If I live to be ninety-eight years old, and am pensioned by Congress, the explanation which I shall give to the country at large is that it is due to that Turkish Bath. I can't tell you what I owe to it. SARSFIELD YOUNG. * * * * * [Illustration: DEATH OF THE "ENTENTE CORDIALE." _Mother Bull._ "WELL, I NEVER THOUGHT MUCH OF IT. IT ALWAYS WERE A PUNY, SICKLY LITTLE THING." _Mother Nap._ "AND TO THINK HOW I HAVE NURSED IT AND NURSED IT!"] * * * * * HIRAM GREEN WRITES TO NAPOLEON. HIS OPINION OF THE CAUSE OF THE WAR--REVIEWS THE LATE WAR FOR THE UNION--A FEW SUGGESTIONS. SKEENSBORO, NYE ONTO VARMONT, _July--18 Seventy_. FREND LEWIS:--How does the Emperor bizzness pay about these times? Wouldn't you rather be door-keeper in some well payin' Circus, than rool on the Thrown of Frants about now? Haint your present birth enuff to occashunly make a man forgit the 3rd Commandment, and use Congreshunal langwige freely? I see, by the papers, you're up on your mussle, and are about to cave in Prushy's head, unless Prushy nocks you out of time. You've got a very ingenious brain, my friend. What you don't know, DANIEL WEBSTER never rote in his Dickshunary. Feelin' bad about BENDITTY gettin' his smell-o-factory snubbed by King WILLIAM, haint what you got up this ere war for. I can see through your little dodge, my Royal friend. Things was gettin' too warm for your Imperial top-knot. Them little jewels, which rested upon your brow, didn't set easy, and was makin' Corns on your figger head. Your subjects was spilin' for a fite--and as sure as your borned, nothin' but a forrin war would keep you from follerin' in the footsteps of LEWIS the 16th, and keep the Boneypart Die-nasty on its pins. A good chance turnin' up, you got up a _nasty_ war, so the Prints Imperial would _die_ off of the Thrown. "Eh! how's that for Hi'?" Yes, LEWIS, you are a bitter pill to swaller, and no mistake. I, the Lait Gustise says so. Us folks over here hain't so much on the war as we was. We've had our stomack full of war. Nootrality is what ales us jist now, altho' I must confess we don't go quite so heavy on it as England did doorin' our family quarrel. England was so afrade she couldn't preserve her nootrality alone, that she fitted up the Alabarmy to help her. And some other folks I know of was so fast to perserve _her_ nootrality, that she came over to Mexico so as to be near bye to do it, but if this court hain't laborin' under a teckinal error a few Pea-crackers traded off their soger overcotes for white pine ones. And the rest of 'em scratched gravel pooty lively for _lay bell France_. I'm afrade I can't jerk soft sawder when I git hold of a goose quil. Guess not. When you kill off all your present army, you must git up a draft.