And now when all was quiet; when the general, having seen his horse comfortably provided for; when not even a vulture was heard croaking his hopes of a banquet on some dead hero; and when the great and all powerful Potter was sleeping quietly in his camp, the whole army was thrown into a state of great confusion by various voices calling out that they had come upon the enemy, who was forming for battle.  The alarm soon found the whole camp out in its shirt, ready to give as good as sent, though report had it that the force of the enemy was prodigious.  Another moment and Broadbottom, panting for breath, came rushing into the commander’s camp, crying at the very top of his voice:  “General! general! for heavens sake get up and take command of the army, for the enemy is advancing rapidly upon us, and there will be one of the bloodiest battles!” A clash of arms was now heard outside, which confirmed what he said, and also sent a thrill of terror to the heart of the great Potter, whose stock of courage was as suddenly snuffed out.  Loud reports of musketry followed the clash of arms, and then night was made terrible with divers other piercing cries common to battles of the most sanguinary character.

Feeling in his heart that it would not do for so great a general to let his army know that even an ounce of his courage had left him, he gave a turn in the sheets and was out of bed in a jiffy.  He then got into his breeches, but not without some delay, occasioned, I am sorry to say, by divers snakes having invaded the camp and coiled themselves peaceably away in the nether parts.  And this, added to the time lost in finding his sword, with which he swore he would trip the toes of all who came in his way, had well-nigh incurred the most fatal consequences.  “Minutes are hours, general,” spoke Broadbottom, addressing the commander; “and the slightest delay may play the very devil with the glory of our arms, and put an end to the noble enterprise we are engaged in.”  Hearing this from his second in command, the general quickened his motions and, buckling on his sword, ran out in his night-cap, but without either coat or boots.  Indeed, I here assert that history, so far as I have read, affords no instance of one so famous in war as the great Potter proceeding to take command of his army in so strange a uniform.  “Now, to my horse!” he exclaimed, “for I take it no man can command an army unless he be mounted.”  Broadbottom, who was a stalwarth Mississippian, and withal as great a wag as could be found in that state of wags, affected great concern lest the battle be lost for want of speedy action on the part of the commander-in-chief.  And as misfortunes will come upon us during the most trying moments, so was it found on reaching old Battle that he had been suddenly seized with a cholic, and indeed was giving out so many proofs of his illness that his master was unable to withhold his tears.  In short, so strong was the affection General Potter