"Alas," comments the narrator,
"there were few prize-winners who lived to taste their reward."
The same eulogist, whose narrative was obtained by Reuter's
correspondent, also speaks of the fastidious Scot's preoccupations. He
has two--to be able to shave and to have tea. "No danger," the Frenchman
declares, "deters them from their allegiance to the razor and the
teapot. At ----, in the department of the Nord, I heard a British officer
of high rank declare with delicious calm between two attacks on the
town: 'Gentlemen, it was nothing. Let's go and have tea.' Meanwhile his
men took advantage of the brief respite to crowd round the pump, where,
producing soap and strop, they proceeded to shave minutely and
conscientiously with little bits of broken glass serving as mirrors."
The same sense of order and method also struck another Frenchman, who
speaks of the "amazing Englishmen," who carry everything with them, and
are never in want of anything, not even of sleep!
Certainly there is much truth in these tributes to the British military
organization, but that is another story and for another chapter. The
opinion of an English cavalry officer, however, may be quoted as to the
relative merits of the French and English horses. "The French horses,"
he writes, "are awful. They look after them so badly.
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