more worthy to be seen than all St.
Petersburg besides! I really felt my whole frame swelling with pride;
every hair in my whiskers quivered!

"Is he really so powerful, papa, as people say that he is?"

"Very powerful indeed, my boy."

"And he's despotic, is he not? He has no Parliament?"

"No Parliament!" I repeated to myself; "well, that's no great matter in
a country so abounding with other good things! But what a rat of rats
this must be, to be so spoken of and thought of by the lords of
creation!"

"It must be a fine thing to be an autoc-rat, papa, and have no law but
one's own will!"

"It is a giddy elevation, Neddy, which no truly wise man, conscious of
human infirmity, would ever covet to attain."

"Wise man! human infirmity!" exclaimed I. These few words, like a touch
to a bubble, had burst my high-blown ideas of family dignity. It was a
man, then, one of human race, who chose to add rat to his name; and
these democ-rats and aristoc-rats in France-- why, they must be men too,
nothing but men, after all!

CHAPTER XIV.

A TERRIBLE WORD.

When I met my old friend Whiskerandos, it was usually at night, as
moving about by day was dangerous; for who ever showed mercy to a rat,
or even thought of inquiring whether he possessed qualities which might
render him deserving of it?

"How do you like your quarters?" said Whiskerandos to me one starry
night, when all was still upon deck, and, save one sailor on the watch,
all of humankind were sleeping.

"They please me well enough," I replied.

"For my part," said Whiskerandos, "I shall be heartily glad when our
voyage is over; and I am half vexed that I ever led you to make it."

"Why so? We do not fare ill; we have plenty to eat." As I have mentioned
before, this is ever the first consideration with a rat.

"The sailors don't starve," said Whiskerandos more slowly; "yet they
think of adding another dish to their mess."

"Glad to hear it," said I; "you know that I am curious about dishes,
and should like to have my whiskers in a new one."

"Oh! but they won't be contented with your whiskers!" cried my friend,
with a funny, forced laugh.

"What do you mean?" said I quickly.

"Well, I heard Jack and Tom, two of the sailors, talking together to-day
down in the hold; and there was one word of their conversation which,
I own, struck me like the paw of a cat. That word was--"

"What was it?" cried I nervously; for if a hero like Whiskerandos fe