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s great battles, and the man who commanded the troops a great general. Those were the days of the pigmies in contrast with the gigantic race of the present day, and the gigantic achievements which they have already accomplished, and by which they are to be still more distinctly marked than they yet have been. Mexico, and its Lillipution combats, are fast fading from the memory of mankind. There is one individual, however, that will never forget them. That is General Winfield (or rather Wingfield) Scott. The memory of this old man, with regard to himself and his exploits (such as they were), is remarkably tenacious. "Oh! oh! you have forgotten Lundy's Lane," said Scott, groaning with affected pain, to Mr. Clay, when, on one occasion, the veteran orator, in a moment of hilarity, clapped him upon the shoulder which had been wounded in that much-be-praised engagement. "I had forgotten it," was the reply. "I had forgotten it, but you never do." Scott can never forget the time when he