even to the length of his keeping hidden in his bedroom the three
presentation swords which had been given him at different times for
distinguished action on the field. One came from the men of his
regiment, one from his townspeople after his return from the City of
Mexico, and one from the people of the State of New York; and nothing
I could say would induce him to bring them downstairs to our sitting
room, where visitors might see them. Personally, I cannot understand
what a presentation sword is for except to show to your friends; for,
as a rule, they are very badly balanced and of no use for fighting.

Had it not been for the colored prints of the different battles in
Mexico which hung in our sitting room, and some Indian war-bonnets and
bows and arrows, and a box of duelling pistols, no one would have
supposed that our house belonged to one of the most distinguished
generals of his day. You may be sure I always pointed these out to our
visitors, and one of my chief pleasures was to dress one of my
schoolmates in the Indian war bonnet, and then scalp him with a
carving knife. The duelling pistols were even a greater delight to me.
They were equipped with rifle barrels and hair triggers, and were
inlaid richly with silver, and more than once had been used on the
field of honor. Whenever my grandfather went out for a walk, or to
play whist at the house of a neighbor, I would get down these pistols
and fight duels with myself in front of the looking-glass. With my
left hand I would hold the handkerchief above my head, and with the
other clutch the pistol at my side, and then, at the word, and as the
handkerchief fluttered to the floor, I would take careful aim and pull
the trigger. Sometimes I died and made speeches before I expired, and
sometimes I killed my adversary and stood smiling down at him.

My grandfather was a member of the Aztec Club, which was organized