a dozen words only might come over
the cable, to say, for instance, that the late Emperor Napoleon, who was
the then supposed arbiter of the Old World, had nominated Count somebody
or General that to a fresh portfolio; or that, the "scion of the house
of Hapsburgh" was suffering from tooth-ache; or that, John Bright was
going to Dublin to lecture "on Irish affairs."

My duties were such, that, when these telegrams appeared, in all the
glories of print, the next morning, they had grown in such a miraculous
way, that they took up half a yard of room, instead of but a few lines
of type. Had you read them, you would have found their contents
thoroughly explanatory, entering into the most minute details--as to how
Napoleon's change of ministers would affect "the situation;" how poor
Francis Joseph's attack of caries might, could and would raise again the
ghost of "the Eastern question;" how the advent of the great Radical
leader in Ireland would be the signal for a general Fenian uprising--
and, so on.

I _only_ mention these cases in point, to describe the way in which I
clothed my skeletons with solid substrata of flesh and blood. The
public, you see, had only so much the more information for their money--
which was, probably, just as reliable as if it had been really "wired"
under the Atlantic! Nobody was the wiser; nobody, the sufferer by the
deception; so, what was "the odds" so long as they were correspondingly
"happy"--in their ignorance?

My correspondent's letters were much more mendacious compositions.

I am quite ashamed to tell you what long columns of flagrant description
I was in the habit of reeling off--touching certain races in the Bois de
Boulogne, soirees at the Tuileries, and working-men's "demonstrations"
in Hyde Park--of which I was only an imaginative spectator!

I used to rake up all my old reminiscences of the boulevards and cafes
and prados, giving details concerning the "petit-creves" and "cocottes,"
the "flaneurs" and "grandes dames" of the once "gay" capital--gay no
longer; and, interspersing them with veracious reports respecting the
latest hidden thoughts of "Badinguet," and vivid descriptions of the
respective toilets of the Empress Eugenie, Baroness de B---, Madame la
Comtesse C---, la belle Marquise d'E---, and all the other fashionable
letters of the alphabet--chronicling the very latest achievements in
"Robes en train" and "Costumes a ravir" of the great artist Worth. Even
the me