AT six the next morning I started, and made it my business to visit the kitchens in the Turkish and Sardinian camps, on my way home. At eight I made my triumphal entry into Balaklava. My return seemed to be quite an event, as it had not only been reported that I had lost three horses, but also that I had lost myself. I found, when I got on board the London—which was still vomiting forth troops, horses, guns, and projectiles of all kinds, to feed the voracious appetite of mighty, grand, but very unsociable and terrible Mr. War, with whom I had lately had the unexpected honour of being on a little too familiar terms—that every one had missed me for three days, and the last they had heard of me was that I had been seen going towards Sebastopol at the time the flag of truce was hoisted. No one had seen me return, and they concluded that poor Soyer had either been killed, wounded, or taken prisoner.

I was told that Mr. Bracebridge had been anxiously inquiring for me in every direction, and that P. M. had just gone in a great hurry to the telegraph office, to send word to head-quarters. Seeing the affair was getting rather serious, I set off at full gallop to stop him, and found him in the office, writing the following lines:—

“Monsieur Soyer has been absent from Balaklava these last three days, and has not been heard of. An answer will oblige.”

My unexpected arrival put him in good spirits. I convinced him that I was neither killed, wounded, nor taken prisoner, and having related my adventures, I inquired about business.

The first thing he told me was that Miss Nightingale was getting better. This I knew, having made inquiries on board. Then he informed me that Lord Raglan had visited her. This I also knew. Then that Thomas, my head man, had been all over the camp, hunting for me; that the hospital kitchens were all going on well. He next informed me that Dr. Hadley was morally in deep mourning, not so much on account of his pony, or even myself, but his saddle and bridle, which he said no money could replace, it having been made to order in London. I observed that I was worse off than he was, as from his kindness in lending me the pony, I had been so long away.

“But, P. M., will you be kind enough to jump on that pony, and go to him. Say I will see him in the afternoon, and of course that I shall be happy to pay for both pony and saddle.”

“I will do so; but he told me yesterday that he didn’t care a fig about the pony—it was the saddle he regretted.”

“When did he first hear I had lost it?”

“Why, not four hours after you left. Mrs. Seacole sent all over the camp for it, and some officers who were present at the time brought the news, at which every one laughed; but I assure you the case was getting very serious at last.”

“Never mind—À la guerre comme À la guerre—we must expect something a little out of the way in campaigning.”

“I tell you what, Monsieur Soyer, I began to think it was a great deal out of the way. You have only one life, like the rest of us, and you cannot be spared by us, not even to go to the Russians.”

P. M. started on his mission to Dr. Hadley, and I returned to the London, and wrote the receipt for the composition of the preserved vegetables, which I had promised to Commissary Filder, and took it over myself. On my way I met about a score of friends, or at all events persons who knew me, and had heard the false report. I was informed that Admiral Boxer was much put out about my absence, and at not receiving any tidings about me.

To my great astonishment, I met my secretary on foot, and at once inquired what he had done with the pony, making sure that he had lost it, or that he had been thrown, and the animal had run away, as it was a very mettlesome little creature.

“It is nothing of the kind; it was worse. The brute is marked ‘L. R., head-quarters;’ and before I reached Dr. Hadley’s house, a policeman stopped me and took it away, saying it had been stolen from Monsieur Soyer; and there was a regular row at head-quarters about it. The fellow wanted to take me up, though I told him I was your secretary. And mind you, had it not been for an officer—a friend of yours, who knew me—having dined with us on board the Robert Lowe, I really cannot tell how I should have managed.”

“Where is the pony now?”

“God knows. Perhaps that fellow has stolen it.”

“I hope not. Describe the man. Who was he?”

“A soldier, I believe; but let us go to the Commandant’s, and inquire, for I think he took the pony to the stable-yard.”

