The most

In the Crimean War I had several relatives. distinguished soldier of these was Sir Colin Campbell, afterwards Lord Clyde. I have explained in my previous volume the story of his early life and of his connexion with my grandmother-I have a cousin now alive who went to the Crimea with a letter of introduction from my grandmother to Sir Colin. When this cousin of mine visited my grandmother, she said to him, "When Colin Campbell left he gave me a seal, and he promised that whenever I sent him a letter sealed with that seal, he would do, if in his power, whatever I asked him—I am now going to seal my letter of introduction with that seal." My cousin, Duncan MacNeill, took the letter and went to the Crimea. He joined his own regiment, the Scots Greys; and now he tells me in his happy, whimsical way what he did or rather did not do-with the letter. He never presented it to Sir Colin. "I argued," he says smilingly to me, "I argued to myself in this way : If I present the letter Sir Colin will put me on the staff, and I shall have to leave my own regiment. I will stay where I am." So he remained with his own men, and took part in the siege of Sebastopol.

When Sebastopol fell, he was among those who entered the fortress to occupy and guard it. He was full of curiosity to see the small defence-chambers which the Russian soldiers had used, and he obtained leave to examine one. Soon after he came out, a young English officer was seen to emerge from one of these dens: he had a book in his hand. The commanding officer hailed the young man, and demanded the book. It was It was given to him. The commanding

officer glanced hastily over its pages and, looking up, he said, "I don't suppose that many of you can read Russian ; but here is a curious thing. This book which has been left behind by the Russian soldiers is a Russian translation of Dickens' Pickwick Papers." So our opponents in the Crimean War were able to amuse themselves during the long hours of the siege with the works of an English writer -probably the most popular writer of the time. It is a happy omen when the interchange of literature can continue between peoples even in time of war. The brotherhood of letters is a bond of peace, and it is a deplorable thing that Germany should have used up so much literary energy in sowing seeds of distrust and hostility during recent years. This has added a bitterness to strife which had no counterpart among the combatants in the Crimean War.

The story of the Crimean War was, like most of our wars, a story of stupefying blunders. The sufferings of our troops in the Crimea were great, and the surprising part of the matter was that they were needless. For long the troops suffered in patience, but at last the tale of their pains and privations became known. Public opinion demanded inquiry, and in deference to it, two commissioners were appointed. One of these was Sir John MacNeill, whose brilliant and heroic work in Persia had done so much for British influence there as his comrade in the commission Colonel Tulloch was appointed. They set off for the Crimea, animated by the simple desire to report truthfully and advise as wisely as they could for the health and feeding of the army. They were not welcomed too warmly by the officials of the army, who felt that their efficiency was

questioned by the appointment of the commission. Like all who are conscious of shortcomings they resented inquiry. In spite of difficulties a report was drawn up. It was inevitable that it should call attention to blunders and negligence. Supplies were in Balaclava harbour, while the soldiers were suffering from want: food in plenty could be had from Black Sea ports. Our troops were starving amid plenty, because the transport was inadequate and the commissariat unintelligent. It was the usual story of wellintentioned blundering. The commissioners had done their work they presented their report to Parliament; and then the curse of political partisanship began to show itself. To shield some cabinet minister from blame, the facts brought to light must be obscured, and to do this the commissioners must be disparaged. Military pride, which had resented a parliamentary inquiry into army affairs, joined with political necessity to belittle or ignore the services of men who had, at the bidding of Parliament, undertaken a difficult and ungrateful task. Further inquiry was demanded, and to appease official jealousy and to protect discredited incompetency the further inquiry must be conducted by the military. This was the device of incompetency to cover uncomfortable facts. To crown all, the commissioners who had made their report were to be summoned before the new board of inquiry as though they were accusers instead of authorized investigators acting under Parliament. The position was absurd. Either the commissioners should never have been sent, or they should have been supported. Parliament had sent them: the Government had acquiesced and had sanctioned their mission, and now that difficulties

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