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earth, and above that a layer of gabions, and tar. Turning to the left, we proceeded by a above that a pile of earth again.

In one of these dungeons, excavated in the solid rock, and which was probably underneath the old White Tower, the officer commanding seems to have lived. It must have been a dreary residence. The floor and the entrance were littered a foot deep with reports, returns, and perhaps despatches assuring the czar that the place had sustained no damage. The garrison were in these narrow chambers enjoying their siesta, which they invariably take at twelve o'clock, when the French burst in upon them like a torrent, and, as it were, drowned them in their holes. The Malakoff was a closed work, only open at the rear to the town; and the French having once got in, threw open a passage to their own rear, and closed up the front and the lateral communications with the curtains leading to the Great Redan and to the Little Redan. Thus they were enabled to pour in their supports, in order and without loss, in a continued stream, and to resist the efforts of the Russians, which were desperate and repeated, to retake the place. They brought up their field-guns at once, and swept the Russian reserves and supports, while Strange's batteries from the Quarries carried death through their ranks in every quarter of the Karabelnaïa. With the Malakoff the enemy lost Sebastopol. The ditch outside, towards the north, was full of French and Russians, piled over each other in horrid confusion. On the right, towards the Little Redan, the ground was literally strewn with bodies as thick as they could lie, and in the ditch they were piled over each other. Here the French, victorious in the Malakoff, met with a heavy loss and a series of severe repulses. The Russians lay inside the work in heaps, like carcasses in a butcher's cart; and the wounds, the blood the sight exceeded all I had hitherto witnessed.

very tall snow-white wall of great length to the dockyard gateway. This wall was pierced and broken through and through with cannon. Inside were the docks, which, naval men say, were unequalled in the world. The steamer was blazing merrily in one of them. Gates and store sides were splintered and pierced by shot. There were the stately dockyard buildings on the right, which used to look so clean and white and spruce. Parts of them were knocked to atoms, and hung together in such shreds and patches that it was only wonderful they cohered. The soft white stone of which they and the walls were made was readily knocked to pieces by a cannon-shot.

Of all the pictures of the horrors of war which have ever been presented to the world, the hospital of Sebastopol offered the most horrible, heart-rending, and revolting. How the poor human body could be mutilated, and yet hold its soul within it, when every limb is shattered, and every vein and artery is pouring out the life-stream, one might study there at every step, and at the same time wonder how little will kill! The building used as an hospital was one of the noble piles inside the dockyard wall, and was situated in the centre of the row, at right angles to the line of the Redan. The whole row was peculiarly exposed to the action of shot and shell bounding over the Redan, and to the missiles directed at the Barrack Battery; and it bore, in sides, roof, windows, and doors, frequent and distinctive proofs of the severity of the cannonade.

Entering one of these doors I beheld such a sight as few men, thank God, have ever witnessed. In a long, low room, supported by square pillars, arched at the top, and dimly lighted through shattered and unglazed window-frames, lay the wounded Russians, who had been abandoned to our mercies by their general. The wounded, did I say? No, but the dead-the rotten and festering corpses of Descending from the Malakoff we came the soldiers, who were left to die in their exupon a suburb of ruined houses open to the treme agony, untended, uncared for, packed sea-it was filled with dead. The Russians as close as they could be stowed, some on the had crept away into holes and corners in floor, others on wretched trestles and bedevery house, to die like poisoned rats; artil- steads, or pallets of straw, sopped and satulery horses, with their entrails torn open by rated with blood, which oozed and trickled shot, were stretched all over the space at the through upon the floor, mingling with the back of the Malakoff, marking the place droppings of corruption. With the roar of where the Russians moved up their last exploding fortresses in their ears-with shells column to retake it under the cover of a and shot pouring through the roof and sides heavy field-battery. Every house, the church, of the rooms in which they lay-with the some public buildings, sentry-boxes-all alike crackling and hissing of fire around them, were broken and riddled by cannon and mor- these poor fellows, who had served their

or a voice to say one kindly word to them? Most of these men were wounded on Saturday-many, perhaps, on the Friday before— indeed it is impossible to say how long they might have been there. In the hurry of their retreat the Muscovites seem to have carried in dead men to get them out of the way, and to have put them on pallets in horrid mockery. So that their retreat was secured, the enemy cared but little for their wounded. On Monday only did they receive those whom we sent out to them during a brief armistice for the purpose, which was, I believe, sought by ourselves, as our overcrowded hospitals could not contain, and our overworked surgeons could not attend to any more.

loving friend and master the czar but too well, were consigned to their terrible fate. Many might have been saved by ordinary care. Many lay, yet alive, with maggots crawling about in their wounds. Many, nearly mad by the scene around them, or seeking escape from it in their extremest agony, had rolled away under the beds, and glared out on the heart-stricken spectator-oh! with such looks! Many, with legs and arms broken and twisted, the jagged splinters sticking through the raw flesh, implored aid, water, food, or pity, or, deprived of speech by the approach of death, or by dreadful injuries in the head or trunk, pointed to the lethal spot. Many seemed bent alone on making their peace with Heaven. The attitudes of some were so hideously fantastic as to appal and root one to the ground by a sort of dreadful fascination. Could that bloody mass of cloth-ret, with a shot right through the clock; a ing and white bones ever have been a human being, or that burnt, black mass of flesh have ever held a human soul? It was fearful to think what the answer must be. The bodies of numbers of men were swollen and bloated to an incredible degree; and the features, distended to a gigantic size, with eyes protruding from the sockets, and the blackened tongue lolling out of the mouth, compressed tightly by the teeth, which had set upon it in the deathrattle, made one shudder and reel round.

Such

The Great Redan was next visited. a scene of wreck and ruin!-all the houses behind it a mass of broken stones-a clock-tur

pagoda in ruins; another clock-tower, with all the clock destroyed save the dial, with the words, "Barwise, London," thereon; cookhouses, where human blood was running among the utensils; in one place a shell had lodged in the boiler, and blown it and its contents, and probably its attendants, to pieces. Everywhere wreck and destruction. This evidently was a beau quartier once. The oldest inhabitant could not have recognized it on that fatal day. Climbing up to the Redan, In the midst of one of these "chambers of which was fearfully cumbered with the dead, horrors" for there were many of them— we witnessed the scene of the desperate were found some dead and some living Eng- attack and defence, which cost both sides so lish soldiers, and among them poor Captain much blood. The ditch outside made one Vaughan, of the 90th, who afterwards died of sick-it was piled up with English dead, some his wounds. I confess it was impossible for of them scorched and blackened by the exme to stand the sight, which horrified our plosion, and others lacerated beyond recognimost experienced surgeons; the deadly, clam- tion. The quantity of broken gabions and my stench, the smell of gangrened wounds, of gun-carriages here was extraordinary; the corrupted blood, of rotting flesh, were intoler-ground was covered with them. The bombable and odious beyond endurance. But what proofs were the same as in the Malakoff, and must have the wounded felt, who were ob- in one of them a music-book was found, with liged to endure all this, and who passed away a woman's name in it, and a canary bird and without a hand to give them a cup of water, a vase of flowers were outside the entrance.

SIR CHARLES GAVAN DUFFY.

the law, and they both, in later times, held high office as ministers of the crown.

[In telling the story of the late D'Arcy | nal; they were both indicted as violators of M'Gee's life, we alluded to the career of Sir Charles Gavan Duffy, pointing out the close resemblance, not only in the early, but in the later fortunes of the two men. They both began life as writers in a revolutionary jour

Charles Gavan Duffy was born in Monaghan in 1816. His early days were not smooth, for his family, though it numbered several distin

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