I should have thought that no preface would have been required to introduce Mrs. Seacole to the British public, or to recommend a book which must, from the circumstances in which the subject of it was placed, be unique in literature. If singleness of heart, true charity, and Christian works; if trials and sufferings, dangers and perils, encountered boldly by a helpless woman on her errand of mercy in the camp and in the battle-field, can excite sympathy or move curiosity, Mary Seacole will have

MY BIRTH AND PARENTAGE—EARLY TASTES AND TRAVELS—MARRIAGE, AND WIDOWHOOD. I was born in the town of Kingston, in the island of Jamaica, some time in the present century. As a female, and a widow, I may be well excused giving the precise date of this important event. But I do not mind confessing that the century and myself were both young together, and that we have grown side by side into age and consequence. I am a Creole, and have good Scotch blood coursing in my veins. My father was a soldier,

STRUGGLES FOR LIFE—THE CHOLERA IN JAMAICA—I LEAVE KINGSTON FOR THE ISTHMUS OF PANAMA—CHAGRES, NAVY BAY, AND GATUN—LIFE IN PANAMA—UP THE RIVER CHAGRES TO GORGONA AND CRUCES. I had one other great grief to master—the loss of my mother, and then I was left alone to battle with the world as best I might. The struggles which it cost me to succeed in life were sometimes very trying; nor have they ended yet. But I have always turned a bold front to fortune, and taken, and shall continue to take, as my

MY RECEPTION AT THE INDEPENDENT HOTEL—A CRUCES TABLE D’HÔTE—LIFE IN CRUCES—AMUSEMENTS OF THE CROWDS—A NOVEL FOUR-POST BED. The sympathising reader, who very likely has been laughing heartily at my late troubles, can fancy that I was looking forward with no little pleasurable anticipation to reaching my brother’s cheerful home at Cruces. After the long night spent on board the wretched boat in my stiff, clayey dress, and the hours of fasting, the warmth and good cheer of the Independent Hotel cou

AN UNWELCOME VISITOR IN CRUCES—THE CHOLERA—SUCCESS OF THE YELLOW DOCTRESS—FEARFUL SCENE AT THE MULE-OWNER’S—THE BURYING PARTIES—THE CHOLERA ATTACKS ME. I do not think I have ever known what it is to despair, or even to despond (if such were my inclination, I have had some opportunities recently), and it was not long before I began to find out the bright side of Cruces life, and enter into schemes for staying there. But it would be a week or so before the advent of another crowd would wake Cruces

AMERICAN SYMPATHY—I TAKE AN HOTEL IN CRUCES—MY CUSTOMERS—LOLA MONTES—MISS HAYES AND THE BISHOP—GAMBLING IN CRUCES—QUARRELS AMONGST THE TRAVELLERS—NEW GRANADA MILITARY—THE THIEVES OF CRUCES—A NARROW ESCAPE. When it became known that their “yellow doctress” had the cholera, I must do the people of Cruces the justice to say that they gave her plenty of sympathy, and would have shown their regard for her more actively, had there been any occasion. Indeed, when I most wanted quiet, it was difficult t

MIGRATION TO GORGONA—FAREWELL DINNERS AND SPEECHES—A BUILDING SPECULATION—LIFE IN GORGONA—SYMPATHY WITH AMERICAN SLAVES—DR. CASEY IN TROUBLE—FLOODS AND FIRES—YANKEE INDEPENDENCE AND FREEDOM. I remained at Cruces until the rainy months came to an end, and the river grew too shallow to be navigable by the boats higher up than Gorgona; and then we all made preparations for a flitting to that place. But before starting, it appeared to be the custom for the store and hotel keepers to exchange parting

