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gI MVER TEMPTEBHER!"
he American Rural Home. -fts They stood looking at each other." Her trembling Iiands were firmly '^clasped in his slim brown ones. His dark eyes burned with sup "pressed passion and bravely-borne "V mental anguish. Her blue ones widened at the horror *r ol their position, and darkened with the unspeakable despair that had set tled on her soul like a black pall. She a wifethe wife of a coarse, bru- \J*t* tal man, it is trueAnd he, her friend \2t ft years. '""^T) Without one wdrd, one act, the knowledge had this day come to them that they were dearer to each other than the laws of man would allow. TTP s,poke. D- -'ou think I am a good man?" OFPK dothe best, grandest, noblest!" nd you know there never will be vppiness for us together?" Nor apart!" ''After to-day w must never meet ain!" she raised her streaming eyes to -gThose tears! tev unmanned him. r\R. A Mth a wild impulse, he put out his ns and drew her to his side, almost cely. He crushed her slight form Offli his heart, jrj- "Valeria, I cannot bear it! I must go!" "Manly, mustl tell you to go? Must you up forever?" she moaned, tting her arms about his neck, andd Offiopping hei chestnut head one his NEW ias di me!" ledid not speak,th 1 for, in a S tl a I 1 Vbti An he only held her more sely. He did^ not say, "Fate is 1'" or,'"Wbywill be happy in our "Ge AttO or i ?mpt her word or act to break that held her to an un- fhjonds i _,. husband. i! auj NE' JOP *h O) ta raised her face. He kissed the tic es of her hair.her brow.her cheeks, lions i lips. It was as if she were dead, KSnd he was kissing her for the first an jq-j3Vasf time before the coffin lid closed ver her cold face. pT She shook as if with a sudden ague. Jhe knew so well what those kisses 4Hi neant which she received passively. 3he knew so well what the future meant for her. As she clung to him she felt as if life itself were leaving her! It would have been a merciful thing. "Good-bye!" he said, abruptly. "For all time!" she answered. Then he went away. As the door closed after him she sank on the floor, lying prostrate, with 1 her face turned down on her outstretch ed arms. 'Afc- "Have mercy upon me! Have mer fcy upon mer" she moaned. Was she praying to her lover or to her Maker? God knows. The little burgh of Crossley was startled and thrown into a hubbub of speculation, when it was rumored that Manly Cresswell, its most pop ular bachelor and most prosperous merchant, was going to South Amer- Cress?"d I"Butdwhat ha been his boyhoo home, and everyone was familiar with him. "Because I want to go," heaiva all inquiries. And no one in all the town W|| -*he went xcept one broke -w^Tianand she dared not W"" it is because he loves rue! f^ God alone knew what he suffered. ,*%Jf*f in ^outh America he was mak- f*$IP Herfortune /red ?hy .ted 'old nerself, as she lay upon her bed", feeling ill unto death. She had not seen him since that awful day. That was his last good-bye. The next news was that Valeria 'Crabbe was attacked wi' a low nerv ous fever that seemed J-*1 iJ1 vitality, for when she illness, she was no longei' plump and rosy matron o"y'ti ,7e *head of'all social pleasures,h"and an iinc a'nong the poor. Grief made her selfish. She could jot bear to mingle with those who spoke Manly's name carelessly. It W seemed like a sacrilege to her. She could not bear to go to those places where she had met him mostfrequent ly. for it seemed as if she would shriek i lier jsecret aloud to a scandalized world. She lived in the memory of her past ^friendship for him. So often she need ed sympathy and aid, and then the i knowledge would come to her like a i teen stilleto thrust, that he had gone *out of her life forever! I Her only form of prayer now was: "O God! Let me see him! Let me see him!" But she knew her prayer would nev I er be answered! i She knew Manly Cresswell loved hon i or more than he loved her! He would never come back to her! He must love another than her! He must have his own home, his own -1 -wife, his cwn circle of friends, which slie would never enter! 0 God! God! How can I bear this i. sorrow all my lile?'' She would moan. She seemed to be going mad' Her x-r restless, sleepless nights were robbing \g her of all bloom and youth! She did not oare! What was the ad miration of men to her? What were Fashion's decrees or follies? Hope was dead, joy slain, youth lost! Duty? What was duty to her? Ambition? What was ambition? Religion? God help her, but her soul was so steeped in its awful despair, 'jjjf -she had almost forgotten the story of Christ! ftp Sometimes she seemed to be near her beloved. His spirit seemed to com- 1!