The Life and Adventures of Maj. Roger Sherman Potter Part 9

It was now in the dusk of evening, the Two Marys was shaping her course for the north sh.o.r.e, the wind had subsided, and the sea moved lazily along in unbroken swells. Supper was announced, and Major Roger Potter hastened into the cabin, saying: "It is as well that we eat, for though I feel a qualm coming over me now and then, which seriously disturbs my temper, I must not forget that food may cure the ills of my head." Having cast several scrutinizing glances over the humble fare Luke's wife had prepared, and for the quality of which she offered innumerable excuses, saying they were yet poor, and could not afford better, the major rolled his little blinking eyes upwards, laid his hat carefully upon the locker, and with one of his best fas.h.i.+oned bows, and in obedience to what true gallantry demanded, bestowed upon Luke's wife a compliment which, I venture to say, there is nothing upon record to compare with it, though such things are exceedingly cheap with the profession of which he claimed to be so renowned a member. "Madam," said he, clasping his hands over his belly, the globular of which had changed somewhat, "though I am a politician and a soldier, both of which professions require the exercise of great understanding, I can dispense courtesies when they are deserved. The supper you have here set out is fit for a prince, and worthy of you as the wife of our gallant commander. In truth, madam, I have long held that there is no office in which woman can so well display the greatness of her power, as in the preparation of a good supper, and this art I would have them perfect, instead of writing sensation novels for publishers, who think of nothing but setting the nation by the ears, and putting money in their pockets. If she be good at working a s.h.i.+rt, heavens!

but she will be a blessing to the man who weds her, for our fas.h.i.+onable damsels can neither knit nor sew, and seem fit only for putting carefully away in gla.s.s cases." Captain Luke listened to the delivery of this speech with dogged silence. In truth, he harbored a suspicion that military men were a little too free with their courtesies to other men's wives, and that it was just as well to keep a jealous eye upon them. He therefore desired the major to sit down and eat such as was set before him, and thank G.o.d, for such was better than wasting so much ceremony.

"I see, sir," returned the major, "that you do not draw your logic from experience, for to praise that which is good, and not that which is bad, as our critics do, is to prove yourself a well bred gentleman." The major having concluded his reply, drew from his pocket a metal comb, and commenced combing his coa.r.s.e red beard, when after he had arranged it to his satisfaction, he took a seat at the table, where he devoured the viands with such evident appet.i.te as to surprise and astonish every one present. And this further increased the captain's dislike of him, for it concerned him much, lest his stores run out ere his voyage was at an end. As for the rest, it afforded them much amus.e.m.e.nt to see him play so active a part in devouring the food. "I am not a subject for jest, I would have you all know," said the major, with an air of much displeasure.

"It never was charged upon me that I was a man of ill temper; or that I was a man easily given to quarrels; and as these things are surely true, so it will not do for you to trifle with my respectability. There must also be that difference between us which my military position demands." The sternness of these remarks, and the great gravity with which they were delivered, produced a silence that lasted for several minutes, and likewise so confounded me that I began to think his brain was not so much at fault after all. Each in turn now broke silence by offering an apology, and treated him with so much consideration, that he arose from his seat in the very best humor possible, saying that as they had set so good an example, he must acknowledge that he was sorry for what he had said, and hoped they would set it down to his quick impulses, which, though incident to the feelings of a good soldier, were marvelously apt to lead him astray. He now remembered that he had left his bridle and holsters upon old Battle, and repaired upon deck to relieve him of the burden, which he did with much care and many caresses.

At ten o'clock, the major, who was not a little anxious lest the "Two Marys" should come in collision with some larger craft, undressed and retired to his berth, where the trouble of the nation ceased for a time to distract his brain. All now went smoothly on until midnight, when, it being Luke's wife's watch on deck, the major awoke from his first nap, and hearing his pig running about the deck, making divers noises, as if in great distress, hastened to his relief in a condition not easily described in this history. The pig seeing the major in pursuit of him, ran aft with a mischievous grunt, and was evidently inclined to seek a shelter under the honest woman's garments. And in fear of a liberty by no means sanctioned in books of true politeness, she gave out a loud scream just as the major, unconscious of the state he was in, for he was too gallant a soldier to have exposed himself to a female, not even in the starlight, tripped over a rope and fell against her with such force that both came to the deck, and with so much noise as to bring Captain Luke, (who would have sworn some strange craft was grinding the timbers out of the "Two Marys,") immediately to the rescue.

