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"Um-hm!" I thought; "Charlotte Oliver, eh?" I responded tartly that I had that very morning met four ladies the poetry of whose actual, visible loveliness had abundantly illustrated to me the needlessness and impertinence of fiction! By the way, did he not think feminine beauty was always in its ripest perfection at eighteen?

The ladies smiled; I glowered. "Take those horses by their heads and turn them to me!"

Old Dismukes rose. "Good-night. Shall I send this boy that Yankee's horse?"

Well, you air in a hurry!

He hiccoughed. "Let's--s'--see y' orders."

"Of course no one has seen this despatch, eh?--Oh!"--a smile--"yes? who?"

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