The sun had set some time when we reached the village of Verneuil, which was to be the termination of this day’s journey. Seated in the bosom of the hills, now veiled in a purply obscurity, intermingled with that yellowish hazy light always succeeding a warm sunset, the place looked beautiful. Several corps had already halted--some had taken possession of the houses, barns, &c., others bivouacked amongst the vineyards. Immediately about the village were large gardens enclosed by stone walls, and it was some time before I could make up my mind to invade these. There was no alternative, however. We could not remain in the road; the only fields I saw were covered with rich crops of wheat ready for the sickle, and even these could not be approached but through the gardens. The great gates of one of these were immediately forced open, and, trampling under foot artichokes, asparagus, &c., and flowers, we reached the field after a struggle through the _eschalots_ of an intervening vineyard, which, with the vines and their fruit, were miserably crushed beneath our gun-wheels and horses’ feet. I could not but regret this devastation, though it could not be avoided. The wheat shared the fate of the artichokes, and we soon established ourselves on it, surrounded as with a wood by the tall stalks of what was still standing. What a splendid Rembrandt-like picture presented itself from this spot: the valley buried in hazy obscurity; the whitened dwellings, just made out, scattered over the slopes of the hills, whose bold outlines, one of them crowned by a ruined castle, cut strongly against the glowing but gradually fading tints of the clearest sky. In the farm just by we have found stabling for our own horses and lodging for some of our people. But the evening is so fine that I infinitely prefer the field. Seated on the ground with a lantern by my side, I scribble my notes in comfort; but an attempt has just been made to turn us out even from this humble abode--an officer of hussars with an order from General Grant to quit the ground immediately, as he wants it for his hussars. Good man! he thinks a 9-pounder or its ammunition waggon as easily moved as a hussar and his horse. It proved, however, a mere bugbear--he wanted the house and stables; and his emissary having full power to treat, the affair is amicably arranged by our giving up the stable.