It was when deep in the midst of these studies, poring over maps and reports, taxing my memory with hard names, and getting off by heart dates, distances, and numbers, that the order came for me to repair at once to Paris, where the volunteers of the expedition were to assemble. My rank of sergeant had been confirmed, and in this capacity, as _sous-officier_, I was ordered to report myself to General Kilmaine, the adjutant-general of the expedition, then living in the Rue Ghantereine. I was also given the address of a certain Lestaing--Rue Tailbout--a tailor, from whom, on producing a certificate, I was to obtain my new uniform. Full as I was of the whole theme, thinking of the expedition by day, and dreaming of it by night, I was still little prepared for the enthusiasm it was at that very moment exciting in every society of the capital. For some time previously a great number of Irish emigrants had made Paris their residence; some were men of good position and ample fortune; some were individuals of considerable ability and intelligence. All were enthusiastic, and ardent in temperament--devotedly attached to their country--hearty haters of England, and proportionally attached to all that was French. These sentiments, coupled with a certain ease of manner, and a faculty of adaptation, so peculiarly Irish, made them general favourites in society; and long before the Irish question had found any favour with the public, its national supporters had won over the hearts and good wishes of all Paris to the cause. Well pleased, then, as I was with my handsome uniform of green and gold, my small chapeau, with its plume of cock’s feathers, and the embroidered shamrock on my collar, I was not a little struck by the excitement my first appearance in the street created. Accustomed to see a hundred strange military costumes--the greater number, I own, more singular than tasteful--the Parisians, I concluded, would scarcely notice mine in the crowd. Not so, however; the print-shops had already given the impulse to the admiration, and the ‘Irish Volunteer of the Guard’ was to be seen in every window, in all the ‘glory of his bravery.’ The heroic character of the expedition, too, was typified by a great variety of scenes, in which the artist’s imagination had all the credit. In one picture the _jeune Irlandais_ was planting a national flag of very capacious dimensions on the summit of his native mountains; here he was storming _Le Château de Dublin_, a most formidable fortress, perched on a rock above the sea; here he was crowning the heights of _La Citadelle de Cork_, a very Gibraltar in strength; or he was haranguing the native chieftains, a highly picturesque group--a cross between a knight crusader and a South-sea islander.