as going on,
entitled

'THE CUIRASSIER OF REICHSHOFEN.'

Here we had the grand tale of French heroism and real victory, which
an ungenerous foe persisted in calling defeat. A gallant Frenchman,
who played the hero, had nearly run his daring course, having done
prodigies of valour on that fateful and fatal day. The crisis of the
drama was reached almost as I entered, the cuirassier coming in with
his head bound up in a bloody towel! After relating the horrors of
that awful charge in an impassioned strain, he wound up by declaring
that _'He and Death'_ were the only two left upon the field! It need
not be said there were abundant groans for the Germans and cheers for
the glorious Frenchmen.

Now at last down to the vessel, as the wheezy chimes give out that it
is close on two o'clock a.m. All seems dozing at 'Maritime Calais.'
The fishing-boats lie close together, interlaced in black network,
snoozing, as it were, after their labours. Afar off the little town
still maintains its fortress-like air and its picturesque aspect, the
dark central spires rising like shadows, the few lights twinkling. The
whole scene is deliciously tranquil. The plashing of the water seems
to invite slumber, or at least a temporary doze, to which the
traveller, after his long day and night, is justly entitled. How
strange those old days, when the exiles for debt abounded here! They
were in multitudes then, and had a sort of society among themselves in
this Alsatia. That gentleman in a high stock and a short-waisted
coat--the late Mr. Brummell surely, walking in this direction? Is he
pursued by this agitated crowd, hurrying after him with a low roaring,
like the sound of the waves?...

* * * * *

I am roused up with a start. What a change! The whole is alive and
bustling, black shadowy figures are hurrying by. The white-funnelled
steamer has come up, and is moaning dismally, eager to get away.
Behind is the long international train of illuminated chambers, fresh
from Paris and just come in, pouring out its men and women, who have
arrived from all quarters of the world. They stream on board in a
shadowy procession, laden with their bundles. Lower down, I hear the
_crashing_ of trunks discharged upon the earth! I go on board with
the rest, sit down in a corner, and recall nothing till I find myself
on the chill platform of Victoria Station--time, six o'clock a.m.

It was surely a dream, or like a dream!--a