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

The aide-de-camp laughed like a rustic and vanished. "Smith," said the Major, "your eyes are--"

"Borrowed!" echoed the sergeant. "If he doesn't own that mare no man does."

I said it meant Fisher's battery hurrying to the front. Twenty miles since five that morning was a marvel, horse artillery though they were, for, as I pointed out by many signs, their animals were in ill condition. "We shall have to go round them by neighborhood roads," I said, and presently we were deeper than ever in woodland shades and sources of girlish wonderment. The humid depths showed every sort of green and gray, their trunks, bushes and boughs, bearded with hanging moss, robed with tangled vines and chapleted with mistletoe. We seemed to have got this earth quite to ourselves and very much to our liking.

"Maiden passing fair, turn again thine eyes! Turn again thine eyes, love's true mercy learn.

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