er of Marengo is among us again. His lips are thinner, perhaps,
than they were before! how white his teeth are! you can just see three
of them pressing his under lip; and pray remark the fulness of his
cheeks and the round contour of his chin. Oh, those beautiful white
hands! many a time have they patted the cheek of poor Josephine, and
played with the black ringlets of her hair. She is dead now, and cold,
poor creature; and so are Hortense and bold Eugene, than whom the world
"never saw a curtier knight," as was said of King Arthur's Sir Lancelot.
What a day would it have been for those three could they have lived
until now, and seen their hero returning! Where's Ney? His wife sits
looking out from M. Flahaut's window yonder, but the bravest of the
brave is not with her. Murat too is absent: honest Joachim loves the
Emperor at heart, and repents that he was not at Waterloo: who knows
but that at the sight of the handsome swordsman those stubborn English
"canaille" would have given way. A king, Sire, is, you know, the
greatest of slaves--State affairs of consequence--his Majesty the King
of Naples is detained no doubt. When we last saw the King, however, and
his Highness the Prince of Elchingen, they looked to have as good
health as ever they had in their lives, and we heard each of them calmly
calling out "FIRE!" as they have done in numberless battles before.

Is it possible? can the Emperor forget? We don't like to break it to
him, but has he forgotten all about the farm at Pizzo, and the garden of
the Observatory? Yes, truly: there he lies on his golden shield, never
stirring, never so much as lifting his eyelids, or opening his lips any
wider.

O vanitas vanitatum! Here is our Sovereign in all his glory, and they
fired a thousand guns at Cherbourg and never woke him!

However, we are advancing matters by several hours, and you must give
just as much credence as you please to the subjoined remarks concerning
the Procession, seeing that your humble servant could not possibly be
present at it, being bound for the church elsewhere.

Programmes, however, have been published of the affair, and your vivid
fancy will not fail to give life to them, and the whole magnificent
train will pass before you.

Fancy then, that the guns are fired at Neuilly: the body landed at
daybreak from the funereal barge, and transferred to the car; and fancy
the car, a huge Juggernaut of a machine, rolling on four wheels of an
antique s