oke suggested by
Mac's nickname.

"That is one of uncle's favourite proverbs, so I got it up for his
especial benefit," said Rose, coming up with the two-legged worm beside
her.

"Very clever; what next?" asked Dr. Alec as she sat down beside him.

"The Dove boys are going to give us an 'Incident in the Life of
Napoleon,' as they call it; the children think it very splendid, and the
little fellows do it rather nicely," answered Mac with condescension.

A tent appeared, and pacing to and fro before it was a little sentinel,
who, in a brief soliloquy, informed the observers that the elements were
in a great state of confusion, that he had marched some hundred miles
or so that day, and that he was dying for want of sleep. Then he
paused, leaned upon his gun, and seemed to doze; dropped slowly down,
overpowered with slumber, and finally lay flat, with his gun beside him,
a faithless little sentinel. Enter Napoleon, cocked hat, gray coat, high
boots, folded arms, grim mouth, and a melodramatic stride. Freddy Dove
always covered himself with glory in this part, and "took the stage"
with a Napoleonic attitude that brought down the house; for the
big-headed boy, with solemn, dark eyes and square brow, was "the very
moral of that rascal, Boneyparty," Mother Atkinson said.

Some great scheme was evidently brewing in his mighty mind a trip across
the Alps, a bonfire at Moscow, or a little skirmish at Waterloo perhaps,
for he marched in silent majesty till suddenly a gentle snore disturbed
the imperial reverie. He saw the sleeping soldier and glared upon him,
saying in an awful tone,

"Ha! asleep at his post! Death is the penalty he must die!"

Picking up the musket, he is about to execute summary justice, as
emperors are in the habit of doing, when something in the face of the
weary sentinel appears to touch him. And well it might, for a most
engaging little warrior was Jack as he lay with his shako half off, his
childish face trying to keep sober, and a great black moustache over his
rosy mouth. It would have softened the heart of any Napoleon, and the
Little Corporal proved himself a man by relenting, and saying, with a
lofty gesture of forgiveness,

"Brave fellow, he is worn out; I will let him sleep, and mount guard in
his place."

Then, shouldering the gun, this noble being strode to and fro with a
dignity which thrilled the younger spectators. The sentinel awakes,
sees what has happened, and gives himself up for l