at this time to be very fastidious. fastidious. We had been too long deprived of all dancing and music not to find the fête charming, and got up in most excellent taste. The rain, the snow, the wind, the mud, and the dust, had marvellously disposed us to relish white bread, cool wine, and a good warm supper. Yes; but the next morning; the order of the commandant must be obeyed, and the order was positive, and our departure inevitable. No matter; il n'y a que le premier pas qui coute. Once in the street, every one threw off gaily his night's dissipation, and buckled on as gaily his war harness. The cause of our prompt departure was this. Our great enemy, Abd-el-Kader, envying, no doubt, our fêtes and our pleasures, had made a razzia on the territory of the Issers, ten leagues from Algiers, and we were now on the march from the ball-room to give chase to this mar-mirth.

We marched towards the east, in a parallel line with the lofty chains of mountains that skirt the Mitidja, in the direction of the Jerjura. We soon reached the country of the Beni Seleyman and the Arib, passing through delightful vallies, where the river, gliding gently over a stony bed, wound gracefully along between hedges of hawthorn and

laurel roses. Here and there great poplars threw out their long shadows, and naked rocks rose high in the air on our left. The weather was delicious, and the first spring breezes fanned our faces, but we had yet a rough time before us.

All our troops were concentrated in the east. There it was that the insurrection was to be finally quelled.

Whilst Marshal Bugeaud penetrated into the mountains of the Isser, his operations were supported by several other columns. All was going on well, but we had not taken into our calculation the return of bad weather. Rain, snow, and hail again assailed us, and we had to march through impetuous torrents and impracticable roads. We shall long recollect the beautiful valley of the Isser. In two days we crossed the river seventy-six times. There was only three feet of water but it was full of ice. Nevertheless, we kept up our spirits, and, on approaching the water, whole battalions would imitate the scream of wild ducks, and make themselves very merry at the expense of the awkward.

In two days we were on good ground. Being well dried round enormous fires, we found our route singularly embellished.

By the

industry of the Kabyles all the slopes of the mountain were in a high state of cultivation. The olive, the nut, and trees of every sort had evidently been carefully nursed; and the villages were as well built, at least, as the villages of France. As we advanced so did the spring, scattering on our path flowers, perfumes, and verdure. We were then on the Oued-el-Aziz; the river running deeply between two walls of rocks, and, semicircling the camp on two sides, served us as a rampart. Our tents were pitched on a green sward, amid clumps of the mastic tree, so that our bivouac had quite the appearance of an English garden. On the north, an enormous black massive rock stood out from the side of the hill, and the shadows of the sentries, as they marched to and fro, were reflected on the horizon. But how can I give an idea of the deliciousness of the first spring days in Africa? As the day declines, and whilst twilight is prevailing, stretched on a carpet and exhaling perfumed tobacco, what a pleasure there is in being happy! Whence comes this plenary contentment? No matter, all around smiles and charms, the thoughts run back into memory, and forward into hope; and admiration is over all. The spring sings the happy

songs of youth in the heart; what a sweet intoxication, without fatigue, without regret! Thus the hours passed away, thus the nights came on, and our sleep, dreaming or dreamless, was sweet. The revolt was now suppressed; every day brought us the submission of some new tribe; the agitation had ceased; the insurrection was over; and this great result was the work of the illustrious chief who had commanded us in person during the last part of the campaign-the work of Marshal Bugeaud.

When the insurrection first broke out like a thunder storm, from the west to the east of Algeria, Marshal Bugeaud was in France. The first intelligence of our reverses brought him speedily back; and without the loss of a moment, numerous columns, obeying an uniform influence, and in communication with each other, intersected, by his orders, the whole country. Traitors were punished, the feeble protected, and the hottest pursuit kept up against the soul of the insurrection, Abd-el-Kader. We gave him no rest. Hardly had he time to take up a bivouac, when he had to flee before our columns. In vain did the Emir, as his last resource, endeavour to disturb the province of Algiers, the old Marshal, in spite of

the severity of the season, followed him into the midst of his mountains, and hunted him out of this last refuge. Finally, after a year of unexampled hardship and privations, he had the satisfaction of seeing his work accomplished, and peace, so dearly bought, assured to Algeria for a long time.

Such blows cannot be struck, such results cannot be obtained, but by an army confiding fully in its chief, and entertaining for him affection as well as respect. And these were the sentiments of every soldier, of every column, towards the Marshal. Who of us can ever forget his noble figure and his noble heart? In their familiar language the soldiers called him father Bugeaud! and they had good reason to do so, for his care of them was as great as his affection for them. Easy, accessible, and communicative, he felt himself in the midst of his troops, in the midst of his family. His frank, blunt speech went at once to the heart of the soldier. Occasionally, in his

manners, casting aside his high rank and authority, he acquired only the more respect and attachment on that account. But it was in the hour of danger that his great superiority shone out. At such a time all eyes were turned towards him, with