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"Do you want to see him?" I gathered my horse.

Major Harper was the most capable officer on the brigade staff. I had never met a man of such force and dignity who was so modestly affable. His new clerk dined with him that first day, at noon in his tent, alone. Hot biscuits! with butter! and rock salt. Fried bacon also--somewhat vivacious, but still bacon. When the tent began to fill with the smoke of his meerschaum pipe, and while his black boy cleared the table for us to resume writing, we talked of books. Here was joy! I vaunted my love for history, biography, the poets, but spoke lightly of fiction.

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

"Miz Wall!" cried the husband--"She's busy talkin'.--Miz Wall!--she don't hyuh me. I hate to interrupt heh.--Oh, Miz Wall! hyuh's Majo' Harper's clerk, right now!"

"Hi! there goes one of them!--Halt!--Halt, you blue--" pop!--pop!--pop!

"No, not so easy; but those fellows are Arkansans, and they're in a bad humor with me."

"The horse may have to save you," drawled the Arkansan.

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