only last week that the General was in Jim Bolton's livery stable
office asking Jim if he had any old ledgers, that the _Statesman_ office
might have. He explained that he tore off their covers, cut them up and
used the unspoiled sheets for copy-paper. In Bolton's office he met a
farmer from the Folcraft neighbourhood in the southern end of the
county, who hadn't seen the General for half-a-dozen years. "Why--hello
General," exclaimed the farmer with unconcealed surprise, as though
addressing one risen from the dead. "You still around here? What are you
doing now?" The old man tucked the ledger under his arm, straightened up
with great dignity, and tried not to wince under the blow. He put one
hand in his shiny, frayed, greenish-black frock-coat, and replied with
quiet dignity, "I am following my profession, sir--that of a
journalist." And after fixing the farmer with his piercing black eyes
for a moment, the General turned away and was gone.

When we do something to displease him, he turns all his guns on us,
though probably his foreman has to borrow paper from our office to get
the _Statesman_ out. The General regards us as his natural prey and his
foreman regards our paper stock as his natural forage--but they use so
little that we do not mind.

Once a new bookkeeper in our office saw the General's old account for
paper. She sent the General a statement, and another, and in the third
she put the words: "Please remit." The day after he had received the
insult the General stalked grandly into the office with the amount of
money required by the bookkeeper. He put it down without a word and
walked over to the desk where the proprietor was working.

"Young man," said the General, as he rapped with his cane on the desk.
"I was talking to-day with a gentleman from Norwalk, Ohio, who knew your
father. Yes, sir; he knew your father, and speaks highly of him, sir. I
am surprised to hear, sir, that your father was a perfect gentleman,
sir. Good-morning, sir."

And with that the General moved majestically out of the office.

X

A Question of Climate

Colonel Morrison had three initials, so the town naturally called him
"Alphabetical" Morrison, and dropped the "Colonel." He came to our part
of the country in an early day--he used to explain that they caught him
in the trees, when he was drinking creek water, eating sheep-sorrel, and
running wild with a buffalo tail for a trolley, and that the first thing
they did,