who mounted them sometimes stood, sometimes knelt, upon the
saddle and pillions. No accident, however, 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 hosts 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.

Norman Cross--Wide Expanse--Vive l'Empereur--Unpruned Woods--Man with the
Bag--Froth and Conceit--I beg your Pardon--Growing Timid--About Three
o'Clock--Taking One's Ease--Cheek on the Ground--King of the
Vipers--French King--Frenchmen and Water.

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 far