whom we also occasionally crossed and jostled, contented themselves with abusing us. For some days after, we were constantly falling in with these very people, and our so doing resembling the approach of two angry dogs. I was constantly alarmed lest some serious affray should take place. But they have led me ahead of my march. Somewhat more than a mile before we came to the descent above mentioned, we passed through Forêt, a pretty large village, surrounded as usual by orchards, with a few small woods scattered about the vicinity, which diversified agreeably the otherwise monotonous scenery. On approaching this village, a dirty sheet or table-cloth, attached to a pole, and projected from a window of the church-tower, attracted our attention. It was the first time we had seen the immaculate _pavillon blanc_ since entering the French territory; and one could not but admire the wisdom and foresight which had established as a national standard what could be readily furnished at any moment by every, even the most humble, _ménage_. A tall, thin, venerable-looking old man in the clerical habit stood by the roadside amidst several peasants, male and female. His countenance was radiant with joy, and he appeared quite elated in contemplating the column as it passed along. Pinch after pinch he took from a little tortoise-shell snuff-box in his left hand, whilst with earnestness he pointed out to, or seemed describing, something in our column. As I came up, followed by my trumpeter, the old man, uncovering his white head, made me a profound obeisance. This opened the interview, and I was soon master of his history. He had been driven from his _curé_ by the Revolution; returned on the abdication of Napoleon last year; but the return from Elba had again nearly caused a second flight. He had, however, ventured to remain, upon the affectionate assurances of his parishioners, and after suffering during the Hundred Days most horrid anxiety and even indignities, had at last been restored to security and tranquillity by the battle of Waterloo. He was now come out not only to witness the passage of the brave English, to whom his country and himself stood so much indebted, but also to meet and do homage to his beloved monarch, who he understood would pass through Forêt on his way to his capital. Nothing could exceed the good man’s joy; his spirits quite ran away with him, and his tongue ran nineteen to the dozen. At parting we cordially shook hands, and he tendered me the little tortoise-shell box with the most amiable _bonhommie_. How the rustics gazed! They seem a very ignorant, simple people, the peasantry of this country. Hitherto, since passing the frontier, we have found them everywhere pursuing their rural labours with as much tranquillity as in the most profound state of peace: quite undisturbed by, and exhibiting very little curiosity about, the continued passage of foreign troops along their roads and through their villages.