Unfortunately for the gallant major, he had fallen uppermost, and in a position where the binnacle light threw a curious shadow over that part of his person he was most scrupulous in protecting, as are all military gentlemen of quality. I think it may be said, without disparagement to this history, that neither Alexander, nor Napoleon, nor Wellington, nor, indeed, any of the great warriors, whose deeds historians have recorded with so much ostentation, ever met with so strange an accident, or one which led to so many embarra.s.sments. And although Captain Luke had never had occasion to doubt the chast.i.ty of his wife, whose face, being as ugly as could well be conceived, he had always held to be an adequate protection, his first impulse now was to take summary revenge for what he considered an unwarrantable trespa.s.s upon his rights. Thereupon he seized a club, and in the heat of his pa.s.sion, and without malice aforethought, or even giving the major time to extricate himself, he took what his eyes saw for granted, and so belabored him about the head and shoulders as to render him speechless.

"Base villain!" exclaimed the Captain, "if your life was worth it, I-yes, I would think no more of taking it--you fish blooded vagabond! First attempt to make free with my poor wife, and then aggravate me by declaring your innocence!" Being a man of great strength, the captain got his wife out from under the major, whose blood was running freely, and set her upon her feet, in an almost fainting condition. The affair, though singularly desperate, was but the work of a minute; and when I reached the deck, the "Two Marys"

was in the wind, Captain Luke was consoling his wife, the pig was running about the deck in great tribulation, and my companion in pursuit of fame lay weltering in his gore. Even old Battle had given out signs of alarm, and such was the state of confusion prevailing on board, that it required no small stock of courage to bring matters to a requisite understanding. I stooped over the major to ascertain exactly how many bones were broken, and as I did so, Captain Luke commanded that he be thrown into the sea.

"Yes, and let his traps follow, for I verily believe his pig possessed of the devil, who has thrown an evil spell over the wind, of which we have scarce had a fair puff since we left," he exclaimed.

Hearing this command, the major began at once to give out signs of returning consciousness, and whispered that though he had received grievous damage to his head, and seriously believed there was not a whole bone in his body, he thought he might yet be sufficiently restored to settle his worldly concerns. Indeed he had during his whole life made it a point never to shut the door against life, but to so nurse the remaining vitality as to make it take its longest run, so that one's days in the land be as long as possible.

CHAPTER XXI.

WHICH TREATS OF WHAT TOOK PLACE WHEN THE CAUSE WAS EXPLAINED.

ALMOST the first words spoken by the recovering woman were, "Husband, now that I have collected my senses, and come to remember how it all happened, I feel you have done grievous wrong to the poor man, for truly it was no fault of his."

"Fault of his!" exclaimed the captain, interrupting her in surprise.

"Pray, whose fault was it then? Did I not see him with my eyes, and in his s.h.i.+rt? The devil take me but if it was you who seduced such an ill begotten thing, I will soon wash my hands of such a wife, though she had borne me a score or more of children."

