John Bull, Jr.
I.
I am Born. — I am Deeply in Love. — I wish to be an Artiste, but my Father uses Strong Argument against it. — I Produce a Dramatic Chef-d'œuvre. — Parisian Managers Fail to Appreciate it. — I put on a Beautiful Uniform. — The Consequence of it. — Two Episodes of the Franco-Prussian War. — The Commune Explained by a Communist. — A "Glorious" Career Cut Short. — I take a Resolution, and a Ticket to London.
I was born on the ——
But this is scarcely a "recollection" of mine.
At twelve I was deeply in love with a little girl of my own age. Our servants were friends, and it was in occasional meetings of these girls in the public gardens of my little native town that my chief chance of making love to Marie lay. Looking back on this little episode in my life, I am inclined to think that it afforded much amusement to our attendants. My love was too deep for words; I never declared my flame aloud. But, oh, what a fluttering went on under my small waistcoat every time I had the ineffable pleasure of a nod from her, and what volumes of love I put into my bow as I lifted my cap and returned her salute! We made our first communion on the same day. I was a pupil of the organist, and it was arranged that I should play a short piece during the Offertory on that occasion. I had readily acquiesced in the proposal. Here was my chance of declaring myself; through the medium of the music I could tell her all my lips refused to utter. She must be moved, she surely would understand.
Whether she did or not, I never had the bliss of knowing. Shortly after that memorable day, my parents removed from the country to Paris. The thought of seeing her no more nearly broke my heart, and when the stage-coach reached the top of the last hill from which the town could be seen, my pent-up feelings gave way and a flood of tears came to my relief.