On reaching the General's quarters, I thought it best not to report myself to his Excellency, till I had seen Captain Gabion again. While waiting in the street, I noticed a small shop, the open window of which exhibited not only a choice assortment of straw cigars, but bread, bacon, sausages, eggs, articles all equally attractive to travellers who had not dined. Reminded, by the sight, that this was precisely my own condition, I stepped in; hoping to find something that might support exhausted nature, during the awful interval that seemed likely to intervene, ere we could halt for the night, and think about cooking. The eggs, white, large, and pellucid, claimed a trial; and the yolk of the first I cracked went down whole like an oyster, with such a delicious gulp, that I was about to attack a second, when I was interrupted by a voice from the back of the shop, "NÓ, nÓ, seÑor." Looking in that direction, I perceived six or eight persons crouching round a small fire on the hearth. On walking towards them, I found my two Capatazes, and a party of their muleteers, all on a broad grin at my recent exploit in egg-sucking. The Spanish Capataz arose; politely observed that roast eggs are better than raw; and, with equal politeness taking that which I held in my hand, cracked it at one end, and stuck it upright in the hot embers. Fully acquiescing in this arrangement, and determined to carry it out, I was returning to the counter for another egg; but was anticipated by the Capataz, who selected a couple, observing that he had great knowledge in choosing eggs. These he set in the embers, by the side of the former, first opening a safety-valve in each. Never having known, before, how to roast an egg, I did not regret this lesson in the art of extempore cookery. And I beg to state that a roast egg—so roasted, i. e. done slowly in the embers, "ovum ad prunas cocked 'em" (you see, the Romans also set them upright)—not only is altogether a different sort of thing from a boiled egg, but beats it to sticks: especially if washed down, as mine were on the present occasion, with a cup or two of good sound Spanish wine out of a leathern bag. For the Capataz, insisting that eating without drinking was bad for the digestion, transferred the wine from the leather to the horn, with an air of benignity that was perfectly irresistible. In short, he would take no denial. I was also glad of this little rencontre in the shop, for another reason—because it tended to establish amicable relations between me and the muleteers, which was just what I wanted. Having chatted a few minutes with my polite entertainers, I thanked them for their cortesia, and walked towards the counter, to settle for the eggs. How now? There's nothing to settle! The eggs are paid for! This was a touch of high Spanish breeding, that quite took me by surprise—I demurred. The big jolly old Spaniard, though, stepped forward with his hand on his breast, self-congratulation twinkling in his eyes, and a profusion of very profound but silent bows. I really could not find it in my heart to break his, by saying anything more about the eggs. In short, I and all the muleteers gradually became very good friends; and as for my entertainer on the present occasion, had he known I was thinking of buying a mule, I have no manner of doubt he would forthwith have made me a bon fide offer of the best in his batch, and thanked me for accepting it.

Just as I emerged from the shop, Jones came pelting by on the pony—pulled up the moment he saw me—and owned himself conscience-stricken by rushing into self-vindication. "Please, sir, I jest only brought the poor hannibal here from the river, sir; 'cause why, sir?—'cause I thought you had done with him, sir. Been all about, looking for a stable, sir. Can't find no corner nowhere, not to shove the poor hannibal in, sir. Couldn't you be so kind and speak to that 'ere hofficer, sir? Have'nt had no time to think of cooking dinner, sir. Very long march we've had to-day, sir. Very bad thing sitch long marches for poor soldiers, sir. Got a bullet in my leg, sir."

"Well," said I, "you've no occasion to trouble yourself about dinner, nor yet about a stable. I expect we have at least two leagues more to cover, before we halt for the night."

Jones tuned as black as thunder. His look was perfectly savage.

"Well, Jones, it can't be helped, man. You yourself must see there's not room for us here."

"Please, sir," replied Jones, "I know there isn't, sir. Only I thought p'rhaps you'd speak to the hofficer, sir. And in course, as he's a friend, I thought he'd see to it, sir, and make room, sir."

"No, no—I tell you it won't do. As soon as the men have got their rations, we must move on."

The word "rations" wrought an immediate change in Jones's agonising visage. "Oh, very well, sir," said he—"then we gits our rations here, does we, sir? Please, sir, if I might make bold to aast the question—which is it, sir?"

"Which is it? I suppose beef as usual; bread if they've got any. I don't know what else it's likely to be."

"Beg your pardon, sir," replied Jones; "but I did'nt mean about the whittles, sir. What I means is the liquor, sir. 'Cause p'rhaps its that 'ere poor, nasty, green, hungry, skinny wine as we got in Spain, sir; that what giz the men the hayger, sir. Or p'rhaps, may be, its sperrits, sir; if so be we've come into the brandy, what the men gits here in France, sir. That's the liquor to march upon, sir. Fine rations thim is for poor soldiers, sir. Oh, be-youti-ful, sir! Takes the skin off the roof of your mouth, sir."

"Well; we shall soon see which it is."

"Yes, sir," said Jones in a lower voice, coming nearer, and touching his peak. "But please, sir, that isn't what I meant to hintimate, sir. Please, sir, wouldn't you have the kineness, sir, and jest speak a word to the hofficer for the fut-soldiers, sir. 'Cause p'rhaps the rations is only some on it sperrits, sir; not enough for all on us, fut and horse, sir. Please, sir, only because we poor fut-soldiers wants it more, sir; 'cause, ye see, we goes on fut, sir; which them fellers doesn't want it as doesn't go on fut, sir; 'cause they rides, sir."

"No, no; I'm not going to interfere in a thing of that sort; nor is it likely the Captain would. Besides, what could he do?"

"What could he do, sir?" said Jones. "Bless your heart, sir, if he chose to speak a word for me, sir, he could git me a horder to ride a mule all the way to headquarters, sir; one of the spare uns, sir. Got a bullet in my leg, sir."

"Well, Jones, how did you get it? You haven't told me that yet."

"Oh, nothing pertikler more than others, sir. Got it near Pampelona, sir. That 'ere Ginneral Soult thought he was too many for us, sir; but we soon let him see as we was too many for him, sir. Please, sir, I laid eighteen hours on the ground, sir, afore I was picked up, sir. The wolves came down in the night, and smelt to me, sir."

Our disquisition was interrupted by the approach of Captain Gabion.

"I've settled it for you," said the Captain. "Have you seen the General?"

"I wished to ask you about it first. Any particular etiquette?"

"Oh yes," said the Captain; "I forgot to tell you. Please mind. When you've reported yourself, if his Excellency remains silent, and takes no notice, bolt. If he remains silent, but looks up at you, back slowly towards the door, looking at him. If he looks up at his aide-de-camp, keep where you are, don't stir. Perhaps the aide will take you to the window, or into another room, and ask you a question or two."

The actual interview, though, did not terminate precisely as the Captain anticipated. I was ushered into a small parlour, and there found two military officers. One of them, the General in command of the British forces before Bayonne, Sir John Hope, was reclining on a sofa. He had not yet recovered from the severe wound in the ankle received in December, near Barrouilhet; and his countenance bore the marks of illness—perhaps it might be said, of suffering. Yet his aspect, even in the attitude of repose, at once arrested the eye. Tall, athletic, and dignified,

I saw before me one of the bravest, the most distinguished, the most trusted of the Generals who fought and conquered under Wellington; him whom Wellington himself had pronounced the "ablest officer in the army." Little did I dream that, in less than five weeks from this very interview, when war was supposed to be at an end, and ere he had fully recovered from his present injury, he was to be roused—perhaps from that couch—by martial sounds at dead of night, to be wounded a second time, taken prisoner, and carried off in triumph into the city which he now besieged! The other person present was an aide-de-camp, who sat at a table writing. I reported myself and party.

