At 5 o'clock in the morning I was aroused by a loud shouting; it was the Corporal of the Week who was passing through the room calling out, "Any sick men here?" The names of the men who want medical attention have to be put down on the Sergeant-major's morning report, on which also figures the morning call, which is merely nominal, as it never takes place in the cavalry. Half an hour later the trumpeters sounded the rÉveille and immediately the various Corporals told off a certain number of men to go and clean the stables. I was one of those selected. Hastily I donned my stable suit, of coarse canvas, and when I reached the stables, was told off to clean the straw under four horses—my comrade Titi, who had accompanied me, being ordered to show me how to proceed. Neither pitchforks nor shovels are used, the men having to separate with their hands the dry from the wet straw, and having also to pick out with their fingers whatever dung may be mixed with the litter. I scarcely relished this unsavory work, and as I did not consider it likely to improve in any way my military training, I tipped Titi a franc to do it for me, while I went to the canteen to have a cup of coffee and a crust of bread. It may be noted here that before rÉveille a jug of very thin coffee, with a pretence of sugar added to it, was brought into the rooms, but few of the men cared to touch it. Those who were unable to afford the canteen preferred to break their fast with a glass of water and a slice of bread—not that the charges of the canteen were high, for a cup of coffee (so called) and a roll of bread costs but three halfpence—but there exists an unwritten but inviolable law that no man may take a drink of any kind by himself. Faire suisse is the term used to describe the fact of going to the canteen alone, and this is considered a real crime, to be severely punished by the rest, so that a poor fellow who gets a few francs monthly from his people must always share them with a comrade. It is also a curious fact that, although most men complain of the scarcity of the food supplied to them, few will ever spend in victuals the money they may receive from home—they invariably consume it in drink.

At 6 o'clock the trumpets sounded "Stables," so fetching the bags containing our implements we returned to the stables to groom our chargers. Every man has often two horses to groom—his own charger as well as the horse of any trooper who may be on guard, or otherwise employed.[16] Our chargers had not yet been allotted to us, so I was told to groom a lively little mare, which I afterwards found out enjoyed the reputation of being the most vicious charger of the whole squadron; however, whether it was that I was not afraid of her, or that she instinctively felt that I loved horses, we got on very well together. The grooming lasted for an hour, and towards 7 o'clock the Lieutenant of the Week turned up and gave orders for the horses to be taken to the watering-tanks. As I was leading out the mare I had been grooming I was ordered by the Lieutenant to also lead two other chargers; holding their reins in my right hand, I tried to jump on the bare back of the little mare—she was called "Durance" after the name of a torrent in the South of France, and she well deserved her appellation. The moment I caught hold of her mane to jump on her back she plunged, and, jumping back a few steps, nearly brought her reins over her head. Twice she played me the same trick, and at the same time the other horses, whose reins I held, pulled away from her, but the third time I landed on her back, and although she tried buck-jumping, I easily rode her with the other animals to the watering-tank. When I returned she was lively enough, but it was all play and not vice: and when I jumped off her back the Lieutenant called me:

"How do you like the mare?" he asked.

"Very much indeed, sir," I replied.

"Would you like her as your charger?"

"Certainly," I said.

"Very well," said the officer, "you shall have her, as you seem to be able to ride."

I was quite delighted, and very soon made friends with the little beast (she was hardly 15 hands high); she came to know me so well that at the end of a few months she used to follow me about like a dog. She was, it is true, very vicious at times, and would not let certain men come near her; she also had a hatred of officers, as years before she had been one of the Surgeon-major's chargers, and the fellow used to thrash her unmercifully. She was one of the oldest chargers in the regiment—being eighteen years old—and originally came from Hungary, where many horses were bought just after the Franco-Prussian war, but notwithstanding her age, she was full of "go" and of play. We became such good friends that many a time when I was on stable guard I used to lie alongside of her, my head resting on her neck, and she would remain quite still for hours until I moved. I always bought extra food for her, and kept her in tip-top condition.

After "Stables" we were taken to get our arms and saddlery, and shown how to take our carbines to pieces and put them together again. We then had the Gras carbine, which has long since been discarded.