THE YELLOW FEVER IN JAMAICA—MY EXPERIENCE OF DEATH-BED SCENES—I LEAVE AGAIN FOR NAVY BAY, AND OPEN A STORE THERE—I AM ATTACKED WITH THE GOLD FEVER, AND START FOR ESCRIBANOS—LIFE IN THE INTERIOR OF THE REPUBLIC OF NEW GRANADA—A REVOLUTIONARY CONSPIRACY ON A SMALL SCALE—THE DINNER DELICACIES OF ESCRIBANOS—JOURNEY UP THE PALMILLA RIVER—A FEW WORDS ON THE PRESENT ASPECT OF AFFAIRS ON THE ISTHMUS OF PANAMA. I stayed in Jamaica eight months out of the year 1853, still remembered in the island for its

I LONG TO JOIN THE BRITISH ARMY BEFORE SEBASTOPOL—MY WANDERINGS ABOUT LONDON FOR THAT PURPOSE—HOW I FAIL—ESTABLISHMENT OF THE FIRM OF “DAY AND MARTIN”—I EMBARK FOR TURKEY. Before I left Jamaica for Navy Bay, as narrated in the last chapter, war had been declared against Russia, and we were all anxiously expecting news of a descent upon the Crimea. Now, no sooner had I heard of war somewhere, than I longed to witness it; and when I was told that many of the regiments I had known so well in Jamaic

VOYAGE TO CONSTANTINOPLE—MALTA—GIBRALTAR—CONSTANTINOPLE, AND WHAT I THOUGHT OF IT—VISIT TO SCUTARI HOSPITAL—MISS NIGHTINGALE. I am not going to risk the danger of wearying the reader with a long account of the voyage to Constantinople, already worn threadbare by book-making tourists. It was a very interesting one, and, as I am a good sailor, I had not even the temporary horrors of sea-sickness to mar it. The weather, although cold, was fine, and the sea good-humouredly calm, and I enjoyed the vo

“JEW JOHNNY”—I START FOR BALACLAVA—KINDNESS OF MY OLD FRIENDS—ON BOARD THE “MEDORA”—MY LIFE ON SHORE—THE SICK WHARF. During my stay in Constantinople, I was accustomed to employ, as a guide, a young Greek Jew, whose name it is no use my attempting to spell, but whom I called by the one common name there—“Johnny.” Wishing, however, to distinguish my Johnny from the legion of other Johnnies, I prefixed the term Jew to his other name, and addressed him as Jew Johnny. How he had picked up his knowle

ALARMS IN THE HARBOUR—GETTING THE STORES ON SHORE—ROBBERY BY NIGHT AND DAY—THE PREDATORY TRIBES OF BALACLAVA—ACTIVITY OF THE AUTHORITIES—WE OBTAIN LEAVE TO ERECT OUR STORE, AND FIX UPON SPRING HILL AS ITS SITE—THE TURKISH PACHA—THE FLOOD—OUR CARPENTERS—I BECOME AN ENGLISH SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD. My life in Balaclava could not but be a rough one. The exposure by day was enough to try any woman’s strength; and at night one was not always certain of repose. Nor was it the easiest thing to clamber up

THE BRITISH HOTEL—DOMESTIC DIFFICULTIES—OUR ENEMIES—THE RUSSIAN RATS—ADVENTURES IN SEARCH OF A CAT—LIGHT-FINGERED ZOUAVES—CRIMEAN THIEVES—POWDERING A HORSE. Summer was fairly advanced before the British Hotel was anything like finished; indeed, it never was completed, and when we left the Hill, a year later, it still wanted shutters. But long before that time Spring Hill had gained a great reputation. Of course, I have nothing to do with what occurred in the camp, although I could not help heari

MY WORK IN THE CRIMEA. I hope the reader will give me credit for the assertion that I am about to make, viz., that I enter upon the particulars of this chapter with great reluctance; but I cannot omit them, for the simple reason that they strengthen my one and only claim to interest the public, viz., my services to the brave British army in the Crimea. But, fortunately, I can follow a course which will not only render it unnecessary for me to sound my own trumpet, but will be more satisfactory t

