the face of such a position, for we had considerably outmarched the infantry. Of course the Duke knew there would be no opposition; and yet it was difficult to imagine what then had become of the French force, which we knew was retiring before us--of the 200,000 men our friend at Gournay had spoken of. No opposition was there. Instead of finding the banks of the Oise garnished with cannon and bristling with bayonets--instead of broken-up roads and inundated fields, woods full of riflemen and the town of grenadiers--instead of all this, we found a peaceable population in a lovely country, labourers in their fields and fishermen on the rivers, whilst flocks and herds pastured in quiet security on the verdant carpet which overspread the plain. The little town of Pont St Maxence looked cheerful and pretty as we approached it, lying partly on one side of the river, partly on the other. The wooded hills rose abruptly over it, the lower part of their slopes interspersed with pretty villas, standing amongst vineyards and in gardens, with terraced walks overhanging the scenery below. After marching all day in a hot sun, what a feeling of coolness and enjoyment was conveyed in the appearance of the large open windows and shady balconies, draperied with clematis and other elegant creepers, of these sylvan villas! It appears that the bridge had been broken down last year, and never repaired. To do this a detachment of the staff corps was pushed forward either yesterday or early this morning; but when we reached the end of the town they had not yet rendered it passable, and we were ordered to take post in the neighbouring splendid meadows, where, expecting to remain all night, we commenced at once establishing ourselves. Several troops of horse-artillery and some regiments of cavalry were already up, and others of all arms were continually arriving. The horses, unharnessed and watered, were already feeding, fires were lighted, kettles on, and every one was congratulating himself on having halted on so charming a spot. Thus settled, I strayed into the garden of a neighbouring mill, full of fine currants and cherries, to which the pretty _meunière_ not only bade me welcome, but even herself helped me to the best fruit. I was just in the height of enjoyment of the delicious coolness of the fruit, and the piquant badinage of my companion, when suddenly the “boot-and-saddle” re-echoed through the valley, and a confused hum of voices arose simultaneously from every bivouac. With hurried thanks I took leave of my “Maid of the Mill,” and hastened back to my people, expecting every moment a fire would open upon us from the opposite woods, having no idea that so sudden an alert could proceed from any other cause than the approach of the enemy.