So Susan, with a sigh, carried back her nice stuffed roast, the widow muttering in an aside tone, “That’s all them shiftless Ruggleses know! Might as well send _maggits_ and done with it.” It was a strange medley that huge box contained, for every member of Company R was remembered, thanks to the indefatigable Rose, who procured a list of the names, and when she found any without friends in that immediate vicinity, she supplied the deficiency from her own store of luxuries. Of course _Will_ and _Tom_ fared the best, while next to them came Lieutenant Graham and Isaac Simms, Rose writing a tiny note to the latter, telling him how much she liked him for speaking so of Tom, and sending him a pair of her fine linen sheets, because she couldn’t think of anything else, and thought these would be cool to sleep in on hot summer nights. Dear little Rose! how fast she grew in popularity, the people wondering they had never seen before how good she was, and imputing some portion of her present interest to the presence of her mother, who had made arrangements to remain for an indefinite length of time in Rockland, and who, far less demonstrative than her active daughter, did much by her sensible advice to keep the wheel in motion, and Rose from overdoing the matter so zealously taken in hand. The box was packed at last;—every chink and crevice was full. Mrs. Baker’s Dutch cheese and fried apple pies were there, wrapped by Rose Mather in innumerable folds of paper, tied around with yards of the strongest twine she could find, and safely stowed away where they could not be harmed; Widow Simms’s ointment too, and the candy she had made, occupied a corner, together with her daguerreotype sent to _Isaac_, and a letter to Captain Carleton. That letter was a mammoth undertaking, but the widow felt it her duty to write it, groaning and sweating, and consulting Perry’s old leathern-bound dictionary for every word of which she felt at all uncertain, and driving poor Annie nearly distracted with asking “if this were grammar, and if that were too lovin’ like, for a widder to send a widower.” Not a little amused, Annie gave the required advice, smiling in spite of herself, as she read the note the widow handed her, and which ran as follows: