the ball comes that will end me.”      

       {Footnote 1: His words.}     

       And dashing a tear from his eyes, Stuart walked to the door of his tent, from which he gazed forth upon the stars.     

       Five minutes passed thus, and I did not speak. Then all at once I heard Stuart call out: “Orderly!”      

       “Yes, sir,” came from the man on post near the tent.     

       “Tell Sweeney to come and bring his banjo!”      

       And walking fifty steps, Stuart caressed the glossy neck of his mare “Lady Margaret,” who was tethered to a bough, and looked around affectionately at her master.     

       When he returned he was humming “The dew lay on the blossom,” and following him was Sweeney—the same old Sweeney!—ever mild, courteous, almost sad, doffing his cap, saluting with simple grace, and tuning his banjo.     

       In a moment the tent, the wooded knoll, the whole vicinity was ringing with the uproarious notes of the mirth-inspiring banjo; and Sweeney was chanting, as only that great master could chant, the mighty epic of the sabreurs of Stuart:—     

   “If you want to have a good time Jine the cavalry, Bully Boys, hey!”  

       The staff and couriers quickly assembled, the servants were grouped in the starlight, the horses beneath the boughs turned their intelligent heads—and leading in the uproarious chorus might have been heard the sonorous and laughing voice of Stuart.     

  

  

       VI. — STUART’S INSTINCT.     

       The festivities were kept up until nearly midnight.     

       Then Stuart yawned; said with a laugh, “Good morning, gentle-men”        as was his habit when he wished to work; and the tent was soon deserted.     

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