magnificent tribute from one who is unfortunately not among us."

He was so impressive with this that at last the crowd would remove hats
at each reading, to the Colonel's manifest approval. The doffed hat and
the clutched _Argus_ became the mark of his drink-bought serfs. By four
o'clock the only hospitable doorways on the street were those of the
three saloons. Our leading business men were departing from their
establishments by back doors and the secrecy of gracious alleys.

From Skeyhan's to Hoffmuller's, from Hoffmuller's to the City Hotel, the
crowd sang and shouted its irregular progress, the air being "Auld Lang
Syne."

It was about this time that the Colonel unhappily caught a glimpse of
myself through the window of the hotel. A glad light came into his eyes,
and at once he searched among the letters, crying, meanwhile: "My
brother in arms! A younger brother, but a gallant officer, none the
less--"

I knew that he sought my letter. Egress from the City Hotel may be
achieved, when desirable, by a side door, and I saw no more of Potts
that day. I believe my letter spoke of him as an able and graceful
pleader, meriting judicial honors, or something of that sort. I had
forgotten its exact words, but I did not wish to hear Potts read them.
So I fled to spend the remainder of that eventful day quietly among
rosebushes and tender, budding hyacinths, unspotted of the world,
receiving, however, occasional bulletins of the orgy from passers-by.
From these and sundry narratives gleaned the following day, I was able
to trace the later hours of this scandalous saturnalia.

By six o'clock Potts had spent all his money. By six-fifteen this fact
could no longer be concealed, and such of his following as had not
already fallen by the wayside crept, one by one, to rest. They left the
Colonel dreamily, murmurously happy in a chair at the end of the City
Hotel bar.

Here, he was discovered about six-thirty by Eustace Eubanks, who had
incautiously thought to rebuke him.

"For shame, Colonel Potts!" began Eustace, seeking to fix the uncertain
eyes with his finger of scorn. "For shame to have squandered all that
money for rum. Don't you know, sir, that a hundred and sixty thousand
men die yearly in our land from the effects of rum?"

"Hundred sixty thousand!" mused the Colonel, in polite amazement. "Well,
well, figures can't lie! What of it?"

"You have dishonestly spent that money given to you in sacred trust."

This s