General Benthornham's was a double bedded room, and when morning came, and the numerous pet birds in the house were tuning their notes, and stray members of the seventh regiment, in their dashing uniforms, might be seen passing down Broadway to their armory, anxious lest some rival corps rob them of their laurels, and as proud of their feathers as the whistling canaries, the general and his guest still slept, but in such a position, and with such loud snoring, that had a stranger entered the room he would have sworn they had gone to bed prepared for battle, expecting at day light, (the time most fashionable for duel fighting,) to open fire and seriously damage each other's most dependable parts. Verily, reader, do not make me the object of your invective, when I say that it is extremely doubtful if the public at large, to which I am ready at all times to pay homage, ever saw a general officer in his native buff. And this I hold to be the reason why it is so prone to overrate the mightiness of some of those warriors who dash up Broadway on parade days, decked out in such a profuseness of feathers. Indeed it has come to my knowledge that the greatest of generals, when presented with that natural uniform in which their worthy mothers gave them to the world, are in no one particular unlike other men, and in truth that it is the splendid uniform that invests them with an appearance of great possessions and power, before which even great poets and scholars are ready to cast their offerings. Taking this view of the case, then, I pray you to give ear while I relate how the general and the major were seen in a position which I venture to assert few truly great military men were ever seen in, either during war or peace.