The loss of the beef, added to the rumoured loss of the four horses, would indeed have afforded abundant materials for fun; so I sent my avant-guard by the road on foot, instead of across country, and followed him on horseback. This plan gave me an opportunity of seeing Mrs. Seacole, to thank her for her kind exertions, although the missing pony had not been found. On reaching her place, I found several mounted officers taking refreshment; when Miss Sally Seacole (her daughter), whose name I have not yet introduced, called out--“Mother, mother! here is Monsieur Soyer!” This announcement brought her out immediately, and she exclaimed, “Good luck to you, my son! we have found your pony: come down. Here are some officers who say they have had a grey pony like yours in the stables of their regiment these last few days. Didn’t you say so, gentlemen?” “Yes, Monsieur Soyer!” said one, “but you must look sharp, for they are going to sell it to-morrow, if no one claims it.” “Many thanks for the warning. I will ride over directly. Pray, what is the number of the regiment?” “The 93rd--fourth division--near the Woronzoff-road. I am almost sure it is yours.” “Well, my son,” said Mrs. Seacole, “didn’t I tell you that it would be found?” “Really, Mrs. Seacole, I don’t know what I shall give you for the trouble you have taken in this affair. At all events, here is something on account,”--saluting her upon her deeply-shaded forehead, at which every one present laughed and joked. “Gentlemen,” said I, “I knew you would be surprised; though it is very natural for a son to kiss his mother. At any rate, you cannot say that, upon this occasion, I have shown my love and taste for the fair sex.” A hearty laugh concluded this innocent bit of fun. My guardsman, Thomas, who had continued his journey, had by this time nearly reached his destination. After a sharp gallop I caught him, and just in time to rescue the piece of beef he had carried safely so far. I found him drinking brandy with several of the French Imperial Guard, at their canteen; and he was exhibiting the choice piece, which I had wrapped up so carefully in a cloth and packed in a basket. It was the admiration of all who formed the merry group. They said to him, “Anglais roast-beef--bono Johnny.” This was all their conversation upon the subject previous to its capture, which I have no doubt would have been the case had I not made my appearance. Seeing the imminent danger in which the choice morsel was placed, and aware that nothing but a _ruse de guerre_ could rescue it from the hands of the enemy--