"Listen, dear husband," replied the good woman, her eyes swimming in tears, "and lay nothing wrong at my door, while your anger has got your reason; for I know you will suffer most when you come to know the cause of all the bruising you have given the poor man." The major now gave out a series of pitiful groans, and so bemoaned his fate, that even the hardest heart must have dissolved into sympathy for him. And though he had no sooner gained the use of his tongue than he declared by all the saints in the calendar, not less than six of his ribs were broken, and that his skull had received, on a square guess, half that number of fractures, neither a rib was found disturbed, nor the slightest fracture in his skull. The blood had flowed from flesh cuts, which only required a little dressing to restore his head to its original good condition. Ordering a sheet brought, I threw it over the major, got him upon a seat near the companion way, and commenced dressing his wounds, while one of the sailors held the lantern. "Providence, which directs all things, and more especially the movements of the soldier, must have ordained me this bruising, else I should not have got it," said the major, shaking his head admonis.h.i.+ngly, and casting upon me a look of deep mortification. Ever and anon wiping his nose, as if uncomfortable about that organ, he expressed considerable anxiety lest his face should have got scarred; for he was as vain of his personal appearance as a great New York general I have in my eye, but whose acts of heroism have never got beyond the columns of the almost pious newspaper he edits. Being a.s.sured he was in no way disfigured about the face, he raised his hands, and called heaven to bear witness that he never in all his life concerted wrong against his friend's wife, though he had had amours enough, G.o.d knows. He then commenced to give an account of how he came in the questionable predicament for which he got the bruising, saying, that in his anxiety to secure Duncan, who, he feared, might get overboard, he entirely overlooked the scanty nature of his raiment, for which he was ready to offer an apology, and swear that all beyond that arose from the great misfortune of having tripped his toe. All this the good woman was ready to confirm with an oath, if such had been necessary; but indeed it was not, for the very simplicity of the recital so affected Captain Luke Snider, that he would have gone upon his knees, and offered no end of atonement for the wrong he had done him, had not the major reached out his hand, and with a magnanimity truly wonderful, declared there could be no stronger evidence that they were both gentlemen, than by settling their differences in a quiet way. And if one condescended to offer an apology, the other ought at once to accept it condescendingly.

If, then, Captain Snider had shown great agility in seriously damaging the major, he now lost no time in bringing balms to heal his wounds, and rendering him such other services as his condition demanded. The good woman, too, was not a whit behind any of them; for on regaining her equanimity, she busied herself bringing liquids and linen, and so bound the major's head with plasters and bandages, (two of which were crossed over his nose,) as to make it present a pitiful picture. Indeed his whole stock of valor was gone, and no one would have recognized the head with the two little eyes blinking through the cross bands as that of so renowned a military man as Major Roger Sherman Potter was known to be. He now thanked heaven that it was no worse; and having asked several questions concerning the safety of his horse and pig, said, he verily believed greatness was better ill.u.s.trated in what a man suffered than in what he did on the field of battle--an opinion which seems to be largely shared by the adventurous heroes of this day, since the more they are vanquished the more they value their own greatness. Notwithstanding this, it must be confessed he had a slight misgiving as to whether his military dignity remained undamaged, since the blows were inflicted with a club, and not a sword. And, again, it afforded him consolation to think that the greatest men known to history had suffered great rebuffs while doing the world service.

The Two Marys was now well in sh.o.r.e, and being apprehensive lest the major's condition should take an unlucky turn, Captain Luke resolved to steer for Tarpaulin Cove, where the aid of a physician could be called in, if necessary, and also a fresh stock of pumpkin pies procured. For though the major had been got nicely into his berth, his dosing was accompanied with sudden spasms, arising from acute pain.

The sloop now continued on her course without anything remarkable occurring, and arrived at Tarpaulin Cove about nine o'clock on the following morning. And, notwithstanding the major was up and apparently quite comfortable, for he was suffering most from the wounds in his dignity, he refused either to go on sh.o.r.e, or to have a physician called to dress his wounds. Nor did he lisp a single word about having resided at the Cove not many years ago, where he pursued the business of a dealer in melons and onions, which he suddenly abandoned, whether for want of success or otherwise, was not generally known among his creditors, who had remained ignorant of his whereabouts up to this day, though it was more than once given out, that he had taken to the trade of a "critic of books,"

and was in the employ of a New York publisher.

Indeed the major was not only silent on the subject of his residence at Tarpaulin Cove, but expressed great impatience to get away from it, saying, that as his friends in New York would be waiting his arrival in great suspense, no time ought to be lost along the road.

