island, instead of going to
one of the pleasantest and most populous counties in the oldest state
in the Union. Mr. Byrd, the former owner of Shirley, told me that the
neighborhood was very thickly settled and sociable. I counted five
gentlemen's houses in sight myself. Southerners, as a rule, are great
visitors, and if the girls are lonely it will be their own fault.
They'll have as much boating and dancing and tom-foolery as is good for
them."

"Are there any young men?" demanded Mrs. Smith, who recognized the
necessity of an infusion of the stronger element to impart to social
joys body and flavor.

"Yes, I guess so," replied her husband indifferently, masculinity from
over-association having palled on him; "there's always men about
everywhere, except back in the home villages in Maine--they're scarce
enough _there_, the Lord knows! I saw a good many about in the little
village near Shirley--Wintergreen, they call it. One young fellow
attracted my attention particularly; he was sitting on a tobacco
hogshead, down on the wharf, superintending some negroes load a wagon,
and I couldn't get it out of my head that I'd seen his face before. He
was tall, and fair, and had lost an arm. I must have met him during
the war, I think, although I'll be hanged if I can place him."

Mrs. Smith looked interested. "Perhaps you formerly knew him," she
remarked, cheerfully; "it's a pity your memory is so bad. Why didn't
you inquire his name of some one, that might have helped you to place
him?"

"My memory is excellent," retorted the general, shortly; for a man must
resent such an insinuation even from the wife of his bosom. "I've
always been remarkable for an unusually strong and retentive memory, as
you know very well--but it isn't superhuman. At the lowest
computation, I guess I've seen about a million men's faces in the
course of my life, and it's ridiculous to expect me to have 'em all
sorted out, and ticketed in my mind like a picture catalogue. My
memory is very fine."

Mrs. Smith recanted pleasantly. Her husband's memory _was_ good, for
his age, she was willing to admit, but it was not flawless. About this
young man, now, it seemed to her that if she could remember him at all,
she could remember all about him. These hitches in recollection were
provoking. It would have been nice for the girls to find a young man
ready to their hands, bound to courtesy by previous acquaintance with
their father.

She regr