to struggle with the formidable armies of the
Coalition. Uncle Philibert was torn from his
family, in spite of the efforts of his sister, who
would gladly have given ten thousand francs to
procure a substitute for her unhappy brother.
But if men fit for military service began to be
scarce in 1813, substitutes were procured with
still greater difficulty; moreover, the authorities
made little scruple of keeping both the conscript
and the substitute.

Contrary to all expectation, Philibert received
the order to join his regiment, with tolerable
resignation. At that epoch military instruction,
if somewhat superficial for want of time, was
at least communicated at a rapid rate. The main
point was to teach the raw recruit as quickly as
possible, to load a musket respectably, and to
use the bayonet. Recruits were exercised from
morning to night; and as soon as a certain
number of lads got their uniforms and their
arms, they did not always wait to learn their
drill before they were sent to join their
regiments on active service. Uncle Philibert was
immediately remarked for a passive obedience,
which gained him the favour of his instructor:
an old sergeant, somewhat rough in his way, but
a good-hearted fellow.

At length the time arrived when the timid
conscript had to hear, for three whole days,
three thousand pieces of artillery thundering.
As a matter of course his teacher, the sergeant,
according to his own expression, "made one
of the party." The Germans have given to
the three days of the battle of Leipzig the
name of the Battle of the Nations. The
regiment to which Philibert belonged was not
engaged during the first day, called that of
Wachau; it only arrived the day before at
Leipzig, and remained in the town. But on
the third day, the 18th of October, 1813, it
entered in line and took part in the battle of the
Partha. Philibert, in his capacity of billet-
master, was close to his friend, the old drill
sergeant.

"Well, my lad," said the latter to the
youngster, "your lace stripes are going to have
a very pretty christening. But at least you are
uot afraid, I hope."

"Afraid?" answered Philibert, " I don't think
so; but I feel a singular emotion. I have not
got the ague, and yet, ever since I first heard
the horrible din, which for the last two days has
been deafening my ears, I tremble exactly as I
used to tremble at Lure, whenever my father
spoke to me."

"Ah! your father! It seems he had a harsh
voice," said the old subaltern, who was aware
of Philibert's past sufferings; ''but you will
soon hear voices more savage than his; and
if you were to stuff your ears with cotton ever so
tight, you could hardly shut out the sound of
this music. Here; take my gourd, and swallow
a good mouthful of brandy; it will prevent your
feeling the morning dew, which probably is the
cause of your trembling-fit. You must prove
to-day that you are a real Luron. Attention!
The aides-de-camp have concluded their
gallopings; the ball is going to begin. If I don't
find you after the battle, I will send word home.
Shake hands, my man, and let us be off."

"If I do not return," urged Philibert, " pray
remember to write to my sister."

"Yes, yes, my lad; but let us have no
sensibilities. It brings the water to one's eyes, and
prevents one's taking good aim."

The battle began in earnest. Its thunder
was enough to astonish better seasoned
warriors than Philibert, who expected to see the
earth open under his feet. Nevertheless, he
followed his company with a tolerably firm step,
as it took its turn in front, with the rest of the
regiment. They marched straight towards the
Prussians, whose bullets were beginning to
make terrible ravages in the ranks of the French
columns.

Under the grape-shot from the forty cannon
brought into action by the traitorous Saxons and
Wurtembergians, the men around Philibert fell
by hundreds. The old sergeant had his head shot
off; almost all the officers were killed; the
handful of soldiers whom the cannonade had
spared, began to hesitate. A retrograde movement
was commencing before the unapproachable
Saxon battery; when one single man, a
subaltern, continued his course towards the
enemy's cannon, howling, rather than shouting,
"En avant! Forward! En avant!"

The subaltern was Uncle Philibert. Fear had
taken possession of all his faculties; the same
fear which drove him through the hawthorn
hedge. He thought he was running away,
but he ran in the direction of the enemy. On
beholding the young man, a mere boy, running
alone wiih his bayonet pointed at the terrible
battery and shouting " Forward!" with the
whole strength of his lungs, the other men, who
were retreating, halted.

"As far as death goes," said one of them,
"we may as well die to-day as to-morrow. They
shall not say that the billet-master went and got
killed all by himself." And the man rejoined
Philibert, shouting, like him, " En avant! En
avant!" A second, then a third, then hundreds,
followed the example, and put themselves
apparently under Philibert's command. A handful
of men could not carry a battery of forty cannon;
but the artillerymen took fright, ceased their
fire, rapidly harnessed the horses to their pieces,
and beat a retreat. This allowed the attacking
columns to form again and avoid being thrown
back into Leipzig.

Uncle Philibert was promoted sergeant-major
and put down for the cross of the Legion of
Honour, on the field of battle; but the day
after the bloody struggle of the Partha he had
disappeared and was not to be found. They
believed that he had been carried off by the enemy
during the retreat which the Emperor organised
in the night from the I8th to the 19th of
October.

A little more than two months after this
triple Battle of the Nations, a young man with a
pale and sickly countenance, with no other
clothing than a ragged uniform ill concealed by