The Somme here is but a small stream; flat meadows extend some little way on each side, and are bordered by moderate hills, running out here and there into knolls. The point chosen for our passage was a ford just above a mill on the road to Nesle. Péronne having been taken yesterday by General Maitland’s brigade of Guards, the only enemy we heard of in our vicinity was the garrison of Ham, and they could scarcely have opposed our passage even had they not been shut up by a brigade of light infantry and a troop of horse-artillery (Ross’s), which had been sent to summon them. The different divisions of cavalry, infantry, and artillery, winding down the swelling knolls, some of which were prettily wooded, and the picturesque groups of staff and other officers on the points of these knolls, superintending the passage of their respective brigades, &c., formed altogether an animated and pleasing picture, although not much could be said for the beauty of the country on the opposite side of the river, which looked cheerless enough. It was in one of those groups, and the most picturesque of them--for they were German hussars--that I recognised and shook hands with my friend General Victor Alten, whom I had not seen for more than three years. An interesting meeting, for he was surrounded by a number of other old acquaintances of the 2d Hussars. A foot-bridge at the mill enabled the infantry to file over; but we had to ford, and got a tolerable wetting, for the water was up to our saddle-skirts. On the other side, about a mile from the river, we reached Nesle, the intervening country enclosed but not wooded, consequently much more ugly and uninteresting than if it had been open. Nesle is a dismal, dirty town, situated on an eminence of no great elevation, and perfectly in character with the melancholy country around it. This is the first town we have marched through in France. I think it must have been market-day, from the number of people in the streets; yet not the slightest apprehension or agitation appeared; and, as we passed along, the market-people merely turned up their heads, and the shopkeepers came to their doors to gaze on us, much as if we had been marching through Exeter, or any other English town accustomed to see troops.