apprehension; when I had counted fifty-odd bullet
holes through the pilot-house (which had not received the attention that
by its prominence and importance it was justly entitled to) and everybody
was variously boasting his prowess, I approached my butternut
comrade-in-arms and thanked him for his kindly aid. "But," said I, "how
the devil does it happen that _you_ fight _that_ crowd?"

"Wal, Cap," he drawled, as he rubbed the powder grime from his antique
artillery, "I allowed it was mouty clever in you-all to take me on, seein'
I hadn't ary cent, so I thought I'd jist kinder work my passage."

WORKING FOR AN EMPRESS

In the spring of 1874 I was living in the pretty English town of
Leamington, a place that will be remembered by most Americans who have
visited the grave of Shakespeare at Stratford-on-Avon, or by personal
inspection of the ruins of Kenilworth Castle have verified their knowledge
of English history derived from Scott's incomparable romance. I was at
that time connected with several London newspapers, among them the
_Figaro_, a small weekly publication, semi-humorous, semi-theatrical, with
a remarkable aptitude for managing the political affairs of France in the
interest of the Imperialists. This last peculiarity it owed to the
personal sympathies of its editor and proprietor, Mr. James Mortimer, a
gentleman who for some twenty years before the overthrow of the Empire had
lived in Paris. Mr. Mortimer had been a personal friend of the Emperor and
Empress, and on the flight of the latter to England had rendered her
important service; and after the release of the Emperor from captivity
among the Germans Mr. Mortimer was a frequent visitor to the imperial
exiles at Chiselhurst.

One day at Leamington my London mail brought a letter from Mr. Mortimer,
informing me that he intended to publish a new satirical journal, which he
wished me to write. I was to do all the writing, he the editing; and it
would not be necessary for me to come up to London; I could send
manuscript by mail. The new journal was not to appear at stated periods,
but "occasionally." Would I submit to him a list of suitable titles for
it, from which he could make a selection?

With some surprise at what seemed to me the singularly whimsical and
unbusiness-like features of the enterprise I wrote him earnestly advising
him either to abandon it or materially to modify his plan. I represented
to him that such a journal, so conducted, could no