cut off your supply-pipe for a while and still have enough to light up
with on public occasions?"

I rested my right fore-finger upon one side of my nose and struck an
attitude of interrogation while putting these questions. The Minister's
face turned to an ashen hue, and then the blood came coursing back like
lava to the Crater's surface, without breaking through.

"Fiends seize the man, is a minister of France to be insulted in his own
capital?"

"Friend, calm yourself," I said: "Don't let the crabs run through your
brain like that. Cool off. Take those hot coppers out of your pantaloons
and fan yourself a little. That's what's the matter with France, to-day.
You Frenchmen fizzle, and crack, and shoot up into the air, and
otherwise get away with yourselves so fast, that no wonder the Germans
can't always find you when they go for you. Take my advice. Stop running
red-hot pokers down your backs. Drink more Vichy water and less brandy.
Keep your sky-rockets till next year. Lock your 'language' up in the
dictionary. Send VICTOR HUGO back to England. Tie a church steeple round
GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN'S neck, and sink him off Toulon. Burn all your
proclamations. Throw rhetoric to the dogs. Put a head on the government
that ain't full of torpedoes. Present a solid front to the enemy. Simmer
down generally, and talk reason to BISMARCK, and, on the honor of
PUNCHINELLO, I can solemnly assure you that things won't be so
'speckled' as they now are."

Saying which, I gathered the drapery of my duster gracefully about me,
and left.