t be the last woman he ever saw this side of
heaven. Just after that, it must have been, his horse--that white
Messenger colt old Williams bred--went over like a log, and poor George
was pitched fifteen feet head-foremost against a stake there was in that
lot. Julia saw the whole. She rushed out with all the women, and had
just brought him in when I got home. And that was the reason that the
great promised combination of December, 1864, never came off at all.

I walked out in the lot, after McGregor turned me out of the chamber, to
see what they had done with the horse. There he lay, as dead as old
Messenger himself. His neck was broken. And do you think I looked to see
what had tripped him? I supposed it was one of the boys' bandy holes. It
was no such thing. The poor wretch had tangled his hind legs in one of
those infernal hoop-wires that Chloe had thrown out in the piece when I
gave her her new ones. Though I did not know it then, those fatal scraps
of rusty steel had broken the neck that day of Robert Lee's army.

That time I made a row about it. I felt too badly to go into a passion.
But before the women went to bed,--they were all in the sitting-room
together,--I talked to them like a father. I did not swear. I had got
over that for a while, in that six weeks on my back. But I did say the
old wires were infernal things, and that the house and premises must be
made rid of them. The aunts laughed,--though I was so serious,--and
tipped a wink to the girls. The girls wanted to laugh, but were afraid
to. And then it came out that the aunts had sold their old hoops, tied
as tight as they could tie them, in a great mass of rags. They had made
a fortune by the sale,--I am sorry to say it was in other rags, but the
rags they got were new instead of old,--it was a real Aladdin bargain.
The new rags had blue backs, and were numbered, some as high as fifty
dollars. The rag-man had been in a hurry, and had not known what made
the things so heavy. I frowned at the swindle, but they said all was
fair with a peddler,--and I own I was glad the things were well out of
Richmond. But when I said I thought it was a mean trick, Lizzie and
Sarah looked demure, and asked what in the world I would have them do
with the old things. Did I expect them to walk down to the bridge
themselves with great parcels to throw into the river, as I had done by
Julia's? Of course it ended, as such things always do, by my taking the
work on my own should