980 of these islands, which an unscrupulous monarchy imposes upon a
credulous people as a full thousand, and the gloom which would naturally
pervade a man, after an occurrence of the kind just narrated.

On his way home, he stopped for supper at Albany, and there he met CYRUS
W. FIELD and Commodore VANDERBILT. One of these gentlemen was looking
very happy and the other very doleful.

(Illustration: The tall gentleman in the picture is Mr. FIELD--not that
he is really so very tall--but he is elevated. The short one is the
Commodore--so drawn, not because he is short, but because he is
depressed.)

After the compliments of the season, (warm ones,) Mr. P. asked his
friends how the war in Europe affected them.

"Gloriously!" cried Mr. FIELD. "Nothing could be better. The messages
fly over our cables like--like--like lightning. Why, sir, I wish they
would keep up the war for ten years."

"And you, sir?" said Mr. P. to the Commodore.

"Oh, I hate it!" said VANDERBILT. "They send neither men nor munitions
by our road. It is an absolute dead loss of hundreds of thousands of
dollars to me that my railroad is on this side of the ocean. I shall
never cease to deplore it."

"But sir," said Mr. P. "the war may cause a great exportation of grain
from the West, and then your road will profit."