At the call of "Soup" (10 A.M.) the troopers rushed off to the kitchen, and wishing to taste regimental food, I told Titi to bring me my ration, and waited until it arrived. In those days food came from the kitchen in what was called a gamelle—a stout tin pot in the shape of a saucepan, without a handle, but with a tin cover. Each man found his ration ready in the kitchen, with an allowance of salt on the lid of the gamelle; the fare consisted that morning of thin soup which tasted like sloppy water in which dishes might have been washed, with lumps of bread soaked in it and a little fat floating about in cold lumps. At the bottom of the pan was a bit of bone with very little meat on it, the ration of meat allowed to each man being four ounces including bone. The mere sight of that so-called soup and the filthiness of the pan which contained it, was too much for me. However ill-fed the men were, very few of them could ever finish the whole of their ration. When a man had finished eating he chucked his gamelle into a corner, a trooper being told off every day to take the tins back to the kitchen. In my time men had to feed on their beds, but since the days of General Boulanger things have, as I stated before, greatly altered. The men now eat at table, the food is served in dishes, and the man at the head of each table, who is generally a Corporal, helps each man on his own enamelled plate.

To return to my own experiences: I went to the canteen to get something to eat. Most of the other Volontaires were already there, and, although the place was horribly dirty, I ate with great relish a couple of cutlets. We tried the various brands of wine; that at fivepence a bottle was more suitable for use as a dye than as a beverage, but the one at sixpence was quite drinkable, and the one at eightpence quite equal to the so-called claret sold at two shillings a bottle in second-rate London restaurants. We discovered that the canteen-keeper had a yet better brand at a shilling a bottle, and this was really very good. It was a genuine bottled wine, and not drawn from the cask like the others. During my stay in the regiment I was much struck with the fact that hardly any beer is drunk by Frenchmen belonging to the lower classes. To see troopers drinking it was quite exceptional; wine was their staple drink, except when they wanted to get drunk, in which case they went in for brandy, which was served in flasks holding about two-thirds of a pint and costing fourpence. It took about a pint and a quarter of this stuff to have the desired effect.

It was nearly 11 A.M. before we had finished our breakfast, and I then returned to my quarters, most anxious to have a wash, which I had so far been obliged to do without. I asked Titi where the lavatory was.

"Lavatory!" he laughed out; "his highness wants a lavatory. You'll get a lavatory in barracks, old chap. What else do you want?—a valet to dress your royal highness?"

"But," I said, "isn't there any place where I can go and have a wash?"

"Oh yes, there's the pump!"

This seemed rather unsatisfactory, and I could hardly believe it to be the case, so I went to the room of my friend Sergeant de Lanoy and asked him about it.

"It's quite true, old man," he replied; "lavatories do exist in the barracks, but they have never been utilised since '70, and are now used for storing straw, so that the only place where you can go and have a wash is at the pump. If I were alone in my room," he added, "I would lend it to you, but the other Sergeant who lives with me is a beast, and he would kick up a row if he found you performing your ablutions here."

I had therefore to go to the pump, and fortunately found a bucket near at hand, so that I managed to wash at least the upper portion of my body.

There is in each squadron a barber, who has to shave, free of cost, every trooper twice a week; but the mere sight of the fellow, to say nothing of his implements, was enough. It is impossible to realise how men can live in the state of filth which seems natural to French soldiers. Hardly one of them ever thinks of washing his hands after cleaning the stables in the way I have previously described; occasionally some of them wash their faces, necks, and hands on Sundays, or when they have to appear on parade, but many of them remain all the year round (except in the summer season, when they are sent in batches to the swimming baths) without taking a single bath or feeling the want of one. It will be seen how, later on, when we were permanently consigned to barracks, I had to get special leave from the doctor to be able to go out and have a bath in the town.

At twelve o'clock we were all taken to the dispensary to be vaccinated, vaccination being compulsory throughout the French army. That operation concluded, we were taught to fold our clothes and shown how to arrange them on the shelves above our bed. At 3 P.M. we returned to stables, after which the Sergeant-major made us stand in circle round him while the regimental orders of the day were read out by the Corporal fourrier, all the punishments inflicted upon officers, non-commissioned officers, and troopers being announced at the end of the orders.

