ABSTRACT
I talked to some of the men who were walking about the town in search of change for sovereigns, and whom I assisted in their dealings with a cunning Italian. They expressed a great desire to get near the Russians and to "do something." "The people about here are wretches," said they, in the extravagance of their disgust—"they are not fit to be hanged." "There, sir." said one of them, "all those women ought to be hanged!" I looked round, and to my great astonishment, saw a troop of soldiers' wives, certainly in a most indecent plight so far as dress and appearance went, and who, walking along the streets and darting into the shops and rummaging their contents, were the unconscious objects of the rifleman's disgust. "Look at those women, sir." continued he. "they are getting quite savage-like and unfit for decent society. In a month they will be quite as bad as the natives." And the other men spoke with great admiration of the vivandiéeres [sic] of the French 7th of the line, whom they had seen marching in with the regiment. "having a decent soldier-dress on and being compelled to wear it and keep themselves tidy, and getting a sergeant's pay, and being kept under discipline and in good order." "Them's the regimental women for you." I left them enjoying the Englishmen's birth-right—a grumble—and pondering on respective positions of "regimental women in the two armies."
