the clear eyes danced and shone beneath that question which over
and over again he had put to his own heart,--"Will there be war?"

"We hope so," he replied. "All the West wishes it, the people demand
it, and the time is ripe for it. Already a leader has been chosen for
it; those boats were ordered by him."

"Colonel Burr?"

"Aye, Aaron Burr."

* * * * *

The night was balmy and deliciously fragrant with the odors of cedar
and sweet old pine. Balmy and silent, save for a rebellious
mocking-bird that trilled and trolled, and seemed trying to split its
musical little throat in a honeysuckle bush before the open window of
a little "two-story" log house set back from the road in a tangle of
plum trees, wild rose-bushes, and sweet old cedars.

Every window was wide open, and from both windows and doors streamed a
flood of light, to guide and welcome the guests who came by twos, and
threes, and half dozens to the Hermitage ball. They were not in
full-dress array, for most of the guests were equestrians, or
equestriennes, and brought their finery in the little leathern
band-boxes securely buckled to the saddle-horse. Stealthily the fair
ones dismounted, and stealthily crept along the low piazza, through
the side room, carefully past the pretentious "big room," and up the
stairs, a narrow little wooden concern, each tenderly hugging her
precious band-box.

There were but three rooms below, barring the dining-room which was
cut off by the low piazza. The stairway went up from Mrs. Jackson's
little bedroom into a duplicate guest-chamber above. Two others, as
diminutive, one above and below, were tucked onto these. And this,
with the big room, was the Hermitage. A very unpretentious cabin was
the first Hermitage; the humble and honored roof of Rachel and Andrew
Jackson, the couple standing under the waxen candles in the big room
waiting to receive their guests. The master was resplendent, if
uncomfortable, in his silken stockings, buckles, and powder, and rich
velvet. For, whatever his faults, he was no coxcomb, and the knee
breeches and finery had only been assumed for that one occasion, at
the "special request" of _charity's_ fair committee.

The vest of richly embroidered silk was held at the waist with a
glittering brilliant, and left open to the throat, as if in deference
to the flutes, and frills, and delicate laces of the white shirt
bosom. There was a glitter at the knees where the