Various, Punch, or the London Charivari…
“ Yes, yes!! A leopard of the forest had issued from a side-street, a cul de sac, as the frivolous sons of Paris, the Queen of Vice, call it. It was moving with me, stopping when I stopped, galloping when I galloped, turning somersaults when I turned them. And then it spoke to me—spoke, yes, spoke, this thing of the desert—this wild phantasm of a brain distraught by over-indulgence in marrons glacés, the curse of ma patrie, and its speech was as the scent of scarlet poppies, plucked from the grave of a discarded mistress."Thou shalt write," it said, "for it is thine to reform the world." ”
