For several days he lingered, hearing how Lee beat Hooker, in detail, and forced him back across the river. Then the old Puritan died. At the end his mind wandered and he thought he was again commanding in battle; and his last words were, "Let us cross over the river and rest in the shade." Thus perished Stonewall Jackson, one of the ablest of soldiers and one of the most upright of men, in the last of his many triumphs. THE SHIP WITHOUT A LIGHT. BY EZRA HURLBURT STAFFORD. "Well, my boy, what can I do for you?" It was in the Custom-house, and the Chief was sitting at his desk opening a letter. A boy of perhaps sixteen was standing awkwardly at the door. He was dressed rather roughly, and the Customs Inspector thought it would be a good idea to despatch the boy's business before he read the letter, which he had by this time drawn from the envelope. "Well?" he repeated; but the boy still hesitated, and glanced uneasily across the room towards a tall lady, who was standing at the window with her back towards him. "Anything very particular?" the officer went on, with a touch of annoyance. "I guess I'd like to speak to you alone." The lady evidently heard him, for without speaking she hurriedly drew her veil down over her face, and noiselessly left the room by a door which he had not noticed before. The boy caught a glimpse of her face as she turned, and gave a little start, he hardly knew why. It was a strange face. "Now, then, we are quite alone, what have you to say? It's growing late." "I wanted to speak to you, sir, about something I saw last night out in Puget Sound. I thought you ought to be told about it." "Yes?" "A boat, sir, that I think is smuggling opium in from the British Columbia coast." "What is your name?" "Thomas Walton. I'm a fisherman." "What makes you think the boat is smuggling opium?" "Because she passed down the channel about two o'clock last night and carried no light." "What sort of a craft?" asked the customs officer, with a peculiar look. "I should think she was a sailing sloop, sir-- I couldn't see noways plain." "When did you say?" "Last night." "Tell me all about it. Where do you live?" "At my father's ranch on Padilla Bay; he's dead, and I live with my mother and sister there. I fish during the salmon season." "Were you alone last night?" "No; an Indian boy and myself have a boat between us; it was Jo saw her first." "Well?" [Illustration: "A MINUTE AFTER IT WAS LIGHT FOR AN INSTANT AND WE GOT SIGHT OF HER."]