If God Almighty prolongs my life--which is not very likely--it will be that I may meet that scoundrel, Napoleon Bonaparte, on dry land.

I hear that he is eager to encounter me on the waves, himself commanding a line-of-battle ship.

I should send him to the devil in a quarter of an hour.

And ashore I could astonish him, I think, a little, if I had a good army to back me up.

Remember what I did at Bastia, in the land that produced this monster, and where I was called the Brigadier; and again, upon the coast of Italy, I showed that I understood all their dry-ground business.