ht he could bottle
up Florida as regards news, but she intended to outwit him. Particular
attention was being paid so as to preserve the secrecy of the sailing
day of Shafter's army. Cipher and code messages bearing on this
occurrence were to be strictly interdicted. But that didn't make any
difference to her; she could beat that game. So on the day the fleet
actually sailed she would send a message to her paper saying, "_Send me
six more jubilee books._" This would indicate that the fleet had really
gone. Brilliant scheme from the brain of a very bright woman, but she
lost sight of the fact that Messrs. Carranza and Polo y Bernabe were at
that time in Canada spying on the United States, and that all the
Canadian mail was most carefully watched. Such, however, was the case,
and in a short time the contents of her letter were known to General
Greely, and by him communicated to me. One evening Miss Correspondent
was standing in the lobby of the Tampa Bay hotel surrounded by a group
of her friends, when I approached and said:

"Excuse me, Miss J--, but I should like to speak to you for a moment."

"Well, what is it, pray? Surely you haven't anything to say but what my
friends can hear, have you?" Sassy, wasn't she?

"Oh! well if that is the case?" I replied, "I am sorry to inform you
that you are suspended from correspondent's privileges and from the use
of the telegraph until further orders."

"And what for pray?"

"I don't just exactly know," I answered, "but I think it has something
to do with sending you 'six more jubilee books' from Canada."

Well! she turned all the colors of the rainbow, and snapped out,
"Goodness gracious! how did you--where did you hear that?"

I smiled politely and walked away. The next morning, shortly after I
reached my office, a timid knock was heard at the door.

"Come in," I yelled, thinking it was a messenger boy. In walked Miss
J----, woebegone, crestfallen and disheartened, with a letter of apology
and explanation. I forwarded this to General Greely and kept her
suspended for seven days. She never offended again, and the last I
heard of her she was in Key West gazing with longing eyes towards the
Pearl of the Antilles. She never reached there.

The other woman correspondent was different. She was an American widow,
bright, dashing and vivacious. She had heard of the ogre of a censor;
she would conquer him through his susceptibility. I'll admit that the
censor in question was sus