be despised by the politician, I thought. So, having stocked my purse with not less than two hundred dollars, I arrived safely in New York and put up at the Astor House, an hotel in high favor with ex-secretaries and dilapidated politicians, inasmuch as the worthy landlord accepts the honor of their being guests of his house in satisfaction of his bills. It was night when I arrived, and the splendor and strangeness of everything around bewildered and confused me so much, that I forgot to put the prefix of 'Major' to my name, when I registered it in the big book. And this single omission had the effect of consigning me to an attic room in the ninth story. Having intimated an objection to this lofty position, the polite waiter said it was the most convenient room in the house, since, in case of a fire breaking out I could use
the sky-light, and, having gained the roof, would be rescued by the firemen with their scaling ladders; whereas, a lower position would render me liable to be blockaded and devoured by the rush of flames. I told the polite waiter, who was a gifted Irishman, and though not four months in the country, had taken to politics like a rat to good cheese, that he was entitled to my thanks
for the information. An intimation, however, that I was a Major of some renown, surprised the gifted Irishman not a little. That he conveyed the news to my worthy host I had not a doubt, since on the following day I was removed to a spacious room on the second story.
