MY VOCATION. 181 



At sixteen I would have made a good master of fencing 

 and the pugilistic art. 



I remember one day at a village fete I saw a woman mal- 

 treated by a brutal man, while the villagers stood by without 

 offering to interpose. I threw myself between the oppressor 

 and his victim, calling out to him, " You coward, leave that 

 woman and begone." 



We fought and I conquered. The man fled under the 

 jeerings of the crowd, and the woman thanked me as her 

 preserver. 



Such successes, however, were not satisfying to a mind 

 that was stretching far beyond its native hamlet. A class of 

 men were then common in the provinces, who bore the high 

 sounding titles of lions y a name more properly accorded to 

 them for their roaring than their bravery. They wore a 

 menacing mien, and were imposing for their brutality and 

 assumption. I declared myself their avowed enemy, and 

 many were the battles we fought, but in a little time the 

 victory was so easily won, that I turned to my old anticipa- 

 tions, and with a proud look on the great future, that smiles 

 so hopefully to a boy, I volunteered in the spahis, and 

 debarked at Bone on the 19th of June, 1842. 



Like most young men who joined the African army, I sup- 

 posed that an opportunity for distinction would not be long 

 in coming, and I thought correctly. 



I had hardly put on my uniform when an officer came to 

 me saying, " You have just arrived from France, I'll take you 

 as my orderly." 



I asked him what my duties would be in that situation. 