And when he saw the boat coming off with a stock of fresh provisions and the doctor, he retired to the cabin, and there quietly engaged his thoughts over an old newspaper. The doctor was a rough sort of man, and, although he had given much time to the study of medicine, and was celebrated for the purgatives with which he killed his patients, while preserving the gravest demeanor, could not suppress a smile when brought to confront the major, at the sorry figure he cut in the bandages. "The case seems more serious than I had hoped to find it-an eighth of an inch only saved the cerebral; but I hope there is no fracture, for that would incur one of those delicate and peculiarly dangerous operations it has not fallen to my lot to perform for so many years, that I fear it would not become me to undertake it, though I was at one time celebrated for my skill, and indeed made my reputation on these sort of cases," said the physician, taking a small packet from his pocket, and advancing a few steps toward the major, who moved away apace, and applied himself more a.s.siduously to his newspaper. The doctor was at a loss how to account for this movement on the part of the invalid, and turning round to the captain, begged he would say to the gentleman, that he came not of his own accord. In fine, that it was rather to pay his compliments to such distinguished persons as he had been informed were on board.

"As to that, Mr. Doctor," replied the major, who overheard what was said, "if you will but leave me your good will, I think I may venture to get along without your plasters and purgatives, for my const.i.tution remains undamaged by such things." The doctor now came to the conclusion that he had been made the victim of a joke, and, quickly retreating to the deck, he demanded five dollars of the captain for the visit, admonis.h.i.+ng him in no very amiable terms of the consequences, in case he refused. But the captain had not five dollars to his back, though, as he expressed it, he had good staunch property enough to buy a village in Rome. "Then put me ash.o.r.e!" said the doctor, "and I will see what virtue there is in the Squire." He was soon set on sh.o.r.e, with the loss of nothing but his temper, which is either the cheapest or the dearest thing in the world to lose, but which may be regained at any time by applying to the village parson. The anchor was then got up, and with a fine, fair wind, the "Two Marys" continued on her voyage, to the great joy of the major, who now began to relate certain things concerning his residence in Tarpaulin Cove, where, according to his account, he had held the high office of Justice of the Peace, and given such eminent satisfaction in the administration of justice, that his name became famous all over the state. As to the doctor, whose name was Killsly, the major described him as as arrant a rascal as ever compounded nostrum or thrust pill down the throat of unwilling patient. "You may have thought my conduct toward that man unusual, considering the habitual courtesy of my profession," said the major, addressing the captain, "but I hold it right, that a man of honor should treat a great knave, which I knew him to be, precisely in the manner I did.

Killsly, it was found, shortly after he came to live at the Cove, had been an abortionist in New York, where he dashed about in a livery of great brightness, and had a purloined crest of so curious a device that no one could make out what it meant, though several had applied to Mr. Hayes, of Broadway, who supplied the wives of grocers and linen drapers with arms and crests, (as the dwellers in Sn.o.b Avenue have it,) charging only four s.h.i.+llings and sixpence for his services, including advice as to what color the livery ought to be. Killsly was in high favor with what is there called fas.h.i.+onable society, which, out of sheer respect for his skill, afforded him no few opportunities for the exercise of it. At length he got mixed up in a singularly delicate but very common difficulty, which rendered it desirable to make a change of residence. Well, he came to the Cove, and here might have lived as every good man ought to live, loving G.o.d and keeping his fingers out of his neighbor's affairs; but a damsel, who tossed her feathers at the rustics of the village, and would coquette only with city beaux, chanced to be overtaken by a by-blow and had need of his skill, it being necessary to protect her virtue, which her friends described as being whiter than snow.

But death, which scruples not in such matters, betrayed the secret, and sent the whole village into a fever. There being no doubt of Killsly's guilt in the matter, I thereupon had him arrested and brought before me; and, being the guardian of public morality, I ordered him to prison, there to await the sitting of the County Court. Believe me, gentlemen, I would, as I failed not to tell him, have had him well hanged, had the case been left entirely with me.

But I leave it to others to speak of the justice of my judgments.

