After nightfall, we bivouacked in a wood to the right of the high road on the river Louts, within a short way of the town of Hagetman. Our baggage did not come up; the night was miserably cold, and the whole of the officers of our regiment took possession of a tumble-down shed, or forsaken cow-house, where, having spread out some stalks of Indian corn, some of us began to roast potatoes, when an aid-de-camp, appertaining to a General, came up to the door-way (for _door_ there was none), and said, halloo! halloo! who's here? who's here? when one of our majors coolly replied, "Officers and pigs," which created a general laugh; and the General sent elsewhere to put up his horses.—In the middle of the night, one of the officers, having suddenly awoke out of his sleep, called out with all his might, "come up, come up," fancying that a French cart-horse had got amongst us. A ludicrous scene took place—every one for himself! till at last a heap of living heroes were piled together, each scrambling on the top of the other, and all bawling out "lights! lights!" At last, by main strength, I managed to extricate myself from a pressure nearly as bad as that in the black hole of Calcutta. The soldiers and servants, hearing such a hullabaloo, flocked into the hut, which added to, rather than diminished the disorder of the scene. At length a lighted wisp of straw being brought in, every one stared about, with the greatest astonishment; for the object of terror had vanished, or rather had not appeared. Some crawled out from their hiding places, demanding who had taken away the horse, while the respectful and confounded servants protested, one after the other, that they had not seen a horse, nor taken any away. The alarm took place from some one kicking against the shed, which was mistaken, by the officer who created the alarm, for the hoofs of a horse shod by a French farrier, within an ace of his head! Sleep was banished, and roars of laughter continued throughout the rest of the night.