There was a young man named Meyer, who had an idea that he wanted to hold a county office, and live at the county seat, and spend his time in drinking beer, at good pay, and he knew there was but one road to this summit of human bliss, and that was over Feltzer's body. So one election day he presented himself at the polls, and ignoring Feltzer, offered a folded ballot. [Illustration: THE STRUGGLE FOR THE KINGSHIP.] "Mike, show me dot dicket!" exclaimed Feltzer. "Yoo shust go mit hell!" was Meyer's answer. [Sidenote: ART IN THE LOUVRE.] Feltzer divined the meaning of this revolt at once. He knew that this was a challenge to mortal combat, and that the prize of the victor was the crown. Meyer was a splendid young man, built like a bull, and only thirty. Feltzer had been, in his day, more than a match for him; but alas, he was sixty, and had been enervated by the soft allurements of official position. However, he determined not to die without a struggle, and so laying off their coats, at it they went. Meyer had no easy contract. Feltzer was fighting for life, and the contest was long and severe. Youth finally triumphed, and Feltzer, after half an hour of rolling in the mud, admitted defeat. Meyer sprang gaily to his feet, and seizing Feltzer's hickory club exclaimed to the bystanders, "Now, yoo men vat vants to vote will shust show _me_ your dickets!" They accepted their new ruler the same as the French do, and he was elected to an office the ensuing Fall, and ever since, for aught I know. He held it, anyhow, till some younger man deposed him. This has nothing to do with the Louvre, except as showing that humanity is the same everywhere. If any other moral can be got out of it I have no objection. All over the Louvre are statues of men who are famous in French history--those who have achieved fame in art, science, literature or war. They are here, and in stone that will last for ages; longer, probably, than the memory of the acts that placed them there. On the north side of the Place Napoleon there is a wonderful Corinthian colonnade, over the columns of which are heroic statues of eighty-six celebrated men, and on the balustrade are sixty-five allegorical groups, wonderful in design and execution, and so, all the way around the enormous building, story after story is burdened with works of art. Wondrous works, artistically bestowed, always profuse, but never overdone. Every column, every window-cap, even the ledges just under the projection of the roof, bear the impress of genius. There are statues, medallions, large groups illustrating important events in the history of France, exquisitely carved by master hands, on all four sides of the exterior, all symmetrical in design and faultless in proportion.