rs.
"Stupid," said the lady, turning sharply on her husband, "tell me what
to do? Don't you see we must not let them hang the poor fellow?"
"Of course not," said the big man dryly. "Just countermand the order
of execution. No doubt the Yankees will obey: I would."
"Of course you would: a precious life you would lead if you did not,"
said his wife, who evidently commanded that squad. "Never mind: there
is more sense in what you said than I expected of you--Jane," to the
smart maid who attended on her, "pen, ink, paper and my portfolio."
Opening the last, she took out a bundle of letters, and, running them
rapidly over as a gambler does his cards, she selected one. "This,"
she said to Lassie, "is a note from General ----. It is written
without the slightest suspicion of my character as a spy; but you will
see it involves him far more dangerously than your friend. He cannot
well explain it away. Keep the letter. I will write to him that you
have it to deliver over in return for his kind assistance in effecting
the release of your friend. Don't fear: I ask him to do nothing he
ought not to do without asking, and you give him a letter that would
be misconstrued if it fell into other hands."
Armed with these instructions and the letters, Lassie returned home,
passed on to Louisville, and delivered her message. The general
promptly interfered, thanking her for calling his attention to the
matter. His influence, and a more exact understanding of the means and
appliances of the artful widow in obtaining information, effected her
lover's acquittal and restoration to his former position.
"I owe her my life and good name," said the tall Tennesseean, taking
Baby No. 2 from her arms. "I-uns ain't wuth such a gal."
"No," say I drily. "What did you take him for?" to her. Then I get the
answer before quoted. But my companion, with a truer perception, went
quietly up and kissed her Tennessee sister, a little to the surprise
of both, I think, but they seemed touched by the silent little tribute
more than by any words.
I have spoken of the character of the hostilities in that "debatable
land." War is a bad thing always, but when it gets into a simple
neighborhood, and teaches the right and duty of killing one's
friends and relatives, it becomes demoniac. Down about Knoxville they
practiced a better method. There it was the old game of "Beggar
your Neighbor," and they denounced and "confiscated" each other
industriously. Up
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