me to think of it. A man's life and actions are
his best monument; those who loved him will never forget him, his
enemies will be sorry they spoke, and there will be something _more_
than appropriate cut on his tombstone--that's certainly all a man should
want. What's the use of waiting for a fellow to die before immortalizing
him in marble or bronze? It is small satisfaction to him personally. Why
not put up a statue while he is living, and let him have the pleasure of
walking past it with his wife and children on a fine Sunday afternoon
when all the folks are out?"

"There is a rich vein of truth in what you say, Sammy," said Senator
Bull; "but you are alive and well, and it is almost impossible for you
to take a dead man's view of the situation."

"I don't know but what you are right, Senator," observed Mr. Ridley
thoughtfully, and the group relapsed into silence.

"You are a Southern man, I believe, Mr. Ridley," said Representative Van
Rensselaer a few minutes later, as they touched glasses.

"I _was_ one, sir, very much of one; that's why I am limping around now.
I was in the Confederate Army, up to the fall of sixty-three, and then I
was taken prisoner."

"So you have had a taste of Union prisons, eh?" asked Senator Baker, who
spoke feelingly--his "Recollections of Johnson's Island" had just made
its appearance.

"Just a leetle might of a taste, Senator; nothing like your experience,
though. You see, it was this way with me. I was captured by a pretty
good sort of a fellow--a big, husky, soft-hearted chap who wouldn't hurt
a flea. That's him over there," pointing to Senator Bull, "and he has
held me prisoner ever since. He ran up against me at Chickamauga."

"Well?" said Senator Baker expectantly.

"Tell them the whole story, Sammy," said Senator Bull, as several of the
party drew their chairs up closer to the private secretary; "tell them
the whole story; it will kill time, anyway."

"Yes," continued Mr. Ridley, "I was taken prisoner, and it all came of
my foolishness and scorn for the enemy. We boys of the --th Arkansas
thought any Johnny Reb could whip five Yanks, and it made us kind of
careless-like, I reckon. I was a raw country lad when the war broke out,
as tough a specimen as ever Jefferson County turned loose on the
unsuspecting public, but I wasn't much worse than the rest of the boys
who loafed around Todd's livery stable swapping lies, chawing tobacco,
and setting the nation to rights. We wer