ovement, which was followed by a
shriek from the boy, he brought the dislocated bone into its proper
position. "It doesn't hurt," he said, laughingly; "you are only
pretending. How do you feel now?"

The patient smiled, as he replied, "Well enough now; but I reckon you
was joking if you said that it didn't hurt."

Horse Shoe came to the fire-side, and took a chair, saying, "I larnt
that, Colonel, in the campaigns. A man picks up some good everywhere, if
he's a mind to; that's my observation."

This case being disposed of, Horse Shoe determined to remain all night
with the family. We had supper, and, after that, formed a little party
around the hearth. Colonel T. took occasion to tell me something about
Horse Shoe; and the Colonel's eldest son gave me my cue, by which he
intimated I might draw out the old soldier to relate some stories of the
war.

"Ask him," said the young man, "how he got away from Charleston after
the surrender; and then get him to tell you how he took the five
Scotchmen prisoners."

We were all in good humor. The boy was quite easy, and everything was
going on well, and we had determined to sit up until Mrs. T. should
arrive, which could not be before midnight. Horse Shoe was very
obliging, and as I expressed a great interest in his adventures, he
yielded himself to my leading, and I got out of him a rich stock of
adventure, of which his life was full. The two famous passages to which
I had been asked to question him--the escape from Charleston, and the
capture of the Scotch soldiers--the reader will find preserved in the
narrative upon which he is about to enter, almost in the very words of
my anthology. I have--perhaps with too much scruple--retained Horse
Shoe's peculiar vocabulary and rustic, doric form of speech--holding
these as somewhat necessary exponents of his character. A more truthful
man than he, I am convinced, did not survive the war to tell its story.
Truth was the predominant expression of his face and gesture--the truth
that belongs to natural and unconscious bravery, united with a frank and
modest spirit. He seemed to set no especial value upon his own exploits,
but to relate them as items of personal history, with as little comment
or emphasis as if they concerned any one more than himself.

It was long after midnight before our party broke up; and when I got to
my bed it was to dream of Horse Shoe and his adventures. I made a record
of what he told me, whilst the memory of