treasure as is reported;—that we finally, after encountering enormous
risks, succeeded in subduing him, and secured him in a place of safe
exile;—and that, in less than a year after, we turned him out again,
like a bag-fox,—or rather, a bag-lion,—for the sake of amusing
ourselves by again staking all that was dear to us on the event of a
doubtful and bloody battle, in which defeat must be ruinous, and
victory, if obtained at all, must cost us many thousands of our best
soldiers. Let any one force himself for a moment to conceive the
French seriously believing such a mass of absurdity; and the inference
must be that such a people must be prepared to believe anything. They
might fancy their own country to abound not only with Napoleons, but
with dragons and centaurs, and "men whose heads do grow beneath their
shoulders," or anything else that any lunatic ever dreamt of. If we
could suppose the French capable of such monstrous credulity as the
above supposition would imply, it is plain their testimony must be
altogether worthless.

But, on the other hand, suppose them to be aware that the British
Government have been all along imposing on us, and it is quite natural
that they should deride our credulity, and try whether there is
anything too extravagant for us to swallow. And indeed, if Buonaparte
was in fact altogether a phantom conjured up by the British Ministers,
then it is _true_ that his escape from Elba really _was_, as well as
_the rest of his exploits_, a contrivance of theirs.

* * * * *

But whatever may be believed by the French relative to the recent
occurrences, in their own country, and whatever may be the real
character of these occurrences, of this at least we are well assured,