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"Are you not a New Orleans boy?" she asked as I lifted my képi and drew rein.

"Well, no. It's the horse he captured the time he got the Yankee who had him prisoner."

"I've been awake for forty-eight hours, Major. But--oh, I'm not sleepy."

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!"

She struck a mock-sentimental attitude and murmured musically--

The thunder of our own hoofs Was all the sound we heard.

"Whose hand was it; that fellow's, yonder?" Oliver was several paces away.

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