any more if the captain would let him down. I heard no more of him, but proceeded towards the camp, leaving the Provost about half a mile to the rear of me. I got into a farm house and filled my canteen with good wine again, and was fortunate enough to pick up part of a loaf. Coming out of the yard I knocked a fowl down, put it into my haversack, and proceeded into the camp. It was late in the evening. I went into the officers’ marquee and told him what had taken place, giving him full particulars. He asked me to pull off my clothes and he examined my back. “Oh!” he said, “they have not hurt you much.” But I told him I felt very sore, and that I should be hardly able to carry my knapsack on the morrow. He said he would get it put on the baggage waggon, so that I had nothing to carry but my accoutrements, sixty rounds of ball cartridge in my pouch, and forty in my haversack; the weight of these caused my shirt to stick to my back, and gave me great pain. Afterwards I usually kept myself very quiet. The Prussians had the advance of the British Army, when the French came up the River Seine, which they had to cross. They opposed the Prussians. An express order came to the rear for the British Army to push forward in forced marches; so we proceeded on at the rate of twenty-one miles per diem, under a broiling sun, and, on the third evening we formed on the top of the hill where the Prussians were encamped. On the following morning we erected a substantial battery. By giving the French a few rounds from the artillery, after a short time, we compelled them to move. Word was then given to charge, and we drove them across the river; but before we arrived at the river, the enemy blew up the Bridge of Lourai, which left them on the St. Denis side, and we on the other. We discovered a flour mill on the banks of the river, and I said to one of my comrades, “I will go down and see if I can find some flour.” Accordingly, I proceeded to the mill, got inside without any difficulty, and discovered a large flour bin, in which I found as much flour as my haversack would hold. In coming down the mill steps from out of the mill, I met another man coming up upon the same errand as myself; he called out, “Miller, what is the price of a sixpenny loaf?” I said, “Faith, comrade, if I have a white jacket, I have no white feather; better to be a miller than starving.” As my uniform was all green, the flour on the skirts of my coat caused me to appear more like a magpie than a rifleman. There was plenty of wine in all the farm houses, and I availed myself of it by mixing it with the flour, by which we soon had a good pot of dumplings; it made good “prog,” I can assure the reader.