Now Detective–Inspector Napoleon Bonaparte has solved his last case and laid away his kurdaitcha boots for ever.

I guess, that yours has no the art To win about a husband's heart, Nor kens the gate wi' saftening sound, And pawks, to bring ilk project round.

He seems on the verge of winning the New York Senate election when the New York Post runs a photo of David’s exposed butt in a mooning escapade from his college days.

Blood unkindred to your Royal Houſe