was reared by the trumpeter at the
full stretch of his sinewy arm.

"Monsieur will be aware, that _until_ the late Revolution of 1688, this
kind of punishment was unknown here and elsewhere, save in Holland; and
though I have seen soldiers run the gauntlet, ride the mare, and beaten
by the martinets, I shall never, oh, no! never forget the sensation of
horror with which this (to me) new punishment of the poor Frenchman
inspired me; and, sure I am, that our great Duke of Marlborough could in
no way have anticipated it.

"Accustomed, as I have said, to every kind of cruel severity, unmoved
and stoically the Dutch looked on with their gray, lacklustre eyes,
dull, unmeaning, and passionless in their stolidity, contrasting
strongly with the expression of startled horror depicted in the strained
eyeballs and bent brows of the victim's brother, when after a time he
dared to look on this revolting punishment. Save an ill-repressed sob,
or half-muttered interjection from the suffering man, no other sound
broke the stillness of the place, where a thousand horsemen stood in
close order, but the sputtering of the torches, in the red light of
which our breaths were ascending like steam. Yes! there was one other
sound, and it was a horrible one--the monotonous whiz of the scourge, as
it cut the keen frosty air and descended on the lacerated back of the
fainting prisoner. Sir, I see that my story disturbs you.

"A corpulent Provost Mareschal, with a pair of enormous moustachios,
amid which the mouth of his meerschaum was inserted, stood by smoking
with admirable coolness, and marking the time with his cane, while a
drummer tapped on his kettledrum, and four trumpeters had, each in
succession, given their twenty-five lashes and withdrawn; twice had the
knotted scourge been coagulated with blood, and twice had it been washed
in the snow that now rose high around the feet of our champing and
impatient horses; and now the fifth torturer approached, but still the
compressed lips and clammy tongue of the proud Frenchman refused to
implore mercy. His head was bowed down on his breast, his body hung
pendant from the cords that encircled his swollen and livid wrists; his
back from neck to waist was one mass of lacerated flesh, on which the
feathery snowflakes were melting; for the agony he endured must have
been like unto a stream of molton lead pouring over him; but no groan,
no entreaty escaped him, and still the barbarous punishment proce