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"Would I not tell my dream, as nice young men in the Bible always did?"

"Well, no. It's the horse he captured the time he got the Yankee who had him prisoner."

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

Even in the character of the goods there was eloquence, and not a drollery in the scene, not even an ugliness, but was touched, was rife, with the woe of a war whose burning walls were falling in on us. And outward, too, upon others; a few up-ended cottonbales leaned against each other ragged and idle, while women and babes starved for want of them in far-away Lancaster.

"We're going to get married, mamma, mamma;

"Why, what does all this mean?" asked Miss Harper amid her nieces' cries.

So there came a silence, and then a gay laugh as three of us at once asked if he had ever heard of Lieutenant Durand. "Durand!" he cried, and looked squarely around at me. I lifted the cocked revolver, but he kept his fine eyes on mine and I rubbed my ear with my wrist. "What?" he said, "an elegant, Creole-seeming young fellow, very handsome? Why, that fellow saved my life this very afternoon."

"Mis-ter Smith! you wrote that?--to-day! Wh'--who is she?"

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