"Yes, I have heard, sir," said his Excellency, speaking, apparently, with some degree of effort. "Should have been happy to have given you quarters here to-night; but it's impossible: we are quite full. You must proceed, with your convoy and escort, till you regain the high-road, then take the first quarters you can find. Every man's good wishes will attend you, for you bring what we are all in want of. To-morrow you will have all the easier march to Dax. Do not, on any account, go further than Dax to-morrow: that is where you are to be to-morrow night. I wish you to be particular in attending to this. Good afternoon, sir."

On returning to the street, I found our whole party far more reconciled than I had expected to the idea of proceeding. Mr Chesterfield had already remounted. The mules had now been kept standing, with their loads on their backs, more than half-an-hour; and the two Capatazes received the announcement with great equanimity, each after the manner of his own nation. The Spaniard, as gravely as though uttering some time-honoured adage of his race, observed that a long march to-day makes a short march to-morrow, and that travelling tires a loaded mule, but resting kills him; while the Portuguese contented himself with a shrug of the shoulders and a paciencia—the two great remedies of his countrymen for all the troubles that flesh is heir to. Jones stood close at my elbow, with a face as festive now as it was ruthful not long before. "Please, sir," said he, "it's sperrits for all the party, sir. The hofficer has done it very handsome, sir. Don't care now if we marches all night, sir."

Just as we were moving, I was joined once more by Captain Gabion, who came on with us a little way, walking by the side of my pony, and bearing in his hand a small parcel. "You can't imagine, Mr Y——," said he, "how very much I feel annoyed that we can't accommodate you."

"Pray, don't mention it," said I. "In two or three hours we shall be under cover."

"Yes," replied the captain, in a consolatory tone. "But then it's such a shocking bad evening. Why, you'll be drenched to the skin."

"Well, never mind that. I must change when I get in."

"Ah! but then you'll find it such a dreadful road," said he. "The lane is nothing but slush and quagmire from one end to the other."

"No matter. We must pick our way through it as well as we can, and get out of it as soon as possible."

"Yes," said he, "so you must. But then it's so dismally long—a league and a half, if not near upon two."

"No matter, no matter; we shall find the end of it, sooner or later, I hope."

"How unfortunate, though, you ride a pony!" said he. "Why, you'd get through a thousand times better on horseback. You'll be caked with dirt up to your middle."

"Oh, never mind that. Dirt will brush off."

"Ah! I only wish you could have started earlier," said the captain. "It's now just upon sunset; and, with such a night as this, in another half-hour or so you'll have it pitch-dark."

"Well, we must do the best we can, you know. If we can't see our way, we must feel it."

"Yes, that's just what I was thinking," said he. "You'll have to grope for it, no doubt. But then, unfortunately, from the present state of the road, you'll find that far from agreeable. One time you'll lay hold of a dead bullock; another, of a dead man."

"Never mind, never mind. Of course, in the dark, we shan't be able to tell the difference, so it won't matter which."

"Hang it all!" said Captain Gabion. "I can't express to you how vexed I feel on your account. Why, I came through this lane myself a day or two ago, and could hardly get along, though it was daylight. What will you ever do, with all this convoy at your heels, passing it by night? Why, it's darker already than when you started."

"Well, at any rate we shall have a hedge on each side of us. That will tell us where we are, if we have no other clue."

"Yes, yes," said he; "very true; so it will. It's dreadful slow work, though, feeling your way, after dark, through a long, puddly lane, knee-deep in mire, by the help of the hedge—especially if there happens to be a ditch between, which you'll find to be the case. In short, I'm so perfectly convinced you'll be stuck for the night, I shall make a point to-morrow of sending a working party, before noon, if possible, to dig you all out; that is, if you are to be found above the surface. If not, you know, we must bore for you, or sink a shaft."

"Thank you, thank you; much obliged. Hope you'll remember and send some breakfast at the same time."

"Why, Mr Y——," roared Captain Gabion, bursting into an incontrollable fit of laughter, "I really do think you'll make a good campaigner in time—that is, if you have practice enough. Well, now I must say good evening, and leave you to pursue your journey. My boots are thin, and the lane is getting soppy. By the bye, Mr Y——, I don't suppose I have anything to offer that you are not well provided with; but allow me to ask, how are you off for cigars?"

"Cigars? Of course, in France, cigars may be bought anywhere and everywhere. Haven't above a day's provision, if I have that."

"Oh! haven't you, though?" said Captain Gabion. "Then just do me the favour to accept of this small package. You'll find them capital—Spanish cigars. Here, let me stow them in your coat pocket. That's it. No fear of their getting wet. It's a small box, lined with metal. Let me advise you: never smoke a French cigar, except when you can't get Spanish: enough to make a horse sick. How do you suppose I obtained them? One of the staff was sent into Bayonne with a flag of truce: found the French officers living like princes: happened to say, no good cigars to be got outside. Didn't they laugh at him? Gave him a dozen little boxes, though; did them up for him in a wrapper of skyblue silk. Don't you call that handsome? I got two of the boxes: that in your pocket is one. Good night."

It soon became too evident, as we proceeded on our march, that Captain Gabion had given no exaggerated description of the route now before us. The surface of the soil, near the river, was a loose sand or rubble. But this gradually disappeared in the lane, and was succeeded by a subsoil of thick clay, equally soft, soppy, and tenacious—poached, too, by the passage of cavalry and commissariat bullocks, and trenched by waggons and artillery. There were, indeed, but few parts of the road, except where it was actually kneaded into slush, traversed by water-courses, or occupied all across by plashy inundations, where a careful walker might not have picked his way, without absolute danger of detention or absorption. But, with a party like ours, picking was not always so easy. Regularity there was none; each managed for himself as he was able. With all the disadvantage of her little feet, Nanny managed best; where she could not walk, she jumped. Next to her, in succession, the infantry and muleteers did tolerably well: the mules did better than could be expected. The riders got on worst of any. Our line became considerably extended. Here there was a stoppage; there a break; and the length of road which we occupied far exceeded marching order. Superintendence became next to impracticable; for, in so narrow a space, with a hedge and ditch on each side, it was no easy matter to pass from one part of the line to another. Two or three times, I noticed, Corporal Fraser made his way to the head of the column; and, standing up when he found a place, allowed the whole to pass, counting the mules, as on our previous day's march. Seeing the impossibility of preserving strict regularity, Mr Chesterfield requested me to proceed in front with a few of the men, while he brought up the rear, that, at least, all might be kept together. I accordingly made my way forwards, and led the march, receiving occasional communications from Corporal Fraser. Our difficulties, however, increased as we advanced. Daylight rapidly declined—twilight was short—it fell dark. Fancy, under such circumstances, a party like ours, horsemen, footmen, mules, muleteers, floundering about in a narrow lane, which, in fact, was an elongated bog; the rain coming down in torrents; the muleteers now shouting, now screaming; the soldiers, horse and foot, making their way onwards, as best they could, in silence; with every now and then a stoppage, from a mule that had stuck fast, or fallen under its burden—objects not distinguishable, barely discernible—and, where the road was overhung with trees, all gloom around; nothing visible but the faint, uncertain glimmer beyond. The behaviour of the soldiers, on the whole, I must say, was such as to do them credit. Now and then a fellow broke away through the hedge, in hope of finding a better road on the other side. But that was generally more toil than profit. They came upon unexpected obstacles, and had to return into the lane. In fact, this, I take it, is a maxim in marching: Unless you know the country, and know it well, however bad the road, keep it; don't straggle, or try short cuts.

