" The Crimea has a Flora of its own, but the lady is dressed so quaintly, uses such strange language, and is called so many hard, long names, that in my ignorance I am afraid to approach her, or to do anything more than to praise her general effect and appearance at a distance. But here indeed is a horrid reality to talk about. Some half-mile from Phoros, the road runs through a solid rock by means of a tunnel about thirty yards long. I happened to be riding in advance, and saw that this tunnel was blocked up by a wall seven feet in height and eight feet in thickness. All passage for the cart seemed hopeless. We never could lift it up so high. There was no getting round the rock, and so I smote my breast and returned to the party. But there were two or three among us not easily to be deterred from their purpose. An examination was made; a council of war was held; and it was decided that over the wall we must go, and that the obstacle intended to prevent the march of Cossack cavalry and the carriage of mountain guns, was not to impede six British tourists. Under the direction of our acting engineer, to work we went. The party got on the wall, and proceeded to dislodge the stones on both sides with regularity and precision, rolling them down so as to form a kind of solid arch out of the centre of the wall. Shins were cut, toes were smashed, spurs were bent, but the work went on, and at the end of three-quarters of an hour the way was declared to be practicable. The mules were taken out of the cart, and walked by a footpath round the rock; the heavy articles were unloaded, and then, with main stoength, the cart was spoked up to the top of the mound of rocks and stones, after a desperate struggle, and then, with immense difficulty, was backed down to the road on the other side. Maybe the old tunnel did not re-echo three tremendous cheers when the work was over, and the mules emerged with their triumphant chariot! But our troubles were not half over. The French were uneasy at Phoros — they had scarped the road, and what they had spared, two winters of neglect had very nearly demolished. Before we moved six miles we executed, in addition to these labours, the following great public works, in order to get our cart over: No. 1. Built a wall to bank up the roadside at a precipice; No. 2. Filled up a crevice with brush-wood and loose stone; No. 3. Made the road practicable with fascines; No. 4. Cut away hill-side, so as to widen the road by the side of a precipice where it had given way; No. 5. Unloaded cart and spoked it over a bad bit, and loaded it again.
"It is about twenty-two miles from the camp to Phoros pass,
CRIMEA.