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"Good-bye, New Orleans soldier-boy," she said, gaily, and as I raised my cap she gave herself a fetching air and added, "I'll wager I know your name."

The aide-de-camp laughed like a rustic and vanished. "Smith," said the Major, "your eyes are--"

"That will do. Now, beyond Fayette, about seven miles north, there's a place--"

"Don't interrupt me, Smith. Yes, Clifton. You're not to reach there to-night--"

"Too warm?"

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