Riding on at the head of the party, I attempted to pick my way as far as I could see it, by making Sancho go as I thought best. This led to frequent contests between Sancho and me. Sometimes he had his way, and we got on well. Sometimes I was positive and had mine, which generally led to a plunge and a splash. Tired of this, I dismounted and led him. Still it was troublesome work. Sancho thought he knew better than I did; and often, when I pulled one way, he pulled the other. At length I gave up the contest, led him with a slack rein, and pulled no longer. This was just what he wanted; and, left to himself, he picked his way admirably. I noticed, as we passed, several such obstructions as Captain Gabion had described; and, once or twice, came very disagreeably in contact with them. At length I stumbled over I knew not what, and almost fell; took hold of something on the ground: it was a cold hand that did not return my grasp! Are you a poor man? Do you shake hands with rich men? You will understand the kind of thing. Not relishing such salutations, I was induced to try a different dodge; and, finding that Sancho went very well with a slack rein while I walked, thought perhaps he might still do the same if I mounted. Turning for that purpose, I saw, close at hand, in the gloom of night, what looked very like a ghost!—the ghost of myself! Here was I, bridle in hand, standing at Sancho's head. And there was I, alter ego, mounted on Sancho's back! While I looked, my mounted double suddenly disappeared! The spectral evaporation was attended with a wallop in the mud; then, close behind Sancho's heels, arose the same dark figure from the earth—and as it rose it spoke! "Please, sir, I only got across him jest to keep him steady sir, going through the mud, sir. Hope no offence, sir. Got a bullet in my leg, sir." True to his principle, of never walking when he could ride, and, dark as it was, detecting an empty saddle, Jones had promptly occupied it; and, repressing his usual loquacity, had been riding close behind me, a silent spectator of all my pedestrian misadventures. On my turning to mount, conscious guilt, as it always did when he was taken en flagrant delit, threw him off his guard; and, too much flurried to alight in the usual way, he had effected a retrograde descent, by a parabolic flight over the pony's tail. The impetus thus acquired carried him further than he intended. He fell soft; but he fell—not on his feet. Perceiving by my laughter that I bore no malice, he promptly stepped forward, rubbed his hands on his trousers, helped me to mount, and walked on by my side. "Please, sir," said he, "I'm afeared I've split 'em, sir. It did come so very cold when I squattered down in the puddle, sir."—(No reply.)

"Please, sir, I'm thinking we shan't want good quarters when we gits furder on, sir." (Pause.) "Nor yit nothing what soldiers wants, when we gits well on into France, sir." (Another pause.) "Please, sir, I'm thinking its very cruel on service, sir, when there's whittles and drink, plenty on it, close to hand, sir, as they won't let poor soldiers help themselves, sir."

"Oh, then I suppose the soldiers never do."

"Please, sir, I s'pose they don't; not never, sir. In course not, sir. But then it's this, sir. If the Provost comes and you're cotched, sir, why, it's a couple of dozen for only taking an old shutter to bile a kittle, sir."

"Tight hand, the Provost-marshal?"

"Once, I was inamost cotched myself, sir. Please, sir, it was three on us, as got into a farm-house, sir; an empty house, what wasn't inhabited, sir. Looked up the chimbly, sir; 'cause that's where they hangs up the yams to smoke 'em, sir. There they was, sir; oh, sich a lot on 'em, as you couldn't count 'em, sir. So I fixes bagonets, and forks down a pair on 'em, sir: and jest as I was a-going to fork down another for myself, sir, along come the Provost, sir. So he see the window open, sir; 'cause the door was fastened, sir; so we got in at the window, sir. So he got in too, sir. The other fellows was cotched, and got it, sir; but I wasn't, sir; so I didn't, sir."

"Turn king's evidence?"

"Please, sir, it wasn't not likely as I should do that, sir; 'cause I scorns any sitch low-lived ways, sir. Only when I heard the Provost a-coming, sir, I got up into the chimbly, sir; and when he was gone, sir, why then I got down agin, sir. Got safe back to quarters, sir, with a yam under my greet-coat, sir."

"Of course the inhabitants must be protected, and so must their property."

"Well, p'rhaps they must if they're frinds, sir; though I nivver see'd what frinds the Spaniards was to me, sir. But here in France, where us now be, sir, I doesn't see why poor soldiers shouldn't help themselves, sir; and men's bin scragged for it, sir, let alone the Provost, sir."

"I trust we shall find the people here, if we treat them well, better friends than you did the Spaniards."

"Please, sir, if two hofficers dines togither four or five times a-week, sir, that's what I calls being friends, sir. Hope I shall find plenty sitch, and you too, sir. Hope no offence, sir." (Pause.) "Might I make bold to aast the question, sir? The men says, as soon as we jines, we shall move on aginst the hinnimy, sir."

"Shouldn't wonder."

"Please, sir, I should like to pick off that 'ere feller as put a bullet into me, sir; jest knock him over, sir, as he did me, sir."

"Sure you would know him again, though?"

"No doubt of that, sir. I know him by the way he cocks his eye down on his firelock, sir. Could pick him out of a whole ridgment on 'em, sir."

We had now been toiling on, through mire and puddles, for about a brace of hours; and I know not how much longer our conference might have continued; but, looking forwards, at a part where the lane was more than usually darkened by over-arching trees, I perceived, at the extremity of the vista, a light less dim than hitherto. Hurra! we had reached the main road. I passed the intelligence; a shout ran down the line, and came back to us from the rear; and, reaching at length the paved highway—it was like landing on terra firma, I took my stand to the right of the embouchure, while weary men and weary beasts slowly and successively emerged from the dark recess, and filed off to the left along the road. At this moment the rain began to moderate; the clouds lifted in the east; the blowzy moon looked down on us from silver peaks, that crested the distant Pyrenees; and, favoured by her light, after an additional half-hour's marching we reached our halting-place. Mr Chesterfield and I established headquarters at a small auberge, stowed the money-boxes, saw to the accommodation of the party, and were fortunate enough to secure a couple of rooms, each with a comfortable bed.

Walking down into the lower part of the house, I found Jones already at work, busying himself, much to the amusement of the mÉnage, in unbidden preparations for my evening meal. He had cut the ration beef into large uncouth dabs, which he called beef-steaks, and was banging away at them with a rolling-pin on the dresser, in the vain hope of subduing them to tenderness. Alas, what could be done with beef, that had said "moo" that forenoon? While this operation was in progress, a smart fillette looked smiling on, as if anxious to take a lesson in cookery À l'Anglaise. Fancying that Jones had intruded on an office which she considered her own, I asked whether I could have anything else? "Anything Monsieur pleased." Bravo! I was now among the Gascons. Well but, what could I have?—"For example, a poulet, dressed any way Monsieur preferred—potage, in every variety—omelets—she made twenty-three different sorts. Her brother, who was cook to the hotel at Mont de Marsan, made twenty-nine." Very well, suppose we try all three, potage, poulet, omelet:—the faÇon of each at your discretion;—only, if you please, as soon as possible; to be ready with the biftek (which, I perceived, would be impregnable.) "All should be ready, in a solitary moment."—What wine could I have? She referred me to the landlord, a pleasant-looking old gentleman in a blouse, very pursy about the neck, chest, and chin, who sat in a corner of the hearth. "Any wine I liked, French or foreign." Go it again, Gascony!—Could I have a bottle of bordeaux? "Superb."—These weighty matters arranged, I returned to the first floor; and heard, on my way up stairs, the screams of a luckless hen, which my mandate had sentenced to prompt execution in the poultry-yard.

