decided sensitiveness about the honor of
Mitchell County. It seemed too bad that a stranger should go away with
the impression that it was not safe to leave money anywhere in it. We
felt very much obliged for this genuine sympathy, and we told them that
if a pocket-book were lost in this way on a Connecticut road, there
would be felt no neighborhood responsibility for it, and that nobody
would take any interest in the incident except the man who lost, and the
man who found.

By the time the travelers pulled up at a store in Bakersville they
had lost all expectation of recovering the missing article, and were
discussing the investment of more money in an advertisement in the
weekly newspaper of the capital. The Professor, whose reform sentiments
agreed with those of the newspaper, advised it. There was a group of
idlers, mica acquaintances of the morning, and philosophers in front of
the store, and the Friend opened the colloquy by asking if a man named
David Thomas had been seen in town. He was in town, had ridden in within
an hour, and his brother, who was in the group, would go in search of
him. The information was then given of the loss, and that the rider had
met David Thomas just before it was discovered, on the mountain beyond
the Toe. The news made a sensation, and by the time David Thomas
appeared a crowd of a hundred had drawn around the horsemen eager for
further developments. Mr. Thomas was the least excited of the group as
he took his position on the sidewalk, conscious of the dignity of the
occasion and that he was about to begin a duel in which both reputation
and profit were concerned. He recollected meeting the travelers in the
morning.

The Friend said, "I discovered that I had lost my purse just after
meeting you; it may have been dropped in Toe River, but I was told back
here that if David Thomas had picked it up, it was as safe as if it were
in the bank."

"What sort of a pocket-book was it?" asked Mr. Thomas.

"It was of crocodile skin, or what is sold for that, very likely it is
an imitation, and about so large indicating the size."

"What had it in it?"

"Various things. Some specimens of mica; some bank checks, some money."

"Anything else?"

"Yes, a photograph. And, oh, something that I presume is not in another
pocket-book in North Carolina,--in an envelope, a lock of the hair of
George Washington, the Father of his Country." Sensation mixed with
incredulity. Washington's hair did see