Upon making inquiries, we heard the animal had been sent direct to head-quarters. Thus terminated the adventures connected with my first interview with the good and benevolent Mrs. Seacole, whom I have ever since christened La MÈre Noire, although she has a fair daughter.

Before the evening was over I had visited the various hospitals, inspected a fresh arrival of provisions—particularly fresh vegetables, which were sent from Constantinople weekly, for the use of the hospitals and camp. These often arrived in a bad state, owing to the heat of the weather, which was intense. The difficulty of transport and distribution throughout the camps rendered the dry composition I had submitted to the Commissariat much preferable, more especially for issue to the troops in camp.

The great event during my unexpected and adventurous absence was the arrival of Lord Ward in his beautiful steamer, the London, filled with all kinds of provisions, to be gratuitously distributed among the soldiers, more as a luxury than a necessity. Provisions were not at this time so scarce as they had been—the soldiers were receiving ample rations. Facility and method in the cooking was what was most required.

THE 24TH OF MAY,—THE QUEEN’S BIRTHDAY IN THE HARBOUR OF BALAKLAVA.

At midday a royal salute was fired; shouts were heard in all directions, and about noon the band struck up “God save the Queen.” The ships were gaily dressed out with their flags, and this put every sailor in good humour. They were regaled with plenty of roast beef and plum-pudding, and abundance of rum. Tunes struck up in every direction—“Drops of brandy,” “Barley bree,” hornpipes, &c.; but the “Ratcatcher’s Daughter” would have been most in harmony. I was then dining with Captain Shepherd and a party of about ten, on board his superb ship, the Triton. When dinner was over, we left the jovial board to smoke our cigars upon deck. We went to breathe the fresh air, and to watch the frolics of the joyous but rather tumultuous crew, who were performing their nautical steps between decks, to the shrieking sounds of a damaged fiddle and still more damaging fiddler. The tunes we listened to produced upon our ears the effect we anticipated, but the air we were breathing quite the contrary effect upon our noses. Captain Heath, the harbour-master, who was then living on board, also gave a dinner-party that day; and as his numerous guests appeared upon deck, there was quite an array of naval and military men.

I seldom smoke, and I remarked that the air we were so anxious to breathe was anything but wholesome or agreeable. Thereupon the commander of the Diamond observed that an unpleasant odour arose from the sea.

“It does not come from the water,” I replied, “but from the shore.”

“What can it be, Monsieur Soyer?” said he.

“Don’t you know, captain—you who daily visit your naval hospital on the heights, that on that bank are the bodies of the poor unfortunate fellows lost in the Prince, and the sea has washed away the earth which covered them? Some of them are actually on a level with the ground.”

“Impossible,” said he; “I can’t believe it.”

“If you like,” I replied, “I will convince you of the fact.”

Some of those who overheard our conversation begged Captain Shepherd to let us have a boat, with which request the captain complied. It was a fine moonlight night when we started, and we soon reached the spot. The smell had disappeared; so he said I was mistaken.

“Not at all, captain,” said I. “Pray thrust your oar through the soil we are standing upon.”

It was covered with lime, and he did as I requested, and found that what I had stated was correct. We then returned on board, and mentioned the fact. All admitted that it was a dreadful thing, and might bring on cholera. Captains Heath and Shepherd observed that it was intended to throw a mound three feet deep over them, and that it was likely the heavy weather had washed away the gravel. The remains of some of these bodies were plainly visible, the most singular thing being their extraordinary state of preservation.

I noticed that the Board of Health were aware of this, and had taken sanitary measures by having great quantities of lime thrown over the remains. Captain Heath observed that the mound would very likely be completed the following day. I believe that such was the case, for a short time after I saw it was done.

This unpleasant discovery broke up our party sooner than was intended, but it did not disturb the mirth of the sailors; their fun lasted till daybreak. This corner of the harbour was seldom frequented, which no doubt was the reason that the exposure of the bodies had not been noticed sooner. In pointing out this fact to Colonel Hardinge, he observed that under the water his power ceased. Admiral Boxer’s nephew, who was there, remarked that above the level of the water he had no power; so that the tide, alternately washing over and receding from the bodies, led me to infer that neither the naval nor military authorities could remove the nuisance, as it must have been well known to many that the bodies from the wreck were deposited there.