^ mune with hers, and she could feel the W%\1 touch of his hands and lips, see the ll^f, light of his dear eyes, and hear theten JpX'i der accents of his voice! ip^' But in her dreams, he seemed ever &0& vO avoid heralways there was a bar fckJ?I rier between them! I by his 8br3Ww4ss and lent man was not like the genial, sun ny-natured man that Crossley "had known. He was not popular with the ladies, for he did not smile and jest, and shower attentions on them as they hoped for. He treated them with grave politeness, but it was soon known that he was not a marrying man. At the end of two years he received this letter: "They tell me I shall never get well. I want you. But if you feel you can not bear the partingif you feel that it is best not to see medo not come!" He did not go. "How can I see her die9" Human hearts are curious things. & r'i i_j.jnwyWWf) Eight more years- passed. A great yearning to see his old home took possession of Manly Cresswell. "Perhaps I may see her grave. O Valeria, would God I had died instead of thee!" "He was welcomed home cordially, but no one recognized in the bearded, 3ilent man, the once good comrade, Manly Cresswell. "And where is your wife, Cresswell?" "I have none-" "What! Are you a bachelor yet?" "As I have said." "Not even a widower? Without a sweetheart?" "No widower, and no sweetheart. Tell me of all my friends." "They are all here." "None dead? None married? None gone?" "Let me seeyes, Rosa Tate mar ried soon after you went away. I be lieve you loved her once?" "Not I. The only woman I ever loved died years ago." "Now who could that be?" "I'll never tell, and you could never guess. Any more news?" "Wellyes, perhaps you remember that drunken fellow, Crabbeyes, well he went to Waco, Texas, about eight years ago. The doctor thought a change might help his wife, but I heard she died soon after they got there. He drank himself to death about a year ago, but they say he left considerable property in spite of his dissipation. "And he, too, is buried in Waco?" "Yes." "Well, good-by. I am off on the next train." "What for?" "Important business in another city." Day and niaht lie traveled till he reached the city of Waco. What business had he there? Only to find a grave' 0 Christ! forgive me! I alone am responsible for her death! Valeria, if I had remained near thee, thou wouldst not, thou shouldst not have died! Would God I could die and be with thee?" A quiet, but travel-worn gentleman got off the train and accosted the first hackman he saw. "My friend, I wish to go to the ceme- tery." "All right, sir," said the surprised cabby. "Did you ever hear the name Crab be? Being a hackman perhaps you know." "Yes, sir, I do remember the name. He was quite rich, but di?d a year ago." "Perhaps you could show me his grave?" "I can show you his monument, the finest I ever saw, and just put up." "Is his wife buried near him?" A queer smile played around cabby's lips. "I don't think she is." Manly dreaded lest his love for the dead woman should become known, so briefly commanding, "Go ahead!" he sprang into the vehicle. The cemetery was soon reached.and the man pointed out the gleaming monument. Manly sought it, anxiously scanning all the names of the dead as he pass ed. He came up to the monument. But what was this? A slender, black-robed figure sat op posite, regarding him. With one stride he was by the wom an. "Who are you?" She raised her eyes/ "I am Valeria Crabbe!" "Valeria? Oh, it cannot be possible! I have mourned you as dead so many years'" "Manly!" "Yes, it is I! Come to me now, my love' Nothing stands between us!" She rose. But was this his Valeria? This hollow-eyed, hollow-cheeked, wan woman with the gray waves of hair? "Manly, look at me. I am no longer young. At thirty-eight 1 am as aged as if I were fifty-eight. Can it be that you mean that you love me?" "I do' I do!" he cried, "and see!" he lifted his hat. His hair was snow white. "I, too, bear the signs of age and suffering. At forty-two I look like an old man, but in my heart there has never dwelt but one womanyou on- ly." She sighed wearily as his strong arms closed about herhis lips sought hers. "Oh, is it true? Am I to be your wife? Am I to live with you till I die?" "God willing'" "It must be a dream! I have dreamed so often of being thusin your arms, hearing your voice, seeing the love light in your eyes!" "But this is no dream. Come, let us go away from here. Where do you live?" "I have boarded at a hotel ever since he died. My son is at school in Nashville. He is almost a man now eighteen. I have kept him in school at Naslwjille for five years. I have not wished that he should knowjust howhis father livedand died!" She seeined to have great difficulty in ut- terA the words. "Valeria, to-morrow sees you my wife." "So soon!" she murmured. "Is it too soon, love? Remember the past ten years." 