as I have not seen much of this general of brigade’s skill, and have heard it said that his brains are in his boots, tell him that the general in command orders him to form the brigade, which, if he have sense enough, he can do while I am putting on my breeches.”  Here the general’s lower lip dropped, he cast a confused look first on the floor then at the feathered Frenchman, and then began tugging away at his drawers, until his nightcap fell to the floor, followed by his wig and numerous imprecations, for he was vain of his looks, and thought himself a man whom any lady of taste might take for husband with credit to herself.  “Then,” he resumed, “say I order him to march the brigade up Broadway, in platoon, to Union Square; and let the bands ring out music that shall rend the very air, send the rich of the city to wondering, and crowd the streets with ragged vagabonds.  And as I am a soldier, I take it when this is done no man dare say the brigade is not made up of heroes, every man of them; if he do, let him be bayoneted!  Call a halt, when you reach the square, and there stand till I come, which will be when I have my horse.”  After listening with great attention to the general’s commands, the aid again saluted, notwithstanding his chief was in his shirt, and then set about waking up the major, which he succeeded in doing after very many violent shakes, and at length seizing him by the shoulders and raising him bodily to his haunches, on which he sat endeavoring to disenchant his eyes, like the moody josch of a mandarin.  The major then set to shouting at the top of his voice, exclaiming sundry queer commands, and making such strange flourishes with his hands as at first caused the Frenchman to take him for a madman.

It turned out, however, that he fancied himself mounted upon old Battle, reviewing the Barnstable Invincibles, whom he was berating right soundly for a set of stupid knaves.  An invitation from the general to join him and the aid in drinking a morning sweeper, suddenly brought him to his understanding, and, after offering numerous apologies for the distressed state of his person, said he was not aware that the earliness of the hour prevented military men and politicians from drinking one another’s health, provided they were of equal rank:  he therefore begged the feathered Frenchman to join him in drinking the health of General Benthornham, a gentleman and a soldier; in fact, a man of whom the country was proud, for he had seen wars enough to satisfy the ambition of any gentleman with a military turn of mind.  The general condescended a bow in return for so flattering a compliment, and saying the best men were known by their deeds, placed the glass to his lips and quaffed the mixture with a wry face.