my short pipe. Indulging in visions that for a long time had been a stranger to me, the much-boasted pleasures of the opium eaters, were nothing in comparison to mine.--I seemed in heaven, sir." After having regained the camp, it soon became a subject of remark and discussion, how Faucin (the soldier's name) got his tobacco to smoke, and looked so cheerful, when his comrades would have given all they were worth for the same luxury. Knowing his extreme danger if it should be discovered he had any quantity of tobacco in his possession, he took every opportunity, when questioned, as he often was closely on the subject, to state that it was only a trifling remnant he had preserved. Under this pretence, he refused the numerous applications that were made him for portions, however small. At length, as his short pipe was still perceived week after week, emitting its savoury steam, on their toilsome march homewards, it was generally suspected, and he was openly told, he had plenty of tobacco in his knapsack, and he was threatened, in case of his refusal to divide a share. Firmly believing he should be robbed, if not murdered, by some of his comrades, who watched him with selfish eyes for the sake of the tobacco he carried, he was obliged by prudence to confess the secret to two corporals and a serjeant, and divide a quantity among them. While their line of march was daily and nightly strewed with the dead and dying, and many a gallant fellow breathed his last on the cold beds of snow, they were wonderfully sustained by the tobacco, that kept up their spirits throughout the scene of famine and desolation, and he reached France with the few wretched remnants of the fine troops, who had quitted it with the eagle's flight, amid the shouts of _vive Napoleon_.