'Twill do just as you say," she an swered, dutifully. They reached he hotel. have a privatr sitting room," she informed him. "-wv-ij' y%BP "Very well, I will go there." She ordered dinner for two sent to them. While dining, ne said: "You must go to-day and select a suitable dress. You shall not come to me in mourning." She smiled slowly. It was so sweet to know that he would soon be her legal lord and master, as he had long been in spirit. He accompanied her to purchase the suit. At firsst she demurred. "People may talk!" "Valeria, what are people to us? We are all the world!" So she submitted. Two suits, a grey ana a warm Drown were laid out for her inspection. She preferred the grey. "No," objected he, "it is too old! Take the brown with the garnet collar and cuffs!" She laughed outright. "But I am too old." He looked at her. "I will take the brown suitbon net and all," she told the clerk meek- Then she paid the bill, left her num ber, and they went out into the glori fied sunlight once more. "Now, let us settle about our home. I shall not return to South America. I have sufficient fortune for you and me, and I suffered too deeply there ever to eare to return. Where would you go? Will you wish to stay here in Waco, or return to Crossley?" She clung more tightly to his arm. "Neither. Let us make a new home you and I." "Where?" "I have always loved Louisville." "Louisville it shall be, then," and he looked at her so fervently, she be gan to be afraid that he would kiss her there in the street. Her landlord regretted to lose so quiet and such a promptly paying boarder as Mrs. Crabbe, but he'cheer fully furnished all the information and help the "South American" desired, and prepared an elegant wedding breakfast for the pair, who were mar ried in Mrs. Crabbe's own private sit ting-room at 10 a. m. the next morn ing. As the train rolled away from the depot, Valeria leaned closer to her husband. "Dear, I have known such sorrow, such despair such sufferingtell me if it is all passedtell me that you will never regret making me your wife." "Love, is there any need for words between us?" A year later. Who is this pretty, pink-cheeked, bright-eyed, plump woman, with the gray waves of hair, who trips so light ly up Market .street in Louisville? Presently two gentlemen meet her. One is white-haired, but genial look ing, the other is a blue-eyed youth of nineteen. "Mother, you are in good time." "Valeria, you are prompt." Yes, Valeria Cresswell has found the fountain of youth in this good man's love! Proct or Knott's Story. Gov. Proctor Knott, of Kentucky, was in Cincinnati a few days ago. "I will not talk politics," he said, "but I will tell you an incident of four con stituents of mine who called on me once when I was in Congress." "If there's anyone thing we'd rather hear than an opinion on politics it's to hear you tell a story." "Well, I had to run down to New York for a few days, and while there I met my friends from the old common wealth. They were all majors and colonels, and had never been out of the state before. They in sisted that I go around with them to call on A. T. Stewart. I explained to them that my presence could do them no good that I didn't care for Stew art, and I was pretty certain that he didn't care anything for me. The truth of the matter was I didn't want to give the old gentleman a chance to humiliate me in any way, as I had heard a good deal of hisgruffness. But my friends said they wouldgo anyhow. That night I went to one of the thea ters, and had a nice seat in the par quet. Glancing to the right, I saw my constituents a box nodding and smiling to me. I returned the saluta tion, and my acquaintance near me remarked that my friends must be very intimate with A. T. Stewart. "Why so?' I inquired in astonish ment. 