ffix to
his breast the ribbon of the cross of the Legion of Honour.

The colonel called upon Sergeant Wyatt to come forward. Julian did so,
saluted, and stood to attention, while the marshal dismounted and pinned
to his breast the insignia of the order, while the regiment saluted,
and, as Julian returned to his place in the ranks, burst into a hearty
cheer. As soon as the marshal had ridden off, and the regiment fell out,
the officers gathered round Julian and congratulated him upon the honour
he had received, and, at the same time, thanked him heartily for the
credit that the regiment had gained, through his means, while the
enthusiasm of the soldiers knew no bounds. A word of praise from the
Emperor was the distinction that French soldiers and French regiments
most coveted, and to have been named, not only by their marshal in his
orders, but by the Emperor in a general order to the army, was an honour
that filled every heart with pride.

Julian had been a favourite before, but henceforth his popularity was
unbounded. Many of the other regiments followed the example of the
grenadiers, and, in spite of the ever-increasing cold and the constantly
augmenting hardships, Ney's corps retained their discipline and
efficiency. Their appearance, indeed, was no longer soldierly. Their
garments were in rags. Many wore three or four coats. Their legs were
encased in hay-bands, strips of blanket, or sheep-skins. Julian now took
out for the first time from his knapsack the leggings that he had
manufactured, and, with the strips of blanket that he wound round them,
they differed in appearance in no degree from the leggings of some of
his comrades, except that they enveloped the feet also. On the day
following the reading of Napoleon's order, the grenadiers came upon an
overturned caleche. It had been ransacked by a regiment that had
preceded them. The driver and a woman lay dead beside it, and they would
have passed on without paying any attention to it, had it not been for a
faint cry that met the ears of Julian, as his company passed close by
it. He dropped back a few paces to an officer, and asked leave to fall
out for a minute. Going to the carriage he found lying there among the
cushions a little girl some five or six years old. Her cloak had been
stripped off her, and she was blue with cold. Julian hesitated.

"I will try anyhow," he muttered to himself. He first ripped open one of
the cushions, pulled out the woollen stuffin