It has always struck me as a great mistake to let privates learn the punishments inflicted upon officers, as this, of course, tends to lower them in the eyes of their men. That day, for instance, I was much astonished to hear that one of the Captains of the regiment had been punished by the Colonel with fifteen days of arrÊts de rigueur (strict confinement to his room, with a sentry in front of his door) "for," said the orders, "having been seen walking about in a drunken state, with his uniform in disarray, at ten o'clock at night." This Captain was greatly hated by the men, and it is needless to say that they all rejoiced at the punishment which had been inflicted upon him, expressing their feelings in the coarsest language.

"Stables" over, we hurried to the town, and our set met as usual at the Crown Hotel, where we exchanged impressions on military service. We were all unanimous in declaring it a filthy and disgusting ordeal. After the evening call, we entertained our respective Corporals at the canteen, most of them having to be supported back to their beds.

The following day was enlivened by the arrival of the ordinary recruits coming to serve their five years. Most of them came from Paris, and belonged to the worst set of ruffians imaginable. A few were countrymen, among whom were two or three stupid "Bretons" coming from the remotest parts of Brittany. One of the latter was assigned a bed next to the "old 'un," and therefore close to mine. As soon as he had eaten his evening meal, he sat on his bed, weeping bitterly, and as I asked him the cause of his grief he began with deep sobs:

"Our poor Jeanne; it's the day she ought to calve, and to think that I shall not be near her! If you saw that cow, sir——"

"Oh! it's a cow!"

"Yes, sir, and when she calves she won't take any food except from my hand, and now I am here, and she calving! My poor Jeanne, my poor Jeanne!"

I tried to console him, but it was in vain. Of course, the other troopers made great fun of him, and one of them remarked that if his cow was as ugly as himself, and as ill-fed, she must be a hideous beast indeed. This drove the fellow into an absolute frenzy, and, seizing the sword hanging at the head of my bed, he would have made deadly use of it had I not forcibly prevented him.

The recruits went, that day, through the routine we had undergone on the day of our arrival—the only difference being that they were marched in batches to the Capitain-tresorier's office under the command of a Sergeant—and before evening every one of them had been drafted into a squadron, each recruit being put under the care of a trooper of at least a year's standing, who had to teach his bleu (recruit) what to do. The recruits, upon receiving their outfit, have to hand over their civilian clothes, which are sold by auction. This rule did not, however, apply to the Volontaires, but we had to remove our civilian clothes out of barracks, and were, under no circumstances, allowed to wear anything but uniform.

That year the recruits numbered about 125, or twenty-five to each squadron.

That night the most elaborate practical jokes were played on the new-comers. First of all an "artful dodger," a typical Parisian blackguard, attired himself in a great coat and an old cocked hat; alongside of him marched two troopers with swords, helmets, and carbines, but devoid of all clothing. The "Artful dodger" went to the bed of each one of the recruits. "Get up," said another trooper, "here comes the surgeon-major." "You are a recruit, my boy?" queried the "Artful dodger." "Yes, sir," usually replied the recruit, rather awed. "Don't call me 'sir,'" went on the tormentor, "call me 'Monsieur le Major.'" (The way in which military surgeons are addressed.) "Get out of bed," he went on, "and be sharp about it." If the recruit declined to obey, he was dragged out of his bed by other troopers and stripped; many foul questions were then put to him, and the joke ended by his body being blackened all over with a blacking-brush if he took the proceedings ill. When the recruits had gone back to bed, the "dodger" and his companions proceeded to play other jokes on them.

In order to enable my readers to understand what took place, it is necessary to recall the description of our rooms. These apartments were about 100 feet long, with two partitions on each side of the centre, and rows of beds standing on each side of these partitions, which were from 10 to 12 feet high. The "dodger" and his companions, taking a forage-rope, with which every trooper is provided, tied a slip-knot around the bed of the recruit, so as to encircle the three boards forming the base of the bed as well as the mattress and the feet of the man inside it; the end of the rope was then thrown over the partition, being grasped on the other side by three or four men, while the "artful one" was peeping round the corner to see that the man had not moved. He then gave a whistle, the rope was smartly pulled, and the recruit's bed instantly stood straight up against the wall, the man inside it being tightly imprisoned with his feet held up in the air by the slip-knot and his head downwards. After leaving him for a few minutes in this uncomfortable position, the rope was suddenly slackened, and bed and man crashed with a great noise to the floor. This was called "sending a man to heaven," and the unfortunate victim could not possibly find out who was responsible for the "joke."

