There is a Napoleon in France, but no Bonaparte.

Clatter-clatter! Bang-bang!" He laughed ironically and cautiously glanced at his watch, an article which must have cost him many and many a potato-patch.

He pulled his hat over his eyes, scratched the irritating stubble on his chin, and stepped forward.
He had followed yonder goose-girl ever since the incline began.

Oft the little wooden shoes had lagged, but here they were, still a hundred yards or more ahead of him.

He had never been close enough to distinguish her features.