nd give it all my spare
time. It ain't that I'm one of your spying sort--there's nothing of the
Yankee about me!"

"Certainly not," agreed the judge.

"Candid, Judge, I reckon you wrote that letter, seeing this one comes
under a frank from Washington. No, sir--I couldn't make out who was
corresponding with the president and it worried me, not knowing, more
than anything I've had to contend against since I came into office. I
calculate there ain't a postmaster in the United States takes a more
personal interest in the service than me. I've frequently set patrons
right when they was in doubt as to the date they had mailed such and
such a letter." As Mr. Wesley sometimes canceled as many as three or
four stamps in a single day he might have been pardoned his pride in a
brain which thus lightly dealt with the burden of official business. He
surrendered the letter with marked reluctance.

"Your surmise is correct," said the judge with dignity. "I had occasion
to write my friend, General Jackson, and unless I am greatly mistaken I
have my answer here." And with a fine air of indifference he tossed the
letter on the table.

"And do you know Old Hickory?" cried Mr. Wesley.

"Why not? Does it surprise you?" inquired the judge. It was only his
innate courtesy which restrained him from kicking the postmaster into
the street, so intense was his desire to be rid of him.

"No, I don't know as it does, judge. Naturally a public man like him is
in the way of meeting with all sorts. A politician can't afford to be
too blame particular. Well, next time you write you might just send
him my regards--G. W. M. de L. Wesley's regards--there was considerable
contention over my getting this office; I reckon he ain't forgot. There
was speeches made, I understand the lie was passed between two United
States senators, and that a quid of tobacco was throwed in anger."
Having thus clearly established the fact that he was a more or less
national character, Mr. Wesley took himself off.

When he had disappeared from sight down the street, the judge closed the
door. Then he picked up the letter. For along minute he held it in his
hand, uncertain, fearful, while his mind slipped back into the past
until his inward searching vision ferreted out a handsome soldierly
figure--his own.

"That's what Jackson remembers if he remembers anything!" he muttered,
as with trembling fingers he broke the seal. Almost instantly a smile
overspread his battered