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Still he sticks to his post; an' on this pearlous day he was at Rennes, fightin' th' other corryspondints, or, if he was an English journalist, defindin' th' honor iv Fr-rance again hersilf. 'Tis a good thing for Fr-rance that there ar-re silf-sacrificin' men that don't undherstand her language, to presint her vicious nature to th' English an' American public.
An' th' nex' mornin' Paris 'd awake ca'm an' peaceful, with no newspapers, an' there 'd be more room in our own papers f'r th' base-ball news, says I. "'But, mong liquor dealer, what ye propose 'd depopylate France, says th' prisident. "'If that's th' case, says I, 'Fr-rance ought to be depopylated, I says.
"'An' this is me opinyon: I don't think Cap. Dhryfuss wr-rote th' borderoo. I think he was th' on'y man in Fr-rance that didn't. But I ain't got as high an opinyon iv th' Cap as I had. I ain't no purity brigade; but, th' older I get, th' more I think wan wife's enough f'r anny man, an' too manny f'r some.
"'I thought it was a thrile, says th' Cap; 'but, be th' number iv vet'ran journalists here, it must be th' openin' iv a new hotel. "'Not another wurrud, says th' coort, 'or ye'll be fired out. No wan shall insult th' honest, hard-wurrukin', sober, sensible journalists iv Fr-rance. Not if this coort knows it. Ye bet ye, boys, th' coort is with ye. Th' press is th' palajeen iv our liberties.
It was all referred to me whin I was Prisident. I am here to see that th' honor iv me high office is not assailed. I protest I did not say what an anonymous corryspondint in to-night's Sore says I said. I did me jooty. Whin I saw th' ar-rmy disorganized an' Fr-rance beset be foreign foes, I raysigned. What was I to do?
But what cud ye ixpict? I will throw both letters into the secret dossier. "'What's that? says Matther Blamange. "'It's a collection iv pomes wrote to th' Paris papers be spies, says th' prisident. 'Call Colonel Peekhart, if th' others ar-re not through. What, you again, Peekhart? Set down, sir. "'Gintlemen iv Fr-rance, says Colonel Peekhart.
Was this th' beginnin' iv another Saint Barth'mew's Day, whin th' degraded passions in Fr-rance, pent up durin' three hundherd years, 'd break forth again? Was it th' signal iv another div'lish outbreak that 'd show th' thrue nature iv th' Fr-rinch people, disgeezed behind a varnish iv ojoous politeness which our waiters know nawthin' about? No, alas! alas!
I had me pitcher took, I wint home an' hid in th' cellar. F'r wan night Fr-rance was safe. "They was hardly a dhry eye in th' house whin th' gin'ral paused. Th' coort wept. Th' aujience wept. Siv'ral of th' minor journalists was swept out iv th' room in th' flood. A man shovellin' coal in th' cellar sint up f'r an umbrella. Th' lawn shook with th' convulsive sobs iv th' former ministers.
Th' gr-reatest rayspict was shown f'r th' former chief magistrate iv th' raypublic. No wan shot at him. He was white with rage. 'Th' honor iv Fr-rance is at stake, he says. 'Our counthry lies prostrate in th' mud. I must presarve th' dignity iv me high office; but, if Gin'ral Merceer will step out into th' back yard, I'll beat his head off. I don't know annything about this accursed case.
'Yes, says I, 'th' honor iv Fr-rance an' th' honor iv th' ar-rmy 'll come out all r-right, I says; 'but it wudden't do anny harm f'r to sind th' honor iv th' Fr-rinch gin'rals to th' laundhry, I says. 'I think ye'd have to sind Gin'ral Merceer's to th' dyer's, I says. 'Ye niver can take out th' spots, an' it might as well all be th' same color, I says.
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