I had not ordered dinner, however, with an eye to self alone: and was thinking whether it would not be proper to wait on my fellow-lodger, and report proceedings, when Jones followed me to my door. "Please, sir," said he, "the hofficer's kit is left behind, sir. His man isn't come up, nor yet his mule, not nayther on 'em, sir." This intelligence was decisive: I knocked at the entrance of the Hon. Mr Chesterfield's apartment. Found him rather disposed, though, to live alone. "His man would be up ere long. He was much obliged to me." Well; perhaps I had taken a liberty. Almost before I had completed the twofold process of shifting and scrubbing, the cloth was laid. The bread and bordeaux were first on the table; then the potage.—Presently came the poulette and the beefsteak—then the omelet;—in short, I had dined. Suffice it to say, the bordeaux was very respectable; but the beefsteak impracticable, and the poulette questionable. It had been cut into small pieces, and broiled. The potage and the omelet were the staple of my meal. Obs. 1.—When travelling in France, should you order an omelet at a roadside inn, let it by all means be the omelette au jambon. They will offer you a choice of twenty or thirty sorts; but that's the kind you are most likely to get good, and that you may get everywhere. Obs. 2.—Though a fowl dressed as I have described is not very tempting in appearance, especially if you have been cognisant of its recent slaughter, give me leave to observe, the dish, in a general way, is by no means unworthy of your attention; indeed, is one of the best the rural cuisine of France has to offer. And, let me tell you, the rural cuisine of France far excels the civic cuisine that we sometimes meet with out of France. Obs. 3.—With regard to wine,—I asked for bordeaux. That, I admit, was flat. But make allowance; I was inexperienced; this was the first time I ordered dinner on Gallic ground. The fact is—and, if you travel in France and ramble about in country places, so you will find it—the white wine at a given price is decidedly better than the red at the same price. Thus, say the price you choose to go to for a bottle of wine is three francs: and I call that quite enough—for, if you say six, seven, eight francs, it comes from the same bin. Well, order white; and you probably get, for your three francs, a bottle of good sound wine. Order red; and, ten to one, it's horrid. Perhaps, however, you choose to pay for colour; you prefer red. Well, as you please. Only in that case, remember: you are responsible for the consequences, not I.

As I sat on three chairs after dinner in dreamy repose, sipping the last of my bottle of bordeaux, and revolving the events of the day, Jones entered, licking his lips. Really he looked, already, ten per cent better than when we crossed the Bidassoa—his complexion fresher and more wholesome, his aspect decidedly less misanthropic;—I began to imagine some truth in his theory, that English soldiers, who had served in Spain, grew fat on entering France. He laid hands, without ceremony, on the garments which I had doffed before dinner, and walked away with them. Rain and mud, indeed, had horribly maltreated them; and Jones, holding out the coat at arm's length, inspected it in silence, as he moved towards the door.

How beguile the hours till bed-time? I looked out. What a lovely night! The silent moonbeams fell on the paved court at the entrance of our inn. Beyond, all was luminous, but indistinct. Below, there was an open doorway, with a seat—a curious old carved concern,—the very place, the very hour, for a cigar! A cigar? Why, I've a box-full! Come, Mons. Thouvenot; we'll see what sort of havannahs you smoke there in Bayonne.

The havannahs were prime—the forenoon had been fatiguing—I had dined. A pleasing languor repaid the toils of the morning. Soon, though, it was broken, by the sound of distant violins—not badly handled, neither. This part of France is the land of the violin: you find a decent performer in every village. The sound proceeded from the premises at the back of the auberge; and I had previously noticed some of the villagers gliding into the inn-yard by a side entrance. Impelled by curiosity, I took the liberty of following their example; and soon found my way, amongst stables and out-houses, to a small gate opening into a garden or shrubbery, at which gate sat my jovial friend the landlord, dispensing tickets of admission, refreshments included, at six sous each. It was a sort of rural salon de danse, where the villagers met nightly, to exhibit and cultivate their national nimbleness of toe. Much preferring these rural fÊtes to a regular French ball, I have attended at many a guinguette since; but as this was the first, and had all the piquancy of a surprise, I beg leave to give you a short description. Passing on through an alley among the trees, and guided by the mellow note of the violin, I soon reached the ball-room, which was simply a large boarded square, with a roof above, but three sides open,—the fourth was the orchestra. There I found assembled the youth of the village, and not only the youth, but some of their elders—three violins in full operation—and the ball at its height. Cotillons were the order of the day, much like those which had been introduced into the aristocratic circles of England two or three years before, say 1811, or 1812, under the name of quadrilles. The dancing was good, really good—time admirable—no mistakes—no confusion—all could dance. The deportment of the dancers, too, was in perfect good keeping. Not a gaucherie did I witness, throughout the evening. With one thing I was struck: and that was, the attention, the seriousness, the almost solemnity, with which the whole party applied themselves to the important business of dancing. Dancing, if it be, among the higher classes of France, an amusement, with the rural population is a passion: and, in a nation so volatile, the earnest gravity of their village assemblÉes is the more observable. Of the three violins, one, I soon perceived, had the chief authority. With a voice of command, he directed the various movements, indicated changes of figure, regulated the whole proceedings. In fact, he was not only, as it turned out, leader of the orchestra, but dancing-master to the village—"Vir gregis ipse caper:" and, had he been Grand Turk, he could not have issued his mandates in a more imperious tone, or to more obedient subjects.—Never go to France again, without attending a village dance at a guinguette. If you have not seen that, you have not seen one most interesting phase of Gallic character.

Among the belles of the evening, there was one, you rogue! taller than the rest, that both attracted my attention, and fixed it. She not only danced well—they all did that—she danced with an air. Nay, shall I tell the whole truth? She bore a resemblance, or at least I fancied so, to the admired of all eyes, the lovely Juno, with whom I had crossed the Bay of Biscay. Near me danced a lusty Adonis of five-and-forty, who was decidedly the best male performer of the party. I had already made two or three acquaintances; and, as he swept by me in the whirl of his evolutions, I could not help saying, "You dance well, Monsieur." He, with the honest, open-hearted vanity of a Frenchman and a Gascon, danced with redoubled energy, to confirm my good opinion. Presently the set concluded; and the next moment he was at my side in a high state of exhilaration, mopping and breathless. "Eh bien! Monsieur—Our dancing—what do you think of it?"

"Excellent. The ladies dance admirably. Of the male performers, truth compels me to avow that you are incomparably the best."

"You dance?"

"Might a stranger presume—?"

"Ah, Monsieur, but what an honour to our ball! Hold! I shall find you a vis-À-vis."

"Might one select?"

"She's yours for the evening! Name her! I fly!"

"Her with the blue sash, large eyes, rather tall—"

"Ah! my cousin! Wait a little moment! 'Tis done!"

The violins struck up; again the sets were formed; with the partner of my choice, I stood up for a cotillon. Had danced the same figures in England; so got on tolerably well.

I say, though, what's this? The time has changed! Half a second ago, it was one, two, three, four. Now it's one, two, three! The figure—that's different too! Why, what's come to them all? Two and two, swimming round and round! Gyration and rotation at once—the planetary system! I turned to my fair partner—she turned to me—I clasped a lovely arm-full—she dropped her hand upon my shoulder—I was fairly in for it. We whirled away with the rest. First it was to German strains, soft, equable, and mellifluous. Then, with a shout from Mons. Caper, the tune suddenly changed. It now was Spanish—soft and equable no longer—a mad, galloping capriccio, all tingling with life, point, and mettle. She entered into the spirit of it. I soon discovered that,—so kept her up to it, till she cried "enough!" in earnest. But oh! the difference between such a partner, and a bouncer! Oh! the difference between such a partner, and a bolter! Oh! the ease, the ductility, the lightness, the perfect airiness of her step! She waltzed like a zephyr!

