All established rules of the house of “J. Dunlap” were as the laws of the Medes and Persians to David Chapman, inviolable. When the hour of twelve struck and neither Mr. John Dunlap nor Mr. Burton appeared at the office, the Superintendent immediately proceeded to the residence of Mr. Dunlap. “I am sorry, Chapman, to have given you the trouble of coming out here, but the fact is I am not so strong as formerly, and I expected that Burton would be at the office and thought a day of repose might benefit me,” remarked Mr. John Dunlap as Chapman entered his library carrying a bundle of papers this March afternoon. “Mr. Burton has only been at the office once within the past week and not more than a dozen times since you all returned from Haiti some two months ago,” replied the Superintendent, methodically arranging the various memoranda on the large library table. “First in order of date is as follows: Douglass and McPherson, the solicitors at Glasgow, write that they have purchased the annuity for old Mrs. McLeod and that the income secured to her is far larger than any possible comfort or even luxury can require; they also say that the lot in the graveyard has been secured and that the mother of the dead ship carpenter is filled with gratitude for the granite stone you have provided to mark her son’s grave and that no nobler epitaph for any Scotsman could be carved than the one suggested by you to be cut on the stone, ‘Died defending innocent women;’ they expect the body to arrive within a few days and will follow instructions concerning the reinterment of the remains of gallant McLeod; they add that beyond all expenditures ordered they will hold a balance to our credit and ask what is your pleasure concerning same, that the four thousand pounds remitted by you was far too large a sum.” “Far too small! Tell them to buy a cottage for McLeod’s mother and draw at sight for more money, that the cottage may be a good one. Why! Chapman, McLeod was a hero; but they were all of them that. He, however, gave his life in our defense and there is no money value that can repay that debt to him and his,” exclaimed Mr. Dunlap earnestly, and leaning forward in the excitement that the recollection of the past recalled, continued: “David, the dead were heaped about the spot where McLeod, Brice and Jack fell like corded fire-wood. When I could leave the women, Lieutenant Maxon and his men had dispersed the blacks, I fairly waded in blood to reach the place where Maxon and Burton were bending over Jack. It was a fearful sight. It had been an awful struggle, but it was all awful that night. I dared not leave the women, yet I knew that even my weak help was needed at the gate. Had my messenger not met Maxon on the road, to whom notice of the intended attack had been given by a friendly black, we had all been killed.” The excited old gentleman paused to regain his breath and resumed the story of that dreadful experience.