Snooks--and to think that the 400,000 should bear this, is the wonder!

Suppose Snooks makes a speech. "Look at these Frenchmen, British
soldiers," says he, "and remember who they are. Two-and-twenty years
since they hurled their King from his throne and murdered him" (groans).
"They flung out of their country their ancient and famous nobility--they
published the audacious doctrine of equality--they made a cadet
of artillery, a beggarly lawyer's son, into an Emperor, and took
ignoramuses from the ranks--drummers and privates, by Jove!--of whom
they made kings, generals, and marshals! Is this to be borne?" (Cries of
"No! no!") "Upon them, my boys! down with these godless revolutionists,
and rally round the British lion!"

So saying, Ensign Snooks (whose flag, which he can't carry, is held by
a huge grizzly color-sergeant,) draws a little sword, and pipes out a
feeble huzza. The men of his company, roaring curses at the Frenchmen,
prepare to receive and repel a thundering charge of French cuirassiers.
The men fight, and Snooks is knighted because the men fought so well.

But live or die, win or lose, what do THEY get? English glory is too
genteel to meddle with those humble fellows. She does not condescend to
ask the names of the poor devils whom she kills in her service. Why was
not every private man's name written upon the stones in Waterloo Church
as well as every officer's? Five hundred pounds to the stone-cutters
would have served to carve the whole catalogue, and paid the poor
compliment of recognition to men who died in doing their duty. If the
officers deserved a stone, the men did. But come, let us away and drop a
tear over the Marquis of Anglesea's leg!

As for Waterloo, has it not been talked of enough after dinner? Here are