th Arty., N. Y. V., is
hereby relieved from duty as Asst. Provost Marshal and will
without delay report to his Company Commander for duty.

II. Lieut. H. B. Smith, Co. D., 5th Arty., N. Y. V., is hereby
appointed Asst. Provost Marshal and will without delay assume
the duties of that office.

P. A. PORTER,
Col. 8th N. Y. V. Arty.
Com. Post.

Lieut. H. B. SMITH,
D. Co., 5th Reg., N. Y. V., Arty.,
Fort McHenry, Md.

Right here was begun what led up to my ultimately becoming a
full-fledged secret service operator. Born in the green foot-hills of
the Catskill Mountains (near where Rip Van Winkle dozed), I learned my
"A B abs" in the little brown school house at Cornwallville. Father died
when I was four years old. Mother traded the farm for some New York
tenements, and we all located there, when I was ten years old. I
attended the public schools where I was properly "hazed" and got what
was "coming" to all country boys; finally I graduated under the tutelage
of Dr. Joseph Finch (a patriot indeed, who made a lasting impress for
earnestness on thousands of boys), and then went to business as an entry
clerk with a large importing metal house, where I remained until the war
broke out. You will therefore see I had had no former experience (my age
was 22 years) and whatever wit I had for such service was inborn or
home-made. Zeal I know I had; perhaps its birth was from a chalk legend
some pedagogue had inscribed over the door-frame in the little brown
school house, reading: "What man has done, man can do." At any rate I
have remembered it.

My education in the burning political questions had been sharply marked
by the presidential campaign of 1860. My brothers, A. P. and Burdette,
were "Douglas" Democrats. My fellow clerk, Clarence W. Meade (later
Judge Meade), was a "Bell and Everett" Democrat. I was a born "Lincoln"
Republican. So between the discussions at the house and the office, I
was somewhat sharpened. I remember how I struggled against their
arguments that Lincoln was an uneducated, uncultured rail-splitter. I
knew of his discussions with Douglas, but never did I completely
vanquish them until Mr. Lincoln delivered his Gettysburg oration, and
"that ball fetched all the pins and knocked a hole through the alley."
And it must be noted that I thought myself, somewhat like a Demosthenes,
for I had practiced in that little school house on "Twinkle, Twinkle,
Lit