swallow-tail cut, now quite out of vogue, and of that homespun dirt-color which, in the rebel uniforms, was dignified by the epithet "gray.” His heavy army shoes had doubtless been captured from the supply-train of some of the "Dutch" troopers aforesaid, and he wore them more as trophies than for either their economy or beauty. But one token about his person-a.costly meerschaum-indicated taste or refine

ment.

as

His general exterior, though that of a man of strong personal qualities, would have been marked "rebel" in any of the border States. Whatever may have been Mr. Romilly's affection for his daughter, he was far less assiduous in his attentions than many, especially of the younger gentlemen on board, who could claim no relationship to her. Indeed, they were so little in each other's company, that, at first, many of the passengers were not aware that any relationship existed between them. And these were unfortunate days; for, with Terry McCann, the war was not yet so far over as to exempt a grave, elderly Missouri rebel from his proper liability to be made the butt of a practical joke whenever an opportunity occurred to pipe all hands to mischief.

Now, if there is one sacred right dear to every Missourian, it is that of indulging in a quiet smoke and an uninterrupted nap after dinner. Mr. Romilly had preferred, for this purpose, a seat in the shade on the promenade deck. Relapsing back in his chair as he fell into the invisible arms of Morpheus, it is a physiological fact that he could not bend his head as far backward as was essential to the full enjoyment of his slumbers, without throwing up his nostrils, opening his mouth, and issuing therefrom a snore which was very like a bray. But this was no reason why the facetious Terry McCann should make this place a receptacle for stray bits of cake, or dead flies. Nor was there any propriety in suspending from the hurricane-deck, in immediate contiguity to the sleeper's nose, a huge Corkonian spider, made of cork, sealing-wax,

and horse-hair, and marked "General Price," or "Colonel Romilly." Nor ought this young man to have attached to Mr. Romilly's back any label indicating that he had been "paroled at Appomattox." All these, and many similar tricks, had at first been perpetrated so coolly by McCann, and had excited so much half-suppressed mirth in Dumfrees, that the elder Romilly's wrath had fairly fixed upon the latter as the author of his annoyances.

"Child," said the elder Romilly, as he entered the ladies' cabin after a furious outburst of wrath at one of these peccadilloes, "there are three Yankee mercenaries on board-a cap tain, adjutant, and lieutenant."

"Yes, pa,” replied his daughter, blushing.

If you have ever allowed one of them to speak to you, don't permit it again."

"Certainly not, pa.”

That evening Dumfrees missed his accustomed partner in the moonlight promenade. Retiring late, he was soon wrapped in profound slumber. It was in such silent hours as these that the fertile genius of Terence McCann war most suggestive of mischief. Occupy. ing the same state-room with Dumfrees, and knowing that within a few yards of them were the adjoining state-rooms of the rich old Missourian and the lovely rebel Miss Romilly, McCann silently donned the adjutant's uniform, emerged from the state-room, and was soon seated as near as he could get to the window of Miss Romilly's state-room without coming within reach of the elder Romilly's cane. The night was lovely; many of the passengers found the calm beauty of the moonlight on the river more attractive than slumber; and the mischievous McCann no sooner began his travesty of a serenade, than he was conscious of having a large and attentive auditory; Miss Romilly's curtain withdrew far enough to reveal to her the uniform of Adjutant Dumfrees, and soon as she listened to the remarkable strain, she concluded that, after all, the adjutant had some weak points which

'terested in each other. It soon transpired that these opportunities were freely improved by Adjutant Dumfrees, not without the coy but pleased consent of the object of his sudden interest. Miss Isabel Romilly, familiarly and appropriately known as Belle Romilly, was a dainty, witching brunette rebel of some fifteen summers, proud of her ancient name and of the exploits of her brother, Colonel Romilly, C. S. A. This officer had spread terror into the hearts and homes of the detested Yankees, and had driven the St. Louis Dutch, as Fremont's troops were styled, hundreds of miles, on scores of occasions, in ignominious defeat. Such exploits were no less brilliant in her esteem, from the fact that she had read them, or heard them recited by her preceptress, in the secluded recesses of a convent near New Orleans, whither she had been sent as to a harbor of refuge as well as seminary of feminine learning during the rebellion. The tales of Colonel Romilly's exploits had grown in their transmission thither so as to rival those of the world's greatest captains, and far eclipse the humbler achievements of the other heroes, whether Federal or Confederate, of the recent struggle. Belle Romilly hated the Yankees in the abstract, but, as she had a passion for the whirling mazes of the waltz and polka, she excepted from the antipathy such true young gentlemen of Northern birth as could with faultless grace acquit themselves as partners. Adjutant Dumfrees was so fortunate as to excel in the saltatory art. Besides, the seclusion of her school, and the absence of the young braves of Louisiana at the wars, had deprived her of those opportunities to captivate which were due to her natural charms, cultivation, and intelligence. Mor over, remark Belle's musing on the sanject: "These travelling acquaintances are so convenient. If unexceptionable, it surely cannot harm one to make them. If they should prove otherwise, why, of course, one cannot be expected to remember them; since really, in point of fact, one never knew them." So the

dainty, petite Miss Romilly, with her lovely, large, flashing black eyes, her magnificent wealth of raven hair, that needed no vile chignon or cheap trickery of the hairdresser, but burst from its partial confinement in waving tresses and flowing curls, that seemed to have no particular limits to their audacious abundance, was condescending to amuse herself, on her voyage up the river, by making her second or third conquest. Indeed, she was quite interested in her admirer. His form was handsome, despite the unpleasant associations of his Yankee uniform. He had a clear complexion, teeth of pearl, and a fine, intelligent face, and melodious voice. But what Terry McCann would have styled his "best hold" was, that he was running over with learning. He had gathered much from judicious reading, and could recite by the hour, during their late moonlight walks, beautiful thoughts, couplets, and verses from the poets, as well as the best prose-writers. His conversation was withal respectful and tender. He ingeniously assumed that Miss Romilly was already familiar with all the strange books and authors with which his fluent memory made her conversant. In short, the young couple were fast acquiring a tender regard for each other.

Miss Romilly was escorted by her father, a tall, lank, taciturn, and grave planter of western Missouri, who looked at men without distinction of color or condition outside the range of his circle of friends, with the unaffected pride and bluff contempt of one who is accustomed to own and rule them. Like many of the wealthy Missouri farmers, his dress, even when abroad, gave no indication, and his angular, unshorn face very few, that he might not have been an eighty-acre squatter, instead of the hereditary proprietor of several mountain mines and plantations, and the recipient of a heavy rental from investments in St. Louis. His vest, sleeves, and pantaloons, were all several inches too short, making his longitude at every point awkwardly conspicuous. His coat was of the antique, short,