_30th._--Fine morning again. Quitted with regret this lovely country, and climbing the hills by a steep gravelly road, gained the plateau--covered with corn as usual, but here diversified by a pretty sprinkling of trees. Lieutenant Breton, who slept at the farmhouse last night, gives a bad account of our hussars, who, not content with living at free quarters, completely sacked it this morning before they marched--one of their officers taking away a beautiful pony in spite of the old farmer’s entreaties, who begged with tears in his eyes that it might be spared, since it was a pet of the whole family. The pony, however, marched. After marching some distance on this plateau by very good gravelly cross-roads, we rejoined the chaussée from Pont St Maxence to Senlis, and soon after began descending towards the latter place, which is separated from the former by this ridge of hills, covered in most parts by the forest of Balatte. Though not to be compared to Pont St Maxence in point of situation, yet Senlis stands in a pretty country, well wooded, surrounded by fine meadows, watered by the little crystal Nonette. Just beyond the town, on the Paris side, commences the forest of Pontarme, a continuation of that of Chantilly. Senlis being the first place of any importance through which we have passed, was of course approached with much interest, and this was heightened by its picturesque appearance: antique walls, pierced by an arched gateway, the summit decayed and irregular, fringed with verdure. Spires, and lofty houses showing themselves above it, appeared to advantage through the foliage of the trees, which ran scattering and in clumps up to the very gate, through which crowds of peasantry, with little carts and asses laden with the produce of their farms, were passing to the market. When we passed in our turn, we found the street so thronged that it was with difficulty we could get along, for the market was held in it. The passage of our column, threading its way through the crowd of stalls and baskets of poultry, vegetables, &c., did not seem to excite any very lively emotion, or to interrupt the business of the day. Some of the more idle, or more curious, left their stalls to get a nearer look at _les Anglais_. Nothing like apprehension was visible even among the women, and the boys were as bold and familiar as usual. Here and there I heard a shout of “Vive le Roi!” once or twice it looked in earnest. To try the sincerity of this versatile people, I stooped in passing near some of the most vociferous, and in a subdued tone treated them to “Vive l’Empereur!” The result was always the same--staring first at me, then at each other, with a sly expression of countenance, some one of them, slapping me on the thigh, would reply in the same tone, “Mais oui, monsieur, vive l’Empereur--vive Napoleon! C’est bon, monsieur, c’est bon--vive l’Empereur!” seemingly delighted at being able to express their true sentiments. This might have been