Now, though I say it, he called me a fool; and for that it would have gone hard with him, since society can well afford to lose all such vagabonds. But justice was weak in the screws, and he at last escaped between what is called a flaw in the indictment and the ingenuity of his lawyer, as is generally the case with such knowing fellows." All this and much more, the major said, and would have sworn it true. The sailors listened with grave demeanor, and were surprised and amazed at what they considered his extraordinary wisdom.

CHAPTER XXII.

HOW NEWS OF AN EXTRAORDINARY CHARACTER WAS RECEIVED AND RESTORED THE MAJOR TO SOUND HEALTH; ALSO A FEW REMARKS CONCERNING THE MANUFACTURE OF HEROES.

THE judicious and forgiving reader will, I am sure, join me in approving the facility with which the major regained his stock of courage, (lost when entering Tarpaulin Cove,) on hearing that the politicians of New York had determined on making him a hero of no mean parts, and were devising a grand programme for our reception.

And this consoling news I read to him from that very enterprising and extremely reliable journal, the New York Herald, a copy of which I got of the parson, who was its Tarpaulin Cove correspondent, and admired it much for its mingling of divine and human things, as well as the amount of honey the editor always mixed with his brimstone.

The Common Council had, according to this sagacious journal, held a meeting, and, at the expense of much unintelligible oratory and disorder, pa.s.sed a resolution appropriating five thousand dollars for the purpose of giving us a reception worthy of either Cicero or Was.h.i.+ngton. And this was to be entirely in consideration of the great public services we had rendered the country.

And it was further resolved, and therein set forth, that Aldermen Pennyworth, of the Sixth Ward, and Brandybottom, of the Second, together with Councilmen Bl.u.s.ter and Sputter, (the last named gentleman being clever at a speech,) be a committee of reception, invested with power to draw up and present a suitable address on behalf of the citizens of "this great metropolis." It was also resolved, in a flourish of speech utterly unknown in anything ever attempted by Choate, that the mayor, who, though he contemplated himself the greatest of potentates, was famous only for commanding an unruly police to bludgeon the heads of peaceable citizens, should publicly receive us at the City Hall.

This news so elated the major, that he commenced running about the deck, after the manner of a madman. He next tore the bandages from his head, and swore though his eyes were disfigured, his body remained in most excellent condition. As to persecutions, all great men ought to endure them with humility, for they were only the forerunners of great honors. He therefore resolved to say no more of the scars, but, in proof of his faith, to for ever esteem Captain Luke Snider a public benefactor, and to set about commending himself to the consideration of all good citizens, for therein, as he conceived, lay the virtue of true eminence. And now that he had a horse of such excellent parts, and a pig whose rare gifts, (did the critics do him justice,) must prove invaluable, he flattered himself he was fairly on the road to fortune, and might safely leave the rest to the hero makers of New York.

I must inform the honest reader, that great value was set by the Common Council upon the fact, that the major had transferred his affections from the whig to the democratic party, which could not fail to shed a lasting l.u.s.ter upon its principles. Two honest Hibernian members of the very common board of very uncommon councilmen, had, with that modesty so characteristic of them, paid me the high compliment of saying, that I had been justly styled the great northern political war horse. I could not suppress a blush at seeing myself cut so strange a figure, inasmuch as the flourish of speech was such as had never been thought of by Aristotle, and would have paled even Henry Clay. Let no man, therefore, doubt the truth of what I here say; for I am not given to writing satires, preferring to wait until heaven shall send me some n.o.bler mission.

