hortly after writing it he shaved, dressed himself with the most
scrupulous care, and shot himself. This occurred March 23, 1855, in the
Eagle Hotel, North Capitol Street, Jackson, Mississippi.

"To preserve the neatness and cleanliness of his attire after death
should have ensued," says Colonel R.W. Banks, "it is said he poured a
little water upon the floor to ascertain the direction the blood would
take when it flowed from the wound. Then, placing himself in proper
position, so that the gore would run from and not toward his body, he
placed the pistol to the right temple, pulled the trigger and death
quickly followed."

CHAPTER XLIV

THE GIRL HE LEFT BEHIND HIM

On our second evening in Columbus my companion and I returned to the
house, near our domicile, to which we had been sent by Mrs. Eichelberger
for our meals; but owing to a misunderstanding as to the dinner hour we
found ourselves again too late. The family, and the teachers from the
I.I. and C. who took meals there, were already coming out from dinner to
sit and chat on the steps in the twilight.

We were disappointed, for we were tired of restaurants, and had counted
on a home meal that night; nor was our disappointment softened by the
fact that the lady whom we interviewed seemed to have no pity for us,
but dismissed us in a chilling manner, which hinted that, even had we
been in time for dinner, we should have been none too welcome at her
exclusive board.

Crestfallen, we turned away and started once more in the direction of
the Belle Cafe. In the half light the street held for us a melancholy
loveliness. Above, the great trees made a dark, soft canopy; the air was
balmy and sweet with the scent of lilacs and roses; lights were
beginning to appear in windows along the way. Yet none of it was for
us. We were wanderers, condemned forever to walk through strange streets
whose homes we might not enter, and whose inhabitants we might not know.

When we had proceeded in silence for a block or two, we perceived a
woman strolling toward us on the walk ahead. Nor was it yet so dark that
we could fail to notice, as we neared her, that she was very pretty in
her soft black dress and her corsage of narcissus--that, in short, she
was the young lady whom, though we were indebted to her for our rooms at
Mrs. Eichelberger's, we had not been able to thank.

Now, of course, we stopped and told her of our gratitude. First my
companion told her of his. Then I