Another trick consisted in sticking a carbine-rod between the shelf and the clothes on it, over the recruit's head, so that the end of the rod projected above the fellow's face; a drinking-cup filled with water was then slung from the gun-rod by two strings fastened round its rim, while a third and independent string attached its handle to the rod. A piece of lighted paper was then placed on the top of the water, and before it had time to go out, it burnt the two first strings, tilting the water down as the cup remained suspended by its handle. The half-minute or so which elapsed between the lighting of the paper and the burning of the strings, enabled the men who had played the trick to get back to bed, so that the poor fellow whose face had been deluged with water was unable to find out who his persecutors were.

In every case when the recruit made a noise, the Corporal, who was invariably a consenting party to these rough "amusements," came forward and threatened to send him to the cells for disturbing his comrades. Of course, to complain to the officers was considered by the troopers a heinous crime, and whoever did so was never tempted to adopt that course again.

That same night one of the recruits whose bed had been sent "heavenwards" rushed to the Sergeant's room and complained. The Sergeant came to our quarters, and shouted in a loud voice, "Look here, you fellows," "here's a recruit who has come to complain to me of having been bullied, as we have all been on joining the regiment; you had better leave him alone, and don't let him disturb me any more." Thereupon, knowing well what the result would be, the Sergeant retired to his room. Immediately a blanket was produced round which from twelve to fifteen men stood holding it, while four other men collared the recruit and chucked him into it. Before he knew where he was, he had been sent flying up to the ceiling, and as soon as he dropped into the blanket was again sent up, the operation being repeated a dozen times until all the breath had nearly left the poor fellow's body. The same misfortune, I am sorry to say, befell me that very night. A trooper from the second squadron, whose room was close to mine, sneaked in and pulled my bed down. I saw him go back to his room, and as soon as he had got under the blankets without noticing me, I pulled his bed down with a crash; but some other fellows had seen me, and, unfortunately for myself, I was ignorant at the time of the unwritten law that no practical jokes may be played on the men of a squadron different from one's own, so, before I realised where I was, I was chucked into a blanket and tossed more than once into the air. I must, however, add that the thing was purely done as a joke, and with no ill-feeling—the bed, indeed, that I had pulled down was that of my friend, Walter. I found it by no means a disagreeable sensation to be tossed in a blanket, but I can quite understand that a repetition of the performance, a dozen times or more, may shake a man more than he may like.

The following day we began to drill. After morning stables we were hurried to our rooms. We kept on our stable-dress, but had to exchange our clogs for boots, although we were allowed to wear ordinary shoes if we possessed any. We assembled in the barrack-square, Volontaires and recruits together, and three or four of us were told off under the orders of a Corporal, who proceeded to explain to us the difference between our left and right leg. However absurd this may seem, it is absolutely necessary in the case of many recruits coming from remote districts in the provinces, and I have known some of them to take a fortnight before they realised the difference between left and right.

We went through the various preliminaries of drill, we were taught to stand in line, to execute "By the left quick march," "Right turn," "Left turn," "Right about turn," and so on—preliminary exercises, which are the same in all the armies of the world. At the end of two hours, at the call of "Soup," we were to our great relief at last dismissed.

At 11 A.M. we were put through the first elements of voltige (circus-riding). A specially-trained horse was brought into the riding-school, and while its foreleg was held up by a trooper, the others had to jump on its back from behind, leap-frog fashion. It was most amusing to see the efforts of some of the recruits to accomplish this feat, most of them at first rushing as hard as they could towards the horse, and ending by merely striking their noses against its tail; as, however, every man who failed to ultimately succeed in getting on the horse's back was sent to sleep in the cells, very few of us remained unsuccessful. We were afterwards placed on a bare-backed horse around which was buckled a surcingle with two handles—a non-commissioned officer holding the animal at the end of a long rope so as to make him canter in a circle. We had to jump on and off while the animal was cantering, and those who failed, or did not try their best, were usually rewarded with a smart cut from the huge circus-whip which the non-commissioned officer carried in his hand. We had also to repeat the same performance on a broad circus saddle, and many were those who, taking too powerful a spring, were sent flying outside the circle. These were merely preliminary exercises, however, and I will describe later on others we were called upon to do in the same way.

