In that dry, Indian summer weather, the river was so low at the falls, that any brave and dexterous leaper, who would not mind risking life and limb, by springing, from rock to rock, across the whirlpools, might have passed dry-shod from shore to shore. The boat stopped there. The military officer in charge of the commissary depot came down from the block-house to see the visitors. After bowing to the ladies, and shaking hands with Mr. Allison, who was his old acquaintance, and learning that the visitors were a company of picnickers on a party of pleasure, he courteously invited them all to come on shore, and accept such hospitality as his quarters were able to afford. But, knowing from personal experience that the accommodations of the block-house were not of the most tempting description, Allison, on the part of the company, thanked the captain, declined the invitation, and pressed him, instead, to join them at their lunch, and accompany them afterwards as guide in their rambles through the magnificent scenery of the place. The captain readily agreed to this proposition, and then eagerly inquired if they had brought the morning papers along. “Lots of them,” answered Allison, laughing. “I thought of that before I came away. I knew that the most acceptable offering I could bring to men stationed at these sequestered outposts would be the daily papers. I knew it would be too early for the newsboys; so before reporting myself at the parsonage, where our party assembled to start, I went the rounds of the printing-offices and astonished the printers by buying up the morning papers by hundreds. And we have been distributing them to the picket guards all along our way. And great gifts our boys thought them, I assure you. However, don’t be alarmed; we have saved enough for you.” And so saying, Allison handed over a packet of newspapers, that was as welcome to the officer in command of this outpost, as ever was news from home to an exile abroad. Meanwhile, with laughing and jesting, and much merriment, the picnickers were leaving the boat. The hampers were brought on shore; a nice, high spot, a natural opening in the forest, was selected; the cloth was laid on the dry, burnished grass, and the feast was spread—a light repast of fruits, cakes and wines, for it was yet too early to think of dinner. “But how about the guerrillas? Heard or seen anything of Monck and his band of brigands, lately?” inquired Mr. Allison of the captain, as they all gathered around the luncheon, and sat down upon the grass. “Not a breath, not a sign of them for many weeks past,” answered the officer. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear that. I shouldn’t like to have a raid made upon our party to-day.” This was said jestingly, and the captain laughed as he replied: “Oh, no fear of that. The guerrillas keep far enough away from our neighborhood. ‘All quiet along the Potomac,’ I do assure you.”