six sisters, the eldest of a family of seven children, the elder of two
brothers drawn at one time or the younger brother of one actually doing
service,--the experience of the class of the _bleus_, as the raw
recruits are called, is sufficiently common among French citizens of
very varying classes of society. Naturally, the gentlemen find this very
democratic experience more trying than do the peasants and the bumpkins.
Every visitor to Paris who has passed the inoffensive looking and very
youthful infantry sentinels on duty, or seen their comrades crowding in
the open windows of the great, bare barracks, has experienced some
desire to know something of the interior life of these great military
warehouses. Our illustrations may serve to suggest many of the more
picturesque and, so to speak, domestic of these minor incidents, and one
of the most cheerful of the scribes who have participated in them, M.
Henri de Noussanne, can give us further information. His experience lay
in the daily life of an infantry soldier, but the general lines are the
same for all arms of the service.

Unfortunately, to begin with, as there is always a possibility of war
with the return of the swallows, the usage has been established of
summoning to the colors the neophytes in the month of November. The
rigors of the wintry season are thus added to those inherent in the
rudiments of military discipline. Consequently, and as the State
provides her budding warriors with but one handkerchief, two pairs of
gloves, and no stockings, M. de Noussanne earnestly counsels the mothers
and sisters to furnish these young men with thick underclothing and warm
woollen stockings. Behold them finally enrolled in "the grand class, the
real class, the most sympathetic of classes, that of the _bleus_,"
parading the streets, escorted by parents and relatives in tears and by
joyous and unsympathetic urchins! At the sight of the great caserne
which yawns to swallow them, their respect for authority becomes
definite and concrete; otherwise, their ideas are like their marching,
much bewildered. Once entered, the _anciens_ take them in hand,
_tutoying_ them fraternally: "Thou, thou art my bleu.... Don't be
afraid.... No one will _mistouffle_ thee.... I will fix thy affairs."
They even show them maternally how best to tuck themselves in their
narrow beds; and the regulations no longer permit hazing of any kind. So
that the first night is apt to be one of the repose that fo