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Remember! I had yet to make their discovery. But I was on the eve of making it.

"I suppose we might call him a romanticist," said I, "might we not?"

As the rider wheeled away I blurted out with anxious loudness in the general hubbub, "Isn't his brother with him?"

Hmm! yes! I wouldn't have got off my horse and leaned over that box to save the Confederacy. "I thank you, Lieutenant, but I can't stop. If you'll hand me up a jacket and pair of shoes I'll sign for them and go. I don't want a hat, but I reckon I'd as well include shoes, although really,--" I glanced down brazenly at the stirrup-leathers that so snugly hid my naked toes.

I stiffened proudly, turned and mounted my steed, but her eyes drew mine. I pressed close, bent over the saddle-bow, and said, "Good-bye, Camille."

"I was so anxious about you," she replied, with feeling, and then broke into a quizzical laugh.

Yet great is precept. Precept is a well. Up from its far depths by slow, humble, constant process you may draw, in a slender silver thread, and store for sudden use, the pure waters of character.

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