A TALE OF THE LATE BUGABOO AND KICKAPOO CAMPAIGN
La moitié de ma vie a mis l'autre au tombeau.
I CANNOT just now remember when or where I first made the acquaintance of that truly
fine-looking fellow, Brevet Brigadier General John A. B. C. Smith. Some one did
introduce me to the gentleman, I am sure --- at some public meeting, I know very well ---
held about something of great importance, no doubt --- at some place or other, I feel
convinced, --- whose name I have unaccountably forgotten. The truth is --- that the
introduction was attended, upon my part, with a degree of anxious embarrassment which
operated to prevent any definite impressions of either time or place. I am constitutionally
nervous --- this, with me, is a family failing, and I can't help it. In especial, the slightest
appearance of mystery --- of any point I cannot exactly comprehend --- puts me at once
into a pitiable state of agitation.
There was something, as it were, remarkable --- yes, remarkable, although this is but a
feeble term to express my full meaning --- about the entire individuality of the personage
in question. He was, perhaps, six feet in height, and of a presence singularly
commanding. There was an air distingué pervading the whole man, which spoke of high
breeding, and hinted at high birth. Upon this topic --- the topic of Smith's personal
appearance --- I have a kind of melancholy satisfaction in being minute. His head of hair
would have done honor to a Brutus; --- nothing could be more richly flowing, or possess
a brighter gloss. It was of a jetty black; --- which was also the color, or more properly
the no color of his unimaginable whiskers. You perceive I cannot speak of these latter
without enthusiasm; it is not too much to say that they were the handsomest pair of
whiskers under the sun. At all events, they encircled, and at times partially
overshadowed, a mouth utterly unequalled. Here were the most entirely even, and the
most brilliantly white of all conceivable teeth. From between them, upon every proper
occasion, issued a voice of surpassing clearness, melody, and strength. In the matter of
eyes, also, my acquaintance was pre-eminently endowed. Either one of such a pair was
worth a couple of the ordinary ocular organs. They were of a deep hazel, exceedingly
large and lustrous; and there was perceptible about them, ever and anon, just that amount
of interesting obliquity which gives pregnancy to expression.
The bust of the General was unquestionably the finest bust I ever saw. For your life
you could not have found a fault with its wonderful proportion. This rare peculiarity set
off to great advantage a pair of shoulders which would have called up a blush of
conscious inferiority into the countenance of the marble Apollo. I have a passion for fine
shoulders, and may say that I never beheld them in perfection before. The arms
altogether were admirably modelled. Nor were the lower limbs less superb. These were,
indeed, the ne plus ultra of good legs. Every connoisseur in such matters admitted the
