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out 'Forward, my men!' 'This way, lads!' 'Give it 'em, boys!'

'Fight for King Giglio, and the cause of right!' 'King Padella



for ever!' Would I not describe all this, I say, and in the

very finest language too? But this humble pen does not possess



the skill necessary for the description of combats. In a word,

the overthrow of King Padella's army was so complete, that if



they had been Russians you could not have wished them to be

more utterly smashed and confounded.



As for that usurping monarch, having performed acts of velour

much more considerable than could be expected of a royal



ruffian and usurper, who had such a bad cause, and who was so

cruel to women,--as for King Padella, I say, when his army ran



away, the King ran away too, kicking his first general, Prince

Punchikoff, from his saddle, and galloping away on the Prince's



horse, having, indeed, had twenty-five or twenty-six of his own

shot under him. Hedzoff coming up, and finding Punchikoff



down, as you may imagine, very speedily disposed of HIM.

Meanwhile King Padella was scampering off as hard as his horse



could lay legs to ground. Fast as he scampered, I promise you

somebody else galloped faster; and that individual, as no doubt



you are aware, was the Royal Giglio, who kept bawling out,

'Stay, traitor! Turn, miscreant, and defend thyself! Stand,



tyrant, coward, ruffian, royal wretch, till I cut thy ugly head

from thy usurping shoulders!' And, with his fairy sword, which



elongated itself at will, His Majesty kept poking and prodding

Padella in the back, until that wickedmonarch roared with



anguish.

When he was fairly brought to bay, Padella turned and dealt



Prince Giglio a prodigious crack over the sconce with his

battle-axe, a most enormousweapon, which had cut down I don't



know how many regiments in the course of the afternoon. But,

Law bless you! though the blow fell right down on His Majesty's



helmet, it made no more impression than if Padella had struck

him with a pat of butter: his battle-axe crumpled up in



Padella's hand, and the Royal Giglio laughed for very scorn at

the impotent efforts of that atrocious usurper.



At the ill success of his blow the Crim Tartar monarch was

justly irritated. 'If,' says he to Giglio, 'you ride a fairy



horse, and wear fairy armour, what on earth is the use of my

hitting you? I may as well give myself up a prisoner at once.



Your Majesty won't, I suppose, be so mean as to strike a poor

fellow who can't strike again?'



The justice of Padella's remark struck the magnanimous Giglio.

'Do you yield yourself a prisoner, Padella?' says he.



'Of course I do,' says Padella.

'Do you acknowledge Rosalba as your rightful Queen, and give up



the crown and all your treasures to your rightful mistress?'

'If I must, I must,' says Padella, who was naturally very



sulky.

By this time King Giglio's aides-de-camp had come up, whom His



Majesty ordered to bind the prisoner. And they tied his hands

behind him, and bound his legs tight under his horse, having



set him with his face to the tail; and in this fashion he was

led back to King Giglio's quarters, and thrust into the very



dungeon where young Bulbo had been confined.

Padella (who was a very different person in the depth of his



distress, to Padella, the proud wearer of the Crim Tartar

crown), now most affectionately and earnestly asked to see his



son--his dear eldest boy--his darling Bulbo; and that

good-natured young man never once reproached his haughty parent



for his unkind conduct the day before, when he would have left

Bulbo to be shot without any pity, but came to see his father,



and spoke to him through the grating of the door, beyond which

he was not allowed to go; and brought him some sandwiches from



the grand supper which His Majesty was giving above stairs, in

honour of the brilliantvictory which had just been achieved.



'I cannot stay with you long, sir,' says Bulbo, who was in his

best ball dress, as he handed his father in the prog, 'I am



engaged to dance the next quadrille with Her Majesty Queen

Rosalba, and I hear the fiddles playing at this very moment.'



So Bulbo went back to the ball-room and the wretched Padella

ate his solitary supper in silence and tears.



All was now joy in King Giglio's circle. Dancing, feasting,

fun, illuminations, and jollifications of all sorts ensued.



The people through whose villages they passed were ordered to

illuminate their cottages at night, and scatter flowers on the






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