"So long as that! I had cherished some wild notion that we might have a double ceremony, when the major and Miss Summers are married." "No. That would be too precipitate. She is very young yet; so is Frank for that matter, but he is thoroughly in earnest. It is not that I anticipate any change of feeling, but it is best for her sake there should be no undue haste. She will spend the time with Miss Summers until that wedding comes off, then visit relations in the North during the summer. Then 'Aunt Mary' will doubtless claim her. You know that as yet 'Aunt Mary' has had no intimation of what has been going on. Indeed, but for their sudden orders for the field, I doubt very much if the young people would have settled their outstanding differences. She is a lovely child at heart, and Frank has been a truthful and a devoted son,"--the dimmed eyes are filling now, and a tear starts slowly down the warm cheek,--"but he is impulsive impetuous, quick, and sensitive, and, sweet as Kitty is, she has no little coquetry. It will not all be smiles and sunshine, 'bread and butter and kisses,' Mr. Brandon." "Perhaps not, dear lady, perhaps not, yet I have no fear. He is true and brave and stanch as steel, and she is loving. God bless them!" "Amen." Late at night. The lights of Donaldsonville lie over our larboard bow. The broad river glistens in the glorious sheen of silvery light from the moon aloft. We are gathered in the captain's cabin on the texas and our glasses are filled. Moët and Chandon sparkles over the brim. "My charger is jangling his bridle and chain, The moment is nearing, dear love, we must sever, But pour out the wine, that thy lover may drain A last stirrup-cup to his true maiden ever." Mr. Brandon has the floor, and eloquence, forensic, judicial, social, is fled. His idea is to say something stirring and appropriate, but his heart fails him. He can only stammer, "_Bon voyage_, boys, and safe and speedy return!" Then he slinks out into the shadow of the huge paddle-box, a vanquished man.