urse in about the most barbarous
French I ever heard, he asked me what I wanted there; to which I replied,
most nationally, by asking in return, where the British dragoons were
quartered.

"They have left for Nivelle this morning, to join some regiments of your
own country."

"Ah! ah!" thought I, "he mistakes me for a Brunswicker;" to which, by
the uncertain light, my uniform gave me some resemblance. As it was now
impossible for me to proceed farther, I begged to ask where I could procure
accommodation for the night.

"At the burgomaster's. Turn to your left at the end of this street, and
you will soon find it. They have got some English officers there, who, I
believe in my soul, never sleep."

This was, at least, pleasant intelligence, and promised a better
termination to my journey than I had begun to hope for; so wishing my
friend a good-night, to which he willingly responded, I resumed my way
down the street. As he closed the window, once more leaving me to my own
reflections, I began to wonder within myself to what arm of the service
belonged these officers to whose convivial gifts he bore testimony. As I
turned the corner of the street, I soon discovered the correctness of his
information. A broad glare of light stretched across the entire pavement
from a large house with a clumsy stone portico before it. On coming nearer,
the sound of voices, the roar of laughter, the shouts of merriment that
issued forth, plainly bespoke that a jovial party were seated within.
The half-shutter which closed the lower part of the windows prevented my
obtaining a view of the proceedings; but having cautiously approached the
casement, I managed to creep on the window-sill and look into the room.

[Illustration: THE GENTLEMEN WHO NEVER SLEEP.]

There the scene was certainly a curious one. Around a large table sat a
party of some twenty persons, the singularity of whose appearance may
be conjectured when I mention that all those who appeared to be British
officers were dressed in the robes of the _echevins_ (or aldermen) of the
village; while some others, whose looks bespoke them as sturdy Flemings,
sported the cocked hats and cavalry helmets of their associates. He who
appeared the ruler of the feast sat with his back towards me, and wore, in
addition to the dress of burgomaster, a herald's tabard, which gave him
something the air of a grotesque screen at its potations. A huge fire
blazed upon the ample hearth, before which we