Soyer's Culinary Campaign: Being Historical Reminiscences of the Late War.: With The Plain Art of Cookery for Military and Civil Institutions

mind and get up again; for,” said he, “joking apart, though the pony is very quiet, recollect the road to Balaklava is a queer one, therefore take care of yourself. We should not mind so much if we had done with, you; but as we really require your services, for our own sakes take care of yourself.” “I will do so,” said I, laughing, “were it only for the sake of your pony, which might get loose if I were to fall off, and you might not recover him again.” “Never mind the pony,” said he: “you may lose him; but, whatever you do, don’t lose the saddle. We had better have a bit of supper on your return this evening, off that Yorkshire ham--you can cook it on your bivouac stove.” “So we will, Doctor. I shall be back at six.” “Don’t stay in the camp after dark; I can assure you it is a very dangerous place. Robberies and murders are of frequent occurrence, though we hear but little about them. We have no police, and no newspapers are published here, so we know nothing but what passes in our own circle.” “You are perfectly right, Doctor; though I am not afraid, as I never travel without a revolver; yet it is best to be upon the safe side.” Having fixed upon six o’clock for my return, and seven for supper, I started. There were about twenty convalescents outside the wards, enjoying the warmth of the sun’s rays. They were all in high glee at hearing our dialogue, which seemed to revive them from a state of lethargy to the consciousness of life. The ride from the top of the Genoese heights to Balaklava harbour, by a new road, through mud, over rocks, rivulets, &c., and mounted upon a strange nag, was anything but pleasant to my feelings as a horseman. At all events, after numerous slippery evolutions on the part of my new charger, I found myself safe at the bottom of the ravine; but here another difficulty presented itself. The quay of the harbour was encumbered