he beams and woodwork of the houses.
Brightly blaze up the camp fires, and loud laughter, with French songs,
sound about the flames.

When the enemy withdraws in the morning, after having remained one
night through which the citizens have held anxious watch, they gaze
with astonishment on the rapid devastation of their city, and on the
sudden change in the country outside the gates. The boundless ocean of
corn, which yesterday waved round their city walls, is vanished, rooted
up, crushed and trampled by man and horse. The wooden fences of the
gardens are broken, summer arbours and houses are torn away, and
fruit-trees cut down. The fire-wood lies in heaps round the smouldering
watch-fires, and the citizen may find there the planks of his waggon
and the doors of his barn. He can scarcely recognise the place where
his own garden was, for the site of it is covered with camp straw,
confused rubbish, and the blood and entrails of slaughtered beasts. In
the distance, where the houses of the nearest village project above the
foliage of the trees, he perceives no longer the outline of the roofs,
only the walls are standing, like a heap of ruins.

It was bitter to pass through such an hour, and many lost all heart.
Even for people of property it was now difficult to support their
families. All the provisions of the city and neighbourhood were
consumed or destroyed, and no countryman brought even the necessaries
of life to the market, it was needful therefore to send far into the
country for the means to appease hunger. But from a rapid succession of
great events men had become colder, more sturdy and hardier in
themselves. The strong participation which every individual had taken
in the fate of the State made them indifferent to their own hardships.
After every danger, it was felt to be a comfort that the last thing,
life, was saved. And there was hope.

Before long the devastating billow surged back. Again roared the
thunder of guns, and the drums rattled. Our troops are advancing; wild
struggle rages round the city. The Prussian battalions press forward
through the streets into the market-place against the enemy, who still
hold the western suburb. It is the young Landwehr who this day receive
their baptism of blood. The balls whistle through the streets; they
strike the tiles and plaster of the houses; the citizens have again
concealed their wives and children in cellars and out-of-the-way
places. The battalions halt in the