They

room, and raising his gold-laced fatigue | old Norman church when the head of the cap in recognition of the salute, and with a hearty "Bonjour, messieurs," led the way through the door to the yard, where the horses were now in readiness, the cavalry escort drawn up behind, the men, shakos strapped under their chins, greatcoats on, carbines slung over their shoulders, sitting motionless on their horses. The staff mounted, and, the general at the head, moved out through the archway and rode up the village street, which was already filled with troops from end to end.

Six o'clock struck from the tower of the

infantry column, a battalion of chasseurs-
à-pied, the picked light-infantry of the
French army, crossed the market-place,
their bugles sounding a march.
moved with astonishing rapidity with the
quick, short step peculiar to these troops,
and were followed close on their heels by
column after column of troops of the line
in heavy marching order, and in their un-
graceful fatigue uniform. The long skirts
of their great-coats were folded back from
their legs, clad in the regulation scarlet
trousers and leather gaiters. Their knap-

(about sixty-eight pounds English), exclu- | ping now and then only long enough to

and, as the hour of noon had approached, orders were given to halt where we were.

officers, and as we marched, they described | ing no large body of the enemy in sight, the plan of the manoeuvres to me. The enemy, represented by a body of troops about equal in number to our own, were supposed to have landed on the coast, and to be threatening two important commercial and manufacturing towns of France. Our objective point was Yvetot, on the line of the railway between Havre and Rouen, and we expected to meet them near there, their head-quarters being that day probably at a place called Bolbec, situated a few kilometers from the town we were then marching on.

We had been on the road four or five hours when suddenly we heard a shot, followed immediately by several others, directly in our front, and the column came to a halt. We saw some movement up the road, where it disappeared over the top of a hill, commands were heard, and the troops began to move off to the right and left, and form in column of battalions in the fields. The foremost regiments threw out squads of skirmishers, the men moving at a run up the rising ground in our front. A red and white guidon, fluttering

among a group of horsemen on the highest point of the ascent, indicated the position of the staff, and toward it I hurried to ascertain what was going on, arriving in time to see a reconnoitring party of the enemy's cavalry disappearing in a line of woods in the valley below, pursued by a troop of our own. They wore white linen covers to their shakos to distinguish them from our men, and as their line vanished into the shadow of the trees, I could see them turning to give a parting shot or two. Our troopers soon returned, report

The skirmishers rejoined their regiments, arms were stacked, ranks were broken, and preparations were made for the noonday meal. Wherever the least shelter from the rain could be found the men began to build their fires to make their coffee and heat their soups-hard work at first, for the ground was damp and the rain falling heavily; but as one succeeded, others borrowed the embers, and soon a hundred little fires were burning all over the fields, the smoke curling through the wet grass, and half hiding the groups of busy soldiers. The regimental canteens, huge, solidly built wagons, drawn by two and sometimes four horses, and presided over by the cantinière, or female sutler, of the regiment, came up from the rear, and were soon surrounded by chaffing, pushing throngs of soldiers. Alas for the picturesque vivandière of by-gone times, the traditional "daughter of the regiment"! Where is she now? Can this fat old woman, her white cap fastened on her head by an old red shawl passing under her chin, and a much-worn private's overcoat thrown over her shoulders, striving with scolding voice and authoritative gestures to maintain a little order among her thirsty customers, as she stands behind the tail-board

THE COMPANY KITCHEN.

of her wagoncan she be the descendant of the lace-coated, scarlet-trousered Hebes we have read of in novels and applauded at the opera ? Be that as it

may, I doubt whether the prettiest vivandière that ever existed-if she ever did exist, and is not wholly a creature of romance-could have been more popular, or have administered more fully

to the comfort of her comrades, than
did this obese old creature.
her calling have done noble deeds, and
more than one has been decorated with
the Legion of Honor. I know of one,
poor thing! who proudly wears the
cross, and ekes out a living by selling
catalogues at a panorama in the Rue
St. Honoré at Paris.

Having succeeded, thanks to the attention of the cantinière, in procuring my luncheon, I proceeded to discuss it under the hospitable shelter of a thick hedge, where my friend, the surgeon of one of the infantry regiments, joined me. The rain presently ceased falling, and an occasional ray of sun

THE CANTEENS.

shine broke through the clouds. The road, followed by the whole shouting, men, most of them having finished their meal, were scattered about the field, some of them drying their wet clothing at the fires, or lounging wherever they could find a comparatively dry spot to rest in; the officers were smoking and chatting together, and the musicians were assembling preparatory to giving us some music. An occasional aide-de-camp or or derly rode by, and now and then we heard a bugle signal as some non-commissioned officer was summoned or a detail of service was to be attended to.

All at once there was a great commotion among the soldiers over in the fields on the other side of the road-men were running together from all points, shouting and laughing. We saw them kicking at something on the ground, and from our side a shout of "Un lièvre! un lièvre!" went up, as a poor hunted hare broke out from among them and rushed across the

falling, kicking crowd. The poor creature ran close by us, and neither the doctor nor I had the heart to attempt to stop it; but its pursuers were too many for it, and finally it fell a victim to the sword of a burly sergeant. A garde champêtre (gamekeeper), who had vainly endeavored to stop this unceremonious poaching on his master's preserves, loudly protested, but to no apparent purpose, as the sergeant sheathed his sabre, not made more glorious by the butcher's use it had been put to, and calmly walked off with his prize. One mess of "non-coms" had the addition of a succulent dish of roast hare to their supper that night, and that was all there was about it.

Meanwhile the band had assembled, and the gay strains of a quadrille from one of Offenbach's operas filled the air. Sets were quickly formed, and, in spite of the fatiguing march of the morning and