Among the recruits there was one so clumsy that he could never manage to alight on the horse's back, and no amount of assistance seemed to be of any use to him. The sergeant threatened to send the man to the lock-up, but he looked so helplessly stupid, and made such simple and amusing excuses, that his instructor could not find it in his heart to punish him. When placed on the bare-backed steed, he clung to the surcingle like a monkey, and upon being told to jump off, he rolled like an untidy bundle to the ground. The Sergeant began to lose his temper, and warned the man that if he failed to get on again he would certainly be punished. Thereupon the recruit caught hold of the handle and ran round the ring alongside of the cantering horse; at last, with a mighty effort, he got his knee upon the animal's back and finally sat there, looking half exhausted.

"Now," said the Sergeant, "you see you can do it; jump off and try again."

Clumsily the recruit got down, and tripping, fell on his knees at the Sergeant's feet.

"Now then, up you get!" cried the Sergeant; "jump on once more."

"Jump on?" replied the recruit dreamily, as though just aroused from a reverie; "well, here goes!"

And so saying, he took a mighty bound, and alighted on his feet on the back of the cantering horse! In another moment, turning a splendid somersault, he reached the ground, and stood composedly before the astonished Sergeant, amidst universal laughter and applause.

"You have been fooling me!" cried the latter, when he could find words.

"Forgive me, Sergeant," said the fellow in reply; "you see, it isn't easy for a man to forget his business all at once; and the fact is, I have been a clown. Houp-la!" And, taking a short run, he this time turned a somersault right over the still cantering horse. I may add that the ex-clown became a great favourite with all the officers, and was certainly one of the most wonderful trick-riders I have ever seen.

After voltige we were allowed some rest, and before "Stables" we had an hour's physical drill. This consisted of bending the body downwards with extended arms, bending the knees with uplifted arms, and other exercises which are taught in every English and foreign gymnasium. A curious part of the performance consisted, however, in the principles of French boxing. The position in which we were placed would have been the joy of any English schoolboy; we were told to put our legs well apart, one foot twenty inches behind the other, the left arm level with our chin, and the right arm a little lower. The first movement consisted in striking forward with the right fist. We then had to bring forward the right leg, which had been extended the whole time behind the left; as we brought the right leg forward we had to strike it against the calf of our left leg, so as to give a powerful kick with the heel, which then described a circle, bringing our right foot twenty inches behind the left. Such is what is called "French boxing."

In the evening, after "Soup," we were taken to the riding-school, having to dress for the purpose in undress uniform—namely, the red trousers with leather covering which I have previously described, a short jacket, a kÉpi, and white gloves—pieces of rags being tied round the rowels of our spurs. We were first taught how to dress in line, and how to stand at our horse's head. At the command of "Prepare to mount!" we had to take a long step backwards, slipping the reins through our left hand and catching hold of the mane with it while we seized the pommel of the saddle with the right, and at the command "Mount!" we had to raise ourselves well up (our weight resting on the wrists), and then throw the right leg over the saddle. Many of us were unable to get on our horses in this way without a good deal of shoving up by the Corporals. Once on our horses, the position we had to assume was explained, and we were also taught how to hold our reins and how to direct our animals (we had only a snaffle on our bridles). We were then marched in Indian file after a Corporal all round the riding-school. Most of the recruits knew something about horses, as those drafted into the cavalry are usually picked out from amongst farm hands, carters, or men who have had something to do with stables. Some of them, however, had never been on a horse in their lives, and when the command "Trot!" was given, two or three very soon tumbled off. I had been warned beforehand by my friend, De Lanoy, that the looseness and roughness of our military trousers would cause me serious abrasions unless I adopted a plan which had succeeded admirably with him. I had accordingly brought with me when I joined the regiment a few pairs of thin doeskin riding-breeches, which I put on before dressing to go to the riding-school, and over these I pulled my trousers, an easy matter if one considers the abnormal size of the latter. I congratulated myself many a time afterwards upon having adopted this plan, as I was the only man who never was galled.

