André alone seemed firm and collected. He walked erect, and such was his presence of mind when he ascended the scaffold, that happening to soil his coat by pressing against one of the posts, he calmly took out his handkerchief and brushed the dust away. This was a kind of sign and illustration of his life and character. Though he was a spy, he did not die dishonored; but the dignity of his bearing brushed away the soil upon the soldier, and he perished amid the regrets of those whom war had made his enemies, leaving behind him thousands of hearts to mourn his untimely fate. The day after we passed West Point we saw something coming up the river, paddling through the water, and smoking away at a great rate. Mat said it must be a Dutchman, and a cousin to our Captain Volcano; but we were told it was a steamboat! I had heard of such a thing, but had never seen one. There had been a good deal said in the newspapers about one Robert Fulton, who was trying to make vessels go by fire and water, instead of wind. Most people thought Fulton either crazy or a fool, to attempt so hopeless a task. He was laughed at and ridiculed, particularly by that class of people who think themselves the wisest, and who imagine that the only way to live is to make money and keep it. But Fulton was a great man, whose mind was above all this littleness. So, letting the world make itself merry at his expense, he went calmly and patiently on. If he met with a difficulty he labored till he overcame it; sneers, scoffs, gibes, could not turn him from his purpose. He persevered, and at last he triumphed. The engine began to turn the crank, the wheels went round, the paddles took hold of the wave, the boat moved forward, and steam navigation was accomplished! This was the greatest invention of modern times. I am speaking of what happened in 1808, only thirty-four years ago. There are now many thousand steamboats throughout the world. The great rivers are navigated by them, and even the Atlantic is now traversed by steam power. The journey of a week is at present but the trip of a day--a voyage of two months is but the passage of a fortnight. This very Hudson river, upon which Fulton achieved his noble invention, before but a pathway for a few straggling vessels, is now the thoroughfare of millions. It is a literal fact that millions of persons pass up and down this river every year, where before only a few hundred annually performed the trip. Before, it was often a fortnight’s work to get a vessel from New York to Albany; now a steamboat with five hundred passengers will accomplish it in twelve hours! Such are the mighty results, proceeding from one man’s labors. Let us all reflect a moment upon this. What a great blessing is a great man who devotes himself to the good of his country! How ought such a man to be honored! How paltry, how base is that littleness of soul which leads some persons to run down the great and the good--the public benefactor!