il
to raise the morale of an army; nor can we wonder that from such a
source were derived many, if not most, of the great names that formed
the marshals of France. Again, to this military spirit the French owe
the perfection of their tirailleur force,--the consummate skill of
independent parties, of which every campaign gave evidence. Napoleon
found this spirit in the nation, and spared nothing to give it its
fullest development. He quickly saw to what height of enthusiasm a
people could be brought, to whom a cross or a decoration, an epaulette
or a sabre of honor, were deemed the ample rewards of every daring and
of every privation; and never in any age or in any country was chivalry
so universally spread over the wide surface of a people. With them, rank
claimed no exception from fatigue or suffering. The officer fared little
better than the soldier on a march; in a battle, he was only more
exposed to danger. By daring only could he win his way upwards; and an
emulative ardor was continually maintained, which was ever giving to the
world instances of individual heroism far more brilliant than all the
famed achievements of the crusaders.

This brief digression, unnecessary perhaps to many of my readers, may
serve to explain to others how naturally our conversation took the easy
tone of familiar equality; nor will they be surprised at the abrupt
question of the cuirassier, as he said,--

"_Mille tonnerres!_ lieutenant! was it from your liking the post of
danger you selected that bench yonder?"

"The choice was a mere accident."

"An accident, _morbleu!_" said he, with a low laugh. "That was
what Lasalle called it at the Adige, when the wheel came off the
eight-pounder in the charge, and the enemy carried off the gun. 'An
accident!' said the Petit Caporal to him,--I was close by when he said
it,--'will your friends in Paris call it an accident if the "ordre du
jour" to-morrow condemn you to be shot?' I know him well," continued
Pioche; "that I do. I was second bombardier with him at Toulon,--ay, at
Cairo too. I mind well the evening he came to our quarters; poor
enough we were at the time,--no clothes, no rations: I was cook to our
division; but somehow there was little duty in my department, till one
day the vivandiere's ass, (a brave beast he was too, before provisions
fell short),--a spent shot took him in the flank, and killed him on the
spot.

"Sacristi!" what damage it did! All the canteens were smashed to at