The Sun.
London, England, 1855-05-29 00:00:00

LIFE AND DEATH.

" One instance of the sudden change in the condition of
the wounded came to my own notice, in a very painful man-
ner. I had visited a very young officer, at t*.e wish of some
of his friends in England ; he was so severely wounded that
I had no hope myself that ho could recover ; those about
him, however, did not take the same view, I had from time
to time got him g ,me, biscuits, &e., from Per; which he
seemed to enjoy ; sitting with him one afternoon, I promised
to bring him the next day some jelly and a game pie
he seemed to fancy, and also a mosquito net to keep the
flies from him (they were at times in the hospitals a
perfect pest). I went over early the next morning with the
things I had promised, walked into the room, and as soon as
I had put my load upon the table, I turned as usual to ask
him how he was—the clothes were all removed from the bed,
on which, under a sheet, lay his corpse ; he had died a few
hours after I left him. We cut cff some of his hair, sealed
up his papers, &c.,—in ten minutes ono of the chaplains had
found fur me another wounded officer, most thankful for the
things I had brought.",.

Speaking of the gentle evidences witnessed by
hint in the Scutari Hospital, of true " brother-offi-
cer" attachments, Mr. Osborne has shortly before
this remarked—" In no woman watching over her
own child did I ever see greater tenderness, pati-
ence, and self-denial than I witnessed in the care
taken of Captain Williams, of the Scots Greys, by
Major Nasmyth."
As affording a picturesque glimpse of hospital-
life at Scutari, take the following account of the
wounded heroes of the Alma, Bala,klava, and Ink-

the counter mix to him are his wife and daughters ; to them
how slowly doss he seem to spread out and sort the few dozen
letters; triev have no glance to-day to spare for the well-
written directions of the Rectory, the Brewery, the wealthy
yeo non of the ; they try with curious eyes to reFog-
niso whieh arc the ill-folded, worse directed—' Soldier' s
Army tiers.' Ile takes these from the rest—there are four,
of them ; one with hasty hand he gives his wife, thank God'
his only words ; it is the well-known writing of his son : he
before them,
tthnerrn:,nwowaittionwn.ards the counter—there are four or five women
ai,,.e'cleoratteertso;
pchuirletraesnesw,itthhesyomseeemhalfal-ipveenteoe
the nature of the scene, and as yet speak not of what they
maketwo
want themselves. To two worsen he gives to each a letter;
the third with shaking hand he holds up to the light, and
seems to study every word of the direction, yet it
IS written plainly enough, and is intended for the
elderly woman at _ the counter, with the tall girl—not
yet her daughter--by leer side. He has recognised the
handwriting of one of the chaplains of the hospital in the
East ; he has had letters so directed pass through his hands
twice before, and knew well what was told in there. • At last
he gives the letter to her to whom it belongs; she has not
gone many yards from the door before she has opened
is short—with a glance she has gathered its tale; turning to
the girl walking near her, she says-_' God help thee and me
Jane :' not a word more is said by either ; they hurry to
their lowly dwelling—once there, there is no restraint upon
the agony of their grief, no concealment of its cause • she
who was the widow with one son, is childless ; could grief be
more acute, were that poor girl who had hoped'to be the lost
one's wife now indeed his widow ? Neighbours crowd in
with many a word of attempted comfort, to offer many an
officeof real sympathy ; long after the sun has set upon that
day are the hysterical screams of the younger of the mourners
heard; the mother weeps, says little, but in the silent depth
of her s,ri ow, proves that it is one time may make endurable,
but never can efface. The rector's wife, a lady from the hall,
have been to that cottage—all that true sympathy, all that
the teaching of the Christian's book, all that the liberality of
Christian charity, could do or promise, has been offered—
but as yet it is too soon—the ono is stunned in the mother's
woe ; the other raves, in the full force of youth's agony, at
the sudden crushing of youth's fondest hope."

Whereupon Mr. Osborne exclaims, in words of
burning wrath and sorrow—" 0 ! war, war, how
lost thou in thy utter bitterness of trial curse our
race. . . . Men crown thy triumphs with laurel—
the cypress of the cemetery, the yew of the church-
yard, these are the real emblems of thy accursed
work." Closing the volume with every sentiment
of respect for the pure and lofty charity of which
it is the eloquent but humble commemoration; it
is impossible for us not to avow it to be our be-
lief, as one among the orglns of public opinion in
England, that the people of this country endorse
with their adthiration the thanks for his efforts at
Scutari, recently tendered to Mr. Osborne by her
Majesty's Government. Equally impossible would.
it be henceforth not to recognise in an earliest sim-
plicity the secret of S. G. o.'s acknowledged genius
as a rhetorician.

WHITSUNTIDE A MUSEMENTS.

DRUR.Y-LANE THEATRE.

Bellini's btautiful opera of Norma, supported by
Madame Arga, Mcille. Wagner, Signor Armaudi, and
Mr. H. Braham, and a grand ballet, in which Mdllev.
Palmyra and Paolo drew a crowded audience at this
theatre. Success seems t follow Mr. E. T. Smith in
all his undcrtakinp, and his bold attempt to give the
best style of. entertainment at the lowest possible price,
deserves to receive-3R we are glad. to see it does—the
hearty support of the public.