We experienced some unpleasantness, at first, from the insolence of some of the sergeants commanding the prison guard. Most of these petty officers were very friendly and kind, but two or three of them manifested a surly, tyrannical temper, annoying us in many little things, enough to embitter our enjoyment, while they were on duty. This petty despotism we soon cured, by returning their abuse in a rather provoking kind of coin. We used to plague them by causing a long delay when the hour arrived for them to be relieved. They were required to muster us every morning, that we might be counted before the new guard took us in charge. On those occasions some would purposely absent themselves; others were sent to find the absentees; these, in their turn, would hide themselves, and require to be sought by others. This was excessively vexatious to the soldiers, and as it occurred only when a tyrannical sergeant was on guard, they soon understood its meaning. The plan was successful, and we thus got rid of one source of discomfort. Our next difficulty was with the old Dutchman, named Badiem, who furnished our prison with provisions. He had already learned the difficulty of cheating a Yankee; for the Americans who were carried away in the _Denmark_ had been in this same prison, and had taught the old man that they were rougher customers than the Frenchmen who had preceded them. We gave him another lesson. He undertook to wrong us and benefit himself by furnishing a very inferior article of bread. After counselling among ourselves, we took the following plan to bring him to his senses: We were visited every day by a superior officer, called the officer of the day. He was a kind old man, who had seen service in the war of the revolution, and was at the battle of Bunker Hill. He had a profound respect for the American character, and could not speak of that great action without tears. One day a friendly sergeant being on duty, we gave him a piece of the old Dutchman’s bread, complaining bitterly of its quality. When the old officer came round as usual, on a fine, dashing charger, and asked his customary question of “All right?” our friend the sergeant replied, “No, sir!” “What is the matter?” asked the venerable old gentleman. “The prisoners complain of their bread, sir,” said the sergeant. “Let me see it,” answered the general. The sergeant gave him a small piece. He examined it, wrapped it up carefully in some paper, clapped the spurs to his horse, and rode off. The next day, we had better bread than ever before, and an order came for a man from each room to go with the sentry to the town every morning, to examine our daily provision; and, if not what it should be, to reject it. This completely upset the golden visions of the old Dutchman. With much choler he exclaimed, “I had rather have one tousand Frenchmen, than one hundred Yankees.”