Farewell, charming Gasconne! Farewell, bewitching partner of an hour! Farewell, too, energetic and laborious dancer, my partner's middle-aged fussy cousin! Farewell, at least, till we meet again, under somewhat altered circumstances. Before you, too, Monsieur Caper, before you, orchestral umpire! terpsichorean autocrat!—before you, on retiring for the night, I make, en passant, with all the company, a profound obeisance.—In short, I then and there literally fell in love with the Gascon character; and the more I saw of them afterwards, the more I liked them.

On the way to my apartment that night, I fell in with Jones, who informed me, with great apparent concern, that the servant and his kit had not yet come up; and that he "was afeared the hofficer had made his dinner off of bread and cheese."

CHAPTER XIII.

Jones entered my room early in the morning, with the garments which had so direly suffered, the day before, by spattering mud and pelting rain. They were now perfectly presentable; and not only that, but thoroughly dry.

"Well, Jones, I see you've given them a good brushing."

"Wouldn't have bin of no use, sir. Took and washed 'em, sir. Done it last night, sir."

"How did you get them dry, then?"

"Please, sir, I had 'em down to the kitchen fire the first thing this morning, sir—before daylight, sir."

"I say, Jones, how did you manage these gloves?"

"Please, sir, I washed 'em and put 'em on, sir. Walked about with them on my hands till they was dry, sir."

"Why did you turn out so early, man? Don't suppose we shall start before noon."

"Please, sir, 'cause I wanted to git forward with my wuk, sir; 'cause to-day I wants to turn out tidy myself, sir. Got a bit of tailoring to do, sir, 'cause of the haccident off the pony, sir. Thousand pities they don't cut the soldiers' jackits longer behind, sir."

"Why turn out tidy to-day in particular?"

"Please, sir, 'cause I understands we're like to meet the hinnimy, sir. Should wish to die dacent, sir."

"Well, get on, then. Here, stop. Take this; and see if you can't find somebody to do your tailoring in the village."

"Thank ye, sir; pertlickler obleeged to ye, sir; thank ye, sir." Then, having pocketed the francs, "Please, sir, though, with your pimmission, sir, I'd rayther do the job of tailoring myself, sir."

"Oh, very well, if you choose to turn tailor. Just as you please."

Jones was about to withdraw—but paused. There was a moment of internal struggle.

"Please, sir," said he, "it's what I ham, sir. Sarved my prentice, sir. Only I don't know what ivver I shall do for a goose, sir."

"I say, Jones, what's that you were saying just now about meeting the enemy? What enemy?"

"Please, sir, I don't know nothing about it, only this, sir. The fellers as is here told our fellers, sir, as a Frinch party sprised a Portygee party, sir, in a village not two leagues off, sir, only three days ago, sir. Took or killed them all, sir. Druv some on 'em into the stable of the inn, sir; and bagonetted them under the manger, sir."

"Oh, they did, did they? Then let me have my breakfast in about half-an-hour."

"Please, sir, I'll go at once and give Nanny her milking, sir. She wants it dreadful, sir."

While concluding my toilet, I noticed the merry chirp of children at play, which came in through the open window. Gradually it grew louder and more uproarious: there was evidently some unusual source of festivity. I looked out; the cause was manifest. Nanny, in the highest possible state of good humour, now making believe to butt, now running backwards, now stamping, now caprioling, now erect, with a languishing turn of her head and her fore-legs gracefully doubled down, was surrounded with a host of jocund juveniles, who broke forth into fresh shouts of mirth and marvel, at every variation in her attitude. In the midst of this hilarity, Jones rushed forth from the inn door, bearing in one hand a small three-legged stool, and in the other a can. Did you ever see a goat milked? Nanny at once became sedate—a fixture. Jones placed the three-legged stool behind her, and the can between her hind legs. Goats, my dear madam, are not milked sideways, like cows. The milking began. This process effected a total change of deportment in the small rabble that stood looking on. Before, all was noise and fun. Now, every tongue was still, every movement suspended. Twenty little urchins stood grouped in silent observation; twenty little pairs of eyes stood wide open. Curiosity had superseded frolic; each was receiving an idea! As the operation proceeded, a snow-white head of milky foam rose mantling in the can. Then rose, too, the shout of joyous surprise. However, the younkers soon discovered, with the intuitive tact of children, that nothing new remained to be seen; so their thoughts reverted to sport. Hand joined in hand, the toddling multitude, that, for facility of inspection, had gathered in Jones' rear, began to deploy. A circle was gradually formed, with Jones and Nanny in the centre. Two or three voices commenced a chant; the rest joined in; the circle began to move with measured tread; and Jones, ere he had finished his task, was encompassed with a ring of merry dancers and singers, who seemed resolved to make him pay toll, or keep him prisoner. Jones, however, was too much of a general for that. Watching his opportunity, he threw a warm jet of milk into the eyes of a flaxen-haired urchin; and, profiting by the temporary confusion and delight which ensued, broke the line of circumvallation, and made good his retreat into the house with stool and can, followed by a tumultuous throng, some pulling the skirts of his jacket, some punching, some shouting, some jumping and clapping their sides in an ecstasy of delight.

The missing servant, though—that was an awkward business. Night had passed—morning had returned; it was now eight o'clock—still no servant came. The whole party unaccounted for amounted to four; namely, 1, the servant himself, an English groom, very much disposed to have his own way, and quite green as a campaigner; 2, the horse which the servant rode; 3, the mule which carried the officer's baggage; 4, a Portuguese lad, the mule's driver. Mr Chesterfield was disposed to take a party of the dragoons, and go back himself in search of them. But, under all the circumstances of the case, I felt it my duty respectfully to intimate a doubt as to the advisableness of his separating from the party which he commanded, and from the treasure which we had in charge; and, on a moment's consideration, he saw the force of the suggestion. At length it was decided to send a corporal and four men, who started in search of the absentees, with a charge, whether successful or not, to be back before noon. We were bound to reach our next halting-place that night; and this was still more indispensable, after the strict injunctions I had received the day before. The detachment, therefore, set out; but our preparations proceeded for marching at the appointed hour.

These matters arranged, I bent my steps towards the shrubbery, intending to take a daylight view of the previous evening's ball-room. In the shrubbery I had not proceeded far, when, much to my surprise, I heard, lustily chanted, an old English stave—

The songster of the grove, it soon became apparent, was Jones. I saw him before he saw me. On a line, stretched between two trees, he had suspended by far the greater portion of his wardrobe,—that part which he still had on being equally light and scanty,—and, while busily engaged in his preparations to "turn out tidy" and "die dacent," now inspecting, now polishing, in a high state of exhilaration, he was carolling away, very much to his own satisfaction, at the top of his voice. The next strain was different:—

The last line he twanged out with great pathos, not forgetting the repeat:—

Then, stepping back a few paces, and complacently viewing his work, he suddenly threw himself into an attitude, extended one arm, and commenced a soliloquy:—

"What's life? A book; a pictur-book, a purty pictur-book! But, ah me, jest like other pictur-books! All the picturs at the beginning! Heavy reading's the rest on it; so I finds at least. Pertickerly when you've got a hempty backy-box, and can't git no good pigtail, not for love nor money, let alone shag. Thim straws, I considers, is renk pyzon."

