ch is almost closed up by two islands. There is a sleepy,
peaceful air about the place--a sort of drowsy languor pervades
everything and everybody about it, that tells of a town whose days of
busy prosperity have long since passed by, and which is dragging out
life, like some retired tradesman--too poor for splendour, but rich
enough to be idle. A long avenue of lime-trees incloses the harbour;
and here the merchants conduct their bargains, while their wives, seated
beneath the shade, discuss the gossip of the place over their work. All
is patriarchal and primitive as Holland itself; the very courtesies of
life exhibiting that ponderous stateliness which insensibly reminds one
of the land of dikes and broad breeches. It is the least 'French' of any
town I have ever seen in France; none of that light merriment, that gay
volatility of voice and air which form the usual atmosphere of a
French town. All is still, orderly, and sombre; and yet on the night in
which--something more than fifty years back--I first entered it, a very
different scene was presented to my eyes.

It was about ten o'clock, and by a moon nearly full, the diligence
rattled along the covered ways of the old fortress, and crossing many a
moat and drawbridge, the scenes of a once glorious struggle, entered
the narrow streets, traversed a wide place, and drew up within the ample
portals of 'La Poste.'

Before I could remove the wide capote which I wore, the waiter ushered
me into a large salon where a party of about forty persons were seated
at supper. With a few exceptions they were all military officers, and
_sous-officiers_ of the expedition, whose noisy gaiety and boisterous
mirth sufficiently attested that the entertainment had begun a
considerable time before.

A profusion of bottles, some empty, others in the way to become
so, covered the table, amidst which lay the fragments of a common
table-d'hote supper--large dishes of cigars and basins of tobacco
figuring beside the omelettes and the salad.

The noise, the heat, the smoke, and the confusion--the clinking of
glasses, the singing, and the speech-making, made a scene of such
turmoil and uproar, that I would gladly have retired to some quieter
atmosphere, when suddenly an accidental glimpse of my uniform caught
some eyes among the revellers, and a shout was raised of 'Holloa,
comrades! here's one of the "Guides" among us.' And at once the whole
assembly rose up to greet me. For full ten minutes