Mrs. Markham.  And now, dear little FRANK, can you tell me why the Battle of Waterloo was lost?

Frank.  Because, dear Mamma, it was removed from its resting-place in the Panorama close to Victoria Street.

Mrs. Markham.  That is a most intelligent reply, but I do not think you are quite right.  I fancy the Battle must have been lost because, out of the couple of dozen or so of French soldiers who took part in the Victory in Wych Street, a considerable number had to be told off to see that NAPOLEON’s charger behaved himself.

[Illustration:  Waterloo in Play; or, the Charge of a Charger.]

George.  And yet, dear mother, after the performances, I myself saw the noble steed trotting most good-naturedly in rear of a hansom cab.

Mrs. Markham.  When you are all older, I will take you myself to examine the Model of the celebrated Battle in the Royal United Service Institution; in the meanwhile, you may rest satisfied with the explanation I have afforded you.

Mary.  But mother, dear, do you not think that NAPOLEON and his Army may possibly have trembled at the red fire and the picture of carnage on the painted canvas, that, on the occasion under discussion, confronted them?

Mrs. Markham.  It is not improbable; and now, CHARLES, can you tell me anything about NAPOLEON?

Charles.  Yes, dearest Mamma.  He was strikingly like Mr. BOLTON the excellent Member of Parliament, who represents so ably a portion of St. Pancras, and had a curious and clever way of hugging his elbows when his arms were crossed behind his back.

Mrs. Markham.  That was indeed the case, and I am glad to see that you have paid so much attention to historical accuracy.  And you, MARY, what do you know about the Ladies-in-waiting upon the Empress JOSEPHINE?

Mary.  That even in the direst straits they were fond of practical joking.  One of them, for instance, on the eve of the Battle of Waterloo, finding a general’s uniform, that for some unaccountable reason was hanging up in an inn at Jenappes, assumed the costume, and, thus disguised, had a great deal of fun with her husband, the Marshal AUGEREAU, who was then on his way to the front, with the avowed purpose of engaging the allied armies of England and Prussia in mortal combat.

Mrs. Markham.  And you, FRANK—­what do you know of TALLEYRAND?

Frank.  That there seemed to be some doubt about his proper title.  Some called him “Monseigneur,” some “Monsieur,” and some even “My shoe” and “My sheer.”

Mrs. Markham.  Well, my dear children, you all seem to have been very observant, and let me hope that if A Royal Divorce does not exactly add to the reputation of NAPOLEON, JOSEPHINE, Mr. WILLS, or MARIE LOUISE, it may yet fill the coffers of Miss GRACE HAWTHORNE.

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