Nor would I have the reader express surprise, that persons so humble as the major and myself should be thus suddenly subjected to the process of hero making so much in fas.h.i.+on with the forty thousand idlers and politicians of New York, who have graciously taken upon themselves the directing of all public affairs, seeing that good men are so engaged in the getting of gold as to care not a whit if the devil get all their liberties. And if the reader have read the histories of Greece and Rome, wherein it is written that he only was made a hero who had achieved some great undertaking, and thereby conferred lasting honors upon his country, his surprise may be increased at the strange elements of character necessary to a hero at this day. But I humbly beg him to consider the circ.u.mstances of these forty thousand idlers and other politicians, who, having no employment for their fingers, let the devil direct their brains, and have turned hero making into a commerce of so cheap a quality, that no good christian can be got to engage in it. In fine, (and it is no vulgar invention of my brain,) the virtues required of an hero at this day, are that he have been a great marauder, who, having invaded the country of a poor, down trodden people, driven them from their quiet homes, plundered them of their property, ravished their daughters, drenched their fields with the blood of the innocent, and whitened the highways with the bones of his own dissolute but deluded followers, and spread desolation over the land, had to leave it a vanquished miscreant. And upon the principle, that if you give power to the idle and reckless they will make heroes to suit their kind and circ.u.mstances, he will then be received at the Battery with a great waste of powder, and such other noisy demonstrations as shall please the unruly. From thence he shall be conveyed in a shabby carriage, drawn by four lean horses, escorted by six firemen in red s.h.i.+rts, and preceded by two Dutch drummers with serious faces, and long, light beards, and a dyspeptic negro fifer, through sundry of our most crowded streets. And there shall follow him a procession of urchins, so abject in raiment that all peaceable lookers on will wonder where they came from, and how it happened that in a city so well supplied with water their unclean appearance, and the evident satisfaction they derived from scratching, was a sight for the eyes to behold. The hero must be careful to admonish the two or three ex-aldermen who accompany him, that it will not do to expose the necks of bottles in their pockets during their pa.s.sage through the streets; he must also be sure to deliver his bows with becoming grace, and to keep his right hand upon his heart, (if he have one,) giving the mob to understand that therein beats his love for righting wronged humanity. Nor will he lose anything in reputation, if he exercise great courtesy in returning those manifestations of approbation which are become so common with enthusiastic chambermaids, who flourish napkins from third and fourth story windows, and are mistaken by the uninitiated for damsels of quality with delicately perfumed cambrics. And as he let nothing slip through his fingers while bathing in blood the homes of the people he had made wretched, so must he now comfort himself with the a.s.surance, that the uproar of the rabble const.i.tuting his train is all cheers sent up by the honest people in admiration of his wonderful exploits. And, being free from every restraint or obligation, he may, with advantage to himself, recur to the deeds of C'sar and Alexander, (not forgetting to remember Cicero,) to which he may compare his own. He can then sneer at your people of quality, and having sufficient cause, prepare himself for a speech of extraordinary eloquence, in which he need have no fear of profaning, for his hearers will stand amazed, and think how mighty a thing it is to be a hero.

I would also advise him to give his thoughts entirely to himself, and be careful not to betray them with his words, lest some ambitious critic set them down and use them at some future day to his damage. He must likewise sufficiently eulogize the companions in his exploits; and though they were true to nothing but debauchery and their own conceits, it will serve him best if he tell distressing tales of their patriotism. And above all, he will be wholly deficient in rendering himself justice, if he do not set forth with the very best of his rhetoric, how much he is misrepresented by the press, which will persist in calling him a monster, when in truth he is a servant of heaven, sent upon earth to raise the fallen. And when he shall have been drawn through a sufficient number of streets, and the eyes of the curious shall have been gratified, and the dyspeptic fifer has exhausted his wind, and, together with the Dutch drummers, can no longer invest the jaded train with a martial spirit, then, if the lean animals have strength enough left in their dilapidated frames, the cortge, as it is well called, may proceed into the Park, where the hero, if it do not rain, may take off his hat to the mult.i.tude of rejected humanity, (such as ragged politicians and wasted vagrants,) there a.s.sembled.

