Major Roger Potter, who I forgot to mention had been dubbed a General on the preceding evening, lay in a state of stupor, though with evident signs of life, for some hours. Being the guest of the city, no little anxiety was evinced by the physician, who, after exercising great skill in feeling for broken bones and cracks in his skull, declared that he could find neither bruises nor broken bones; but, if appearances were to be taken, he had received such internal injury as must soon put an end to his usefulness in this world, and send him to a better. He therefore got out his lancet, and, after nearly draining his veins of blood, was about to apply a monster plaster to his head, when the patient suddenly opened his eyes and began to give out such extraordinary signs of life that the doctor as suddenly changed his mind, and, laying aside the plaster, at once declared he had the most sanguine hopes of his recovery. Meanwhile a report got over the city that Major Roger Potter was thrown from his horse, and lay a corpse at the New York Hotel. And the newspapers added to this report by inserting the mournful event as a fact. Indeed, the city fathers, who evinced a strange passion for mournings, were well nigh voting a respectable sum to pay proper respect to his remains, for they held it no disgrace to vote sums for melancholy purposes; which, however, they invariably spend in night suppers, over which they give one another bloody noses and black eyes-a distinguishing motto with divers hard headed councilmen. But the major was resolved not to be sent to his long account in so mean a style, and remained with his eyes wide open, and so clearly in possession of his rational senses, that the bystanders, who were all gentlemen of quality, (there not being an opera singer among them,) declared that his power of endurance was without bounds. In truth, it was proven that no amount of battering and bruising could kill so famous a warrior. But, if he opened his eyes, he spoke not a word until the physician was gone, when his lips slowly resumed their power of motion, and he said, in a voice scarcely intelligible, "Quantibus, moribus, canibus, omnibus, ma dormibus." "Pray, what does he say?" inquired the bystanders of one another. "Lambabus, Jehovabus, cananius," resumed the major, following the effort with a deep sigh. "He speaks Latin," replied one of the bystanders; "and as I have a little of that language at my fingers' ends, I recognize that he says, 'Blessed is he who dies in a noble mission.' Yes, there! he repeats it again, and I have it exactly."