The major had for some moments been fixing his eyes upon Mr. Finnigan with a scrutinizing stare. Suddenly his face became flushed, his eye quickened its glare, and he stammered out, "I know what belongs to good manners, and though you may be a councilman, Mr. Finnigan, my eyes, and they are good ones, tell me I have seen you before."
"Faith, an' that same's not unlikely," interposed the moist councilman.
"Aye, and when you went by the name of Greeley Hanniford, and followed an occupation that cost me all my money."
Here Mr. Finnigan quickly interrupted by saying that as they had both attained to the position of gentlemen, it were best to adopt Bishop Hughes' motto, and let bye gones be bye gones. In truth the major recognized in Councilman Finnigan, the honest Quaker, Greeley Hanniford, who, with General Fopp, of "Pleasant-side Row," had managed to relieve him of all his money during his first adventure in New York.
"But although he neither acted justly nor honorably towards me, our conditions have changed, and it does not become my high position to rake this thing up now, so let's hope he is come an honest man, and a good politician!" thought the major, extending his hand to the moist councilman, who was not a little troubled at the old reminiscence.
"And my motto is, major, let them what's dead, stay dead! But since
its not mysel is to spake the addriss, but Dan Dooley, who, by the
Virgin, is an alderman, a gintleman, and the friend of Father
Fogarty-"
Seeing there was an old score to be wiped out between Mr. Councilman Finnigan and the major, Mr. Alderman Dan Dooley, who was the tallest of the four flabby men, and a whiskey visaged gentleman of ponderous parts, now came fussily forward, and after exchanging many bows and compliments with the major, saying how extremely glad he was to welcome him to the city, introduced him to his son in law, Councilman Dennis Blennerhasset, a frisky little man, with a cocked up nose, and an expression of countenance in which no man with half an eye could fail to read in what land he drew his first breath, if, indeed, the rich brogue with which he returned the major's salutation had not already revealed it. Having, long since, resolved not to have my veracity as a historian impeached, I must not forget to state here, (and I warn every pugnacious critic to be careful how he points his lance at me,) that Alderman Dennis Dooley, although the firm friend of Father Fogarty, was said to be the ablest editor on the Evening Express, which for its profundity of logic, and purity of style, was truly a marvel in journalism. As for Councilman Blennerhasset, no man could bring aught against his capacity for mixing compounds of deleterious liquors, which he sold to the decaying humanity of his district; and, being what was considered a modest man, the notion came into his head that he was born for the high office of Councilman the very day he married the daughter of Alderman Dooley. Mr. Councilman Blennerhasset spoke of himself as we the common council, we the elected to do you honor on this great occasion; we the representatives of this great and glorious metropolis. Having accommodated the we a sufficient number of times to satisfy us that he had the whole city nicely tucked away in the pocket of his shabby coat, he turned round to introduce Alderman Barney O'Toole, who, as a man and a gentleman, could do more off hand fighting than any other man in the board, and was the fourth of the flabby men. But that distinguished politician and gentleman, who had been seven times sentenced for smashing the skulls of his adversaries, was not at hand, having, while Mr. Blennerhasset was thickening the compliments, winked me down into the cabin, where he drew from his pocket a luminous bottle of old Bourbon whiskey, and in the most friendly manner offered to pledge me in numerous glasses.
Just at this moment, a dozen or so of wan faced reporters, in massive beards and black hats, pressed eagerly through the crowd, and went to work like beavers dotting down all that was said, and a little more. Then commenced the address by Alderman Dan Dooley, whose breath was redolent of anything but the balm of a thousand flowers, and who delivered his speech with an unctuous self satisfaction, and in a style of rhetoric totally unknown to Pericles, and never thought of by Demosthenes. The address was carefully worded, so as to make the major a greater statesman than had been known in any previous age, which is a fashion at this day; and if I be not much mistaken, this speech was written by that witty scribbler of the "Times" newspaper, who gets up speeches for heroes at five minutes' notice, and then, having pocketed the money, laughs in his sleeve at the men he has made fools.
As addresses of the nearest possible resemblance to that delivered on this occasion by Alderman Dan Dooley, may be found almost any day in the morning papers, I hold it good economy not to occupy my valuable space in recording it here. Nor, indeed, will it be necessary to insert the major's reply, since it was very similar to that made by him to the Commodore of the Yacht Club, and may also be found in all the newspapers. And now, when these ceremonies were over, the major bethought him of his horse and pig, the former of which he found surrounded by a swarm of unruly boys, whom the strange figure he cut, with the holsters and saddlebags mounted, afforded much amusement. The latter was quietly lying down in his cage, but came forward to render homage as soon as he heard the major's voice. I should mention that the major always aimed to be up to the fashion of the times, and learning from Councilman Blennerhasset that demonstrations of a more public character had recently been declined by one or two very distinguished politicians, he made up his mind not to be a whit behind any of them, (for the reason of which the reader may discover by conjecture,) and therefore positively declined all public demonstrations, notwithstanding the Splinters' Guard was soon on the spot, ready to do him escort duty. He, however, retired into the cabin, where, (I say it without envy, for I love a brave soldier,) he took a quiet glass of whiskey and a sandwich with the very honorable "committee of reception." And this being duly noted by the reporters, (one of whom was seen purloining a sandwich or two,) the major gave directions about the care of his pig, ordered his saddlebags upon old Battle, who was weak enough in the extremities, and proceeded to the wharf amidst the deafening acclamations of a hundred ragged urchins, who, notwithstanding the distress of the animal, would have mounted and rode away, but for the kindly interposition of two policemen.
There was standing on the wharf a somewhat dilapidated carriage, to which four lean gray horses, such as are used for drawing all great heroes through the city, were harnessed, and presented so forlorn a figure that one might easily have imagined them employed by the devil to convey to his dominions that shabby class of sinners consigned to him on Sunday evenings by the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher. Into this the distinguished representatives of the great metropolis insisted upon getting the major, that he might be conveyed to the apartments secured for him at the great St. Nicholas Hotel, in a manner becoming so great a politician. But as the major was not quite sure whether his reputation would be best preserved by sticking to the politician, or by dropping the politician, and sticking to his laurels as a military man, he shook his head and hesitated for some time. He was half inclined to dub himself the warrior; and as warriors always appeared best on horseback, he was, to the great delight of the throng, about to mount his faithful animal, assign me his seat in the hero-trap, and follow at a respectful distance. But he bethought himself that both were noble professions; and, surely, to emulate in both must be a prominent desire with all great men. After holding a consultation with me, he said he always remembered the motto: "Great is the man who humbles himself." Being satisfied then that it would not lessen his dignity, nor, indeed, in any way detract from the character of a military politician, who had need enough to look to his laurels, he agreed that Alderman Dan Dooley should ride old Battle. And with this resolve he at once repaired to the carriage, in which he took a seat with the three gentlemen of the committee, leaving me to pick my way as best I could, and drove away for the hotel, (followed at a respectful distance by the loquacious alderman, thus comically mounted,) with this strange string of cattle. And this wonderful cort‚ge was followed by scores of hooting and ragged urchins, who switched old Battle's gambrels, and annoyed him in so many ways, that the alderman at length lost his temper, and was several times forced to dismount and beat back the harassing enemy with stones and such other weapons as he could lay his hands on.