There was one thing that much aided me in renewing and re-creating the stalwart soldier of the Niagara frontier—­the man of true and simple energy.  It was the recollection of those memorable words of his—­“I’ll try, Sir”—­spoken on the very verge of a desperate and heroic enterprise, and breathing the soul and spirit of New England hardihood, comprehending all perils, and encountering all.  If, in our country, valour were rewarded by heraldic honour, this phrase—­which it seems so easy to speak, but which only he, with such a task of danger and glory before him, has ever spoken—­would be the best and fittest of all mottoes for the General’s shield of arms.

It contributes greatly towards a man’s moral and intellectual health to be brought into habits of companionship with individuals unlike himself, who care little for his pursuits, and whose sphere and abilities he must go out of himself to appreciate.  The accidents of my life have often afforded me this advantage, but never with more fulness and variety than during my continuance in office.  There was one man, especially, the observation of whose character gave me a new idea of talent.  His gifts were emphatically those of a man of business; prompt, acute, clear-minded; with an eye that saw through all perplexities, and a faculty of arrangement that made them vanish as by the waving of an enchanter’s wand.  Bred up from boyhood in the Custom-House, it was his proper field of activity; and the many intricacies of business, so harassing to the interloper, presented themselves before him with the regularity of a perfectly comprehended system.  In my contemplation, he stood as the ideal of his class.  He was, indeed, the Custom-House in himself; or, at all events, the mainspring that kept its variously revolving wheels in motion; for, in an institution like this, where its officers are appointed to subserve their own profit and convenience, and seldom with a leading reference to their fitness for the duty to be performed, they must perforce seek elsewhere the dexterity which is not in them.  Thus, by an inevitable necessity, as a magnet attracts steel-filings, so did our man of business draw to himself the difficulties which everybody met with.  With an easy condescension, and kind forbearance towards our stupidity—­which, to his order of mind, must have seemed little short of crime—­would he forth-with, by the merest touch of his finger, make the incomprehensible as clear as daylight.  The merchants valued him not less than we, his esoteric friends.  His integrity was perfect; it was a law of nature with him, rather than a choice or a principle; nor can it be otherwise than the main condition of an intellect so remarkably clear and accurate as his to be honest and regular in the administration of affairs.  A stain on his conscience, as to anything that came within the range of his vocation, would trouble such a man very much in the same way, though to a far greater degree, than an error in the balance of an account, or an ink-blot on the fair page of a book of record.  Here, in a word—­and it is a rare instance in my life—­I had met with a person thoroughly adapted to the situation which he held.