the sea.  The weather had set in wet; the soldiers were weakened by their incessant work in the trenches, by wet and exposure, and the strength of many of the regiments was greatly reduced by disease.  All hopes of capturing the fortress and returning to Constantinople to winter were now at an end, and the roads having become mere quagmires, the supplies of food and of fuel were growing scanty.  On the 3d, Jack had been sent down to Balaklava with a despatch from Captain Peel to Admiral Lyons.  Mr. Hethcote lent him his pony, and having delivered his message in the guard-ship in the harbor, whence it would be taken out to the “Agamemnon,” Jack went on board some of the transports, and discharged a number of commissions with which he had been intrusted by his comrades.  So numerous were they that he was obliged to get a couple of sacks which were completely filled with hams, bottled stout, fresh bread, potted meats, brandy, matches, and tobacco.  He had, too, succeeded in purchasing several waterproof sheets and tarpaulins, and these being fastened on the top of the sacks, were placed upon the pony’s back, and, taking his bridle, Jack started through the mud for his long tramp back to camp, for it was quite out of the question that the pony could carry him in addition to these burdens.  Not a little laughter was excited on his arrival, and there was quite a rush of the various officers to procure their share of Jack’s purchases, for no officer had been down to Balaklava for a fortnight, and the stores of luxuries were completely exhausted.

Next night Jack and his messmates gave a grand entertainment.  Harry and two other lieutenants of the 33d—­for the battle of the Alma had made so many death vacancies in the regiment that he had obtained his promotion—­were there, and two young officers of the 30th who were cousins of one of Jack’s tentmates.  It certainly was a close pack.  Tom Hammond had obtained some planks, and, laying these on the flour barrel, had contrived a sort of circular table, round which the parties sat with their backs to the wall, on boxes, empty preserved potato tins, rum kegs, and portmanteaus.  There was no room for Tom to enter the tent, so the full dishes were handed in through the entrance, and the empty ones passed out.  Each guest of course brought his own plate, knife, fork, spoon, and drinking tin.  As for a change of plates, no one dreamed of such a thing.

Outside, the night set in wet and gloomy, but four tallow candles stuck in bottles threw a grand illumination.

The first course was pea-soup.  It smelt good, but it had a suspicious appearance, globules of grease floated upon its surface.  All fell to with a will, but with the first spoonful there was a general explosion.

“What on earth is this, Jack?” Harry exclaimed.

“What the deuce is it?” another said.  “It is filthy!”

While one of the young officers of the 30th exclaimed to his cousin, “Confound it, Ned! you haven’t brought us here to poison us, have you?”