Having paused a few moments, (to the great impatience of his shattered admirers,) that the aldermen who accompanied him may quench their thirst, he will alight amidst the huzzas of the throng and ascend the platform, built for the occasion by an enthusiastic carpenter. An ex-alderman, of dogged deportment, whom the clamorous mob greet with the t.i.tle of judge, will welcome him in an address, (he will read it by the light of a tallow candle, held in the hand of a corpulent councilman,) written by a well starved critic on the Times newspaper, and for which service he (the said starved critic) was promised five dollars. The hero will undoubtedly take it for granted, that he is as great a general as he is there set down; nor must he be amazed if he find it written of him, that the n.o.ble deeds of which he is the champion far outs.h.i.+ne all that has heretofore been set down in history. In fine, he must receive each compliment with a gracious bow, remembering that they are employed with the sincerity so characteristic of our gravest politicians. It being customary, I make no doubt the address will be received with "deafening applause," though it were impossible those present could hear one word of it. The reading will then conclude with twenty thousand voices spontaneously calling for the hero, who must rise with great gravity, and, having surveyed the dilapidated throng, proceed to respond in a speech of at least half an hour long. While delivering himself of this speech, he must be careful not to think of the gray haired fathers and mourning orphans he has left to mingle their tears over the devastation he inflicted upon their country, lest it damage his rhetoric. But he must declare that he is overwhelmed with the honors thus showered upon him by an a.s.semblage so respectable. Of course he will not forget to mention, that his emotions have quite deprived him of the power, even if he had the capacity, of expressing his grat.i.tude for this very unexpected manifestation of their approbation. And this peroration he must end, with complimenting the virtue and discretion, the self sacrificing devotion, and the high purposes of the motley a.s.semblage, who are meanwhile getting up numerous fights for their more immediate amus.e.m.e.nt.

The drummers and fifer having refreshed themselves, the hero must be got carefully into the carriage by his generals and adjutant generals in waiting, when the four lean horses, who were comforted with oats during the delivery of the speeches, will draw him up Broadway to the tune of "The dead I left behind me!" It being after nightfall, when the balconies of heaven are filled with black, warlike clouds, it will be necessary that the train proceed with torchlights, which are an essential part of the ovation to all great heroes. These generally consist of thirteen lighted tallow candles and two transparencies, in the manufacture of which six s.h.i.+llings were expended for as many yards of Lowell cotton, sufficient to supply s.h.i.+rts to the unwashed Hibernians who bear them. The torchlights, as is customary, must be carried by hatless and shoeless urchins, who will feel great pride in the service, and have no scruple at scrambling for the pennies thrown them by the mischievous who line the sidewalk. The transparencies must also bear the significant motto, "Welcome to the brave." All this and much more being done, the hero will have arrived at one of our most fas.h.i.+onable hotels, where splendid apartments have been prepared for him; and for which the cunning landlord was careful to get his pay in advance. As those who follow such trains and such heroes have an habitual aversion to water, its diminution or increase on arriving at the hotel will depend very much on the state of the weather. But no true hero will for a moment think of entering his hotel unless all the ambitious chambermaids in it are grouped upon its balconies, and its entrances so lined with pickpockets, that it becomes absolutely necessary that his generals force a pa.s.sage. The crowd outside will then greet his advance up stairs with much shouting, interspersed with demands for a speech, which, on partaking of a well compounded punch, in which his generals will not forget to join him, seeing that he is their only worldly stock in trade left, he may manifest his willingness to receive friends of distinction. This being regarded as an oversight by his most famous general, and the corpulent alderman, he will be reminded that the safety of the building is really in danger from the enthusiasm of the citizens outside, who refuse to go peaceably to their homes until he appears before them on the balcony, where they can offer him their homage, and hear from his lips at least three speeches. All this being done to the entire satisfaction of his admirers, then let him snap his fingers at your unprogressive gentlemen of quality, (who are much given to sneering,) and comfort himself that "the people" are always right. The torchbearers having exhausted their pennies as well as their patriotism, and the peaceable intervention of a shower having dispersed the mob, the hero, satisfied he has received every honor a grateful people can bestow, will, as is customary, betake himself much fatigued to his apartments, where he must remain in consultation with his generals and a few select friends, (on the grave question of what is to be done next?) until two o'clock in the morning, or, perhaps, until Aurora begins to open her windows in the east or the expert bar tender has wearied of mixing libations not even the most self-complacent of the generals has a s.h.i.+lling to pay for. This sad state of affairs being reported to head quarters, the hero will, unless the aldermen present pledge the city for security, hasten to his cot, and having snuffed out his candle get quietly to bed.

