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"No, I would not!" But I had to yield. My dream was that our General had told me a fable. It was of a young rat, which seeing a cockerel, whose tail was scarcely longer than his own, leap down into a barrel, gather some stray grains of corn and fly out again, was tempted to follow his example, but having got in, could only stay there. The boys furnished the moral; it was not complimentary.

"Wish what?"

"Doesn't a good story revive the poetry of our actual lives?" He wiped the rim of his cap with a handkerchief of yellow silk enriched at one corner with needlework.

The aunt and her nieces were standing in the carry-all, she majestic, they laughing and weeping in the one act. I waved them into their seats.

"Yes," I said, and handed her, as I dismounted, the General's gift, the pass.

"'The beating of our own hearts

"We'll call it yours now," he replied. "Kendall picked it up, but he has no need of it."

"But, eh!" I exclaimed, "how could ever such as she mistake him for--"

"Yes," I dishonestly responded, "his polished irreligion--"

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