at certain hours by a concourse of people of the country, come to exult over our distress, or—­it is more tolerant to suppose—­their own vicarious triumph.  Some moved among us with a decency of shame or sympathy.  Others were the most offensive personages in the world, gaped at us as if we had been baboons, sought to evangelise us to their rustic, northern religion, as though we had been savages, or tortured us with intelligence of disasters to the arms of France.  Good, bad, and indifferent, there was one alleviation to the annoyance of these visitors; for it was the practice of almost all to purchase some specimen of our rude handiwork.  This led, amongst the prisoners, to a strong spirit of competition.  Some were neat of hand, and (the genius of the French being always distinguished) could place upon sale little miracles of dexterity and taste.  Some had a more engaging appearance; fine features were found to do as well as fine merchandise, and an air of youth in particular (as it appealed to the sentiment of pity in our visitors) to be a source of profit.  Others again enjoyed some acquaintance with the language, and were able to recommend the more agreeably to purchasers such trifles as they had to sell.  To the first of these advantages I could lay no claim, for my fingers were all thumbs.  Some at least of the others I possessed; and finding much entertainment in our commerce, I did not suffer my advantages to rust.  I have never despised the social arts, in which it is a national boast that every Frenchman should excel.  For the approach of particular sorts of visitors, I had a particular manner of address, and even of appearance, which I could readily assume and change on the occasion rising.  I never lost an opportunity to flatter either the person of my visitor, if it should be a lady, or, if it should be a man, the greatness of his country in war.  And in case my compliments should miss their aim, I was always ready to cover my retreat with some agreeable pleasantry, which would often earn me the name of an ‘oddity’ or a ‘droll fellow.’  In this way, although I was so left-handed a toy-maker, I made out to be rather a successful merchant; and found means to procure many little delicacies and alleviations, such as children or prisoners desire.

I am scarcely drawing the portrait of a very melancholy man.  It is not indeed my character; and I had, in a comparison with my comrades, many reasons for content.  In the first place, I had no family:  I was an orphan and a bachelor; neither wife nor child awaited me in France.  In the second, I had never wholly forgot the emotions with which I first found myself a prisoner; and although a military prison be not altogether a garden of delights, it is still preferable to a gallows.  In the third, I am almost ashamed to say it, but I found a certain pleasure in our place of residence:  being an obsolete and really mediaeval fortress, high placed and commanding extraordinary prospects, not only over sea, mountain,