k. 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. Gin'ral Merceer raised his damp face,
an' blew a kiss to a former minister at wan iv th' windows, an'
resumed his tistimony."

THE DREYFUS CASE.

II.

"'It was about this time or some years later,' continues Gin'ral
Merceer, 'that I received ividince iv th' Cap's guilt. I made it
mesilf. It was a letter written be me fr'm th' Cap to a German grocer,
askin' f'r twinty r-rounds iv sausage. [Turmoil in the coort.] It was
impossible, mon colonel, that this here letter cud have been written
be Estherhazy. In th' first place he was in Paris at th' time, in th'
sicond place he was in London. Th' letter is not in his handwritin',
but in th' handwritin' iv Colonel Pat th' Clam. Thin again I wrote th'
letter mesilf. Thin who cud 've written it? It must 've been Cap
Dhryfuss. [Cheers fr'm th' coort.] I give me reasons as they occurred
to me: First, th' Armeenyan athrocities; sicond, th' risignation iv
Gin'ral Alger; third, th' marriage iv Prince Lobengula; fourth, th'
scarcity iv sarvint girls in th' sooburban towns; fifth, th' price iv
gas. [Cries iv 'Abase th' price iv gas!'] I thank th' aujience. I will
raysume where I left off. I was speakin' iv Gin'ral Guns. I met him on
th' sthreet. Th' moon was clear in th' sky. I says, "Guns," I says,
"lave us go down to Hogan's, an' I'll buy ye a tub iv obsceenthe." As
we sthrolled through th' bullyvard, I saw a man that looked like a
German dhrivin' a cab. I was overcome with terror. I ran madly home,
followed be Guns. It was a week befure I cud hold a glass iv
obsceenthe without spillin' th' liquor. Shortly afther this, or it
may've been tin years befure, or it may niver have occurred [the
coort, 'Spoken like a Fr-rinchman an' a sojer'], in th' middle iv July
a man tol' me that the divine Sara [wild an' continyous applause,
cries iv 'Sara foriver!'] was about to projooce th' immortal play iv
"Omlet" [cheers] be th' wretched Shakspere [hisses]. Cud annything be
clearer? I will detain th' coort not longer thin a day while I give me
opinyon on this marvellous performance.'

"Cap Dhryfus