The major was at a loss how to account to his wife for his shattered condition, nor was he conscious of the disordered state of his nether garments, the rent in which had been made larger by the process of getting him out of the pit. However, as her recovery was almost as sudden as her notion to faint, and seeing that nothing serious had resulted therefrom, he placed her in a chair, and commenced recounting to her how he got into the pit, which he swore, and made her believe, was set for him by his enemies, who had for many years bore him great malice, in consequence of his fame, which, God knows, he had worked hard enough to gain. "La's me, husband," said the artless woman, making him a return of her affections; "it's just what I've a dozen times told you they'd do, if they'd only a sly chance. There's Robins Dobson, who has been trying for years to be Major of the Invincibles, and it's just what his wife wants. She wants to see his name, with the title 'tached, in the Patriot some mornin'. Poor folks has a hard enough time to get up in the world, and when they gets up, everybody wants to pull 'em down. That's the way the world goes." As it had always been a custom with the good woman to believe no greater military character than the major ever lived-an opinion he shared to the fullest extent-so was it the most pleasing thing with him to reciprocate the honor by asserting, whenever an opportunity offered, that history afforded no example of a military hero ever before being blessed with so good a wife. Indeed I very much doubt whether there ever existed a heaven in which love, joy, and mutual confidence were so liberally exchanged as in this, the major's little tenement. As for furniture, it could boast of but little, and that of the shabbiest kind. It was true, there was a print of General Scott hung upon the discolored wall, and another of Zack Taylor, and another of General Pierce, mounted upon a ferocious-looking charger, and about to demonstrate his courage (not in attacking the lines of an enemy) by rushing into the thickest of a hailstorm. By these, especially the latter, Polly Potter set great store, inasmuch as they illustrated the major's taste for the profession of which he was so illustrious a member. I had almost forgotten to mention, while enumerating the portraits of these great generals, that there was hanging over the tea-table (as if to do penance for some grievous wrong committed against that venerable institutution) a picture of General Webb, who had distinguished himself in several great battles, fought in the columns of an almost pious newspaper, published in Wall Street, New York, and whom Polly Potter verily believed, having heard it of the neighbors, to be a wonderful diplomatist, which was rare in so great a general.
"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.
Let it be understood by all my military acquaintances, that I mean no offence in what I have here written. Nor must it be inferred because I have thus accoutered the major, who must be set down for a military politician, that such is the fashion with all great majors and colonels; for indeed history furnishes no account of their going to war with what is generally accepted as their most vital parts protected with pocket handkerchiefs, not even when fleeing before the enemies' bullets. Nor would this history sustain the reputation for truth I have from the beginning resolved it shall maintain with generations yet unborn, were I to leave unrecorded this act of heroism, seeing that it has so many counterparts among those who affect the profession of arms, and are honest enough in their belief that the nation's battles cannot be fought without them.
And now, having prepared himself for a tilt with assailants, rather than a search for his pig and poultry, he strode forth, his wife following a few steps behind, lantern in hand, and so regulating the shadow as not to obstruct his vision. Being a woman of great kindness, and much given to religion, his wife would pause every few steps, and enjoin the major to treat his adversary, if any he should chance to meet, with great consideration. There was no knowing, she said, but that it might all be the work of some mischievous boys. "That may be, wife; but they are set on by older heads. There's Captain Tom Baker, and Sergeant Prentice, of the Invincibles, in it somewhere! And they'll never stop molesting me until they have felt the weight of this sword!" returned the major, touching the hilt of his sword, and quickening his pace.
They had not proceeded far, when the rippling of a brook, and a slight rustling of leaves among some bushes by the roadside, caused the major to halt suddenly, half unsheath his sword, and place himself in an attitude of defence. "I said we should find them, wife; and may the devil take me if I don't make dead men of them in a trice."
"Truly, husband, it is only the wind and the brook you hear, and which, at this hour of the night, sounds very like the talking of conspiring men," interupted the woman, as if to encourage the major, who shrugged his shoulders, and began to show signs of fear in the backward and cautious movement of his steps. "As I hope to be saved, wife," returned our hero, in a modified tone of voice, "though it takes more than a trifle to alarm me, who has seen much service in Mexico, I am not mistaken. A vagabond of some kind lurks in the bushes yonder, for I heard his voice as distinctly as if it had been bawled into my ears. There! hear you not the sound of his footsteps? Go you ahead with the light, and leave the rest to me."
"Pray, husband, do not let your fancies lead you to rash acts."
"Rash acts?" rejoined the major, "to kill a score of such lurking vagabonds would only be doing good service for the devil, who merits one's aid now and then." In evidence of her faith in the cause of the sounds, the good woman advanced forward, and, followed by the major, with his sword drawn and braced, they proceeded cautiously on over the bridge, though not until our hero had several times stopped to listen, which he declared was enjoined by every rule of the profession, and was a means to avoid surprise while advancing upon an enemy.