The floating bakeries called the Bruiser and the Abundance were now ready to commence baking, and were visited by all the authorities—Lord Raglan, Sir John Macneil, Colonel Tulloch, Commissary Filder, Dr. Sutherland, the Admiral and the Commandant, &c. The vessels were so crowded, that Captain Thompson, with whom I had the pleasure of being well acquainted, expressed his fears of never being able to make a fair beginning. Good bread was at that time, I must say, the most important thing wanted. Bakeries were in course of erection at Kadikoi, so that between the steamers and them about twenty-five or thirty thousand rations could be made, producing a supply of bread four days per week, and the other three biscuit. No one could then wish for better field rations.

While at the Sanatorium, making inquiry about Miss Nightingale, I heard from the purveyor that the doctor’s advice was that she should go direct to England, when able to travel. My friend, Dr. Hadley, whom I was going to face boldly, and scold for causing me so much trouble with his saddle and bridle, had been waiting anxiously for my return. In despair, he had gone out in search of them. I therefore did not see, though I heard much about him.

Having met Mr. Parker, the clergyman, he informed me that he had been told that I had lost four horses in three days—viz., three myself and my secretary one, and that none of them belonged to me. Upon this I replied, “Therein lies the merit of being trusted. Had they been my own it would have been nothing, as any fool can manage to lose his own horse, but it requires a good deal of skill and standing in society to lose four belonging to other persons, in so short a space of time.”

My mishap afforded much amusement; and the standing jest in camp for some time was, “Who lost the four horses?” I was very anxious to know the actual state of Miss Nightingale’s health, and went to her hut to inquire. I found Mrs. Roberts, who was quite astonished and very much delighted to see me.

“Thank God, Monsieur Soyer,” she exclaimed, “you are here again. We have all been in such a way about you. Why, it was reported that you had been taken prisoner by the Russians. I must go and tell Miss Nightingale you are found again.”

“Don’t disturb her now. I understand Lord Raglan has been to see her.”

“Yes, he has, and I made a serious mistake. It was about five o’clock in the afternoon when he came. Miss Nightingale was dozing, after a very restless night. We had a storm that day, and it was very wet.”

“Pray go on, madam,” said I, seeing she made a pause.

“Well, sir, I was in my room sewing, when two men on horseback, wrapped in large gutta-percha cloaks, and dripping wet, knocked at the door. I went out, and one inquired in which hut Miss Nightingale resided. He spoke so loud, that I said, ‘Hist! hist! Don’t make such a horrible noise as that, my man,’ at the same time making a sign with both hands for him to be quiet. He then repeated his question, but not in so loud a tone. I told him this was the hut.’

“‘All right,’ said he, jumping from his horse, and he was walking straight in, when I pushed him back, asking him what he meant and whom he wanted.

“‘Miss Nightingale,’ said he.

“‘And pray who are you?’

“‘Oh, only a soldier,’ was his reply; ‘but I must see her—I have come a long way—my name is Raglan—she knows me very well.’

“Miss Nightingale overhearing him, called me in, saying, ‘Oh! Mrs. Roberts, it is Lord Raglan. Pray tell him I have a very bad fever, and it will be dangerous for him to come near me.’

“‘I have no fear of fever or anything else.’ said Lord Raglan.

“And before I had time to turn round, in came his lordship. He took up a stool, sat down at the foot of the bed, and kindly asked Miss Nightingale how she was, expressing his sorrow at her illness, and thanking and praising her for the good she had done for the troops. He wished her a speedy recovery, and hoped that she might be able to continue her charitable and invaluable exertions, so highly appreciated by every one, as well as by himself. He then bade Miss Nightingale good-bye, and went away. As he was going out, I wished to apologize.

