received long after Balaclava had been left
to its old masters, by one who had not forgotten his old companion on
the sick-wharf. The writer, Major (then Captain) R----, had charge of
the wharf while I was there.

"Glasgow, Sept. 1856.

"Dear Mrs. Seacole,--I am very sorry to hear that you
have been unfortunate in business; but I am glad to hear
that you have found friends in Lord R---- and others,
who are ready to help you. No one knows better than I do
how much you did to help poor sick and wounded soldiers;
and I feel sure you will find in your day of trouble
that they have not forgotten it."

Major R---- was a brave and experienced officer, but the scenes on the
sick-wharf unmanned him often. I have known him nervously restless if
the people were behindhand, even for a few minutes, in their
preparations for the wounded. But in this feeling all shared alike.
Only women could have done more than they did who attended to this
melancholy duty; and they, not because their hearts could be softer,
but because their hands are moulded for this work.

But it must not be supposed that we had no cheerful scenes upon the
sick-wharf. Sometimes a light-hearted fellow--generally a
sailor--would forget his pain, and do his best to keep the rest in
good spirits. Once I heard my name eagerly pronounced, and turning
round, recognised a sailor whom I remembered as one of the crew of the
"Alarm," stationed at Kingston, a few years back.

"Why, as I live, if this ain't Aunty Seacole, of Jamaica! Shiver all
that's left of my poor timbers"--and I saw that the left leg was
gone--"if this ain't a rum go, mates!"

"Ah! my man, I'm sorry to see you in this sad plight."

"Never fear for me, Aunty Seacole; I'll make the best of the leg the
Rooshians have left me. I'll get at them soon again, never fear. You
don't think, messmates"--he never left his wounded comrades
alone--"that they'll think less of us at home for coming back with a
limb or so short?"

"You bear your troubles well, my son."

"Eh! do I, Aunty?" and he seemed surprised. "Why, look'ye, when I've
seen so many pretty fellows knocked off the ship's roll altogether,
don't you think I ought to be thankful if I can answer the bo'swain's
call anyhow?"

And this was the sailors' philosophy always. And this brave fellow,
after he had sipped some lemonade, and laid down, when he heard the
men groaning, raised his head and comforted them in the s