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"Well, go get some sleep.--No, go at once; you'll be called when needed."

"My dear madam, you don't realize ours. We don't want to imprison women."

I laughed a gay disdain. "Who is Lucius; is he Charlotte's husband?"

Our intercourse became more amiable and the fellow dragged in his advice that I spend the rest of the night at the house of Mr. Oliver. His acquaintance with that gentleman seemed to grow while we talked, and broke into bloom like a magician's rosebush. He described him as a kind old bird who made hospitality to strangers his meat and drink. A conjecture darted into my mind. "Why, yes! that is his married son, is he not, yonder in the cabin; the one with the fair hair?"

"True; but neither are the enemy, and they're early risers, you know."

Glad was I then to be on a true cavalryman's horse that answered the closing of my left leg and moved steadily around till I could see down the bridge. Oliver, after a step or two, stopped. "Turn!" I yelled, and swelled. "One, two,--"

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