Enter Napoleon, cocked hat, gray coat, high boots, folded arms, grim mouth, and a melodramatic stride.

Freddy Dove always covered himself with glory in this part, and "took the stage" with a Napoleonic attitude that brought down the house; for the big-headed boy, with solemn, dark eyes and square brow, was "the very moral of that rascal, Boneyparty," Mother Atkinson said.
Some great scheme was evidently brewing in his mighty mind a trip across the Alps, a bonfire at Moscow, or a little skirmish at Waterloo perhaps, for he marched in silent majesty till suddenly a gentle snore disturbed the imperial reverie.

He saw the sleeping soldier and glared upon him, saying in an awful tone, "Ha! asleep at his post! Death is the penalty he must die!" Picking up the musket, he is about to execute summary justice, as emperors are in the habit of doing, when something in the face of the weary sentinel appears to touch him.

And well it might, for a most engaging little warrior was Jack as he lay with his shako half off, his childish face trying to keep sober, and a great black moustache over his rosy mouth.

It would have softened the heart of any Napoleon, and the Little Corporal proved himself a man by relenting, and saying, with a lofty gesture of forgiveness, "Brave fellow, he is worn out; I will let him sleep, and mount guard in his place." Then, shouldering the gun, this noble being strode to and fro with a dignity which thrilled the younger spectators.