Qui comte sans son hâte peut se tromper

Oh! Hussar! Your Traps Are Well-known

Now then, my dear Gustave . . .

"Academician, sir, I am a candidate..."

Stop, you wretch!! That's my aunt!!

Flemish Horses

Mister, what is the best troup in Paris, please?

"These sirs are going to town for dinner . . ."

The Botanist's Triumph

Mecklenbourg Horse

The French Blacksmith

Ah! Believe if you would that the man who made me a dreamer could pride himself on being a scoundrel., p. 111

Frontispiece: "Hand it over, or you shall not pass."