No sooner had the showman taken his departure, than three distinguished generals entered, saying they had come to pay their respects to a fellow in arms, whom it was the pleasure of the city to honor. Each approached him with great gravity of manner, and, after shaking him warmly by the hand, presented him with sundry congratulations in what are called neat and appropriate speeches. To which the major replied, thanking heaven that with clean hands and various gifts of the head, he had served his country like a man; and, as his mission was not yet filled, he hoped (if the devil interposed no obstacles) yet to render his country a service such as historians would write of. He now bade them be seated, and ordered an abundance of good wine, of which they partook without objection, and were soon as merry a set of fellows as ever bivouacked; for in truth they readily discovered the mental deficiencies of the major, and, to make up for the deception of which they were made victims by the newspapers, resolved to enjoy the diversion afforded them by the quaintness of the major, who, though he had never put foot in Mexico, at once inquired of them the brigade they belonged to, and what service they had seen in that country. The spokesman of the party, whose bearing bespoke him a man acquainted with arms, and who was as great a wag as Tim Bobbin, immediately answered by saying that they were in the hottest of the battles of Palo Alto, Resaca de la Palma, Metamoras, and Buena Vista. And not to say too much of their bravery, he might mention that they were within smell of the gunpowder that stormed the heights of Cerro Gordo. Indeed, they were in so many battles, and bore away so many scars, that it was impossible to remember them all.