y in this recital. Down near his
feet, however, little Jim, his grandson, was visibly horror-stricken.
His hands were clasped nervously, and his eyes were wide with
astonishment at this terrible scandal, his most magnificent grandfather
telling such a thing.

"That was at Chancellorsville. Of course, afterward I got kind of used
to it. A man does. Lots of men, though, seem to feel all right from the
start. I did, as soon as I 'got on to it,' as they say now; but at first
I was pretty well flustered. Now, there was young Jim Conklin, old Si
Conklin's son--that used to keep the tannery--you none of you recollect
him--well, he went into it from the start just as if he was born to it.
But with me it was different. I had to get used to it."

When little Jim walked with his grandfather he was in the habit of
skipping along on the stone pavement in front of the three stores and
the hotel of the town and betting that he could avoid the cracks. But
upon this day he walked soberly, with his hand gripping two of his
grandfather's fingers. Sometimes he kicked abstractedly at dandelions
that curved over the walk. Any one could see that he was much troubled.

"There's Sickles's colt over in the medder, Jimmie," said the old man.
"Don't you wish you owned one like him?"

"Um," said the boy, with a strange lack of interest. He continued his
reflections. Then finally he ventured, "Grandpa--now--was that true what
you was telling those men?"

"What?" asked the grandfather. "What was I telling them?"

"Oh, about your running."

"Why, yes, that was true enough, Jimmie. It was my first fight, and
there was an awful lot of noise, you know."

Jimmie seemed dazed that this idol, of its own will, should so totter.
His stout boyish idealism was injured.

Presently the grandfather said: "Sickles's colt is going for a drink.
Don't you wish you owned Sickles's colt, Jimmie?"

The boy merely answered, "He ain't as nice as our'n." He lapsed then
into another moody silence.

* * * * *

One of the hired men, a Swede, desired to drive to the county seat for
purposes of his own. The old man loaned a horse and an unwashed buggy.
It appeared later that one of the purposes of the Swede was to get
drunk.

After quelling some boisterous frolic of the farm hands and boys in the
garret, the old man had that night gone peacefully to sleep, when he was
aroused by clamouring at the kitchen door. He grabbed his trouser