'Because they are in his private box. which he engages by theyear,and to which only his most intimate friends are invited.' "When the curtain went down after the first act I strolled around to in quire into the matter. They had called oil Mr. Stewart in his counting room. The merchant looked up grim ly, and Col. Boone stepped forward as spokesman, and unbosomed an ava lanche ofuativeeloquence. "Mr. Stew- art," said he, 'we are a party of Ken tuckians seeing the sights. We have been to Washington, sir, and called upon the President, upon Gen. Sher man, the members of the Cabinet and the most distinguished statesmen of the national capital, and now, sir, we feel that our trip would not be com plete should we go home without see ing the Napoleon of merchants, who has made for himself a name that is celebrated the world over, and who has more talent in his line than the statesmen and generals we have called on have in theirs. Now, Mr. Stewart we will mot detain you a moment we have palid our respects and we will go.' Mr. Stewart would not allow it, though. He threw down his pen and conducted them through his establish ment personally. After they had made the rounds they found an ele gant collation awaiting them, includ ing champagne and old Kentucky bourbon. As they were departing tho great merchant shook each of them by the hand and gav them cards admit ting them to his private box during their stay in the city. That's how they came to be in Stewart's box at tha theatre." "SB*M ^w^jy^ 9%^. wjggi^w&hdPk&f* AMERICAN PECULIARITIES XTFO Xbung: EngHahmen Write a Idttl Booh. In a little book entitled "So En glish" are set forth the impressions and experiences of two well-born, well bred young Britons, who, having reached the last ditch of aristocratic impecuniosity at home, come to Amer ica in pursuit of fortune. One o* them is a merry, happy-go-lucky young fellow, who says nothing about his pove.-ty, makes friends by the do^en, becomes a pet in society and finally marries an American heiress. The other, of a different type, more reserved and less enthusiastic, does not take kindly to the unfamiliar ways of a stratge land, refuses to pre sent his letters, and, after a struggle to maintain himself by writ'ng, dies piteously ol consumption in his poor lodging. To th personage are as cribed most of the discontented com ments on Americans and American life. "If I am really asked," he says, "what strikes me in particular it is the extraordinary patience of the Americans as a race." Take a tram-car, for instance. Look at tbe poor, patient people who submit to be penned together like sheep. They trample on each other in the meekest manner at the slightest word of commend from their shep herd, in the shape of the conductor, who shouts, "Move up there,." "Go up to the end," "Make room in that cor- ner," and so on, the obedience and dis cipline are perfect, and, to my abso lute shame, I look around upon the unruffled countenances of the passen gers, and reah/e the fact that I alone feel irritated. It quite annoys me, as I used rather to pride myself upon my good temper. And then walking in the streets, people jostle and push, but no one seems to mind. I have ob served a man almost shoved into the gutter he doesn't even turn to look at the person who shoved him, but passes patiently on. Its part of his daily burden, I suppose, and he just bears it. And then I find something to marvel at in the amount of annoy ance that people will put up with. The other day, in the Pullman car, there were three children who talked for five mortal hours, and in the intervals of those delightful sounds they wandered around and occupied themselves in pawing and patting the passengers. Now for five hours thK is rather wear ing for no one can ither read nor sleep, and after all the children are strangers, and cannot be expected to interest other people very greatly but to my amazement no one seemed to mind except myself, and all the while the mother sat pacidly smiling at her little darlings. Perhaps I ought not to say that people didn't mind, but they minded and suffered without re monstrance, thereby showing their patience, and proving that they were undoubtedly possessed of angelic tem pers. The other Engltshmnn, though less critical, sometimes expresses his won der at what he considers American peculiarities. "Have you observed," he says to his companion, "how eveiy one here is esteemed according to his health?" The other day, when I was walking with a fellow, we stopped to speak to a man, and when the conversation was over and we parted I said, "What a brute that chap seems!" "Hush," replied my friend, quite horror-struck, "y ju have no idea how rich he is why, he has millions." "Ican'thelpit,"Ireplied "it doesn't make a man look nice, does it?" "Oh but," remarked this worshiper of money, "he's awfully rich, and wealth is power all the Avorld over, you know." Barchaft, he really seemed quite dum-struck at my audacity in daring to speak disrespectfully of a man of millions. "Well," said Charley, "I think I can beat that. The other day, when I was sitting atDelmonico's, 'seeinglife,'you know, which for me is rather a rare sight now, a waiter came up, and in the tone of delivering a message from a king, said: "Mr. Z would like to speak to you, sir he is over there Well, I didn't know Mr. Z, and I said, 'Who is he, and what does he want?' 