_A Wrong Righted_

CHAPTER SIX.

_The Battle with the Shepherd Boys_

CHAPTER SEVEN.

_Good-bye to Corsica_

CHAPTER EIGHT.

_At the Preparatory School_

CHAPTER NINE.

_The Lonely School-Boy_

CHAPTER TEN.

_In Napoleon's Garden_

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

_Friends and Foes_ CHAPTER TWELVE.

_The Great Snow-tall Fight at Brienne School_

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

_Recommended for Promotion_

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

_Napoleon goes to Parts_

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

_A Trouble over Pocket Money_

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

_Lieutenant Puss-in-Boots_

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

_Dark Days_

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

_By the Wall of the Soldiers' Home_

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

_The Little Corporal_

CHAPTER TWENTY.

"_Long Live the Emperor!_"

THE BOY LIFE OF NAPOLEON.

CHAPTER ONE.

IN NAPOLEON'S GROTTO.

On a certain August day, in the year 1776, two little girls were
strolling hand in hand along the pleasant promenade that leads from the
queer little town of Ajaccio out into the open country.

The town of Ajaccio is on the western side of the beautiful island of
Corsica, in the Mediterranean Sea. Back of it rise the great mountains,
white with snowy tops; below it sparkles the Mediterranean, bluest of
blue water. There are trees everywhere; there are flowers all about; the
air is fragrant with the odor of fruit and foliage; and it was through
this scented air, and amid these beautiful flowers, that these two
little girls were wandering idly, picking here and there to add to their
big bouquets, that August day so many years ago.

Every now and then the little girls would stop their flower-picking to
cool off; for, though the August sun was hot, the western breezes came
fresh across the wide Gulf of Ajaccio, down to whose shores ran broad
and beautiful avenues of chestnut-trees, through which one could catch a
glimpse, like a beautiful picture, of the little island of Sanguinarie,
three miles away from shore.

As they came out from the shadow of the chestnut-trees, one of the
little girls suddenly caught her companion's arm, and, pointing at an
opening in a pile of rocks that overlooked the sea, she said,--

"Oh, what is this, Eliza?--an oven?"

"An oven, silly! Why, what do you mean?" Eliza answered. "Who would
build an oven here, tell me?"

"But it opens like an oven," her friend declared. "See, it has a great
mouth, as if to swallow one. Perhaps some of the black elves live there,
that Nurse Camilla told