These poor prisoners of war were allowed to work at their tasteful
handicrafts in small sheds or temporary workshops at the Castle, behind
the palisades which separated them from their free customers outside.
There was just room between the bars of the palisades for them to hand
through their exquisite works, and to receive in return the modest
prices which they charged. The front of these palisades became a
favourite resort for the inhabitants of Edinburgh; and especially for
the young folks. I well remember being impressed with the contrast
between the almost savage aspect of these dark-haired foreigners,
and the neat and delicate produce of their skilful fingers.

At the peace of 1814, which followed the siege of Paris, great
rejoicings and illuminations took place, in the belief that the war was
at an end. The French prisoners were sent back to their own country,
alas! to appear again before us at Waterloo. The liberation of those
confined in Edinburgh Castle was accompanied by an extraordinary scene.
The French prisoners marched down to the transport ships at Leith by
torchlight. All the town was out to see them. They passed in military
procession through the principal streets, singing as they marched along
their revolutionary airs, "Ca lra" and "The Marseillaise." The wild
enthusiasm of these haggard-looking men, lit up by torchlight and
accompanied by the cheers of the dense crowd which lined the streets
and filled the windows, made an impression on my mind that I can never
forget.

A year passed. Napoleon returned from Elba, and was rejoined by nearly
all his old fighting-men. I well remember, young as I was, an assembly
of the inhabitants of Edinburgh in Charlotte Square, to bid farewell to
the troops and officers then in garrison. It was a fine summer
evening when this sad meeting took place. The bands were playing as