Dooley. "'Tis be th' same la-ad that wrote th' piece they played
down in th' Christyan Brothers' school last year about the man with th'
big nose, that wud dhraw a soord or a pome on e'er a man alive. This wan
is called 'The Little Eagle,' an' 'tis about th' son iv Napolyon th'
Impror iv th' Fr-rinch, th' first wan, not th' wan I had th' fight about
in Schwartzmeister's in eighteen hundhred an' siventy. Bad cess to that
man, he was no good. I often wondher why I shtud up f'r him whin he had
hardly wan frind in th' counthry. But I did, an' ye might say I'm a
vethran iv th' Napolyonic Wars. I am so.
"But th' first Napolyon was a diff'rent man, an' whin he died he left a
son that th' coorts tur-rned over to th' custody iv his mother, th' ol'
man bein' on th' island--th' same place where Gin'ral Crownjoy is now.
Tis about this la-ad th' play's written. He don't look to be much
account havin' a hackin' cough all through the piece, but down
undherneath he wants to be impror iv th' Fr-rinch like his father befure
him, d'ye mind, on'y he don't dare to go out f'r it f'r fear iv catchin'
a bad cold on his chist. Th' Austhreeches that has charge iv him don't
like th' idee iv havin' him know what kind iv man his father was. Whin
he asks: 'Where's pah?' They say: 'He died in jail.
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