The Project Gutenberg eBook, The French Prisoners of Norman Cross, by
Arthur Brown

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Title: The French Prisoners of Norman Cross
A Tale

Author: Arthur Brown

Release Date: December 12, 2007 [eBook #23836]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)

***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRENCH PRISONERS OF NORMAN
CROSS***

Transcribed from the [1895] Hodder Brothers edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org

{Yaxley Church from the S.E. From photo. by Rev. E. H. Brown: p0.jpg}

"_Weep sore for him that goeth away_: _for he shall return no more_,
_nor see his native country_."

THE
French Prisoners
OF
Norman Cross.

_A TALE_.

BY THE
REV. ARTHUR BROWN,
_Rector of Catfield_, _Norfolk_.

London:
HODDER BROTHERS,
18 NEW BRIDGE STREET, E.C.

PRINTED BY
NOPS & TARRANT,
19, LUDGATE HILL, LONDON, E.C.

CHAPTER I.--THE ARRIVAL.

The tramp of feet was heard one afternoon late in the Autumn of 1808, on
the road that leads from Peterborough to Yaxley. A body of men, four
abreast, and for the most part in the garb and with the bearing of
soldiers, was marching along. But the sight was not exhilarating. The
swing and springy step of soldiers on the march is always a pleasant
sight; but there was a downcast look on most of these men's faces, and a
general shabbiness of appearance that was not attractive. And no wonder:
for they had come from the battlefield, and crossed the sea in crowded
ships, not too comfortable; and were drawing near, as prisoners of war,
to the dreary limbo which, unless they chanced to die, was to be their
abode for they knew not how long. To be prisoners of war is an
honourable estate, almost the only captivity to which no shame attaches:
yet this is but cold comfort to compensate for loss of freedom.

All down the column and on each side of it marched a file of red-coated
militia-men with guns loaded and bayonets fixed, not as a complimentary
escort, but a stern necessity, a fact that had been proved not an hour
before, when some desperate fellow had broken through the guard, and
flung himself from the parapet of the bridge over the Nene at
Pe