“‘No! no! not at all, my dear lady,’ said Lord Raglan; ‘you did very right; for I perceive that Miss Nightingale has not yet received my letter, in which I announced my intention of paying her a visit to-day—having previously inquired of the doctor if she could be seen.’”

“No doubt,” I said, “his lordship quite enjoyed the fun.”

“I think he did, for they were laughing so when they went away. However, it did my mistress no good. She became very nervous afterwards, and was worse for a day or two; but she is doing well now. I am sure his lordship would be very sorry if he knew that such was the case.”

“That he would; for he did it out of pure respect and kindness.”

“Exactly. I never heard a gentleman speak more kindly to any one. But only fancy, sir, what fun for me to try to turn the Commander-in-chief out of doors.”

“How were you to tell who it was? And supposing you knew, even then you would have done right, as you had not received his lordship’s letter, and had special orders from the doctor to let no one in, not even Mr. Bracebridge.”

“Mr. Bracebridge came two or three times a-day. The doctors recommend Miss Nightingale to go to London as soon as possible; but, Lord bless you, sir! she will not be in a fit state for removal for a fortnight or three weeks.”

“I am sorry to hear that, because I should have liked to go back to Scutari with her. My field-stoves have not arrived, and Jullien, my head man at Scutari, has been ill; so I must look sharp after the hospitals on the Bosphorus, as my principal object in coming out was to set them to rights. In fact, I only offered my services for the Barrack Hospital, as I had not at that time heard of the others,—viz., Kululee, the General, and the Palace Hospitals.”

“You must not rely upon what I say, Monsieur Soyer; for we might be off sooner.”

“How are my kitchens going on?”

“Oh, very well indeed now, sir.”

“I am sure to see Mr. Bracebridge on board to-day; and when Miss Nightingale is better, I will come daily and make some delicate broth, pudding, or jelly for her. Doctor Henderson tells me that as soon as he can put his illustrious patient under my care he will do so; then I shall require your assistance, as I consider you an excellent extra-diet cook.”

The weather having set in fine, everything became more cheerful. Small dinner parties were given by the Guards and the Cavalry. Several gentlemen, at the head of whom was Colonel Carleton, clubbed together and engaged a man cook, who turned out a tolerable good dinner. He cooked almost al fresco. Those regiments stationed close to Balaklava fared the best, as they could procure provisions from the stewards of the vessels in harbour. Colonel Carleton, one of our modern epicures, whom. I had the pleasure of dining with while encamped there, gave us an excellent dinner; and, for several reasons, never invited more than five guests to dine with him:—firstly, from his good sense as a gourmet; and, secondly, having no room for more. Dinner invitations poured in from all quarters, both from sea and land. For some time, it appeared as if the champagne corks were firing instead of the cannon at Sebastopol, as the wind was in the wrong direction, and the report of the guns was scarcely heard at Balaklava. It took me about an hour every morning to write apologies to invitations—so numerous were they, and my duties would not admit of my dining out every day. Moreover, the medical gentlemen then strongly recommended moderation and care in the use of food.

There was, however, one unexpected invitation I could not decline. One evening, as I was returning late from the camp, I met several of the heroes of Balaklava; amongst these Colonel Peel and Major Cook of the 11th Hussars, with whom I had the pleasure of being acquainted at Scutari. They would take no refusal, so I was compelled to accompany them to their mess-room and dine with them, which invite I was not long accepting, requiring at the time no end of restoratives for myself and charger, after a hard day’s duty. It was indeed a splendid place for the Crimea—the camp being still in the infancy of luxury. A table was laid for sixteen guests, who had wisely opened a kind of club in a large hut. The rations were artistically turned to good account, and numerous little extras were procured from Balaklava, particularly fish. Two fine clout, or knotted turbots,[15] with the et-ceteras, gave an appearance of luxurious festivity; and though no one could boast of the elegance of the service, at all events there were a few plates, knives, and forks upon the table—at that time luxuries were not requisite. Good health—a ferocious appetite—lots of capital ale, porter, sherry, port, champagne—laughter, puns, and fun in abundance—witty anecdotes, and plenty of songs, good, bad, and indifferent, prevailed. The sixteen officers were joined by about twenty more after dinner. They sat down anywhere and everywhere, even out of doors. It was, in fact, the most martial festival I had seen during my visit to the Crimea, and quite cast in the shade our former semi-banquet at head-quarters.

