in this manner from the fields, I requested Monsieur le Maire to point out how we might do so with the least possible injury to the inhabitants. He did so, and I gave the necessary orders for confining our foraging parties to the fields indicated, and to avoid unnecessary waste. Again Monsieur Bonnemain is announced; but this time he came accompanied by a genteel but rather important-looking personage, just arrived in a handsome cabriolet, whom Monsieur le Maire introduces as the postmaster of St Denis. They are somebody these postmasters. An exordium of a most complimentary character ushered in, as usual, a complaint, or rather a protest, against our cutting this gentleman’s oats. Monsieur le Maître des Postes condescended (and he made the condescension evident) to inform me that he farmed the land in question at an exorbitant rent; that the produce was absolutely requisite to enable him to fulfil his contract with Government; that he should suffer much inconvenience from our depredations; and that, the public business of the Government being thus obstructed (with a most ominous shrug and extension of both hands), it was impossible to answer for the consequences. Hereupon the great man, with an air of perfect indifference, turned his back on me, and began asking trifling questions of some villagers who had flocked in to witness the negotiation. My answer was very brief: “Monsieur le Maire had himself designated the fields we were to cut.” (Here a most portentous glance was shot by Monsieur le Maître at Monsieur le Maire.) “That if the public suffered in the business of posting, it was of infinitely less consequence than that any part of the British army should become inefficient for want of forage. As, in the present case, somebody must suffer, it were better that the burden should fall on those best able to afford it.” Monsieur le Maître then shifted his ground somewhat, complaining of the waste committed by our foragers, who, he said, trampled down more than they cut. I promised this, if found to be the case, should be remedied, for our own sakes; and, at his request, that one particular non-commissioned officer should superintend the foraging. Monsieur, finding he could get no more, bade me adieu with more politeness than he had condescended to use on our first meeting, mounted his cabriolet amidst bows of the assembled peasantry, and drove off. This fellow’s opposition has not been without consequences. My villagers have become more bold, and even begin to draw up petitions to the Duke. Some of these have already been sent to me, with an intimation that I must not oppress the inhabitants unless it be unavoidable. This happens to be the case--therefore I have taken no notice of them.