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may at the consequences likely to ensue. Instead of my anticipated game of throwing about the balls, I was requested to read a book, by Dr. Warden, the surgeon of the "Northumberland," that had just come out. It was in English, and I had the task of wading through several chapters, and making it as intelligible as my ungrammatical French permitted. Napoleon was much pleased with Dr. Warden's book, and said, "his work was a very true one." I finished reading it to him whilst we remained with Madame Bertrand.

In the cool of the evening we used to have chairs brought out and placed on the lawn leading to the billiard-room, under the gum-wood trees, and the Countesses Bertrand and Montholon, with their husbands and children, my sister and myself, would remain for hours after sunset listening to the thousand crickets with which the ground at Longwood seemed alive. The moonlight nights were remarkably