voices, which sounded like a continuous roll of distant
thunder.

I saw him, two days after, at a window of the Tuileries. I stopped
directly under the building, where twenty or thirty persons had
assembled, who were crying out for him with what seemed to me most
presumptuous familiarity. They called him "Little Corporal,"--"Corporal
of the Violet,"--said they wanted to see him, and that he _must_ come to
the window. He looked out twice during the half-hour I staid there, had
on the little cocked hat which has become historical, smiled and nodded
good-naturedly, and seemed to consider that something was due from him
to the "many-headed" at that particular time. Such condescension was not
expected or given in his palmy days, but he felt now his dependence on
the people, and had been brought nearer to them by misfortune.

It was said, at the time, that he was much elated on his arrival, but
that he grew reserved, if not depressed, as his awful responsibility
became more and more apparent. He had hoped for a division in the Allied
Councils, but they were firm and united, and governed only by the
unalterable determination to overwhelm and destroy him. He saw that
his sole reliance was on the chances of war; that he had to encounter
enemies whose numbers were inexhaustible, and who, having once dethroned
him, would no longer be impeded by the terror of his name. There was,
besides, no time to recruit his diminished battalions, or to gather the
munitions of war. The notes of preparation sounded over Europe, and
already the legions of his foes were hastening to encircle France with
a cordon of steel. The scattered relics of the "Grand Army" which had
erected and sustained his empire were hastily collected, and, as they in
turn reached Paris, were reviewed on the Carrousel and sent forward to
concentre on the battle-ground that was to decide his fate. No branch of
art was idle that could contribute to the approaching conflict. Cannon
were cast with unprecedented rapidity, and the material of war was
turned out to the extent of human ability. But he was deficient in
everything that constitutes an army. Men, horses, arms, equipage, all
were wanting. The long succession of dreadful wars which had decimated
the country had also destroyed, beyond the possibility of immediate
repair, that formidable arm which had decided so many battles, and which
is peculiarly adapted to the impetuosity of the French character. The
cavalry was feeb