'Oh, Z,' said one of our party, he's fabulously rich, you must go and speak to him. He's got a lovely place in the country, and will do you prop erly if you make friends with him.' Now, as you can imagine, it didn't seem good for me to go trotting after an absolute sti anger just be cause he was rich, and to the aston ishment of all, including the waiter, I didn't get up and run, but told the waiter to inform Mr. Zthat I should be glad to see him if he wanted to speak to me, and I added, by way of ?xplanation for this (to them) some what curious conduct, 'You see I don icnow how rich he is, and if I went over to him I might iot go fast 2nough or something. Now if when sending for me he had at the same time sent me over a slip of paper, with nis exact wealth thereon inscribed, then I would at once have started off. for I should have known the correct pace which would have best suited the figures.' Well, Cis, thej didn't laugh, nor even smile, but looked at me as it I had talked blasphemy. It ended by Mr. Z, a fat man, who wouldn't look di&tingue in a pantry, coming over to me and telling me he had met some of my people in London. This was, of course, most gratifying infor mation, and the condescension of it almost overpowered me. I said I was very glad, but who I was glad for, my own relations, or the fat millionaire, I really didn't know myself and then, after a few polite platitudes, we started to resume our respective seats as before, not quite as before though, for all the other people who were that night out 'seeing life' had seen me speak to the great man, and while they asked each other who I was, and the very waiters treated me with a perceptible increase of deference and respect, I felt that I was shining in the reflection of a glory not my own, and that perhaps I ought to have got up and run after all." "Ha, ha!" laughed Cis, "I like to hear yow talk in your old sarcastic tones again it makes me think you're not so bad, and that I had my fright for nothing. But I had an experience the other day," he continued. "One of my swagger young dudes took me aside and said he wanted to say some thing, and hoped I shouldn't mind. 'Fire away,' I said, 'I like listening whereupon this proper young man, this book of etiquette upon two legs and a silver-headed cane, proceeded to tell me, that I had committed a social crime 'for,' said he, 'I think I saw you walking with Brown the other day, didn't I (now Brown is ahorse dealer.) 'Yes,' I admitted. 1 plead guilty to having walkedhe with, Brown. What then?' 'Well,7 awvindlnL awaSy andpondered.1 Before Antietam. mmmmmmm said 'people don't like that sort of thing out here. People receive you, you know, and are awfully civil to you", of course, but they expect you not to be seen in public with fellows in trade like that.' 'But,'said I amazed, 'didn't we meet at Mrs. Robinson's the other night, those awfully rich people, and didn't the late lamented Mr. Rob inson make his money out of horses?' 'Ah, yes,' drawled my mentor, 'that's very different, you know it's years since the Robinson's retired from bus iness.' 'Well,' said I, 'I confess I can't see the distinction, though I do ob serve the difference, which is that Rob inson made his money, and Brown is now making his.' *Yes, that's the idea.' was the reply, 'but you see it's awfully different, and one has to be very careful not to know outsiders.' Well, Charlie, I thanked him for his 4. o-u J. as in^s- delighted at the discovery of new S"* ^Jsff^jf mmmmmmmmmm THE HOUSE. GLADSTONE IN How He Dominates the Entire Assembly His Power in Debate. London correspondent of The New York Times. There is an indescribable fascination in watching the great man as he sits toward the outer end of the govern men bench listening toa "debate. It may be that this is, not his invariable rule, but at least I ha\e never happen ed to see him in the house in any oth er garb than evening dress, -with a wi der expanse of shirt front than is or dinarily wotn even here, where very much linen is the fashion. He leans back comfortably, with one thin leg over the other, and with his eyes mus ingly fixed on the great mace on the table before him, when in repose. The full top light shines on his long, bald crown, his clustering gray side locks and his shirt front, anct makes him the conspicuous object of every eye. About 10 or 11 o'clock in the evening he always writes his daily letter to the queen, using a