de of himself! Even more so than usual. But
hush! It's not fair to laugh at a lady--under peculiar circumstances.
And he tried so hard to make himself agreeable, poor fellow, that I
ought to like him for being so obedient to my commands. "Say something
new; something funny," I said, tired of a subject on which he had been
expatiating all the evening; for I had taken a long ride with him
before sunset, he had escorted me to Mrs. Brunot's, and here he was
still at my side, and his conversation did not interest me. To hear,
with him, was to obey. "Something funny? Well--" here he commenced
telling something about somebody, the fun of which seemed to consist in
the somebody's having "knocked his _shins_" against something else. I
only listened to the latter part; I was bored, and showed it. "Shins!"
was I to laugh at such a story?

April 12th.

Day before yesterday, just about this time of evening, as I came home
from the graveyard, Jimmy unexpectedly came in. Ever since the 12th of
February he has been waiting on the Yankees' pleasure, in the
Mississippi, at all places below Columbus, and having been under fire
for thirteen days at Tiptonville, Island No. 10 having surrendered
Monday night; and Commodore Hollins thinking it high time to take
possession of the ironclad ram at New Orleans, and give them a small
party below the forts, he carried off his little aide from the McRae
Tuesday morning, and left him here Thursday evening, to our infinite
delight, for we felt as though we would never again see our dear little
Jimmy. He has grown so tall, and stout, that it is really astonishing,
considering the short time he has been away.... To our great distress,
he jumped up from dinner, and declared he must go to the city on the
very next boat. Commodore Hollins would need him, he must be at his
post, etc., and in twenty minutes he was off, the rascal, before we
could believe he had been here at all. There is something in his eye
that reminds me of Harry, and tells me that, like Hal, he will die
young.

And these days that are going by remind me of Hal, too. I am walking in
our footsteps of last year. The eighth was the day we gave him a party,
on his return home. I see him so distinctly standing near the pier
table, talking to Mr. Sparks, whom he had met only that morning, and
who, three weeks after, had Harry's blood upon his hands. He is a
murderer now, without aim o