. I have not known the man,
to whose innate kindliness I would more confidently make an appeal.
    Many characteristics - and those, too, which contribute not the least
forcibly to impart resemblance in a sketch - must have vanished, or been
obscured, before I met the General. All merely graceful attributes are usually
the most evanescent; nor does Nature adorn the human ruin with blossoms of new
beauty, that have their roots and proper nutriment only in the chinks and
crevices of decay, as she sows wall-flowers over the ruined fortress of
Ticonderoga. Still, even in respect of grace and beauty, there were points well
worth noting. A ray of humor, now and then, would make its way through the veil
of dim obstruction, and glimmer pleasantly upon our faces. A trait of native
elegance, seldom seen in the masculine character after childhood or early youth,
was shown in the General's fondness for the sight and fragrance of flowers. An
old soldier might be supposed to prize only the bloody laurel on his brow; but
here was one, who seemed to have a young girl's appreciation of the floral
tribe.
    There, beside the fireplace, the brave old General used to sit; while the
Surveyor - though seldom, when it could be avoided, taking upon himself the
difficult task of engaging him in conversation - was fond of standing at a
distance, and watching his quiet and almost slumberous countenance. He seemed
away from us, although we saw him but a few yards off; remote, though we passed
close beside his chair; unattainable, though we might have stretched forth our
hands and touched his own. It might be, that he lived a more real life within
his thoughts, than amid the unappropriate environment of the Collector's office.
The evolutions of the parade; the tumult of the battle; the flourish of old,
heroic music, heard thirty years before; - such scenes and sounds, perhaps, were
all alive before his intellectual sense. Meanwhile, the merchants and
ship-masters, the spruce clerks, and uncouth sailors, entered and departed; the
bustle of this commercial and Custom-House life kept up its little murmur
roundabout him; and neither with the men nor their affairs did the General
appear to sustain the most distant relation. He was as much out of place as an
old sword - now rusty, but which had flashed once in the battle's front, and
showed still a bright gleam along its blade - would have been, among the
inkstands, paper-folders, and mahogany rulers, on the Deputy
