"Napoleon the Grand.  The Britishers scooped him at Waterloo.  He wanted to do too much, and he did it!  They scooped him in at Waterloo, and he subsekently died at St. Heleny!  There's where the gratest military man this world ever projuced pegged out.  It was rather hard to consine such a man as him to St. Heleny, to spend his larst days in catchin mackeril, and walkin up and down the dreary beach in a military cloak drawn titely round him, (see picter-books), but so it was.  'Hed of the Army!'  Them was his larst words.  So he had bin. He was grate!  Don't I wish we had a pair of his old boots to command sum of our Brigades!" This pleased Jerome, and he took me warmly by the hand. "Alexander the Grate was punkins," I continnered, "but Napoleon was punkinser!  Alic wept becaws there was no more worlds to scoop, and then took to drinkin.  He drowndid his sorrers in the flowin bole, and the flowin bole was too much for him.  It ginerally is.  He undertook to give a snake exhibition in his boots, but it killed him.  That was a bad joke on Alic!" "Since you air so solicitous about France and the Emperor, may I ask you how your own country is getting along?" sed Jerome, in a pleasant voice. "It's mixed," I sed.  But I think we shall cum out all right." "Columbus, when he diskivered this magnificent continent, could hav had no idee of the grandeur it would one day assoom," sed the Prints. "It cost Columbus twenty thousand dollars to fit out his explorin expedition," sed I.  "If he had bin a sensible man he'd hav put the money in a hoss railroad or a gas company, and left this magnificent continent to intelligent savages, who when they got hold of a good thing knew enuff to keep it, and who wouldn't hav seceded, nor rebelled, nor knockt Liberty in the hed with a slungshot.  Columbus wasn't much of a feller, after all.  It would hav bin money in my pocket if he'd staid at home.  Chris. ment well, but he put his foot in it when he saled for America." We talked sum more about matters and things, and at larst I riz to go.  "I will now say good-bye to you, noble sir, and good luck to you.  Likewise the same to Clotildy.  Also to the gorgeous persons which compose your soot.  If the Emperor's boy don't like livin at the Tooleries, when he gits older, and would like to imbark in the show bizness, let him come with me and I'll make a man of him.  You find us sumwhat mixed, as I before obsarved, but come again next year and you'll find us clearer nor ever.  The American Eagle has lived too sumptuously of late his stummic becum foul, and he's takin a slite emetic.  That's all.  We're getting ready to strike a big blow and a sure one.  When we do strike, the fur will fly and secession will be in the hands of the undertaker, sheeted for so deep a grave that nothin short of Gabriel's trombone will ever awaken it!  Mind what I say.  You've heard the showman!"