A quick march, stoutly whistled, sufficed to dispel these melancholy thoughts. Then followed a touch of the comic. Jones, it was clear, had been a witness of the preceding night's ball. Holding out, with bowed arms, the corners of a not very presentable shirt, which—excuse me if I'm too particular—hung loose from his shoulders, and mimicking the airs of a dancing belle, he sang:—

Then, changing both dance and tune, Jones stuck his arms a-kimbo like a Welsh milkwoman, and struck up an aboriginal air of the Principality, footing it heel and toe—words unintelligible. I approached. Jones, as usual, the instant he saw me, fell to self-defence. "Please, sir, I got up into the hayloft, sir: took 'em off, and mended 'em there, sir; 'cause I didn't want none of the fellers to see me a-tailoring, sir. That's why I did it, sir."

"Well, put them on this instant, sir; it's disgraceful. Put them on, I tell you. Be quick."

Jones, seeing I was resolute, presently gave tokens of compliance. "Don't let me find you in that state when I come back," said I.

There was nothing now to wait for, save the absentees. About eleven o'clock, a.m., the dragoons returned. They had gone some distance down the lane, and found nothing. At length, one of them noticed, in the ditch, a trunk, which proved, on examination, to have been broken open and rifled. This they brought back with them; and it announced to us, in language but too intelligible, what had been the probable fate of the party missing.—The fact is, when Mr Chesterfield purchased a mule at St Jean de Luz, for the conveyance of his personal baggage, his servant had discarded the albarda or pack-saddle, determining to load in his own way. Hence, in fact, the loss of the party. The albarda, please to observe, is essential to the serviceableness of your mule. In appearance, no doubt, it is the awkwardest thing in the world. Imagine a hard straw mattress (for it comes nearer that than anything else,) fitted to the animal's back, and covering nearly the whole of it. "Quite absurd," you would say, "to oppress a beast of burden with such an extra load." But then this mattress answers a threefold purpose. First, it keeps the load from galling your mule's back: secondly, it cushions the packages, so that they do not shift: thirdly, and this perhaps is most important of all, it distributes the weight, so that the burden presses equally. Now Mr Chesterfield's personelle was stowed in large awkward black boxes, of the most approved London make, which hung over the mule's back by straps, and of course were continually getting wrong. The inconvenience of this outfit became apparent, ere we were clear of the town of St Jean de Luz. The mule got uneasy; the load shifted; something was continually requiring to be set right. Both mule and driver, horse and groom, soon fell into the rear: the groom blowing up the driver in English, which he didn't understand; the driver bothered with an arrangement, which he knew was all wrong. They came up when we halted, but soon fell behind again. The last time they were seen in the lane, which was just before it fell dark, they were come to a halt, and were all at sixes and sevens. Whether they were killed, or made prisoners, or escaped with the loss of the effects, we never heard or ascertained during the rest of our journey to headquarters.

The packing was now completed with all expedition. By noon we got fairly off; and a march, not quite so short as we expected, brought us to our resting-place for the night.

CHAPTER XIV.

I question if the Gascon character has been duly appreciated. A Gascon is a braggadocio; so we settle it. Now the Gascons are great in this line, it's undeniable. But that which really distinguishes a Gascon, is grandiloquence on all subjects. Whatever the topic of conversation, his style is exaggerated. Tell a Gascon any extraordinary fact, he instantly caps it—tells you something more extraordinary of the same kind. If he happens to be speaking of himself, he still employs the same style of amplification, but only as he would in discussing any subject besides. He possesses also, in an eminent degree, that—(what? frankness, shall I call it?)—at any rate, that peculiar quality, which at once makes you feel as much at ease with him as with an old acquaintance. All the French have this, but the Gascon has it pre-eminently.

My billet for the night was at a seedsman's. Five minutes after my arrival I felt domesticated. He puzzled me not a little though, by eagerly inquiring whether I had ever met in England with a plant called Chou d'Yorck. Its fame had reached him, but the long war had prevented his obtaining a sample. He rejoiced in the prospect of a peace, which would enable him to obtain some Chou d'Yorck. In form he was stiff and stumpy, but in speech and manner lively. To assist him in his shop, he had a youth—age eighteen or nineteen—whom he treated with considerable hauteur. My landlord, his assistant, and myself, all three took our evening meal together; but the youth was not permitted to sit down. Standing near his master, like Corporal Trim, with one foot before the other in an attitude, his head very upright, and his chest projected, he grasped in one hand a hunch of bread and a modicum of sausage, while the other flourished a pocket-knife. His master abruptly handed him a tumbler of wine, without asking him when he would have it; and he forthwith tossed it off, and set down the glass, as if so much and no more was his allowance.

I was amused with my landlord's oration, when I entered his shop and presented my billet. He first read it, then looked at me. "Ah," said he, "in your face, now, I see something, Monsieur, which tells me we shall find you an agreeable inmate. The last Englishman I had conducted himself so badly, I was forced to pitch him out of the window." My landlord had a great penchant, like other Frenchmen of that day, for conversing on the subject of duelling. Asked me if the English did not decide their duels with pistols—were they good shots? I told him the famous wager that had come off not long before, when a crack shot betted to hit with a pistol nineteen oranges out of twenty thrown up in the air—missed the first on purpose to increase the odds—hit the other nineteen. This brought out the Gascon. I had told something extraordinary, he must cap it. "But, Monsieur," said he, "we have, in this place, persons who can hit a butterfly on the wing." (Qui tuent un papillon volant!) He gave me some account of a partisan, who had been active against the English. "Monsieur, he's as brave as a lion; in one word, he's as brave as I am myself," (À tout dire, il est brave comme moi.) One difference between a Gascon and the rest of the world I conceive to be this—that, when other people utter an extravagant or bombastic speech, they generally utter it in a joke; but when a Gascon exaggerates or romances, he speaks with perfect seriousness, and so expects to be taken.

This evening, though, I made a most agreeable discovery. Jones had found stable-room for Sancho in the yard of an inn near my billet. After dinner I stepped out, feeling it necessary, from previous observation, to see that Sancho had his. On reaching the inn-yard, the first thing I saw was just what one often sees at home about suburban public-houses, a party holding an open-air compotation, standing. It was a party of three—an English soldier, an English groom, and a Portuguese youth of twenty, dressed as much like the groom as possible. They stood in a triangle, noses all pointing to the common centre of gravity. Each held a glass, and the English servant a bottle. He, I concluded, "stood it." The soldier was Jones. He was rhetorically holding forth; the other two were earnest listeners—his theme, the battle of Vittoria. My approach broke up the party. I walked direct into Sancho's stable; found his crib empty—no appearance of corn. This might have been accounted for, by supposing the corn already consumed; but Jones couldn't keep his own counsel. He soon put the matter beyond all doubt by rushing in with a sieve-full, which he shot out under the pony's nose, and sedulously dispersed with his hand. The other two went into their own stable: the English groom, I observed, touching his hat. I had seen him somewhere before, but didn't remember, at the moment, time or place.

"Please, sir," said Jones, "both on 'em is sarvant to a jeddleham, sir; a Hinglishman, what's a-going up along with us, sir, 'cause we've got a hescort, sir; 'cause he considers it's more safer than going by his-self, sir. One on 'em's his groom, sir, and the other's his help, sir." The corn stuck in my gizzard, and I made no reply.

"Please, sir, they've got two sitch be-youtiful horses, as nivver you see'd, sir."

"Please, sir, they've got a text-cart, with a kivver to it, sir; whot carries the jeddleham's baggage, sir."

I took my station at the stable-door, to be sure that Sancho not only had his corn, but ate it. The groom, in the adjoining stable, was addressing the help in a kind of perpetual blowing up, a mixture of Portuguese and English; voice deep and hollow. "You Joe King, (Joaquim,) onde estÁ the tobacco-box?"

