no small pleasure I found we were not to halt amid this disgusting scene, as I expected, but to move on somewhat farther; and with still greater pleasure I received the order to quit the chaussée for the village of Chenevière,[5] about a mile to the left. This removing us out of the Prussian line of march, we hoped to find things somewhat better. The village, like most others we have seen, consisted of a number of farmhouses with their barns and outbuildings, &c., all standing amidst orchards and gardens--the whole surrounded by corn, corn, corn! The place, I should think, has not been visited by the Prussians, for no pillage or destruction is to be seen; but it is deserted--not a soul except our soldiers to be seen. Besides our brigade of cavalry, two or three other troops of horse-artillery are here, so that the place is pretty full; and as we are among the latest arrivals, we have not got under cover, but are bivouacking in a very nice orchard, separated from the village street by some large open sheds; but as the weather is fine, and probably from habit, my people have _littered themselves down_ as usual under their guns instead of profiting by these--this they are enabled to do very comfortably here, for there is no want of straw. The people, in their retreat, seem to have taken little with them, except their animals, so that we have all kinds of pots and pans, jugs, basins, &c., _ad libitum_. In short, we should be pretty comfortable but for one want, and that a most important one. The weather is dreadfully hot, and we have scarcely any water; there is but one good well in the place, and that has been surrounded by a crowd ever since we arrived. It is impossible to imagine what a gloom this throws over everything: were it not for the abundance of ripe cherries growing along the roadsides (not of the best flavour, but juicy), we must have suffered to-day terribly from thirst in this burnt-up plain. The corn (standing) is almost bleached--it should have been cut long ago. CHAPTER XVII.