How can I," groaned poor Sophia, with a fresh outburst of tears. "But I
suppose I must."

The mother heard the scream and the words, and hurried into the room.

"It's a telegraph dispatch, mother," said both the girls as they saw
her.

"Merciful Father," ejaculated Mrs. Klegg, sinking into a chair in so
nearly a faint that Maria ran into the next room for the camphor-bottle,
while Sophy rushed outside and blew the horn for the Deacon. Presently
he entered, his sleeves rolled to the elbow over his brawny arms, and
his shirt and pantaloons covered with the spanish-needles and burrs
which would grow, even in so well-tilled fields as Deacon Klegg's.

"What's the matter, mother? What's the matter, girls?" he asked
anxiously.

Mrs. Klegg could only look at him in speechless misery.

"We've got a telegraph dispatch," finally answered Maria, bursting in a
torrent of tears, into which Sophia joined sympathetically, "and we know
it's about poor Si."

"Yes, it must be about poor Si; nobody else but him," added Sophia with
a wail.

The father's face grew more sorrowful than be fore. "What does it say?"
he nerved himself to ask, after a moment's pause.

"We don't know," sobbed Maria. "We haint opened it. We're afraid to.
Here it is."

The father took it with trembling hand. "Well," he said after a little
hesitation, "it can't tell nothin' no worse than we've already heard.
Let's open it. Bring me my specs."

Maria ran for the spectacles, while her father, making a strong effort
to calm himself, slit open the envelope with a jack-knife, adjusted his
glasses, and read the inclosure over very slowly.

"Josiah Nott killed Hospital at Chattanooga badly wounded E. C. Bower's
ox. What on airth does that mean? I can't for the life o' me make it
out."

"Read it over again, pap," said Maria, suddenly drying her eyes.

The father did so.

"Le' me read it, pap," said Maria, snatching the telegram from his hand.
"Josiah," said she, read ing. "That's Si's right name."

"Certainly it is," said her mother, reviving.

"Certainly; I didn't think o' that before," echoed the father.

"Josiah not killed," continued she. "Good heavens, that's what that
means. They rebels has got hold o' the wires, and shook 'em and tangled
up the rest, but the beginnin's all straight."

"I believe that Sam Elkins down at the station 's mixed it up," said
Sophia, with hope springing in her breast. "He never can get things
straight. He was in the c