“And now, seeing that we have had but scanty fare for the week past, and have got deeply in debt to the grocer, who has twice threatened to take our little things for pay, pray tell us of your voyage, and what success you have met with;” said the good woman, which reminded the major of his neglect of his faithful horse, which, in reply to a question concerning his arrival, he was told had come safely home, and been put in the barn, but without either pig or chickens.  The major was not a little surprised on hearing this account of his team, and repaired at once to the barn, where he found old Battle a little jaded, but otherwise in his usual good condition, and as ready as ever to acknowledge the caresses of his kind master.  To his utter astonishment neither pig nor chickens, upon which he had set so much store, as constituting the larger half of his available profits, were to be seen.  He now swore either that the town was full of thieves, or that it was another trick of his enemies to deprive him of the means of sustaining his hard-earned reputation.  His wife now, evincing great grief at the sad misfortune, held the lantern while he counted his skins and tin ware, which he found to tally exactly with his account of stock, which he kept on a dingy slip of paper, with the exactness of a cotton broker.  “Curse on these enemies of mine; they are all an evil minded set of blockheads!” ejaculated the major, pausing to consider a moment, and then heaving a sigh.  “Husband, curse not your enemies,” enjoined the confiding woman, “for the Scripture teacheth that we must pray for them; and you know we have much need of being exalted above them.”

“I leave what the Scripture teacheth to Parson Boomer,” interrupted the major, “who deals in that sort of commerce.  Scripture, as I take it, has little to do with one’s military reputation.  And, may the devil take me if I don’t think military men get it right nine times out of ten, and won’t be far behind them in getting to heaven, (I mean the parsons,) unless they look well to the state of their morals.”

Being very short, and stout, and singularly duck-legged withal, the major, having had his attention called to the condition of his garments, drew forth his cotton handkerchief and hung it about his loins, as a means of protecting the exposed state of his battery.  Thus protected in his dignity, he resolved that his wife should bear him company, and together they would sally down the road a mile or two, in search of his lost live stock.  As this necessarily incurred some danger to his person, which it required courage to overcome, he thought it well to step into the house and get his sword, a weapon that never failed him, and with which, according to his own account, he had killed innumerable Mexicans.  Having girded on this venerable weapon, he came forth as never before did military hero, swearing to have satisfaction of every enemy who chanced in his way.