"'D'ye raymimber meetin' me at dinner at Moosoo de Bozoo's. It was years ago, durin' th' time iv Napolyeon, befure th' big fire? If I raymimber right, we had peas. Wasn't it a lovely night? Oh dear, oh dear, gintlemen iv th' press an' mon prisident, ye ought to have been there. Well, I says to Gin'ral Billot, I says, "Gin'ral," I says, "how ar-re ye, annyhow." An' the gin'ral replies, "F'r an ol' man, well." I made up me mind thin that th' Cap was innocent, an' this was before he was born. "'Me distinguished colleague in th' thrile iv this case, th' editor iv wan iv th' Paris papers,' says th' prisident, 'has received a letter fr'm th' military attachay or spy iv th' Impror iv Austhrich, sayin' that he did not write th' letter referred to be Prisident Kruger, an', if he did, it's a forgery. But what cud ye ixpict? I will throw both letters into the secret dossier.' "'What's that?' says Matther Blamange. "'It's a collection iv pomes wrote to th' Paris papers be spies,' says th' prisident. 'Call Colonel Peekhart, if th' others ar-re not through. What, you again, Peekhart? Set down, sir.' "'Gintlemen iv Fr-rance,' says Colonel Peekhart. 'Unaccustomed as I am to public speakin', I wish to addhress ye a few wurruds on th' situation iv th' poor in China.' "'Assassin!' hisses th' coort. "'Canal!' says Matther Blamange. "At this moment th' door was burst open; an' an ex-Prisident iv Fr-rance come boundin' in, an', r-rushin' up th' steps iv th' thrybune, smacked Gin'ral Merceer in th' eye. Th' gr-reatest rayspict was shown f'r th' former chief magistrate iv th' raypublic. No wan shot at him. He was white with rage. 'Th' honor iv Fr-rance is at stake,' he says. 'Our counthry lies prostrate in th' mud. I must presarve th' dignity iv me high office; but, if Gin'ral Merceer will step out into th' back yard, I'll beat his head off. I don't know annything about this accursed case. It was all referred to me whin I was Prisident. I am here to see that th' honor iv me high office is not assailed. I protest I did not say what an anonymous corryspondint in to-night's Sore says I said. I did me jooty. Whin I saw th' ar-rmy disorganized an' Fr-rance beset be foreign foes, I raysigned. What was I to do? Was I to stay in office, an' have me hat smashed in ivry time I wint out to walk? I tell ye, gintlemen, that office is no signcure. Until hats are made iv cast iron, no poor man can be Prisident iv Fr-rance. But I was not speakin' iv th' Dhryfuss case.' "'Don't dare to mintion that matter in this coort,' says th' prisident. 'I'm surprised a man iv ye'er intilligence 'd thry to dhrag in exthranyous matther, whin th' honor iv th' ar-rmy is at stake. Gin'ral Merceer, stand beside this witness. Now both speak at wanst! Annybody else that has annything to say, lave him say it now, so it won't be heard.' "'Mon colonel,' says a former minister iv th' Fr-rinch governmint, who was th' polisman at th' dure, 'Judge Crazy th' Boorepare is here, demandin' to be heard.'