Weeks was acquainted with the family as he had dined here throughout the winter when on repose. They also did his and other soldiers’ washing and the clothes were hung in this room on lines from the walls to dry; consequently one was uncomfortable until seated. After a while our host gave his order and the woman went to purchase the food. Meanwhile children of the family were constantly coming and going. After the sixth had made his appearance I grew confused and decided not to try to keep track of them. They certainly were numerous, and starting from four feet six they descended in regular intervals of six inches down to the young baby, making a natural stairway for Father Time. The food came at last; it was a chicken and some incidentals. The next thing was to prepare the chicken for the pot. The good housewife searched high and low for a knife, and failing to locate one borrowed Smith’s famous weapon (he paid six sous for it in Lyon at a bazaar). Ah! I forgot. She singed the fowl first over the table around which we were seated. This was accomplished by means of burning newspapers, the ashes of which fell into the wine. We did not mind this, only the smell of burning hair was rather disagreeable. I had recovered from this, when, picture my chagrin, the good lady started to butcher the bird right under our noses and placidly strewed the table with the chicken’s guts. I think grape picking trains the hands to quick, vigorous action; anyhow, the way those giblets and other parts of the chicken’s anatomy were flying around caused us to dodge continually, and with great foresight I placed my hand over the glass to protect the wine. The lady was not an expert butcher; when she could not locate a joint the members were torn apart by main strength. As for the flesh, it was actually ripped off in shreds and the whole business thrown into a pot. Smith’s heart was almost broken as the blade of his knife was bent all out of shape: it was ruined. The meal consisted of rice, soup, fried chicken and bread, with coffee at the end. It was very tasty, indeed. What struck me forcibly was the way the children ate. They came in just long enough to swallow a few mouthfuls. Through carelessness I think the young folks are not receiving the proper amount of nourishment. Anyway the children of France do not shape up as being sturdy. We all enjoyed the novel incident greatly.