To this deep-toned bass responded a piping treble—"Ah, I tink you is got it in you brisch-pockit."

"You Joe King, dÁ cevada to the cavallos, chega the teapot, and don't bother me nada."

Having thus issued his mandate, the groom came forth from the stable. Catching sight of me, he stepped up, and I recognised him at once. Why, it was Coosey, Gingham's Cockney servant, whom I had seen at Lisbon, in the Castle. Glad was I to meet with the man for the sake of his master. Coosey again touched his hat, and respectfully inquired whether I wasn't the gentleman as vos goin hup with a hescort. A conversation ensued, in the course of which I learned, in reply to my eager inquiries, that Gingham was not aware who it was that had charge of the treasure. Gingham merely knew that a convoy was going up; and intended to go in company, for the sake of the guard.

Learning from Coosey that Gingham's quarters were in the suburbs, and not deeming it advisable to go any distance from my charge, I contented myself, for that evening, with sending Gingham a hearty salutation, with a confident hope that I should have the pleasure of his company in the morning. Before bed-time, Coosey brought me a note from Gingham, that he would join me next day just outside the town, and travel in company.

Before quitting the yard, though, I fell in with another acquaintance. The garÇon popped out upon me from a side-door; begged to say there was a gentleman in the cuisine, who would be happy to speak to me.

"Who? What is he?"

"A courier, monsieur, employed on an important mission."

"Haven't the pleasure of knowing any gentleman in that line. Describe him."

The garÇon laughed; held up one hand, with the forefinger crooked. "Monsieur, voici son nez."

I entered. Ah, it was my friend Hookey. Hookey, you will remember, obtained a passage by the Falmouth packet, as bearer of despatches from Oporto to Lisbon. Probably he was not aware, that doubts were then entertained of his real character; for, on the present occasion, he again announced himself as a courier.

"I am now, monsieur, on my way to the British headquarters, with important despatches from Madrid. You are going there, too." (Who told you that, friend Hookey?) "I, as I travel post, shall arrive there first. Don't you see what an excellent opportunity, if you wish to announce yourself? I shall take charge of your letter, and deliver it with supreme felicity."

"Much obliged. They probably know all about me."

"But, monsieur," said Hookey, "headquarters are now advanced from St Sever to Aire, or soon will be." (Pray, Mr Hookey, how do you know, if you come post from Madrid?) "Why not cut right across, then, and go to Aire by the nearest road? Why go round by St Sever? Your route is by St Sever, I understand?"

Wondering how Hookey understood anything of the matter, and not choosing to convert his understanding into certainty, I merely replied, that wherever a man is going, of course he would wish to take the best road.

"Yes, monsieur," said Hookey, "that is incontestable. But the best road is, evidently, the most direct. Why march on the arc, when you can march on the chord? Ecoutez, monsieur—your road is by Hagetmau, direct to Aire."

Seeing he was so urgent, I began to suspect he had a motive, so resolved to humour him. "Really, what you say appears very just. But the road—I am totally ignorant of it. It may be good; it may be bad."

"I answer for the road; know every inch of it."

"By the bye, monsieur, an idea strikes me. Give me your opinion. What if I perform the remaining distance by water?"

"By water!" exclaimed Hookey; "a great thought! What a saving of time and labour!"

"Good. I impress all the boats on the river; embark my whole convoy and escort; and so, by the Adour, or by one of its tributaries, arrive within a day's march of headquarters. What a surprise for Milord Vilinton, and all his staff!"

"Excellent! Write that, monsieur. Commit your letter to me, and trust me for delivering it. You will excite a sensation. The whole army will be electrified."

Greatly doubting whether a letter intrusted to Hookey would ever come to hand, I asked for writing materials, and just wrote that I hoped to reach my destination by the day appointed. Then, closing the document, I addressed it in due form, and handed it to Hookey. Had I really departed from my written route, as Hookey exhorted, I should not only have incurred responsibility, but have disobeyed orders, gone off the line of English posts, and entered a district which just at that time, as I have since discovered, was the seat of a serious disturbance. I now took leave of friend Hookey. That he was no courier, we had good reason for knowing ere long. He probably urged me to write, because doubtful whether my route was round by St Sever—hoping that something in my letter might help him to decide. This was evidently the point that he wished to ascertain; and on this subject I left him as wise as I found him.

Waiting a while at the door, ere I departed to my billet for the night, I heard a confab under the gateway, between Jones and Joaquim. Joaquim (Englished by Coosey "Joe King") was displaying to Jones his proficiency in the English language. Joaquim, I discovered, was ambitious to be English in everything—an English groom, like Coosey; took Coosey as his model. Coosey, by way of teaching him the language, had begun with the London cries. Joaquim was exhibiting his attainments; "Old clo'—old clo'."

"Quite naytral," said Jones; "better than the Jews does it themselves."

"Hinny yonnimints f'yer fire ... stooves?"

"Muinto buyng, muinto buyng," said Jones, whose Portuguese was second only to Joaquim's English. Jones, with an eye to Gingham, of whose well-stored cart he had already formed most magnificent conceptions, was assiduously striving to establish himself both with Joaquim and Coosey. Coosey at that moment came up.

"Hony you 'ear him do the donkey, though," said Coosey. "You Joe King, come, tip us the burro."

Joaquim brayed. Tommy Duncombe couldn't have done it better.

"There," said Coosey. "Now you listen." A donkey, somewhere within hearing, responded with a distant bray.

"That's vot I goes by," said Coosey. "I knows many young jeddlemen in Hingland, vot does it wherry like. But I never see not nobody, hony this 'ear Joe King, vot could make 'em 'oller."

Next morning, Jones again attempted to defraud Sancho of his corn. Jones, it was too evident, was a rogue in grain—detection did not reform him. As we issued from the town, proceeding on our day's march, I looked out for Gingham, right and left. At length, passing a cross-road, I heard a smart slap on Jones's musket; and, looking down the turning, I caught sight of Coosey returning the salute, hand to forehead, in military style, which Joaquim ditto'd. What Coosey did, Joaquim did; that was Joaquim's moral code. A little further down the lane, hurra! my eyes had now the pleasure of beholding Gingham; and not Gingham only, but Mr Staff-surgeon Pledget. Heartily should I have hailed the sight of either. What then was now my joy, in falling in both with Pledget, the solemn and the facetious, and with Gingham, the best of friends! Most cordial was the greeting on my side, nor less so on theirs. Gingham came forth in a new aspect. He turned out in a substantial great-coat, which covered everything from his spurs to his nose. This coat he wore upon the march in all weathers, rain or shine; but peeled at the end of the journey, and peeled white—came out clean as a nut—in propri person—ipsissimus—Gingham. The junction of these friends was a real accession to our party. Pledget was mounted on a good sensible mule. Gingham rode a handsome horse—Spanish—a really splendid fellow—all mettle and muscle—with fiery nostrils, flashing eye, delicate little ears, zebra legs, elastic motion—in short, a horse worthy of such a rider—a perfect gentleman. Coosey, also, was mounted on a showy Spanish stallion, whose advance was sideways, a perpetual zigzag. All in a quiver, he champed the bit, and came sidling up the road with arched neck, and foam churning from his jaws. The cart, drawn by a strong, large-boned French horse, was intrusted to the care of Joaquim, with the option of walking or riding. After our first greetings, the cart, being a novelty, became the subject of our conversation as we rode along. Gingham had built it at Passages. Had out the wheels from England; a pair, with a swivel wheel in front. The cart had for its covering a tarpaulin supported by hoops, closed at the back, and also closing, when requisite, in front—might be used, on an occasion, to sleep in—was so built that Gingham's boxes exactly fitted into it, making a level surface with their lids. In short the concern was well arranged, unpretending, and complete—altogether worthy of Gingham. Jones conned it with an admiring, but at the same time a critical eye; now walking in front and alongside, now dropping behind, to take a view in every direction; and, Coosey being Gingham's right-hand man, and Joaquim his help, would have tumbled head over heels to secure the favour of either.