pad on his icnee and a quill pen, and it is one of tne most familiar of his curious wr Whe I tale lion prp positionand the these upon its emotions at will, blanch its cheeks, quicken its pulses, command iti wildest plaudits, but after the speech was over the votes would be cabt just as if it had not been made. There are no such physical excitements in listening to Mr. Gladstone. He doe3 not storm your senseshe con quers your reason, convinces your judgment. This tiemendous power of persua sion is the key to the whole man. It accounts for both his strength ami Ins weakness. He is so superb, so match less an arguer that he can lead Enghbh sentiment around after him wherever he wants to go. But he is also so on deiful a casuist that he peruadt even himself out of his own judgment sometimes, and then leader and led alike go into the ditch. Sentiment and shrewdness are curiously mingled his mental control He may be as cautious and wary as Machiavelh,. up to a certain point then he will be for a time as open and unsuspecting as Lady Jane Greyand then all at once flame forth with the passionate fervor of a Loyola. Yet all the time he will be, in his intentions, deeply conscien tious and sincere. Toward whatever point of the compass his steps may really be directed, his moral vision will be fixed upon the north star of political enfranchisement and advancement. Hence it has happen ed that while the clever men of his party, able at least to see that he was temporarily in the wrong path, have often held aloof from him, the masses of the English people, having supreme faith in his intentions, have followed him blindly through good and e\ il re port. And noAV, when Mr. Goschen and Lord Harington feel constrained from one point of view to part com pany with him, and Messrs. Chamber lain and Trevelyan from a widely different standpoint are threatening to desert him, I believe that the peo ple of England! are more united in sympathy with him and support of him than they have ever been before. Be that as it mayand the question will soon be put to the testthere will be no dissent to the proposition that the house of commons will be another and different body when he drops o.ud of it. *iN ay that this occupation never prevents his hearing acutely ah thatisgouuon. All at once you will see him stop wi it ing and screw his head to one side hke a very wise old bird, and you may know that he has heard which interests him. If the speakins happens to be unusually good he will turn and looku alte thee orator steadily, op osomethingt th S ht s3 legionare attackinname him,ofe customsi arily draws his head down into his collar and looks stonily at them but if the assault be from somebody worth listening to, say Churchill or Smith, he listens more graciously, expressing on his strikingly mobile face as the in dictment goes on all his emotions amusement, interest, dissent, indigna tion, scorn, elation. No great actor I ever knew better how to show forth I more varied feelings in all their inten sity on his face. And then to see him I nod his head, or slowly shake it, in re sponse to some controversial asser tion! Lord Burleigh's nod could not have been more subtly eloquent. When he rises to his feet a great hush falls over the house. It would not be exact to say that all eyes are turned upon him, because he is at all times the focus of observation, but a light of interested expectancy comes into every face. He begins in a low tone of voice, but there is such abso lute silence that his first words are never inaudible and rarely indistinct. He has been making notes during the speech he is to answer, but he will not refer to them once he is on his feet. His form as he stands at the side of the table, upon which he lightly rests one hand, does not seem as tall as it really is, so delicately is it propor tioned. I wish there were words in which to convey the sound and fiber of his voice, tor until you are able to associate this with your image of the man the mental picture fails. It is un like any other voice, just as Saiah Bernhardt's is it has in itself thepou er of generating new sensations, new thoughts in the listenei's mind, it seems to have something of primor dial weirdness in its suggestionslike the ocean or the "forest primeval." Of oratory, as such, there will not be much. There will be nothing at all to recall Wendell Phillips or Web ster, or to suggest Castelar or Gam betta. It is not even the eloquence of Bright or of Joseph Cowen. There are no gestures, save limited move ments with one hand there are no swelling outb irsts of the voice, no tricks of rounded elocutional periods. One