that the 66th are in orders this evening to march, the day after
tomorrow, for Kurrachee; to sail for England, where we are to be
reorganized, again."

"Gale, I am going to ask you a rather curious thing. Will you do
it, without asking why?" Colonel Shepherd said, quietly.

"Certainly, colonel, if it is in my power," Will said, somewhat
surprised.

"Will you take off your patrol jacket, open your shirt, and turn it
well down at the neck?"

For a moment, Will looked astounded at this request. He saw, by the
tone in which it was made, that it was seriously uttered and,
without hesitation, he began to unhook his patrol jacket. As he did
so, his eye fell upon Colonel Ripon's face; and the intense
anxiety, and emotion, that it expressed caused him to pause, for a
moment.

Something extraordinary hung on what he had been asked to do. All
sorts of strange thoughts flashed through his brain. Hundreds of
times in his life he had said to himself that, if ever he
discovered his parents, it would be by means of this mark upon his
neck, which he was now asked to expose. The many remarks which had
been made, of his likeness to Colonel Ripon, flashed across his
mind; and it was with an emotion scarcely inferior to that of the
old officer that he opened his shirt, and turned down the collar.

The sight was conclusive. Colonel Ripon held out his arms, with a
cry of:

"My son, my son!"

Bewildered and delighted, Will felt himself pressed to the heart of
the man whom he liked, and esteemed, beyond all others.

With a word of the heartiest congratulation, Colonel Shepherd left
the father and son together; to exchange confidences, and tell to
each other their respective stories, and to realize the great
happiness which had befallen them both. Their delight was without a
single cloud--save that which passed for a moment through Colonel
Ripon's mind, as he thought how his wife would have rejoiced, had
she lived to see that day.

His joy was, in some respects, even greater than that of his son.
The latter had always pictured to himself that, if he ever
discovered his father, he should find him all that was good; but
the colonel had, for many years, not only given up all hope of ever
finding his son, but almost every desire to do so. He had thought
that, if still alive, he must be a gipsy vagabond--a poacher, a
liar, a thief--like those among whom he would have been brought up.
From such a discovery, no happiness could be looke