a little and increase in bulk to my sight. Reaching a firmer soil, I resumed a trot, and soon fancied that I could distinguish a little black wagon. I was hungry, and hoped that it was the wagon of a sutler; and, looking upon my poor horse as a vessel, I crowded all sail to arrive at that fortunate island in this sea of mud, where he sometimes sank down above his knees.
When about a hundred yards off, I at last distinguished plainly a little wagon of white wood, covered by a black oilcloth stretched over three hoops. It looked like a little cradle mounted on two wheels. The wheels sank down to the axletree; the little mule which drew it was wearisomely led by a man on foot, who held the bridle. I drew near, and took an attentive look at him.
He was a man of about fifty, moustachioed, tall and strong, and his back rounded, like that of the old infantry officers who have carried the knapsack. He had also their uniform; and you could see, from under a short and well-worn blue cloak, the epaulette of a chef-de-bataillon. His face was rough and hard, but good, as you so often see in the army. He looked at me sideways from under his heavy black eyebrows, and drawing a musket quickly out of the wagon, he cocked it, passing to the other side of the mule, of which he thus made a rampart. Having seen his white cockade, I simply showed him the
