on was thirty miles distant. I had
a good horse, and with all my dissipation I was capable of a fair share
of endurance. I therefore yielded to my impulse, and halting only to
leave word with a comrade whom I met to explain my absence to the
colonel, I dashed off into the night on my way to Culverton.

"What were my thoughts during those first few hours I need hardly tell
you. I hope and trust none of you will ever be tortured by the self-
reproach of which I was then the victim.

"For some distance out of Ogilby the roads were pretty good, and I made
tolerable progress; so that when morning broke about seven I was at
least a dozen miles on my journey. I could scarcely brook the delay of
a few minutes at the first village to rest my horse and swallow a
hurried breakfast; but I knew that for the rest of the way
accommodation, either for man or beast, was very limited, and,
therefore, prudence made the unwelcome delay a necessity.

"Once more in the saddle I hoped to make up for lost time; but in this I
was fated to be disappointed. For scarcely had I got beyond the village
when the weather suddenly changed. The chill morning air freshened to a
wind which brought snow with it, light at first, but increasing in
heaviness as the day went on. The road rapidly became covered, and my
horse, unable on the treacherous foothold to maintain the canter of the
morning, was compelled to slacken into a trot.

"I was in no gear for weather like this, as you may suppose. I still
wore the light festive attire of the previous night, covered only with
my military cape, which I now drew more closely around me at every step.
How I wished I had taken Tucker's prudent advice! But it was too late
to help it now.

"What troubled me most was not the cold, or the driving snow in my face,
but the slow pace at which progress was now possible. I had hoped to
reach Culverton by noon, but by noon I had accomplished scarcely two-
thirds of the distance, and every moment the difficulties of the way
were increasing. My horse trudged on gallantly. The trot had long
since given place to a walk, and the walk in turn often became a sheer
struggle for progress through the drifts and obstacles of the uncertain
road.

"As for me, I was nearly frozen in my saddle, and more than once was
compelled to dismount and tramp along beside my horse in the deep snow
in order to keep the blood going in my veins. And all the while the
thought of my father