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

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.

"Has he a taste for fiction?" I asked, with a depreciative smirk.

"Nor no woman?" I asked, and again across the back of my neck my two companions gazed at each other.

"If I tell you that," said the Captain, "you won't like me the least bit."

"Oh I was forgetting that; yes, do!"

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