"'Hurrah, old fellow! This is better than raising potatoes on the Saskatchewan, or hiding among the niggers in Louis--hic--iana. Down with the Oligarchy. To hell with them. Hurrah! This is my palace. I am a king! Look-a-there,' he said, with a roll and a leer, pointing over his shoulder at the shrinking and terrified women; 'ain't they beauties,--hic--all mine--every one of 'em.'
"Here one of his principal officers came up, and the following dialogue occurred:
"'I came, General, to ask you what we are to do with the dead.'
"'Kill 'em,' roared Cæsar, 'kill 'em, d--n 'em.'
"'But, General, they are dead already,' replied the officer who was a steady fellow and perfectly sober.
"Well, what's the matter with 'em, then?' replied Cæsar. 'Come, come, Bill, if they're dead, that's the end of them. Take a drink,' and he turned, unsteadily, toward the council-table, on which stood several bottles and demijohns.
"'But some of us have talked it over,' said the officer. 'A number of the streets are impassable already with the dead. There must be a quarter of a million of soldiers and citizens lying about, and the number is being added to every minute. The weather is warm, and they will soon breed a pestilence that will revenge them on their slayers. Those killed by the poison are beginning to smell already. We couldn't take any action without your authority, and so I came to ask you for your orders.'
"'Burn 'em up,' said Cæsar.
"'We can't,' said the man; 'we would have to burn up the city to destroy them in that way; there are too many of them; and it would be an immense task to bury them.'
"'Heap 'em all up in one big pile,' said Cæsar.