At the end of an hour we were dismissed, and having taken back our horses to the stables, we were shown how to rub them down with straw, and we then returned to our room, carrying our saddles on our heads.

It was that night that the Bienvenue (welcome supper) was to take place. The evening "call" over, we therefore repaired to the canteen, where the fourteen Volontaires sat down with about one hundred and twenty of the Corporals and troopers belonging to their respective pelotons. As one canteen would not have been able to accommodate this number, it was arranged that as there were two canteens in our regiment, the Volontaires of the first and second squadrons should give their Bienvenue in one, while those of the third and fourth squadrons would use the other.

We accordingly sat down with about sixty of our guests, the Corporals and troopers of our companies. Tables had been laid in a large room and we crowded around them. Cold meats, sausages, coffee, with wine and brandy ad libitum, formed the bill of fare. As the meal proceeded, and the men helped themselves to a liberal quantity of wine, they became more and more noisy. At last one of the Corporals, although very drunk, stood on a form and demanded "Order," adding that the company would now be favoured with a few songs; and at the same time calling upon anybody who could sing to add to the pleasure of the entertainment. Nobody responded, so, rising once more, the Corporal, after swallowing a large glass of brandy to steady himself, began in a drunken and cracked voice to sing a sentimental ditty, an old and simple country song which, although interrupted by many hiccups, was greeted with much applause. Next came a lanky country bumpkin whose regimental training had been unable to obliterate his countrified appearance; he sang, with the utmost monotony and an innumerable number of false notes, an atrociously indecent song, the coarseness of which had evidently never struck him. Every one of the troopers took up the chorus, which they all sang in different keys, but with marvellous seriousness. Then came the turn of a Parisian ruffian, who sang in a voice of thunder an old and also very obscene regimental song, of course with a chorus; he could, however, not get further than the second verse, for in the middle of this he collapsed on the floor, and interrupted for a moment the gaiety of the proceedings by so noisy an attack of sickness that the whole distinguished company called for his removal. (We found him later on soundly asleep on a dung-heap in the barrack-yard.) After his removal, another trooper, also a countryman, sang a religious song, with a mournful tune, which ran into more than twenty verses, but was greatly appreciated. At this point the delightful proceedings were once more interrupted, this time by a fight between two Corporals. They went for each other like madmen, kicking, scratching, and biting one another. They were, however, too drunk to hurt each other much, and everything would have concluded peacefully had not the quarrel degenerated into a free fight, which resulted in the smashing of a good many glasses and plates, for which we had, of course, to pay. The whole bill, however, only amounted to about 35s. for each one of the Volontaires. Before the call of "Lights out" peace had been restored, and the whole company adjourned to their respective rooms, most of the troopers supporting (?) one another and collapsing a good many times on the way. I shall never forget the scene when we got near the dung-heap. We discovered the fellow of whom I spoke just now, fast asleep in the mire, and four or five of his comrades volunteered to get him out, but, being as drunk as himself, they all fell in a heap on the top of him, and it was only with great difficulty that they were extricated from the filth and, in a state that I dare not describe, carried to their room. Some of the men who were boisterously drunk were sent to pass the night in the cells by a Corporal who resented not having been invited, and having thus missed the chance of a good "booze."

