"'In that case there is no time to be lost. I will drive to the tailor's and select a uniform at once.'
"With such celerity did I form my plans. The uniform reached me just in time, neatly packed in a tin box, with my name painted on it. I dressed myself in it for the first time when I had crossed the Atlantic, and proceeded to report myself to the Cuban Junta at New York. It was an imposing uniform,—scarlet and gold lace, with a cocked hat and flaunting plumes. It caused no little admiration when, failing to find a more suitable conveyance, I rode to my destination on a tramcar. I doubt not that it would have made an even greater impression than it did if the Cuban Junta had not happened, at the moment of my call, to be represented by a Yankee.
"'Great snakes alive!' was that gentleman's first exclamation, to which I replied with dignity—
"'You are mistaken, sir. I am the new Cuban general—Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski.'
"At this he extended his hand to me cordially, continuing in the quaint language of the United States—
"'Glad to see you, General. Proud to make your acquaintance, sir. Reckon you're going to knock the sawdust out of those durned Spaniards presently. But, in the meantime, if you're in a position to put up the greenbacks, hadn't you better buy a store suit to go on with? Your present outfit, though very striking, is better adapted for dictating terms of peace upon the field of carnage than for the requirements of everyday life in New York City—the more so as there is no purpose to be served by showing our plans under the nose of the U.S. Government.'
"He was evidently a practical man—nearly all Americans are practical men—and I agreed with him that it would be easier to keep a secret in a store suit than in a uniform. It was in my store suit, therefore, that I went down according to his directions, to secure my passage to Cuba on board the paddle-steamer Washington. And here, once again, I found myself face to face with a practical American.
"'What is your name, sir?' he inquired, when I asked that a cabin should be retained for me, and I told him.
"'It is a name that you should know,' I said. 'I am Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski.'
"He did not seem to know me. This time, I imagine, it was my store suit that operated to my disadvantage. He answered me in the usual vernacular—