a dollar. He
could not do it, but he said,--

"Ask your mother how much change she wants."

She only wanted a dime to buy a paper of needles and some silk to mend
my jacket. So I went back and asked for ten cents. Instead of taking
it out of his vest-pocket, father opened his pocket-book and said,--

"Did you say you wanted _ten dollars_ or ten _cents_, my boy?"

"Why, father," said I, "whoever heard of paying ten dollars for
needles and thread?"

"I have," said he. "I once heard of a paper of needles, and a skein of
silk, worth _more_ than ten dollars."

His eyes twinkled and looked so pleasant that I knew there was a story
on hand, so I told mother and sis' Loo, who promised to find out all
about it. After supper that night mother coaxed father to tell us the
story. We liked it ever so much: so I got mother to write it down for
the _Bivouac_.

After the battle of Chickamauga, one of "our mess" found a needle-case
which had belonged to some poor fellow, probably among the killed. He
did not place much value upon the contents, although there was a paper
of No. 8 needles, several buttons, and a skein or two of thread, cut
at each end and neatly braided so that each thread could be smoothly
drawn out. He put the whole thing in his breast-pocket, and thought no
more about it. But one day, while out foraging for himself and his
mess, he found himself near a house where money could have procured a
fine meal of fried chicken, corn-pone, and buttermilk, besides a small
supply to carry back to camp. But Confederate soldiers' purses were
generally as empty as their stomachs, and in this instance the lady of
the house did not offer to give away her nice dinner. While the poor
fellow was inhaling the enticing odor, and feeling desperately hungry,
a girl rode up to the gate on horseback, and bawled out to another
girl inside the house,--

"Oh, Cindy, I rid over to see if you couldn't lend me a needle! I
broke the last one I had to-day, and pap says thar ain't nary 'nother
to be bought in the country hereabouts!"

Cindy declared she was in the same fix, and couldn't finish her new
homespun dress for that reason.

The soldier just then had an idea. He retired to a little distance,
pulled out his case, sticking two needles on the front of his jacket,
then went back and offered one of them, with his best bow, to the girl
on the horse. Right away the lady of the house offered to trade for
the one remaining. The result was a