MY CUSTOMERS AT THE BRITISH HOTEL. I shall proceed in this chapter to make the reader acquainted with some of the customers of the British Hotel, who came there for its creature comforts as well as its hostess’s medicines when need was; and if he or she should be inclined to doubt or should hesitate at accepting my experience of Crimean life as entirely credible, I beg that individual to refer to the accounts which were given in the newspapers of the spring of 1855, and I feel sure they will acq

MY FIRST GLIMPSE OF WAR—ADVANCE OF MY TURKISH FRIENDS ON KAMARA—VISITORS TO THE CAMP—MISS NIGHTINGALE—MONS. SOYER AND THE CHOLERA—SUMMER IN THE CRIMEA—“THIRSTY SOULS”—DEATH BUSY IN THE TRENCHES. In the last three chapters, I have attempted, without any consideration of dates, to give my readers some idea of my life in the Crimea. I am fully aware that I have jumbled up events strangely, talking in the same page, and even sentence, of events which occurred at different times; but I have three exc

UNDER FIRE ON THE FATAL 18TH OF JUNE—BEFORE THE REDAN—AT THE CEMETERY—THE ARMISTICE—DEATHS AT HEAD-QUARTERS—DEPRESSION IN THE CAMP—PLENTY IN THE CRIMEA—THE PLAGUE OF FLIES—UNDER FIRE AT THE BATTLE OF THE TCHERNAYA—WORK ON THE FIELD—MY PATIENTS. Before I left the Crimea to return to England, the Adjutant-General of the British Army gave me a testimonial, which the reader has already read in Chapter XIV. , in which he stated that I had “frequently exerted myself in the most praiseworthy manner in

INSIDE SEBASTOPOL—THE LAST BOMBARDMENT OF SEBASTOPOL—ON CATHCART’S HILL—RUMOURS IN THE CAMP—THE ATTACK ON THE MALAKHOFF—THE OLD WORK AGAIN—A SUNDAY EXCURSION—INSIDE “OUR” CITY—I AM TAKEN FOR A SPY, AND THEREAT LOSE MY TEMPER—I VISIT THE REDAN, ETC.—MY SHARE OF THE “PLUNDER.” The three weeks following the battle of the Tchernaya were, I should think, some of the busiest and most eventful the world has ever seen. There was little doing at Spring Hill. Every one was either at his post, or too anxio

HOLIDAY IN THE CAMP—A NEW ENEMY, TIME—AMUSEMENTS IN THE CRIMEA—MY SHARE IN THEM—DINNER AT SPRING HILL—AT THE RACES—CHRISTMAS DAY IN THE BRITISH HOTEL—NEW YEAR’S DAY IN THE HOSPITAL. Well, the great work was accomplished—Sebastopol was taken. The Russians had retired sullenly to their stronghold on the north side of the harbour, from which, every now and then, they sent a few vain shot and shell, which sent the amateurs in the streets of Sebastopol scampering, but gave the experienced no concern.

NEW YEAR IN THE CRIMEA—GOOD NEWS—THE ARMISTICE—BARTER WITH THE RUSSIANS—WAR AND PEACE—TIDINGS OF PEACE—EXCURSIONS INTO THE INTERIOR OF THE CRIMEA—TO SIMPHEROPOL, BAKTCHISERAI, ETC.—THE TROOPS BEGIN TO LEAVE THE CRIMEA—FRIENDS’ FAREWELLS—THE CEMETERIES—WE REMOVE FROM SPRING HILL TO BALACLAVA—ALARMING SACRIFICE OF OUR STOCK—A LAST GLIMPSE OF SEBASTOPOL—HOME! Before the New Year was far advanced we all began to think of going home, making sure that peace would soon be concluded. And never did more

I did not return to England by the most direct route, but took the opportunity of seeing more of men and manners in yet other lands. Arrived in England at last, we set to work bravely at Aldershott to retrieve our fallen fortunes, and stem off the ruin originated in the Crimea, but all in vain; and at last defeated by fortune, but not I think disgraced, we were obliged to capitulate on very honourable conditions. In plain truth, the old Crimean firm of Seacole and Day was dissolved finally, and