s severe enough. Our friend the Major
caught 7 Cossacks plundering a cottage; he had them all tied up and
knouted them to death by the moderate infliction of 1,000 blows each. In
truth he seemed to hold the lives of these gentlemen, including the
Calmucs, rather cheap. "Pour moi," said he, "Je considere un Cossac, un
Calmuc et un Moineau a peu pres comme la meme chose."

At St. Avold we again fell in with a regiment of Russians, or rather
detachments from many regiments. Whoever they were they did not appear
to be in high favour with the Major. "Our army," said he, "is divided
into three classes--the first we can trust for discipline and ability;
the second consists of Cossacks and other irregulars, whose business is
reconnoitring, plundering, and running away when they see the Enemy; the
men before you compose the third--fellows who know nothing and do
nothing, but can stand quietly in the place assigned them and get killed
one after another without ever thinking of turning their backs"; and
their appearance was very like their character--patient, heavy,
slumbering, hard-featured countenance; sitting or standing without any
appearance of animation.

At St. Avold we began to lose the French language, and from this my
fluency was reduced to signs, or at most to a very laconic speech--"Ich
Englander, Ich woll haben Brod mitt Cafe," &c. At Dendrich, a little
village near Forbach, we crossed the new line of demarcation between
France and Austria, and found the towns chiefly occupied by Bavarians.
Unless I am much mistaken, this country will soon be a bone of
contention; the people (as far as I can judge in three days) are
dissatisfied, and the leaders of France look with a jealous eye on the
encroachment, and an imaginary line of separation will not easily be
respected. Here I saw what is meant by a German forest--as far as the
eye could reach all was wood. Austria may, if she pleases, by her new
accession of territory become charcoal vendor to the whole world. The
road is excellent, carried on in a fine, broad, straight line. Till
Buonaparte spoke the word, there was no regular communication between
Metz and Mayence, now there is not a more noble road for travelling. We
were now in the Hock country; in the Villages we bought what I should
have called wine of the same sort for 6d. a bottle....

On Thursday, the 21st, we entered Mayence, over and through similar
drawbridges, bastions, hornworks, counterscarps as at Metz; h