For three days, then, did General Potter enjoy the hospitalities of this humble cottage, Angelio cutting up the priest’s gown and making it into raiment, which she saw he stood much in need of.  She likewise busied herself in preparing food for their refreshment on the road, for the husband in whom she placed so much trust, and whose promise, as conveyed to her by the priest, she held as sacred, had discovered to her his intention to bear the general company as far as Jolliffee.  Early on the following morning, then, having completed their arrangements, Mr. Tickler kissed and took a fond leave of his Angelio, mounted his mule, and left her, never to return.  In another minute they were coursing down the road on their journey, Angelio and her parents offering up prayers for their safety.

CHAPTER LX.

The last and most curious chapter in “This eventful history.”

Many strange and unforeseen events have overtaken and seriously damaged the prospects of various great monarchs, and indeed nipped their career in the very bud.  At least, so it is written in history.  But I venture to assert, that never until the history of General Roger Sherman Potter was given to the world, could there be found any record of a great monarch who had ruled supreme over a kingdom, won battles such as mankind never had dreamed of, and indeed gained so much glory that every general in the nation was envious of it, escaping, on a mule, from the country he had conquered, and leaving his army to the devil and the enemy.  Your exacting critic may say, there is Napoleon!  But I would have him bear in mind, that while Napoleon sent terror to the very heart of nations, the presence of General Potter was a sign of feasting and merriment, which things are blessings, mankind stand much in need of.

But why do I thus give way to my giddy brain?  Why, too, should I thus rudely abandon my hero when on his return to the land where he drew his first breath, carrying with him no less than a multitude of laurels?  Nay! though my few remaining locks are silvered with the frosts of four-score winters, and my almost palsied hand refuses to render me further service, I will not thus leave him to his fate.  Having been ruler over Kalorama, I am sensitive of his virtues, and would give the world rather than have him damage his reputation.  To enter New York, then, with his glories yet moist upon his garments, and give himself up to the follies of those who follow the trade of setting up heroes, would be to consign himself to an oblivion no man need envy.  Being of a humane turn, I am resolved this shall not be, though it were necessary to invoke the power of the saints to prevent it.