d "Newbern," and after a few days' rest in San Francisco,
set forth by rail for Los Angeles. At San Pedro, the port of Los
Angeles, we embarked for San Diego. It was a heavenly night. I sat
on deck enjoying the calm sea, and listening to the romantic story of
Lieutenant Philip Reade, then stationed at San Diego. He was telling the
story himself, and I had never read or heard of anything so mysterious
or so tragic.

Then, too, aside from the story, Mr. Reade was a very good-looking and
chivalrous young army officer. He was returning to his station in San
Diego, and we had this pleasant opportunity to renew what had been a
very slight acquaintance.

The calm waters of the Pacific, with their long and gentle swell, the
pale light of the full moon, our steamer gliding so quietly along, the
soft air of the California coast, the absence of noisy travellers, these
made a fit setting for the story of his early love and marriage, and the
tragic mystery which surrounded the death of his young bride.

All the romance which lived and will ever live in me was awake to the
story, and the hours passed all too quickly.

But a cry from my little boy in the near-by deck stateroom recalled me
to the realities of life and I said good-night, having spent one of the
most delightful evenings I ever remember.

Mr. Reade wears now a star on his shoulder, and well earned it is, too.
I wonder if he has forgotten how he helped to bind up my little boy's
finger which had been broken in an accident on the train from San
Francisco to Los Angeles? or how he procured a surgeon for me on our
arrival there, and got a comfortable room for us at the hotel? or how he
took us to drive (with an older lady for a chaperon), or how he kindly
cared for us until we were safely on the boat that evening? If I had
ever thought chivalry dead, I learned then that I had been mistaken.

San Diego charmed me, as we steamed, the next morning, into its shining
bay. But as our boat was two hours late and the stage-coach was waiting,
I had to decline Mr. Reade's enchanting offers to drive us around the
beautiful place, to show me the fine beaches, and his quarters, and all
other points of interest in this old town of Southern California.

Arizona, not San Diego, was my destination, so we took a hasty breakfast
at the hotel and boarded the stage, which, filled with passengers, was
waiting before the door.

The driver waited for no ceremonies, muttered something about b