Having overstepped the limits of my chapter in these few remarks upon our present system of hero making, the reader must look for something better in the next chapter, and accept for apology the fact that I have written of things I have seen, out of sheer love for the truth of history. In perusing this subject, I had almost forgotten to remark, that the hero, though he have gone quietly to bed, will not be considered at the very apex of his fame until the men of the newspapers, with their usual love of enterprise in journalism, shall have written down and published to the world (they, it must not be overlooked, follow close at the heels of the torch bearers) all that was said and done, not even forgetting to mention how delicately the horses raised their tails when occasion required.

CHAPTER XXIII.

WHICH TREATS OF A PARTY OF YACHTERS MET ON THE SOUND, AND WHAT PAINS THEY TOOK TO COMFORT THE MAJOR, ON BEING MADE ACQUAINTED WITH HIS VARIOUS EXPLOITS.

THE major had been unusually serious during the day, and toward evening approached me with his right hand extended. "I cannot too forcibly express to you the deep obligation I owe you for the many kindnesses you have shown me. Thankful am I to escape the clutches of that doctor, though, perhaps, it would have been well to have enlisted his generosity, and got him to apply his plasters to my horse, for his legs stand much in need of them. As to the misfortune that befel me, pray think no more of it; for though I confess to being found naked to my s.h.i.+rt, a bishop could not be more innocent of wrong intention, even though he were an Onderdonk, who had been persecuted for his virtues. And now, let us change this matter, for I have been considering the profoundness of my purpose all day; and as our reception in New York will be an affair of much magnitude, I want to consult you on the most proper measures to be adopted in the present state of affairs. My reputation being already established, it will no doubt be agreeable to you that I receive and acknowledge the honors, you paying that deference to me which an adjutant general pays to his superior. We must master fortune by the quickest process; and as it matters nothing to the politicians of New York which of us they honor, so long as the ovation affords them excitement, your ends will be best served by keeping me well backed up. And as there is no knowing what sort of a turn the grand reception may take, I have been much concerned lest those who get it up discover in me (as they have done in worse men) an excellent candidate for President, in which case I must give great care to the wording of my speech, for that must be made to square with coming events." Holding it, as I always have, and shall still continue to do, more generous to forgive the vagaries of men who are given to imagining themselves great, as they, rightly viewed, can do no harm, and, indeed, afford much of that amus.e.m.e.nt so necessary to good digestion, I replied, that I had always considered his claims to public favor as superior to my own. And this so pleased him, that he declared it the first time, notwithstanding his great experience in life, that he had found a politician willing to sacrifice himself for the benefit of another, which he swore to remember until the day of his death. We now sat down together, and continued consulting upon various matters appertaining to our journey, and in which the major took great delight, especially as I acquiesced in all his opinions.

Night had now overtaken us, and the "Two Marys" was proceeding slowly on her course, close in sh.o.r.e. It was impossible the mind could conceive a finer night, for not a cloud was visible in the heavens, which formed over us a gorgeous arch of azure blue, hung with what poets call liquid pearls, now casting shadows like frolicking fairies over the broad sea plane below; and then, after flitting and coquetting, pa.s.sed away into the mysterious distance.

In truth, so seductive was the scene, that it excited in my breast a few of those fancies of heaven that give so much employment to the brains of young lovers. Yonder, tall light houses ranged along the sh.o.r.e, like stately giants in their night robes, filling the horizon to the right with a halo of pale light. Then a noise as of the rilling of distant brooks came floating in sweet cadences through the air, which seemed laden with the perfumes of new made hay; and the hollow echo of the watch dog's bark mingled in the soul inspiring chorus. And as I turned thinking of Hervey and his Meditations, my eye caught the ripe moon rising to invest all with that reposing softness poets and painters have so long in vain attempted to describe.