note-book upon a plank laid across a couple of barrels, under a scorching sun.
Returning from picket.
(Sketched by Col. Coleille.)
Dr. Russell put a little brass eagle in my hand.
"That is from the shako of a Russian soldier," he said. "I never saw such gallantry. The fellow rushed out of the column that came down on the Light Division, and which had thrown the Scots Fusiliers into confusion, and made straight for the standard of the Guards. He clutched the staff—swords and bayonets cut and pierced him, but he fought on; and Lindsay and others had to fight for it too. At last he dropped, and I brought this brass eagle, which Norcott's sergeant gave me, as a memento of one of the most persistent examples of hopeless bravery I ever witnessed."
When peace was declared he returned to England in the spring of 1856. He reached home late at night, and his wife led him quietly upstairs to a bedroom. She opened the door, and there stood his little ones in their night-gowns at the foot of the bed, singing: "Oh! Willie, we have miss'd you, Welcome! welcome home!"
"I had never heard the song before," said Dr. Russell, "and I thought it was some little ditty of their mother's teaching for my welcome. Imagine my disgust next morning, when sitting at breakfast, to hear a band of Ethiopian melodists outside strike up—'Oh! Willie, we have miss'd you!'"
Now, Dr. Russell's baptismal appellatiton is William.
He had not long been home ere he was asked to go out again to Russia to describe the Coronation of the Czar, the account of which he considers his best bit of writing.
"Whilst at one of the receptions at Moscow," he said, "I met a Russian officer, who spoke excellent English, who had been at Balaclava, and was much interested in the details of the day. In the course of conversation he said:—
"'I laid the first gun of my battery against a troop of your artillery so true, that when the shell burst, it blew the officer who was riding in front into pieces.'
"'Pardon me! You are mistaken,' I said. 'Permit me to tell you that Captain Maude, who was the officer who rode in front of that troop, is now standing close behind you!' Major, now General, Maude was indeed badly wounded by that shell; but he is now alive and well, I hope, and at the head of the Queen's stable.
"Returning home again, Thackeray and others suggested that I should lecture on the war. I did so, with Willert Beale as my impresario. I used to rchearse my lecture before a select audience—Mark Lemon, Shirley Brooks, John Leech, Thackeray, Delane, Douglas Jerrold, and half the Garrick Club, who used to introduce, 'Hear! hear! cheers and laughter' at appropriate places. At last the eventful night of the début as lecturer came. The scene was Willis's Rooms. I peeped into the vast room. Great Heavens! The hall was filled with Crimean officers. I recognised Lord Lucan, Lord Rokeby, Airey, etc. etc., all grimly expectant in front, and many familiar faces behind.
"'I can't go on,' I said.
