geese, turkeys, fowls of all sorts. But you may see many, if you return to the city by the way of the Invalides and through Passy.'

'Can you not accompany us, Désiré ?' ·

'No, my father; I must now return to my post. Au revoir, my dearest friends.' So saying, he embraced us tenderly, and we parted. It was long till we met again.

We took Désiré's advice, and after a time found ourselves in a perfect thicket of white, brown, and black woollen fleeces. Que de moutons!' we cried. Sheep here, sheep there, sheep everywhere; of every size and variety of countenance, chiefly, however, of an amiable class. What a chorus of maa-ing! and how we laughed! It was such an absurd sight at the gates of Paris. Some had deep commanding voices, as if remonstrating with their shepherds, of whom there were many pushing their way among them, and endeavouring to keep order. These shepherds wore great wide-awake hats, which reminded us partly of our Bretons,-poor children !—and partly of our English ladies. It mattered little what form of hat any one chose to appear in now, inside the walls of Paris. Then there were flocks of goats crying 'Ba-a-a' in a more nervous tone than that of the sheep; some splendid fellows, with great curling horns, long beards, and floating brown hair mixed with long silvery white.

These were chiefly tended by women, wearing warm jackets, and either large coarse straw-hats or gaycoloured handkerchiefs on their heads. Next came the cows; but it was astonishing. Cerise and I, not being accustomed to such beasts, were alarmed at finding ourselves in their midst, and disgusted besides. It was a work of trouble and danger to pass among them, holding up our dresses to keep them clean, and stepping daintily along. We rejoiced in knowing that our boots, from the poor German fugitive, M. Schreiber, fitted us so neatly, as they were so fully displayed to the young farmers. But oh how delighted were mother and grand'mère ! for they, having been reared in the country, loved these cows. They found their breath so sweet, their eyes so mild, their faces so gentle, their coats so handsome and sleek. It charmed us to see them so much pleased.

All these things warned our parents to lay in an unusually large supply of eatables,—flour, oil, rice, coffee, onions, biscuits, and even a few live rabbits to fatten, as also salt and sugar, and other things. We also had our wood-house filled with logs and kindling for our stoves, and some sacks of charcoal stowed in a cellar. Thus we defied starvation.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE SIEGE AT LAST.

STRANGE sight met us at our doors. But we were accustomed to strange sights and unexpected visitors now, so that one half looked out for them at all times. It was near sunset when we arrived there; and the tops of our chestnut-tree and the light feathery sprays of our acacia were gilded by his departing rays. All above was bright and cloudless, with a star dancing into view, now here, now there. Below, the street lay sombre in shade, and crouching near our wicket bent one of our late lodgers. With his great hat pulled over his eyes, and blubbering like a baby, we beheld Hubert, the Breton recruit. Near him stood three other young men, dressed much as had been our Garde-Mobile; fine stalwart, lively-looking youths. They alternately laughed together, and bent over our flaxen-haired boy with looks of sympathy, and en

deavours at conversation. On seeing us approach, Hubert rose to meet us, showing his white teeth in his pleasure, and repeating, 'J'avais content; mais vois, vois !' and he held up a bandaged hand to view. 'What is it, poor Hubert?' we cried.

'Somme fusilé moi; si, si.'

'You have shot yourself—is that it?'
'Si, si; somme.'

'Is he a Prussian?' said one of the stranger bystanders. A spy, perhaps?'

'No, no,' replied my father; 'we know him: it is an honest Frenchman-a brave soldier!' and this caused fresh laughter.

'Come in, Hubert,' said mother, for the word spy, applied to him, frightened her.

He followed her in, and then the eldest of the three strangers handed his billet to father, advertising him that these three Bourguignons had been sent to replace our Bretons. These could speak very intelligible French, which was a comfort, and would save much trouble. But we left them to smoke their cigars in the court, while we attended to our wounded soldier. With considerable difficulty and much guess. ing at his meaning, we ascertained that, in learning to use a revolver, he had managed to let one of the barrels explode, and two of his fingers had been carried off. He had been conveyed to the Hôtel

Dieu, not far from us; and as there was no need for his occupying one of the beds there, for which, alas! there were now many claimants, he had been sent to his old quarters to be nursed, with orders to come each morning to the surgeons for the dressing of his wound. Mother had him up to his former room, and showed him the tenderness of an angel; drying his tears herself, aiding him to undress, and placing a support under his aching hand. Meanwhile, fatigued as we were, Cerise and I, by our mother's directions, carried up the mattresses and prepared the attic for the reception of our new recruits. I had already placed my carrier-pigeons in a large wicker cage lent to me by Henri Brunel, in which he had once kept doves, and I had set it in a window of my room. I wished to keep poor Emile's present as near me as possible—I loved my pigeons for his sake, and sighed to think of how vain it was now to send our news to him by them, or receive his in return.

Elise Lavrois, a friend of mine, had received a sweet little letter from 'her dear friend,' now a prisoner beyond the Rhine, which she had shown me that very day, when we met on the ramparts; and this had again raised my hopes of receiving a letter from my cousin.

Now, however, I had our new lodgers to attend to, and their suppers to prepare.