Claiborne, though still nominally governor of Mississippi, exercised no further the functions of that office, these devolving on his secretary, Cato West. But he fulfilled the duties of provisional governor of the newly acquired province until October 2, 1804, when he was made governor of the “Territory of Orleans.” He served in this capacity until this territory was admitted to the Union as the State of Louisiana, when he was elected governor of the new state. He held this office for two terms, after which he was elected to the United States Senate, January 13, 1817. He did not live to take his seat in the Senate, dying November 3, following. Thus passed away, at the early age of forty-two, one who had already given a long life of active effort to his countrymen. Had he been spared for twenty years longer, his would surely have been one of the grandest national careers of America’s first century of history. HOW OLD WASH PLAYED SANTA CLAUS By Old Wash “No, no, Marse John,” said the old man, as he staggered in the other night, “don’t git excited, it ain’t de kuklux done it. I ain’t seed eny o’ dem sense I tried ter be smart an’ own a few po’ white fo’ks arter de war. No, sah, it ain’t kuklux,” and he tried to sit down, but gave it up and held on to the arm of a chair. I was horrified, for I had never seen the old man look like that. His head was bandaged in cotton batting and the eye he had left was trying to look at me through a slit in an arnica poultice. “Sit down,” I cried, reaching for a bottle of horse-medicine I kept for him in the sideboard. “I can’t, Marse John, I ain’t got a spot lef’ to res’ on. I’m branded on bofe hips wid de bar o’ de cannon cracker. If I tries to recumber longerturdernal I lays on de bran’ o’ de sky-rocket, an’ if I goes in fur horizontal recumbrance I gits on de spot lef’ by torpedoes. Dar ain’t but one spot lef’ for me to res’ on. If dars a iron hook in de wall jes’ hang me up on it by de coat collar. I’ve be’n playin’ Sandy Claws,” he groaned—“tryin’ to do lak white fo’ks an’ lak de mos’ of dem kerried my religgun too fur.” I did what I could to help him. “Ah, boss, didn’t you put a leetle too much turbentine in dat whiskey? Lord, but I’m a wrick o’ myself.