sses of persons. On his birthday,
the 15th of August, he ordered the mayor to give a ball, and for this
purpose a temporary building, capable of holding 300 persons, was to be
erected, and the whole entertainment, building and all, were to be at the
expense of the inhabitants themselves. These were bad auspices, and
accordingly the ball completely failed. Madame Mtire, Madame Bertrand,
and the two ladies of honour, attended, but not above thirty of the fair
islanders, and as the author of the IEineraire remarks, "Le bal ful
triste quoique Bonaparte n'y parut pas."

Having in an excursion reached the summit of one of the highest hills on
the island, where the sea was visible all round him, he shook his head
with affected solemnity, and exclaimed in a bantering tone, "Eh! il faut
avouer que mon ile est bien petite."

On this mountain one of the party saw a little church in an almost
inaccessible situation, and observed that it was a most inconvenient site
for a church, for surely no congregation could attend it. "It is on that
account the more convenient to the parson," replied Bonaparte, "who may
preach what stuff he pleases without fear of contradiction."

As they descended the hill and met some peasants with their goats who
asked for charity, Bonaparte told a story which the present circumstances
brought to his recollection, that when he was crossing the Great St.
Bernard, previously to the battle of Marengo, he had met a goatherd, and
entered into conversation with him. The goatherd, not knowing to whom he
was speaking, lamented his own hard lot, and envied the riches of some
persons who actually had cows and cornfields. Bonaparte inquired if some
fairy were to offer to gratify all his wishes what he would ask? The
poor peasant expressed, in his own opinion, some very extravagant
desires, such as a dozen of cows and a good farmhouse. Bonaparte
afterwards recollected the incident, and astonished the goatherd by the
fulfilment of all his wishes.

But all his thoughts and conversations were not as light and pleasant as
these. Sometimes he would involve himself in an account of the last
campaign, of his own views and hopes, of the defection of his marshals,
of the capture of Paris, and finally of his abdication; on these he would
talk by the hour with great earnestness and almost fury, exhibiting in
very rapid succession traits of eloquence, of military genius, of
indignation; of vanity, and of selfishness. With regard