tones. It was then about four o’clock. The bell was immediately followed by heavy volleys of musketry and the loud booming of artillery. We then began to harness and soon marched to the scene of action, which was extended right and left as far as the eye could see. It was a reinforcement trying to get into Sebastopol; but we promptly replied and before nightfall routed them, although with a considerable loss on our own side. I have not heard the exact number of killed and wounded, but that you will learn from the papers..... We lost on that day General Strangways, who had a leg taken off by a shot just below the knee and died soon after. Gen. Cathcart was killed on the spot. Lieut. Col. Townshend was also killed, as well as nearly every officer belonging to the Rifles. Col. Simpson is severely wounded in the arm. Altogether our loss was very great, but I have since heard that the Russians loss(sic) ten men to our one. We took 1700 prisoners, the flags of a regiment and seven brass guns. We have been expecting another attack, but they have kept quiet as yet... We have now been twenty two days battering at the place, and there is no mistake that the town is in a most shattered condition. Yet, as fast as our fellows dismount the enemy’s guns they are replaced with others. I cannot tell how much longer they will hold out, but we expect every hour to receive the order to storm the town. We wish it would come now, for the troops are tired of waiting.... I have often thought of you all when I have been lying by our bivouac fire, and of the hours I have spent in that once happy home of childhood. O, my dear father, memory will often bring back those by-gone days that will never return; and many is the time when on our march we have lain down for an hour or so, with our horses bridles over our arms, our hat for a pillow and the sky above for a blanket. Then I have had sweet dreams of home. I have seen you all as in the days of old, and have felt happy. But, alas! how soon did it all melt away.”
[See over for illustration of “The Soldiers Dream” by the poet Campbell, probably written during the poet’s five years’ residence at St. Leonards].
