surrendered to the Prussians, and that Buonaparte had fled--might be true, and that these people were deputies sent to avert the wrath of the conqueror; so, addressing myself to the principal person, a short, square-built, rather pursy man, wearing some decoration, I asked if it were so, and when we might arrive there. My friend, drawing himself up, and affecting an air of contempt, exclaimed aloud, “_Paris se rendre?_--non, monsieur, n’y contez pas! il faut passer sur les corps de 200,000 hommes, avant d’y arriver,” at the same time coming close up, and tapping me on the knee, he whispered, “_Mais si votre Duc de Vellintone traitera, il tient la bonté à ses pieds, et fera tout ce qui lui plaira_.” I thanked him for the confidence, told him I knew nothing about the Duke, which made him stare, and rode on.[2] Leaving Gournay, the country became more pleasing, because more wooded, and the fields generally enclosed by hedges. This style of scenery continued until it brought us to the valley of the Oise, by far the most interesting part of France we had yet seen. How can I describe my feelings when it first opened out before me? How, alas! can I describe the scene itself? But to see and feel it aright one must first have passed over the monotonous melancholy country extending almost uninterruptedly from Nivelles to the Oise--must have had the retina so imbued with the eternal brown and yellow of that ocean of corn as to see everything of a yellow or jaundiced hue--then he may imagine somewhat of the pleasurable relief with which the eye rested for the first time on the lovely scenery and refreshing verdure of this charming valley. The ground, descending by a gradual slope on our side, ran into a vast succession of most beautiful green meadows, everywhere adorned with magnificent elms, either standing detached, or in groups, or in rows. Beyond these, at about a mile from us, ran the Oise--a broad stream, sometimes exhibiting its sparkling surface nearly on a level with the meadows, at others encased between steep banks of some height. Immediately above the river rose a bold range of hills, thickly wooded from the river-banks to their summit. To the right and left this sort of scenery continued until further view was shut out by the overlapping hills. The road by which we travelled ran straight as a line across the meadows; and at the point where it appeared to cross the river was a pretty-looking little town, Pont St Maxence, partly on one bank, partly on the other. If we were to be opposed, there I thought is the position in which the French await us, and tough work we shall have of it. These ideas occurred to me as we descended toward the meadows; and as the corps in advance of us approached the town, I momentarily expected to see flashes and smoke issuing from masked batteries in the opposite woods; and it now struck me for the first time as a singular circumstance that cavalry should be allowed to advance alone in