It was midnight ere this jovial party broke up; and a few minutes after I was on my way home. The sentry on duty at the Col of Balaklava was calling out, with the lungs of a Stentor, “Who goes there?” to a group bearing lighted torches coming towards him; and several voices, in a mournful tone, replied, “Friends.”

“Pass, friends.” A sudden change of scene and sensation soon took place! On approaching the group, and inquiring what was the matter, I perceived four Sardinian soldiers bearing a sick officer upon a stretcher. He was followed by several others. The Sardinians at that time suffered terribly from fever and cholera, and their daily loss of men was something fearful. They were admitted to the General Hospital, as there was not sufficient room in their own.

Following the group with solemn interest as far as the General Hospital, I learned that the precious burden they were carrying was one of the bravest officers of this small though perfect model of an army. It was a Major Crossetti, in the bloom of life, his age only six-and-thirty, who was suddenly attacked by cholera; and Miss Wear (the head lady under Miss Nightingale) begged of me to go and offer consolation, as well as to interpret and explain to the doctors what his servant required. He had then only just been attacked. In less than two hours, the fatal malady had increased to that extent that no hope was entertained of saving him, though every attention had been immediately afforded. Alas! all was of no avail.

The contraction and sudden change of one of the finest and noblest military faces I ever beheld, graced by a beard of an auburn tinge, to the hideous transformation caused by that awful disease, will never be effaced from my memory, and is far too piteous to be described. I remained with him more than three hours, but he died during the night; his poor servant, a Savoyard, who had been with him from his boyhood, wept bitterly. Miss Wear, though very unwell, remained at his side till he had expired. He kept asking, his moist hand clasped in mine, “Pensez-vous que je vais mourir?”—Do you think I am about to die?

“No, no! impossible, so young!” I ejaculated.

“I would not care if it were on the field of battle; but I have done nothing for my country in this war.”

The words I addressed to him seemed to console him greatly. Miss Wear, however, informed me privately that the case had taken such a turn that nothing could save him.

A few days prior to my departure from the Crimea, my final reminiscence of this noble departed soldier was to see his name engraved on marble in letters of gold on the grand national Sardinian Monument so picturesquely situated on the summit of the high rock above the Sanatorium.

A few days after this, the London and its bridge was in more confusion than ever, and the landing of the Sardinian troops appeared a mere trifle compared with this unexpected movement. It was the departure of the fleet for Kertch, and the whole of the troops, horses, provisions, ammunition, &c., passed over our then almost uninhabitable City of London. I must say, the precision and celerity with which this fleet was embarked and despatched was admirable. The evening before, I had promised to go early and superintend the cooking of one of the regiments, when, to my great surprise, I found the colonel, his officers, and men upon deck just embarking. I was with them the afternoon before till three o’clock, and they then knew nothing about it. Admiral Boxer came and informed me that the London was to follow the expedition, and he was under the necessity of removing us, not much to our sorrow, for the everlasting thoroughfare made our nautical London very disagreeable; and it was with great delight that we left town for a quieter and better habitation, observing at the same time to the admiral, that I feared I was in disgrace both with the army and navy.

“Why so, Monsieur Soyer?”

“Because the Minister-at-War turned me out of London at a few days’ notice, and you, admiral, do the same kind of thing in as many minutes. You are about transferring me, it seems, to the Baraguay d’Hilliers.”

