“You must know, sir,” said the major, “that I am no scurvy fellow, but a man who has stood the devil knows how much buffeting in politics.  I have made eight and twenty speeches, sir, in a month; and it was said of me that no man could better them.  And if you would know more of my doings, please refer to my companions in the Mexican War.”

“Your fame makes that unnecessary.  To-morrow I give a tea party, and among the rest of my guests I expect a bishop and a nobleman, who is traveling over the country.  They are both honest men, and as jolly fellows as can be found in the land.  Honor us with your company, sir, and I warrant you entertainment of no common kind; for there will not be one of the lower order among my guests, and the high promotion you have obtained must, I am sure, be the result of many battles, which my friends will be delighted to hear an account of.”  The major was delighted with the compliment, but, as will hereafter be shown, was not in a condition to honor the general’s tea party with his presence.  And the general, having expressed his gratification at this meeting, took his departure, with many bows and assurances of friendship.  When he was gone, there came several equally great generals and colonels, though editors of smaller newspapers; several of these promised him the support of their columns in any great undertaking he might embark in.  This was especially so with the editors of the Celt, and the Irish Citizen, both of which gentlemen only asked that he would give them a pledge not to form an alliance with the English.  In addition to this, they discovered a strong inclination for what was in the bottle, of which the major gave them to drink, and sent them home happy.

It being now two o’clock, the major ordered a black bombazine frock coat from Wyman’s, and the committee of reception having arrived with a carriage, he immediately entered it, and was rolled away for the City Hall, where he was received with much pomp and ceremony by Don Fernando, who embraced the opportunity to make a speech, such as, he fancied, Demosthenes never excelled.  And the major replied with his customary rhodomontade.  Both considered the event an extraordinary one, auguring greater things to themselves.  It must, in truth, be said of Don Fernando, that he could receive guests with a courtliness truly wonderful.  I have not, however, thought it necessary to record his speech here, inasmuch as it bore a strong resemblance to such as may daily be found in the morning papers.

When they had sufficiently exchanged compliments, Don Fernando took great pains to show the major several objects of greatest interest in the Hall, among which was his corpulent chief of police, and a little man of the name of Sampson Queerquirk, who was his lawyer and factotum.  He then took him by the arm, and they sallied out into a great hall, the walls of which were hung with portraits of mayors and other great men.  Indeed it seemed as if it were a malady with mayors to admire their own portraits.  The small modicum of vanity which slumbered in Don Fernando’s bosom quickly took fire, and deeming it the height of discretion not to overlook any thing that might be of deep interest to so great a visitor, he pleasantly added, that a portrait of himself would soon enhance the splendors of the gallery.