hand on his breast, self-congratulation twinkling in his eyes, and a profusion of very profound but silent bows. I really could not find it in my heart to break his, by saying anything more about the eggs. In short, I and all the muleteers gradually became very good friends; and as for my entertainer on the present occasion, had he known I was thinking of buying a mule, I have no manner of doubt he would forthwith have made me a _bonâ fide_ offer of the best in his batch, and thanked me for accepting it. Just as I emerged from the shop, Jones came pelting by on the pony--pulled up the moment he saw me--and owned himself conscience-stricken by rushing into self-vindication. "Please, sir, I jest only brought the poor hannibal here from the river, sir; 'cause why, sir?--'cause I thought you had done with him, sir. Been all about, looking for a stable, sir. Can't find no corner nowhere, not to shove the poor hannibal in, sir. Couldn't you be so kind and speak to that 'ere hofficer, sir? Have'nt had no time to think of cooking dinner, sir. Very long march we've had to-day, sir. Very bad thing sitch long marches for poor soldiers, sir. Got a bullet in my leg, sir." "Well," said I, "you've no occasion to trouble yourself about dinner, nor yet about a stable. I expect we have at least two leagues more to cover, before we halt for the night." Jones tuned as black as thunder. His look was perfectly savage. "Well, Jones, it can't be helped, man. You yourself must see there's not room for us here." "Please, sir," replied Jones, "I know there isn't, sir. Only I thought p'rhaps you'd speak to the hofficer, sir. And in course, as he's a friend, I thought he'd see to it, sir, and make room, sir." "No, no--I tell you it won't do. As soon as the men have got their rations, we must move on." The word "rations" wrought an immediate change in Jones's agonising visage. "Oh, very well, sir," said he--"then we gits our rations here, does we, sir? Please, sir, if I might make bold to aast the question--which is it, sir?" "Which is it? I suppose beef as usual; bread if they've got any. I don't know what else it's likely to be." "Beg your pardon, sir," replied Jones; "but I did'nt mean about the whittles, sir. What I means is the liquor, sir. 'Cause p'rhaps its that 'ere poor, nasty, green, hungry, skinny wine as we got in Spain, sir; that what giz the men the hayger, sir. Or p'rhaps, may be, its sperrits, sir; if so be we've come into the brandy, what the men gits here in France, sir. That's the liquor to march upon, sir. Fine rations thim is for poor soldiers, sir. Oh, be-youti-ful, sir! Takes the skin off the roof of your mouth, sir." "Well; we shall soon see which it is."