punished with prison. Soon the Trumpeter sounded "Soup," and every trooper employed in the barrack square hurried to put away his tools, while men rushed from every corner, shouting like school-boys let loose. While I was watching the scene I have described I noticed the arrival of a tall, handsome, and well-groomed young man in civilian attire, who asked me if I was a _Volontaire_, adding that he was himself one, and that he wanted to know where he had to report himself. In order to save him from the Sergeant's abuse, I warned him that he had better wait with me until the Sergeant of the Guard called us. While we were talking the Sergeant appeared on the threshhold of the guard-room, and, at the top of his voice, shouted out, "What the deuce are you hatching there, you idiots? I suppose you're another of these (using a double-barrelled adjective) _Volontaires_?" turning to my companion. "Yes, sir," replied the young fellow. "Well, why the devil don't you come and report yourself, you blockhead?" "Oh, sir," replied Walter--for such we will suppose his name to be--"this gentleman," pointing to me, "told me----" "This gentleman told you!" howled the Sergeant, "this _gentleman_, indeed; you're really too damned polite. You're another colt who requires breaking in. Now, you two young _pekins_[14] advance to orders, and show me your papers." We produced our _feuilles de route_, and the Sergeant having examined them told us to go to the Paymaster's office in the town. "Oh! you want to speak to Sergeant de Lanoy, do you?" he said to me. "I'll give you a trooper to take you to him." Having asked my new comrade to wait a few minutes for me outside the barracks, so that we might go together to the Paymaster's office, I was going with the trooper towards de Lanoy's quarters when we met him coming to look out for me. I told him how I had been treated by the Sergeant of the Guard, and he replied that he was not in the least astonished, as the fellow was a brute, adding that he had no right to keep me waiting when I asked to go and see him. "I'll have it out with him," he remarked, adding: "You go straight to the Paymaster's office and ask to be drafted into my squadron, the 3rd, and I'll see that you're placed under my orders, so that I can look after you." We then parted, and outside the barracks, I found Jack Walter waiting for me. Curiously enough, though he was the first acquaintance I made in the regiment, our friendship, which began that day, has lasted ever since. My friend is of English origin (his grandfather having been an Englishman who became naturalised in France), and were I to mention his real name it would be recognised by most of my readers as that of a rising painter of undoubted genius, whose works have graced many a _Salon_. We went to the Paymaster's office, and, although we were rather upset by the reception we had received from the Sergeant of the Guard, we were both very keen on serving.