met with in the Mascara squadron, with which his own was for some time brigaded. One was a French _maréchal-de-logis_ or sergeant, named Alfred Siquot, a man of good family and eccentric character,--a great humourist, whose gloomy air and silent laugh had procured him from his comrades the surname of Jovial. There does not appear, however, to have been mystery in his previous life, which was open to all, nor any particular romance or adventures in its incidents previously to his service in Africa. The case was very different with his comrade, Mohamed-Ould-Caïd-Osman, who had the rank of native officer. "The Arab name concealed a Prussian one, and an agitated life, full of duels and adventures--of condemnations to death, and executions in effigy. Clever and well-informed, there was a great charm in his bluntness of manner, and his bravery, justly celebrated, procured him the respect of all. He was the very type of the officer of fortune--of the lansquenet of former days. His double-barrelled gun, as much dreaded by the Arabs as by the partridges--his dog Tom--his sorrel charger, a beast of famous bottom--were his sole friends in the field. In garrison, a fourth affection found a place in his heart--a little Spanish girl, who never opened her mouth, and was as devoted to him as his dog. Tom, the _Chica_, the Caïd, made but one. Their life, with its joys and sorrows, was in common. Now and then Siquot went and smoked his pipe in the midst of the three friends. "As to the Caïd's African life, it was well known, and its accidents had more than once beguiled the leisure of the bivouac. He had been twice seen at Algiers, but in very different circumstances. The first time, in all his splendour, he was travelling with Prince Puckler-Muskau, who speaks of him in his _Letters_, designating him by his initials. The second time, in 1840, he had assumed the knapsack of the infantry soldier, and was marching to the defile of Mouzaia, in the ranks of the foreign legion."