I must here describe a little affair in which we were involved on this day's march; not as important in itself, but as standing connected with our subsequent adventures. While Gingham and I were still discussing the subject of the cart, we reached the river which we had passed the day before, and had now to pass again. A large and commodious ferryboat, which was to take us over, was lying on the other side; where we also saw assembled a concourse of people, apparently country-folks, who had come there with the intention of crossing. Expecting that a boat-load of them would soon pass to us, our party, as they came up, halted on the bank, waiting their arrival.

There seemed to be some delay. The people on the other side didn't get in, and the boat didn't come. We shouted across. They took no notice. Shouted louder. They answered with derisive jeers. Corporal Fraser stood by my side. "Some of the individuals have firearms," said he. I made a closer examination—saw it was so—and saw Hookey. Addressed him personally: "Have the kindness to get them to bring over the ferryboat." "This is not your road," sung out Hookey, with much gesticulation; "go by Hagetmau. Press all the boats on the Adour, and go by water." The case was clear. They did not intend to let us pass; and, as they had got the boat on their side, we could not compel them. Mr Chesterfield and I held a council of war.

"We can easily disperse that rabble by a few shots," said he; "and then the ferrymen will no doubt come forward, and bring the boat over."

I, on the contrary, was for avoiding collision, if possible. A war with the peasantry, once commenced, might soon become serious; and, should they return our fire, one or two wounded men, even supposing nothing worse, would prove a serious incumbrance to our subsequent progress. "Well, then," said Mr Chesterfield; "what are we to do? We can't wait here all day; that's evident."

The river was low. Could we find no other crossing? Was there no ford? I looked up the stream, Gingham looked down. "See here," said he, with his usual sagacity; "the river bends below, and spreads in the bend. Beyond, I see it again. No doubt there is a considerable sweep; and, probably, in that sweep a shallow."

"Suppose we go and examine," said I. Gingham looked earnestly in the direction.

"Don't see any way of getting there," said he. "There must be some communication, though, between that farmhouse and the road. No doubt it is the lane we passed just now. Suppose we go and see."

Gingham and I rode off up the road, to find the lane. Pledget followed on his mule. The multitude on the other side, thinking, no doubt, we were of to the town for assistance, again raised a shout of derision. We found the lane; and arrived at the farmhouse, and the bend in the river, without being noticed by the enemy.

The character of the ground was here peculiar. The river swept round in a horse-shoe curve, as the Thames sweeps round the Isle of Dogs; but so that the convexity was towards us, and the peninsula on the other side. Just at the vortex of this curve, or at what may be called the toe of the horse-shoe, the stream widened out, and to all appearance shoaled. "Here's the ford," said Gingham, and rode in. Pledget and I followed. We crossed the river and re-crossed it—most part of the way not knee-deep. The ford, though, was not right across; a ledge of rock traversed the river obliquely. Down to that ridge there was a ripple, and the stream gradually shoaled. Below it, all was deep water, smooth, dark, and silent.

"The worst of it is, though," said Gingham, awaking from a fit of musing, "the moment we withdraw our party from the ferry to pass them over here, the fellows on the other side will discover our design. We shall then have the whole peninsula covered with them.

"No fear of that," said I. "Don't you see? The peninsula is our ground, though on the other side of the river. We can command the whole of it from this bank, and the approaches too."

"Of course we can," said Pledget. "Occupy the house with half-a-dozen muskets, and that knoll with as many more, and not a man of them can come on the peninsula."

In fact, a few words are necessary to explain the full amount of our advantages. The whole extent of the peninsula, round which the river swept, was not above two or three acres. At one extremity of the curve, or, if you like to call it so, at one heel of the horse-shoe, stood the farmhouse, at the other stood the knoll; so that, though both knoll and house were on our side of the stream, a line drawn from one to the other would cut right across the isthmus; and, these two points once occupied, no one on the opposite side could come on the peninsula, and approach the ford, without passing under our guns, and exposing himself to a cross fire.

We returned forthwith, and made our report to Mr Chesterfield, who at once saw the expediency of promptly occupying the house and knoll. Accordingly, our whole party withdrew up the road. The enemy, thinking they had defeated our project, and compelled us to return to our last night's quarters, now shouted with redoubled energy, "The other road! The other road!—To Hagetmau! To Hagetmau!" One little squeaking voice I distinguished above the yells—not Hookey's: "So sal you here ober komm, so sal I gib you someting." This was not the last time I heard that voice.

Mr Chesterfield now pushed forward with a party by the lane towards the ford, the convoy and the rest of the escort following. He occupied both the farm-house and the knoll, the former with infantry, the latter with dragoons. The rest of the escort then forded the river with the convoy. Twenty or thirty of the rabble now discovered us, and ran down towards the spot; but they were too late. A few carbine and musket shots, from the knoll and house, soon brought them to a halt, and sent them to the right-about. Meanwhile the multitude at the ferry made demonstrations of crossing in the boat, with shouts and menaces. But in the midst of the uproar, looking down the river towards the ford, they caught sight of our cavalry moving up the bank towards them on their own side, in order of battle. It was quite sufficient. Not wishing for a closer acquaintance, the yokels immediately dispersed and cut; we did not pursue them; and thus was effected the passage of the river without collision, and without loss too, save and except the loss of time. Nor did we meet with any further obstruction during that day's march, which brought us to the next halting-place indicated in our route.

Still the state of affairs was far from satisfactory. It was sufficiently clear, from the events of the morning, that a spirit of hostility was alive; and that the rural population were disposed to obstruct our progress; nay perhaps, if they saw a prospect of success, to attack us. Hookey, it seemed probable, was the prime mover; and I felt satisfied we should see him again. I was far from thinking he had the concurrence of the French authorities; nor do I think so now. He would doubtless have been delighted to ease us of part of our cash; and probably, like other distinguished agitators, he was agitating on his own account. However that might be, it was clearly incumbent on us to have our eyes open, and to be prepared, if needful, to take our own part.

Nor could we feel wholly satisfied in other respects. In our intercourse with the inhabitants generally, we did not, it is true, detect tokens of hostility, or even experience rudeness. Still there was unquestionably a great alteration of manner, since we had advanced beyond the immediate vicinity of the Allied forces before Bayonne. This I noticed in the morning. But at the close of the day's journey it was still more observable. Whatever we applied for, indeed, we obtained—billets, accommodations, in short everything usually required by troops on a march. But nothing was given with alacrity; we seemed to have got into a cooler climate. I suppose most of my readers know the difference between a Frenchman who wishes to please, and one who has no such amiable ambition. By the demeanour and looks of the younger branches, too, we may sometimes discover how the heads of a family really stand affected towards us; and here, in the houses which I entered, nothing struck me more than the deportment of the children. Their distant and suspicious glances seemed to perform the part of tell-tales; one could almost guess what kind of a conversation respecting les Anglais, had previously passed in the family. One plucky little fellow appeared dressed out as a soldier. I tapped his sword, and asked him what that was for. He gravely replied, "To kill you."

The occurrences of the day seemed to remind us, that we were not to regard our remaining journey to headquarters as a mere party of pleasure; and those of the morrow were quite in accordance with this impression.