tisfy the curiosity of my readers
upon a few points in which they may feel interested.

The Rossville Guards are still in existence, and Frank is still their
captain. They have already done escort duty on several occasions, and
once they visited Boston, and marched up State Street with a precision
of step which would have done no discredit to veteran soldiers.

Dick Bumstead's reformation proved to be a permanent one. He is Frank's
most intimate friend, and with his assistance is laboring to remedy the
defects of his early education. He has plenty of ability, and, now that
he has turned over a new leaf, I have no hesitation in predicting for
him a useful and honorable career.

Old Mrs. Payson has left Rossville, much to the delight of her grandson
Sam, who never could get along with his grandmother. She still wears for
best the "bunnit" presented her by Cynthy Ann, which, notwithstanding
its mishap, seems likely to last her to the end of her natural life. She
still has a weakness for hot gingerbread and mince pie, and, though
she is turned of seventy, would walk a mile any afternoon with such an
inducement.

Should any of my readers at any time visit the small town of Sparta, and
encounter in the street a little old lady dressed in a brown cloak
and hood, and firmly grasping in her right hand a faded blue cotton
umbrella, they may feel quite certain that they are in the presence of
Mrs. Mehitabel Payson, relict of Jeremiah Payson, deceased.

Little Pomp has improved very much both in his studies and his behavior.
He now attends school regularly, and is quite as far advanced as most
boys of his age. Though he is not entirely cured of his mischievous
propensities, he behaves "pretty well, considering," and is a great deal
of company to old Chloe, to whom he reads stories in books lent him by
Frank and others. Chloe is amazingly proud of Pomp, whom she regards as
a perfect prodigy of talent.

"Lor' bress you, missus," she remarked to Mrs. Frost one day, "he reads
jest as fast as I can talk. He's an awful smart boy, dat Pomp."

"Why don't you let him teach you to read, Chloe?"

"Oh, Lor', missus, I couldn't learn, nohow. I ain't got no gumption. I
don't know noffin'."

"Why couldn't you learn as well as Pomp?"

"Dat ar boy's a gen'us, missus. His fader was a mighty smart nigger, and
Pomp's took arter him."

Chloe's conviction of her own inferiority and Pomp's superior ability
seemed so rooted that Mrs. Frost fi