“Ah, and a fine ship she is, too, Monsieur Soyer.”

Sir John Macneil and Colonel Tulloch had quitted the Baraguay d’Hilliers, a very fine vessel, and we had their apartment in the state cabin, so called because it was so large and commodious. The Baraguay d’Hilliers was moored next to the Abundance, and so close that we were able to walk from one ship to the other, which gave me the facility of watching the process and system of that important floating bakery, as well as the perfection of its mechanism. The first two samples of bread made were, one very white, and the other rather brown. Captain Johnson asked me which I liked best. I replied, “The brown, by all means, for the troops; and I am sure that Lord Raglan, Sir John Macneil, Dr. Hall, and other competent gentlemen, will express the same opinion.”

“Monsieur Soyer, I must differ from you, for this is much finer and whiter.”

“It is because it is so white that I object to it. The change from almost black Turkish bread to the very white will create a bad feeling amongst the troops, who will fancy they have been imposed upon. For my taste, give me the whitey-brown; there is less show and more nutriment in it: besides, it is better adapted for the purpose.”

“Well,” said Captain Johnson, “for my own eating, I prefer the white; though I must say the other is very good.”

“Depend upon it, captain, the soldiers want food, not luxuries. I’ll tell you what I will do for you: I am going to head-quarters, and will take the samples to Lord Raglan and Dr. Hall.”

“I shall be much obliged if you will,” said he, “as we want to commence supplying to-morrow.”

On reaching head-quarters, I met Dr. Hall going to the general. I showed him the samples; we convassed their respective merits for a few minutes, and the Doctor was of the same opinion as myself. I saw Lord Raglan in the camp; and he said, “The whitey-brown, by all means. I never wish to have better bread upon my table.”

The good done by this bakery was incalculable. They baked from fifteen to sixteen thousand rations daily, with perfect ease. In justice to the system, I must say, it answered admirably. I carefully watched its progress, and though the quality of the bread often varied, which was entirely owing to the difference in the quality of the flour supplied—and this is unavoidable in so large a supply as is required for an army,—I can certify that the working of the flour in the bruiser, the process of manipulation, and the baking were carefully attended to. In the beginning, it is true, yeast could not be procured in sufficient quantities. At last, they discovered a way of making it themselves. It is due to their exertions to say, that the bakery at Kadikoi was not making as good bread as the Abundance. It is true, they did not possess the same facilities. We had made on board the Abundance several samples of bread-biscuit, which I had the honour of submitting to the Duke of Newcastle during his visit to Scutari. He tasted it both in its dry state, and also soaked in broth, three months after having been baked, and highly approved of it, considering it an excellent invention for the soldier’s camp meal, as well as for the navy.

This is the same bread-biscuit mentioned by a correspondent in the following letter, addressed to the Times.

Miss Nightingale and M. Soyer.
To the Editor of the Times.

Sir,—The sympathies of the British nation being at this moment directed to the army of the East, I feel that information as to the hospital department will interest many. Miss Nightingale returned to Scutari on the 4th inst., having left it on the 4th of the preceding month. Miss Nightingale, on her arrival at Balaklava, immediately began an active investigation of the state of the two hospitals there, as well as of the sailors’ hospitals and the field hospitals in the camp, in which she had the invaluable assistance of the Sanitary Commissioners and M. Soyer, as well as the advice and the moral support of Sir John M’Neil and Colonel Tulloch, commissioners, and of Dr. Hall and the medical staff. The affairs of the sisters and nurses were arranged, new huts built, kitchens erected and arranged, and a vigorous action in the whole department begun, with the full assent and aid of the medical officers, when Miss Nightingale was seized with the Crimean fever and carried up to the hut hospital on the Genoese heights.

