y progress along
the Avenue, stopping at the Palace Hotel, where, perhaps, would be
found upon the register the name of some guest deemed worthy of an
introduction to the state's venerable and illustrious son. If any
such were found, an hour or two would be spent in recalling the
faded glories of the Governor's long-vanished administration.

On the return march the General would invariably suggest that, His
Excellency being no doubt fatigued, it would be wise to recuperate
for a few minutes at the Drug Emporium of Mr. Appleby R. Fentress
(an elegant gentleman, sir--one of the Chatham County Fentresses--so
many of our best-blooded families have had to go into trade, sir,
since the war).

Mr. Appleby R. Fentress was a _connoisseur_ in fatigue. Indeed,
if he had not been, his memory alone should have enabled him to
prescribe, for the majestic invasion of his pharmacy was a casual
happening that had surprised him almost daily for years. Mr.
Fentress knew the formula of, and possessed the skill to compound,
a certain potion antagonistic to fatigue, the salient ingredient of
which he described (no doubt in pharmaceutical terms) as "genuine
old hand-made Clover Leaf '59, Private Stock."

Nor did the ceremony of administering the potion ever vary. Mr.
Fentress would first compound two of the celebrated mixtures--one
for the Governor, and the other for the General to "sample." Then
the Governor would make this little speech in his high, piping,
quavering voice:

"No, sir--not one drop until you have prepared one for yourself and
join us, Mr. Fentress. Your father, sir, was one of my most valued
supporters and friends during My Administration, and any mark of
esteem I can confer upon his son is not only a pleasure but a duty,
sir."

Blushing with delight at the royal condescension, the druggist would
obey, and all would drink to the General's toast: "The prosperity of
our grand old state, gentlemen--the memory of her glorious past--the
health of her Favourite Son."

Some one of the Old Guard was always at hand to escort the Governor
home. Sometimes the General's business duties denied him the
privilege, and then Judge Broomfield or Colonel Titus, or one of the
Ashford County Slaughters would be on hand to perform the rite.

Such were the observances attendant upon the Governor's morning
stroll to the post-office. How much more magnificent, impressive,
and spectacular, then, was the scene at public functions when
the Ge