feels only at the outset that a I great man is terribly in earnest then, as the slow, careful, logical sweep of speech goes on one feels that this earn estness is contagiouone catches its spirit, hangs approvingly upon its de velopment, thrills with enthusiasm at its climax of conclusions. The great orators^ whom I havs named could Gen. John C. Walker contributes an article on the Antietam campaign, en titled "Harper's Ferry and Rharps- burg," to the June Century from it we quote as follows: The next day we reached the neigh borhood of Frederick. I went at once to General Lee, who was alone. After listening to my report he said that as I had a division which would often, perhaps, be ordered on detached ser vice, an intelligent performance of my duty might require a knowledge of the ulterior purposes and objects of the campaign. "Here," said he, tracing with his fin ger on a large map, "is the line of our communications, from Rapidan Sta tion to Manasses, thence to Frederick. It is too near the Potomac, and is lia ble to be cut any day by the enemy's cavalry. I have therefore given or ders to move the line back into the Valley of Virginia, by way of Staunton Harrisonburg, and Winchester, en tering Maryland at Shepardstown. "I wish you to return to the mouth of the Monocacy and effectually de stroy the aqueduct of the Chesapeake and Ohio canal. By the time that is accomplished you will receive orders to co-operate in the capture of Har per's*Ferry, will rejoin us at Hagers town where the army will be concen trated. My information is that there are between 10,000 and 12,000 men at Harper's Ferry, and 3,000 at Mar tinsburg. The latter may escape to ward Cumberland but I think the chances are that they will take refuge at Harper's Ferry and be captured. "Besides the men and material of war which we shall capture at Har per's Ferry, the position is necessary to us, not to Garrison and hold, but in the hands of the enemy it would be a break in our new line of communi cation with Richmond. "A few days' rest at Hagerstown will be of great service to our men. Hundreds of them are bare-footed, and nearly all of them are ragged. I hope to get shoes and clothing for the most needy. But the best of it will be that the short delay will enable us to get up our stragglersnot stragglers from a shirking disposition, but simply from inability so keep up with their commands. I believe there are not less than from eight to ten thousand of them between here and Rapidan Station. Besides these, we shall be able to get a large number of electrify a legislative osseinblage~play recruits who have been accumulating at Richmond for some weeks. I have now requested that they be sent for ward to join us. They ought to reach us at Hagerstown. We shall then ha\e a very good army," and he smilingly added- "One that 1 think will be able to give a good account of itself." "In ten days from now," he contin ued, "jf the military situation is then what I confidently expect it to be aft er the capture of Harper's Ferry, I shall concentrate the army at Hagerstown, effectually destroy the Baltimore & Ohio road, and march to this point," placing his finger at Harrisburg, Penn sylvania. "That is the objective point of the campaign. You remember, no doubt, the long bridge of the Penn sylvania railroad over the Susquehan na a few miles west of Hamsburg. Well, I wish effectual^ to destroy that bridge which will disable the Pennsyl vania railroad for a long time. With the Baltimore and Ohio in our pos session, and the Pennsylvania railroad broken up, there will remain to the en emy but one route of communication with the west, and that very circuit ous by way of the lakes. After that I can turn my attention to Philadelphia, Baltimore or Washington, as may seem best for our interests." I was very much astonished at this announcement, and I suppose he ob served it, for he turned to me and said: "You doubtless regard it hazardous to leave McClellan practically on my line of communication, and to march into the heart of the enemy's coun- try?" I admitted that such a thought had occurred to me. "Are you acquainted with General McClellan?" he inquired. I replied that we had served together in the Mexican war under General Scott, but that I had seen but little of him since that time. "He is an able general, but a cau tious one. His enemies among his own people think him too much so. His army is in a demoralized and chaotic condition, and will not be pre pared for offensive operationsor he will not think it sofor three or four weeks. Before that time I hope to b on the Susquehanna." i I mam 4 -jrt ^frmfrffir