She became convalescent after about twelve days, and was recommended to take a voyage to England; she, however, though in a state of extreme weakness and exhaustion, refused to entertain the idea of going beyond Scutari, trusting that she might be enabled the sooner to return to her advanced post at Balaklava. Lord Ward, with a generous perseverance in well-doing, forced Miss Nightingale to accept his steam-yacht the London, which was placed at her disposal on the 3rd inst., and in this vessel she happily and rapidly performed the voyage to Scutari. The Hon. W. Wellesley, Dr. Curgewan, Lord Ward’s medical man, Mr. and Mrs. Bracebridge, M. Soyer, whose enterprise has been associated with that of Miss Nightingale at Balaklava, besides Mrs. Roberts, chief nurse, and servants, were on board. Miss Nightingale was visited while sick by Lord Raglan at the huts, and again on board the London, and was received on landing at Scutari by Lord W. Paulet, Commandant, Dr. Cumming, Inspector-General, and Dr. Macgregor, Deputy Inspector. The house of the chaplain is placed at her disposal by the Rev. Mr. Sabin, and she has been offered the use of the British Palace at Pera by Lord and Lady Stratford de Redcliffe. Miss Nightingale is extremely weak, but has no remains of fever, and no danger is apprehended.

The sanitarium, in huts on the Genoese heights at Balaklava, is now in full action, and will accommodate about six hundred, at the elevation of seven hundred feet above the sea. The wounded are doing well there, and the kitchen has been perfected by M. Soyer. One of the large huts is used as a chapel, and the whole staff of medical men, purveyors, chaplain, sisters, and nurses (Mrs. Shaw Stewart[16] superintendent), are well chosen and practically zealous. A second sanitarium, on St. George’s Monastery heights, is ready for one hundred and fifty, and rapidly progressing. Good water is found in both situations.

In the General Hospital, above the head of the harbour, with its huts adjacent to the main building, about two hundred and fifty patients (chiefly sick) are attended (two huts being given up for cholera). The medical men are especially active there, the orderlies have been much improved in number and quality by recent regulation, the kitchen and chief cook have been recommended by M. Soyer, and the chief purveyor has shown anxiety to make ample provision of requisites, now happily to be found in abundance; but the situation is not a good one; the heat is great, and the crowds frequenting the purveyor’s stores inconveniently near to the sick wards. The sisters and nurses (Miss Warre superintendent) are actively employed, and inhabit a hut adjacent to the main building.

The ship Abundance, lately arrived, has its bakery at work day and night, turning out excellent bread, which will take the place of the sour and mouldy article often sent from the contractors at Constantinople. M. Soyer has invented a most important kind of bread, which seems to unite the advantage of the loaf and the biscuit, and has found out a method of cooking salt rations which makes them most palatable and entirely removes the salt. His receipts have been highly approved, and will be printed by the authority of head-quarters. The camp kitchens he has invented for field hospitals will soon be in activity, as those of the chief hospitals already are; but his suggestions and their application are of so practical and extensive a nature that they will require a second letter from,

Sir, your obedient servant,
C. H. B.

Scutari Barrack-hospital, June 7.

To the Editor of the Times.

Sir,—I shall do myself the pleasure of forwarding you by the next post a rÉsumÉ of my culinary progress in the Crimea, adding to it the promised receipts, as well as some of those which I have already very successfully introduced into the camps, made out of the rations issued to the troops. I am also happy to inform you, that though so close to Sebastopol, I have not yet met with a single enemy; and were it not for the continual roaring of the cannon, the bursting of shells, and the heat of the sun, I could fancy myself in England’s happy land. But instead of enemies, on the contrary, from head-quarters to every camp and regiment, the officers and medical gentlemen have rendered me the utmost assistance, so ready are they to improve the cooking of the food for their brave companions in arms. The provisions allowed by Government I consider bountiful, and only require to be applied to the best advantage. With the highest consideration,

I have the honour to be, Sir,
Your most obedient servant,
A. Soyer.

Camp before Sebastopol, June 3.