“There is nothing romantic or thrilling about riding an old-fashioned mail--nothing like the long express across the plains that Mark Twain has so bewitchingly described in Roughing It; no fleet-footed mustang, no ’ostler standing with another ready at the station, no running against time, no passing returning post-boys with a smile and a salute, no nothing but an occasional old woman coming to the fence with a pair of socks she wanted to send to town to exchange for indigo or copperas, and as she looked over her spectacles inquired ‘Are you the mail boy?’ The youth sometimes looked smilingly at her as he replied: ‘Why--yes--mam, you didn’t think I was a female boy, did you?’ “In due time the boy graduated at this business, and his father sent him to college. He had as good a time there as is usual. He made many pleasant acquaintances, some lasting friendships, and a love or two, and at the close of his career married a daughter of Judge Hutchins. He next studied law with the judge, and after his admission to the bar, removed to Rome, Georgia, and founded a partnership with Judge Underwood, a gentleman noted for his ability, both as a judge and a statesman. This partnership was pleasant and profitable. It was obliged to be profitable as a matter of necessity, for it continued until there were a score of children in the two families, and paternal ancestors knew but little of economy, or its prudence of laying up money for a rainy day. “Prior to the war Major Smith had frequently indulged his inclinations for humorous and critical observations on men and measures, but it was not until the spring of 1861 that his peculiar genius found a field rich enough to harvest in. The famous proclamation of President Lincoln, ordering the people of the rebellious South to ‘cease their turbulent demonstrations and to disband their military companies, and disperse and retire to their homes, within thirty days, under penalty of being arrested and tried for treason,’ seemed very ludicrous and absurd to the hot bloods of the South, who really felt like they could whip all the world and the rest of mankind, and so the Major burlesqued it in his way as though he was an unlettered countryman who wanted to disperse but couldn’t. He said he ‘had done his darndest to disperse, but the boys were so hot that when you throwed water on ’em they sizzed, and that was the way they was making up their companies.’ If a boy ‘sizzed’ they took him, and if he didn’t, they didn’t, and he respectfully asked ‘Mr. Linkhorn’ for a little more time. “The Major read his manuscript to two or three friends in his office, and at the conclusion noticed that the original Bill Arp stood at the door a listener. “Bill’s merry eyes seemed to enjoy it, and he came forward with a query, ‘Colonel,’ said he, ‘are you gwine to print that?’ “‘I think I will, Bill,’ said he. “‘What name are you gwine to put to it?’ said Bill.