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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."

Certainly no cricket ever dropped blither music from his legs than did my beautiful horse that glorious morning as we clattered in perfect rhythm on the hard clean road of the wide pine forest. Ah! the forest is not there now; the lumbermen--

The General looked at me between puffs of his cigar. "I hear you've ridden over fifty miles to-day."

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

I dilated. "Who told--did Ned Ferry tell you that story?"

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