taysom hill byu jersey

when, just as our last note died among the trees one of us cried, "Listen!" and through the stillness there came from far away on our right the last three measures of a bugle sounding The March.

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

I snatched the document from my bosom, into which I had thrust it to seize the General's hand "Oh, Gholson!" I said, in deep-toned grief, as I looked up from the superscription, "is that honest!"

I mumbled something about never wishing to tempt any one.

"Charlotte Oliver!"

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