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"Good-bye, New Orleans soldier-boy," she said, gaily, and as I raised my cap she gave herself a fetching air and added, "I'll wager I know your name."

"We smuggled it through!" chanted the trio, ready to weep for virtuous joy. And then they clasped arms like the graces, about their aunt, and let her speak.

"Oh! And where is the battery?"

I remarked that had I been in her place I should either have sunk into the mire, so to speak, or thrown myself, literally, into the river.

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