“He whom you seek, honored sir,” replied the major, making a low bow, “stands before you.  And as I see you are an officer, here’s my hand, for it does me good to meet a brave man.”

The officer who was slender of figure, and had a youthful appearance, now delivered a letter from the commodore, saying that he was delighted to have met one who had so distinguished himself in the country’s service, and that he held it an honor of no small importance that he had been selected to perform this mission.  And when he had taken his departure, which he did without further ceremony, the major approached me, and opening the letter, asked me to read it, as he was none of the quickest at reading writing, which, indeed, was a failing with all great men.  I took the letter from his hands, and read as follows:  “On board Yacht —­, June 14th, Throg’s Point bearing W.N.W. 12 miles distance.

“The Commodore of the Yacht Squadron presents his compliments to his honor, Major Potter, and begs to say that on becoming aware of the great reception to be given him in New York, and that it was solely in consideration of the great services rendered his country, in war as well as peace, the members of this club, desirous of enhancing the grandeur of that reception, passed a resolution declaring it their unanimous will to proceed without delay to meet you, offer you their congratulations, and escort you to the city.  And as the duty of presenting you their congratulations devolves upon me, I have in accordance with the usages now common among all public speakers, transmitted a copy of the remarks I intend to make, to the end that you may be released from all embarrassment.

“With great consideration, &c., &c.,

“Van Stiver SKIMMERHORN, “Commodore Commanding, &c., &c.”

“To the Hon. Major Roger Potter, On board the sloop ‘Two Marys.’”

On hearing this read, the major’s head seemed to fill with various suspicions, for his hands again went into his inevitable pockets, and he gave his shoulders a shrug expressive of his thoughts.  But his suspicions never stuck to him long, and he soon found comfort in the fact that there was the commodore’s full name attached to it.  He then set to teasing his beard, and giving himself to his thoughts.  “Pray, young man,” said he, “say nothing of my trade in tin, for I see these are men of quality, and, having heard of me only through the newspapers, know but little of my true history.  But, let my enemies say what they will, I am not a man to stand at trifles.  Honors never puzzle me:  it’s the thickness of them.  I say, though, that when fame puts a man on the pedestal he must never think of falling to the ground, for that would be a fear unworthy my profession.”  He now read and reread the commodore’s letter, and at length said, that though he had written speeches for and given grammar lessons to New York members of Congress, the composing a suitable reply on such an occasion as this alarmed