After supper the conscript who first addressed us pulled out his printed paper, with the route laid down, and observed that we were two days behind the others.

O'Brien read it over, and laid it on the table, at the same time calling for more wine, having already pushed it round very freely.

We did not drink much ourselves, but plied them hard, and at last the conscript commenced the whole history of his intended marriage and his disappointment, tearing his hair, and crying now and then.

"Never mind," interrupted O'Brien, every two or three minutes, "_buvons un autre coup pour la gloire_!" and thus he continued to make them both drink until they reeled away to bed, forgetting their printed paper, which O'Brien had some time before slipped away from the table.

We also retired to our room, when O'Brien observed to me.