Europe and elsewhere, by Mark Twain [pseud.] [with an appreciation by Brander Matthews and an introduction by Albert Bigelow Paine]

THE LOST NAPOLEON
THE lost Napoleon is a part of a mountain range.
Several miles of it-say six. When you stand
at the right viewpoint and look across the plain,
there, miles away, stretched out on his back under
the sky, you see the great Napoleon, sleeping, with
his arm folded upon his breast. You recognize him
at once and you catch your breath and a thrill goes
through you from head to foot-a most natural thing
to happen, for you have never been so superbly
astonished in your life before, and you realize, if
you live a century, it is not likely that you will ever
encounter the like of that tremendous surprise again.
You see, it is unique. You have seen mountain
ridges before that looked like men lying down, but
there was always some one to pilot you to the right
viewpoint, and prepare you for the show, and then
tell you which is the head and which the feet and
which the stomach, and at last you get the idea and
say, "Yes, now I see it, now I make it out-it is a
man, and wonderful, too." But all this has damaged
the surprise and there is not much thrill; moreover,
the man is only a third-rate celebrity or no celebrity
at all-he is no Napoleon the Great. But I discovered this stupendous Napoleon myself and was
caught wholly by surprise, hence the splendid
emotion, the uplifting astonishment.
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