A miner somewhere not long ago slaughtered a young child, sold the musculature as mutton, and some of it, to the horror of every mutton-eating reader, reached Berlin. A similar case has been known since ancient times, when it gave rise to the craziest tragedies. Now lots of mutton turns up in Berlin that actually is not.
When the Bohemians were defeated, no one was better pleased than the Emperor. Never had his teeth worked away so nimbly at a pheasant, never had his little eyes in their wrinkled setting flashed so wolfishly from sideboard to plate, plate to sideboard.