| Description | I write a few lines to tell you that a board of 3 of the fattest doctors in the Crimea having sat upon me have agreed that nothing but native air and pheasant shooting will agree with my present complaint and I hope that a few days after you get this letter I shall make my appearance at Birtles and enjoy a little I may say deservedly. I have had a most wonderful escape. The bullet has taken my scalp away fore and aft and with it the bone but not deep. I am quite non plussed by the blow and obliged to keep very quiet and lie low, though the pleasure of getting home counteracts the effects of the wound in a great measure. I shall be sorry to leave the Crimea and my old friends in the Brigade whom I have fought and bled with so often. We are now resting on our oars every thing quite still. No enemy near us and fighting all over for this winter and I hope for ever. I have reason to thank God that I have been enabled to pull through the whole of it and have escaped in such a miraculous manner so often. All news must keep until my arrival. I will write from London, where I hope to be about the 10th October." |