CHAPTER L

Early Days.

"Visions of childhood, stay, oh! stay,
Ye were so sweet and wild;

But distant voices seem'd to say,
It cannot be! They pass away-

Thou art no more a child."

LONGFELLOW.

EIGHTEEN months have scarcely elapsed since the last gun was fired before Sebastopol The smoke-wreaths, floating off in thin filaments, have been gathered up into another war cloud, threatening another empire.

But all is quiet in the Crimea. Upon the heights of Inkermann the listless Tartar again tends his flock. The bustard and the plover have returned to the steppes; the plateau is painted with purple and golden crocuses; there peace upon the hills once more.

is

From those deep ravines all living trace of the allied armies has disappeared. But many a rude cross, for ages to come, will tell where, side by side, in sad array, the mighty hosts are resting. There each, in his warrior's shroud, sleeps till the earth shall give up her dead, and the Lord shall gather His elect from the four winds of heaven.

The whole is now like a dream, and our minds, strained with intense excitement, have for the most part ceased to dwell upon the events of that unhappy period.

Yet "the memory of the just is blessed," and if, after this interval, in compliance with the urgent wishes of many, we offer, in the following pages, a short memoir of one "who shall return no more to his house," it is not that we may exalt him, but rather that we may set forth, in the words of his simple epitaph

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The praise of the glory of His grace,

who gave a Christian lustre to his life, and a blessedness to his honourable death."

Maximilian Montagu Hammond was the third son of W. O. Hammond, Esq., of St Alban's Court, Kent, and of Mary Graham, eldest daughter of Sir H. Oxenden, of Broome Park, Kent. He was born on the 6th of May 1824. His childish days are marked by an accident which, while its effects were felt by him till his death, gave an early indication of that unselfish and generous nature that characterised his after life. A powder flask came within his reach, and, aware that its contents were inflammable, although ignorant of their dangerous nature, he attempted to throw some into the fire, while in his mother's room: an alarming explosion took place; fragments of copper flew in every direction, deeply piercing the walls. The mantelpiece was riven in two, and the glass of the windows was shivered to atoms. As soon as the smoke cleared, it was found that the child's hand was fearfully shattered; the thumb was entirely removed, as far as its junction with the wrist; surgical aid was immediately sent

SEVERE ACCIDENT.

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for; and while a temporary bandage was applied to the wound, "How glad I am, mamma," said the sufferer, "how glad I am that it was not you!" Great fears of lockjaw were entertained, but through God's mercy the wound healed favourably. It was not at first thought prudent to communicate to the child the extent of the injury, and the effect of breaking it to him was somewhat dreaded; but he received the announcement without emotion, and with perfect cheerfulness. In after years this loss was ever present to him. His sensitive nature made him often dread the surprise produced upon comparative strangers with whom he might shake hands-misgivings little suspected by those who felt his warm and hearty pressure. With this one exception his childhood and boyhood passed much as that of most other lads in his circumstances. He was a high-spirited and manly boy, joining with his brothers during their holidays in the favourite amusements of their home; and, with a spirit of enjoyment, entering into all those initiatory sports, which a country home affords-ferreting rabbits, riding, keeping pets, &c. He was a favourite with all, and his frank, honest, open face was an index to his character. Maxy was at this age full of strong impulse; rather impetuous, at times passionate, but of an affectionate disposition, strongly attached to his father and mother, his family, and his home.

His bold, unflinching spirit shewed itself in a very early trait. He was playing with a companion, the son of a neighbouring gentleman, and with one of his brothers; as they were together, remembering that he had not said his prayers that morning, Maxy suddenly knelt down in a

wood-lodge, where they were at the time, and repeated his morning prayer, utterly fearless of ridicule. His inclination for a soldier's life shewed itself early, and his future profession having been determined, he was sent to a school at Woolwich, whence he was soon after removed to the Royal Military College at Sandhurst.

The letters of a mere child written from school, dwelling chiefly on the happier thoughts of home, his love for his family, his amusements, ponies, dogs, and pets, are little interesting to general readers, and there was nothing in his letters at this time beyond his years; yet there are here and there some few touches of his natural character, and some few allusions, which shew that he had received the most inestimable of a parent's gifts-that he had been "brought up in the fear of God." Of his first school he writes: "I do not like it very much, not so much as I expected. ... We went to the fair; two of the boys got drunk; there are some very great blackguards at this school. M✶✶ ✶reads prayers every morning and night; we don't ever kneel down. ... Will you send me a parcel," he says to his mother, "as soon as you can? I will tell you what to send-an enormous plain plum-cake, paper, pens, slate pencils, jam by plenty, and any extras that you like; a little money would not be amiss." There is something very illustrative here of his straightforward disposition; he does not like hinting, but he likes indulgence, and does not mince the matter.

At Sandhurst his progress at first does not seem to have found favour with the authorities. He considered the sergeants, whose especial duty it was to report the delinquencies of the cadets, his natural enemies; and,

PROGRESS AT SANDHURST.

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loving fun, and full of a boy's spirit, he was from time to time reported for faults, which, though never in one instance discreditable, yet told against him in the opinion of the governor.

In his second year he writes: "I could not make out what you meant in your first letter about my having got into some scrape, but I suppose that * * * was alluding to my character of last year. It did not frighten me in the least, as I knew I had done nothing wrong." Still, as he advanced, his desire to improve was evident, and the halfyearly reports shew, that his efforts were not unobserved by the professors. With all his love for amusement and natural disinclination to study, he felt and understood his own position, and the duty, not less than the importance, of advancing himself by his own exertions. He gave much attention to surveying, and was favourably mentioned in this department. His employment in this service introduced him to the hospitality of a family in the neighbourhood, and procured for him a subsequent friendship, which, though strengthened little by personal intercourse afterwards, was never lost. One of that family, in a letter after his death, alludes to that early acquaintance: "He has always borne so bright a place in my thoughts since the time when I first saw him at our place as a boy."

The examinations approached, and his thoughts turned to his future appointment to a regiment. "I suppose," he says in a letter to his mother, "there will be no chance of seeing W *** for two or three years; a soldier must not expect to be much at home. I wonder whether the duke has done anything about putting my name down for