"Below the walls of the house in which we encamped, buried amid orchards and vineyards, is a ruined villa with marble fountains and handsome rooms. It is pillaged and wrecked like the rest, but it tempts our party to plunge down through the brushwood and thick scrubby woods, interlaced with 'Christ's thorn' and long creepers, to the ledge on which it stands above the sea. The silence, broken only by the cry of the eagles which soar about the cliffs, the surge of the wave on the rocks, and the voices of the birds in the groves, is rather a source of pain than of pleasure. 'Malheur à la dévastation' is inscribed on the walls. But who were the devastators? The Russians allege it was the Allies — the Tartars declare it was the Russians themselves. There are many who believe that these very Tartars had no small share in the plundering and wrecking of their taskmasters' and conquerors' summer palaces. We know from experience that on the march to Sebastopol,{479} every village, every little villa and farmhouse, was sacked and destroyed by the enemy, and Bourliouk, Eskel, Mamashai, Belbek, c., were in ruins before our outposts reached them. The evidence so far is against the Russians. As the walls and roofs of these houses are untouched, they look as picturesque and pretty from a distance as ever they did, and it is only on nearer approach that traces of the hand of the spoiler become visible.
"We had a very excellent breakfast, notwithstanding the extraordinary rich flavour of onions in the tea, which was accounted for by the circumstance that the water had been boiled in the soup-kettle. Some officers of the Guards who had followed us, and bivouacked near the post-house which we had passed on the road, came in as we were at 'our humble meal,' and relished their share of it exceedingly. Their cart pushed on in advance of ours, and as they profited by our labours of yesterday, so did we in a smaller degree (our cart was larger than theirs) reap the advantage of their preceding us part of the way to-day. We started about eleven o'clock, and our hard work soon commenced. Between the enemy, the French, and the winter, the road scarcely existed; it had been swept down into the ravine. However, our motto was 'vestigia nulla retrorsum,' and the colonel, the major, the captain, the D.A.C.G., the civilians, and the soldiers, worked as if for their lives and succeeded, in the course of the day, in executing the following useful public works: No. 1. Road blocked up by rocks from mountain — cut down trees, made levers, and cleared the way — major's leg nearly broken, every one dirtied with wheel grease, finger-nails broken, hands cut, c. No. 2. Road repaired by Guards (who left us a bit of paper on a stick to commemorate the fact) was found too narrow, the hill-side was dug-out, stones laid, and road extended. No. 3. Landslip — edge of the road gone. We built up a wall of stones to support the edge, and passed over triumphantly. No. 4. Were riding along at a smart pace down the road, which winds like a piece of tape (not red, but white) along the mountain side, when frantic cries from the next turn recalled us to our cart — found it had gone down over a gulley, shooting out beds and bundles some hundreds of feet below, and was lying right over in the mud of the aforesaid gulley atop of the wheel mule. No one hurt. Took off wheels, cut fastenings, and unharnessed mule, which escaped without a hurt, but was covered with mud; raised cart, carried up beds, c., out of ravine; unpacked cart and carried baggage across bad parts of landslip; set cart on wheels, loaded it, and went on our way rejoicing.