plays, concerts, or to 'les meetings.' It was a new, raw place, very
different from the little old theatre in the garden of Dessein's,
where the famous Duchess of Kingston attended a performance over a
hundred and twenty years ago. This place bore the dignified title of
the 'Hippodrome Theatre,' and a grand 'national' drama was going on,
entitled

'THE CUIRASSIER OF REICHSHOFEN.'

Here we had the grand tale of French heroism and real victory, which
an ungenerous foe persisted in calling defeat. A gallant Frenchman,
who played the hero, had nearly run his daring course, having done
prodigies of valour on that fateful and fatal day. The crisis of the
drama was reached almost as I entered, the cuirassier coming in with
his head bound up in a bloody towel! After relating the horrors of
that awful charge in an impassioned strain, he wound up by declaring
that _'He and Death'_ were the only two left upon the field! It need
not be said there were abundant groans for the Germans and cheers for
the glorious Frenchmen.

Now at last down to the vessel, as the wheezy chimes give out that it
is close on two o'clock a.m. All seems dozing at 'Maritime Calais.'
The fishing-boats lie close together, interlaced in black network,
snoozing, as it were, after their labours. Afar off the little town
still maintains its fortress-like air and its picturesque aspect, the
dark central spires rising like shadows, the few lights twinkling. The
whole scene is deliciously tranquil. The plashing of the water seems
to invite slumber, or at least a temporary doze, to which the
traveller, after his long day and night, is justly entitled. How
strange those old days, when the exiles for debt abounded here! They