very real while it lasts. And what if foreigners exhibit their emotions
in ways that may seem effeminate to our phlegmatic temperaments? Are we
always right--ordained by Providence to set the fashion to all the world
in everything? How often does Virgil make the brave Trojans and others
"weep"? Nevertheless, it would look funny to see a row of stalwart
Grenadiers, each one mopping his eyes with a white pocket handkerchief!

The hall of reception was an enormous wooden casern or barn, very long,
and, as we have said, extraordinarily high, with berths or hammocks all
up the walls. It served as dormitory, common-room, and dining-hall; not
by any means a sanitary arrangement, yet far better than that of
prisoners of war in some other parts of the country.

Soon after the new-comers had arrived, supper was served, and as the
older prisoners had waited for their arrival, they all sat down together.
We will not say the tables groaned under the profusion of viands, but
there certainly was enough. Every man had half a pound of beef, together
with salt and vegetables, and a pound and a half of bread. The cooks
were appointed from among the prisoners, and were paid by the English
Government, and so we may be sure they were Frenchmen, and that those two
grand features of good cookery were manifested--the most was made of what
they had, and all was savoury. Being officers, too, some well supplied
with money, they had wine on the table, and any other luxury they could
meet with.

"To your health, my friends," said a fine-looking Frenchman, who had been
longest in prison, and though well-dressed in civilian clothes, bore
unmistakable traces of his depressing life. "We drink to your health. We
have all heard of your bravery: how you did all that men could do at
Vimiero, but were overwhelmed by numbers. Never mind. There are yet
more than enough of Frenchmen in the Peninsula to drive the English into
the sea. Let me beg a favour of you. We are very dull in this place,
and need cheering. Relate to us, if you please, any individual acts of
bravery that came to your notice. It will do us good, and perhaps make
us dream to-night we are living soldiers again, not dead ones."

At this, a little man from among the new arrivals, with nothing heroic
about him, either in face, or mien, or stature, jumped on his legs, and
with great volubility and much gesticulation, began as follows:

"You are right, monsieur, that is just what