then Vanves, then Mont Rouge, and so the flash and roar of cannon went
round the whole city. That was our reveille. It was cold, very cold,
that morning, and we waited at the rendezvous a long time in company
with the French, Italian, Swiss and other ambulance corps. The great
Doctor Ricord was there, and some of us heard then for the first time
that he is an American from Baltimore. Chenu, Nellaton and several
other famous surgeons were also there, shivering with us as we waited
and waited for the push through the lines, which never came. Well,
when at last the fight did occur, it made plenty of work for our
wagons. For the next two days they were constantly going to and fro
between the field and our hospital. Everywhere we went along the lines
now we were recognized and made way for. One night, as one of our
wagons was trying to cross the field, it was halted with the question,
"What ambulance is that?"

"Is it necessary to ask?" shouted a French soldier out of the
darkness. "It is the Americans', of course: they are everywhere."

At this sortie there rode with us a little French abbé, whom some of
the boys had picked up weeks before roaming about the outposts among
the trenches. He had won their hearts by his utter contempt of fire as
he prayed with and confessed everybody he could lay hands on. At the
sortie of Châtillon he had discovered one of our corps bringing in to
the wagons at the risk of his life a huge pumpkin. The abbé imagined
that Americans must set great value upon pumpkins if they were willing
to secure them at such hazard, and he described the whole incident in
_L'Univers_, the ultra-Catholic paper of Paris. In the course of a few
days the ambulance Américaine received two or three polite notes from
religious French maiden ladies, saying that they had a few pumpkins
which were at the service of the gentlemen of the corps. We received