The Bourbon news. [volume] (Paris, Ky.) 1895-19??, 1901-11-26

pleaded. "I'Il wait for you as long
as you like"
'After I've seen Stuyvesant awhile, -
he answered, hurriedly. 'He isn't so
well. I reckon he must have over
done it," and away he went with his
springy step until he reached the
forward end of the promenade,
where he tapped at the stateroom
door. The surgeon opened it and ad-
mitted him.
His eyes were grave and anxious
when, ten minutes later, he reap
peared. Morris is with him. he said
in low tone, as he looked down into
the sweet, serious, upturned face.
''He shouldn't have tried it. He
fooled the doctors completely. I'll
tell you more presently" he added,
noting that Mrs. Wells, with two or
three of the band, were bearing down
upon him for tidings of the invalid,
and Sandy, had heard-as who had
not ?-the unfavorable opinions en-
tertained by the sisterhood of his
luckless, new-found friend.
''The doctor says he mustn't be
both-I mean disturbed-wants to
get him to sleep, you know" was his
hurried and not too happy response
to the queries of the three. matter
of business he wanted to ask me
about, that's ALL" he called back, as
he broke away and lodged other in
quiries.
Once in the little box of a state
room to which he and a fellow
subaltern had been assigned, he
bolted the door, turned on the cleo
trio light, and took from under his
pillow a packet of letters and sat
him down to read. There was one
from his mother, written on her way
back to LeavenWorth, which he pored
over intently and then reverently
kissed. Later, and for the second
time, he unfolded and read the long
est letter his father had ever penned.
It was as follows:
'T have slipped away from camp and its
countless Interruptions and taken room
al the hotel tonight, dear Sandy, FOR
want 10 have a long talk with my boy
a talk we ought to have had before, and
it is my fault that we didn't. I shrank
from it somehow, and now am sorry for 1t.
"Your frank and manful letter, telling
me of your severe loss and of the weak
ness that followed, reached me two days
ago. Your mothers came yesterday, fond
er than ever and pleading for you as only
mothers can. 1t is a matter that has
cost us all dear financially, but thanks to
that loving mother, you were promptly
enabled to cover the loss and save your
name. You know and realize the sacri-
fees she had to make, and she tells me
that you insisted on knowing. / am glad
you did, my boy. L am going to leave n
your hands the whole matter of repayment.
"a young fellow of 20 can start in the
army with many a worse handicap than
debt of honor and a determination to work
It off. That steadies him. That matter
really gives me less care than you thought
for. 1t is the other-yOur giving way to
an impulse TO drink-that fills me with
concern. You come up like a man, ad
nit your fault, and say you deserve and
expect my severe censure. Well, I've
thought it al over, Sandy. My heart and
my arms so out to you in your distress and
humiliation, and-I have not one word
Of reproach or blame to give you.
For now 1 shall tell you what I had
thought to say when your graduation drew
nigh, had we been able to master me-
chanics and molecules and other mathe-
NAUTICAL rot not as useful to a cavalry OFF,
Ger as binocular to blind man, and that
l ought to have told you when you start
ed out for yourself as a young ranchero,
but could not bring myself to it so long
as you seemed to have no inclination that