to myself that I had not a sou." This was his
first and last complaint about the matter.

But Grand Godard was a philosopher as well
as a soldier. Day by day, from his entry into
the service, he had the patience to keep a journal,
in which he noted every remarkable event
that occurred during his military career. At
the end of every year, he digested these daily
notes into a manuscript volume, so that when
he left the regiment he took with him seven
volumes filled with very curious observations,
all which were placed at M.Gandon's disposal.
There are not many cavalry soldiers who would
persevere in such a task until the day of their
discharge. Among the remarks on men and
manners, are Grand Godard's reflections on
colonels in general.

A good colonel, in the healthy acceptation of
the word, is more than a father to the soldiers
of his regiment; for there are many fathers who
allow their children every possible facility for
doing evil, which is exactly the reverse of a
really good colonel. Did you ever hear a soldier
say to his colonel, as you may hear some children
say to their parents, "I am sick of being
scolded; you worry me to death, always preaching
about the same stupid thing"? Punishment
for disrespect ought to follow in one case,
as it is sure to follow in the other. And the
soldiers who are punished for insubordination,
how have they been brought up? Have they
ever been taught to respect their parents? It
is a remarkable fact that the best soldiers never
mention their father and mother without deep
respect and sincere affection.

There was once a colonel in the lancers so
severe, so very severe, that the soldiers of his
regiment spoke of him to one another as Colonel
Pince-sans-rire, or Colonel Nip-and-no-joke.
When he left his residence to go to barracks,
his countenance, according to the lancers,
assumed even in the street so serious a
complexion, that no one cared to meet the terrible
chief. Once inside the barracks—such is the
account of the regimental legend—the colonel's
physiognomy was no longer human. His black
eyes seemed to dart days of imprisonment by
dozens; his thin and compressed lips appeared
ready to pronounce orders of arrest; and his
very nostrils worked convulsively, like the opening
and shutting of dungeon doors.

Colonel Nip-and-no-joke knew by name all the
men belonging to his regiment, exactly as the
father of a family knows the names of all his
children. No one ever entered his corps without
being inspected, interrogated, and twisted
about in all sorts of ways. As he had a prodigious
memory, and was an excellent physiognomist
besides, after this inspection he knew every
one of his men by heart.  I will not affirm that
he did not also know the names of all the horses
of the regiment. However that may be, one
fine morning when he was going to barracks, at
Provins, he discovered a lancer in slovenly attire,
who, catching sight of him at a distance, tried
to slip away up a back lane. But the colonel's
deep voice was instantly heard:

"Lancer, come here!" The lancer obeyed.
"What is your name?"

"Dufour, colonel," replied the lancer. "I
have only joined the regiment a week."

"Very well! You will walk back to quarters in
front of me, and you will tell your head
quarter-master to report the lancer Sautereau four days'
guard-house for his shabby appearance in the
town, and for four days under arrest for giving a
false name to the colonel. Be off with you."

The poor devil Sautereau could never get over
his astonishment. Arrived such a little while
ago, and lost in a crowd of eight hundred men,
he never could have believed that his colonel
was so excellent a father of a family.

In Colonel Nip-and-no-joke's regiment, not a
man of which could complain of being unjustly
punished, there was a lieutenant-colonel whom
the lancers considered a capital fellow; and
everybody was longing for the time when the
colonel was to take two or three months' leave
of absence, to indulge in a little repose after the
severity of his discipline. It ought to be
mentioned that the regiment was of new formation,
having been raised after the revolution of 1830,
and that a rose-water drawing-room colonel
would have been perfectly unsuited for such a
task. Ah! the service was strict in that regiment;
and the exercises! And the manoeuvres!
It was marvellous to see Colonel Nip-and-no-joke's
six fine squadrons defile at full gallop, and
to hear his grave voice, after a brilliant evolution,
pronounce, for the first time, the words,

"Attention. I am satisfied with the regiment:
but as the three first squadrons have
manoeuvred still better than the three last, I remit
all punishment incurred by the three first
squadrons. Dismount. Stand at ease."

The three last squadrons were not long before
they deserved a similar remission of their minor
offences. A few days afterwards, Nip-and-no-joke
took his leave, and the command fell to
the lieutenant-colonel, the capital fellow. And
the capital fellow managed so capitally that, for
three months, neither the officers, the
sous-officiers, the brigadiers, the lancers, nor the
trumpeters, knew which way to turn themselves.
And when the regiment heard that Colonel
Nip-and-no-joke was coming back again, they greeted
the news with hearty cheers. The circumstances
deserve to be recorded in detail, the more
because such a thing had never happened in the
garrison of Provins, which had been held by
cavalry for nearly a century. It is probable
even that few regiments can register in their
history a similar occurrence to this.

The colonel had just arrived at the hotel of
the Boule d'Or one fine September evening. He
was still in plain clothes; and as the retreat
had beaten, he prepared to take his rest after
the fatigue of a long journey, when suddenly the
captain, who was adjutant-major for the week,
rushed into his bedroom, exclaiming, "Colonel,
the regiment is in open mutiny!"

"My lancers in open mutiny?" replied the
colonel, readjusting his travelling dress.

"Yes, colonel. We have just sounded the