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

"I shall count myself honored," said I, and we went, together and alone.

"And the one following, almost at his side?"

"Yes,"--she put away gaiety--"your orders are plain; and they're as cruel as they are plain!"

Our intercourse became more amiable and the fellow dragged in his advice that I spend the rest of the night at the house of Mr. Oliver. His acquaintance with that gentleman seemed to grow while we talked, and broke into bloom like a magician's rosebush. He described him as a kind old bird who made hospitality to strangers his meat and drink. A conjecture darted into my mind. "Why, yes! that is his married son, is he not, yonder in the cabin; the one with the fair hair?"

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