ls and "greedy
depths," were not unfrequently swimming, in which case the boys or
urchins who mounted them sometimes stood, sometimes knelt, upon the
saddle and pillions. No accident, however, occurred either to the
quadrupeds or bipeds, who appeared respectively to be quite _au fait_ in
their business, and extricated themselves with the greatest ease from
places in which Pharaoh and all his host would have gone to the bottom.
Nightfall brought us to Peterborough, and from thence we were not slow in
reaching the place of our destination.

CHAPTER IV.

And a strange place it was, this Norman Cross, and, at the time of which
I am speaking, a sad cross to many a Norman, being what was then styled a
French prison, that is, a receptacle for captives made in the French war.
It consisted, if I remember right, of some five or six casernes, very
long, and immensely high; each standing isolated from the rest, upon a
spot of ground which might average ten acres, and which was fenced round
with lofty palisades, the whole being compassed about by a towering wall,
beneath which, at intervals, on both sides sentinels were stationed,
whilst, outside, upon the field, stood commodious wooden barracks,
capable of containing two regiments of infantry, intended to serve as
guards upon the captives. Such was the station or prison at Norman
Cross, where some six thousand French and other foreigners, followers of
the grand Corsican, were now immured.

What a strange appearance had those mighty casernes, with their blank
blind walls, without windows or grating, and their slanting roofs, out of
which, through orifices where the tiles had been removed, would be
protruded dozens of grim heads, feasting their prison-sick eyes on the
wide expanse of country unfolded from that airy height. Ah! there was
much misery in those casernes; and from those roofs, doubtless, many a
wistful look was turned in the direction of lovely France. Much had the
poor inmates to endure, and much to complain of, to the disgrace of
England be it said--of England, in general so kind and bountiful. Rations
of carrion meat, and bread from which I have seen the very hounds
occasionally turn away, were unworthy entertainment even for the most
ruffian enemy, when helpless and a captive; and such, alas! was the fare
in those casernes. And then, those visits, or rather ruthless inroads,
called in the slang of the place {23} "straw-plait hunts," when, in
pursuit of