ill. The day passed as it generally does when persons have been so

roughly nursed by the mother sea. The dinner was probably excellent, but no one could tell--not even myself. Towards night, the rolling waves grew a little more sociable; so we entered into conversation, and the wine and grog circulated freely. The captain, like all captains who have never been sick or drowned, laughed at us, saying we were bad sailors.

“The title of ‘good sailor’ I am not ambitious to merit, captain,” said I.

Next morning, I was on deck walking to and fro with the captain; the night had been a little calmer than the previous one, but very foggy.

“Bless my soul!” said he, “what a bother it is we left Balaklava so late. It is just like his lordship--we never know when we are going to start. I would not give a fig for a voyage of pleasure at sea: business men, sir! business men for navigation. All is calculated and goes right; but for the present I don’t know where we are, it is so foggy. We are not far from the coast; but we can’t for the life of us get in, even if we were abreast of the entrance of the Bosphorus. We ought to have got under way, as I proposed, at nine o’clock. Have you good sight, sir?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Well, look with this glass to the right; I fancy I see the land about seven or eight miles off.”

“Yes,” said I; “the fog is clearing off on that side, and I believe it is the land.”

“In that case,” said the captain, “we are nearly thirty miles out of our way. Though it is very provoking, we may thank our stars the weather was more favourable than the night before.”

It was now nearly five A.M., and the dew was falling very fast. Feeling chilly, I went below, and reposed for a short time upon the sofa. Being thirty miles out of our course gave me time for a good rest before entering the Bosphorus; upon making which I was, at my request, called up. As the sun rose, the fog cleared off, though slowly; the captain made out a landmark, and found that we were, as he had before said, about thirty miles out of our course. The _London_ was fitted up in a princely style; she had two funnels, and was very long. She rolled very much during the voyage, though the sea was not very rough; her being short of ballast was probably the cause. At all events, it made Miss Nightingale very ill.

However, our troubles were now at an end; we were slowly entering the mouth of the Bosphorus, amidst a shower of pearls, which gathered in millions upon the rigging and the deck. This was a great relief to us, after the grey fog and thick fine rain--besides being unaware of our exact position, and floating at hazard on the sea; though, thanks to the caution and watchfulness of the captain, we had been in no danger. It was like the opening of a fairy scene; the clouds were slowly disappearing, disclosing to our fatigued and overstrained eyesight the unique panorama of the Bosphorus. Its strong current appeared to overpower the steam, and we seemed to have come to a stand-still. The thousands who have returned from the arid and devastated soil of the Crimea, under its burning sun, must have enjoyed the refreshing sight I have here attempted to describe. Even Miss Nightingale had enjoyed it from her cabin. She had been removed to the beautiful saloon upon deck, where she had a good view of the enchanting panorama, and appeared almost recovered from her fatiguing voyage; which proves how near pain is allied to pleasure, and _vice versâ_, particularly as refers to sea-sickness. Miss Nightingale requested to see me. I went and inquired after her health, which, she said, had improved since we entered the river. She then referred to various things she wished to have in her extra-diet kitchen, and to numerous other matters of importance connected with the hospitals. I requested her to keep her mind quiet, and to depend upon me.

“No doubt, mademoiselle,” said I, “I shall not have the pleasure of seeing you for some time, and I would certainly advise you not to go out till you are quite restored to health: I will, therefore, send you a journal of my daily proceedings by Mr. or Mrs. Bracebridge, whom I, of course, shall see every day.”

“Exactly, Monsieur Soyer; but I hope I shall soon be able to go about.”

“So do I, mademoiselle, but do not attempt it before you are quite well; and I can assure you, if I were your doctor, I should be very strict with you, as I hear you are more inclined to devote your kind attention to patients than to yourself.”

She smiled, and replied, “Well, Monsieur Soyer, one is much more gratifying to my feelings than the other.”

I then spoke about Lord Raglan’s visit, and expressed my regret at not having waited longer for him.

“I certainly did not expect to see him,” said Miss Nightingale.

“Ah, you may expect anything from his lordship, he is such an amiable and gallant man.”

“So he is, Monsieur Soyer; and he has always enjoyed that reputation.”

We were at last before the Great Barrack Hospital; the anchor was let down, breakfast was served, and highly relished by the assembled guests. The _chef_ had distinguished himself upon a dish of semi-grilled and devilled fowl, an omelette aux fines herbes, &c. &c.; and thus ended our voyage on board the _London_. We returned our hearty thanks to the captain, doctor, and all on board, for their kind attention to us, and for the extreme kindness shown to Miss Nightingale; saw our luggage landed, and went on shore. Miss Nightingale would not land till the afternoon, the heat of the sun being so powerful.

Having apprised Lord W. Paulet of our arrival, I went my way, and Mr. Bracebridge his. At five o’clock we again met at the landing-place, and went for Miss Nightingale. One of the large barges used to remove the sick, manned by twelve Turks, was brought alongside. As the roof nearly reached the steamer’s bulwarks, Miss Nightingale was easily lowered upon it. Mrs. Roberts was kneeling at her side, and holding a white umbrella over her head. We went below; the sailors gave three cheers; and our dismal gondola soon reached the shore. Upon landing, the invalid was carried upon a stretcher by four soldiers, accompanied by Lord W. Paulet and Staff, Dr. Cumming (who had visited her on board), followed by an immense procession, to her private house--at which place all dispersed.

I do not recollect any circumstance during the campaign so gratifying to the feelings as that simple, though grand, procession. Every soldier seemed anxious to show his regard, and acknowledge his debt of gratitude to one who had so nobly devoted her soul and comfort to their welfare, even at the risk of her own life.