"The veteran looked at me keenly and asked bluntly: 'Who are you, an Englishman?'
"'No, general, I am an American of the United States.'
"'Ah! do you know Connecticut?'
"'Yes, sir, it is my native State.'
"'You know, then, the good Governor Trumbull?'
"'Yes, general, he is my father.'
"'Oh! mon Dieu, que je suis charmé.... Entrez, entrez!'"
And all that is best is placed at the disposal of the newcomer by the soldier, who turns out to be a former member of the Lauzun legion. The artist adds: "The old general kept me up almost all night, inquiring of everybody and of everything in America." Some papers are brought for him to sign, which he does with his left hand, and, Trumbull noticing it, "'Yes,' said he, 'last year, in Belgium, the Austrians cut me to pieces and left me for dead, but I recovered, and, finding my right hand ruined, I have learned to use my left, and I can write and fence with it tolerably.'
"'But, sir,' said I, 'why did you not retire from service?'
"'Retire!' exclaimed he. 'Ha! I was born in a camp, have passed all my life in the service, and will die in a camp, or on the field.'