On the Friday, at 11 o'clock in the morning, the trumpeters sounded "Forage," and we were all paraded in the yard, each one of us carrying his forage-rope. (Sergeant de Lanoy had previously told me that he couldn't excuse me from this work, but he promised that he would manage to let me slip off in the middle of it.) We were then marched to the forage-store, some two hundred yards away from the barracks; and there stood the officers of the week of each squadron, whose duty it was to get delivery of the forage required for the next seven days. Each of the troopers was told to pick out of a heap eight huge bundles of straw, and to fasten them together with his forage-rope, the end of which is fitted with a kind of metal pulley so as to form a slip-knot. The rope being thus tied round the eight bundles of straw, we were supposed to take the load on our shoulders and to carry it to the squadron store. To peasants and men of the lower classes, such as were most of the troopers, men who had been accustomed from their boyhood to carry heavy and cumbrous loads, this entailed merely a little extra exertion, but to one who, like myself, had never been used to manual work, it was almost an impossible task. The other troopers enjoyed, of course, the sight of a gentleman carrying on his back a cumbersome weight of nearly one hundred and sixty pounds. I did my best to go on with it, but I had not covered fifty yards before one of the bundles began to drop out of the heap, and the whole load soon came to the ground. I did my best to tie it together again, but when it came to hoisting it on to my back I found that it was out of the question. In vain did I ask some of the troopers who had already carried one load, and were returning to the stores, to help me; they all laughed, but none of them would give me a hand. To my great relief, however, my friend Titi soon appeared on the scene, and, telling me to wait a few minutes, he promised that when he returned with his own load he would relieve me of a few bundles. While I was waiting for him a Captain chanced to pass; I saluted him, but he did not return my salute, and merely said:

"What the devil are you doing here?"

"I cannot manage to carry my load, sir," I replied.

"Now catch hold of it at once, you blasted lazy beggar!" he cried, standing in front of me, and waiting to see me execute his order.

I renewed my efforts, but was unable to hoist the enormous bundle on to my shoulders. The Captain then called out to two troopers who happened to pass by: "Stick me that load on that lazy dog's shoulders!" he said to them. They lifted the bundle, and dropping it on the top of my head before I was prepared for it, they brought me to the ground under the heap. This put the Captain in a fury; he swore at me and cursed me, and said that it was all obstinacy on my part, and that I would "d——d well have to carry it." At last I managed to get it on my shoulders, and went twenty-five yards farther with it; but it was too much for me, and I had to put it down once more. Fortunately, the Captain had disappeared, and Titi soon came to my relief. Although he was carrying seven bundles, he took three of mine, and I was then able to carry the five remaining ones as far as the squadron stores. These, I found to my astonishment, to have been originally built as a lavatory, with a number of large basins for the use of the men. I stopped there a little while, hoping to escape a repetition of my previous experience, when our Sergeant-major looked into the place.

"What are you doing there, you lazy dog?" (The actual expression which is constantly used in French regimental slang, by officers and non-commissioned officers alike, cannot be translated into English for more than one reason.)

In reply to the Sergeant-major's civil question I told him that I was putting the straw in order, but he told me to return at once to the stores. All the straw had already been carried away, so I was told off to carry four bundles of hay, each one of them tied up in the shape of a ball and weighing about fifty pounds. I told the Corporal that I should be unable to bear such a weight, especially considering the enormous size of the load. He abused me, called me a lazy dog, and as he was raising his voice an officer came to see what was the matter.

"The fellow refuses to carry his load," said the Corporal.

"Refuses!" exclaimed the officer.

"No, sir," I interrupted; "I merely said that I was unable to bear the weight of such a load."

The officer, who was one of the exceptionally just and gentlemanly lieutenants in our regiment, told me to try and carry two bundles, and to show him that I appreciated his manner towards me, I did my best to go on with them. I only succeeded, however, in going half way to the barracks, and then I tipped another trooper to carry my load as far as the stores. I escaped having to carry any more, De Lanoy having considerately ordered me to sweep the straw in front of the building.

The following days were devoted to drill, stables, and the routine I have already described; on Sundays we had no drill, but, unless we had obtained leave, we had to attend stables. The first Sunday, I obtained midnight leave, so that I was able to have a quiet dinner and to enjoy the luxury of a thoroughly good wash. The second week passed off very much in the same way, but at the end of it I obtained twenty-four hours' leave, so that I was enabled to go to Paris. I can hardly describe the delight I felt at wearing civilian clothes, in which I felt a gentleman once more.

[16] Non-commissioned officers do not groom their own chargers; they are allowed an orderly, to whom they pay 2s. per month. Corporals are supposed to groom their chargers, but usually order a trooper to do so.