Woodman, spare that tree; touch not a single bough;
In youth it sheltered me, and I'll protect it now."
He would then go to another tree; but at no tree would he make more than two or three licks before he would go to another. He would hit a limb and then a log; would climb a tree and cut at a limb or two, and keep on this way until he came to a hard old stump, which on striking his ax would bound and spring back. He had found his desire; the top of that stump became fun and pleasure. Well, his time of misdemeanor expired and he was relieved. He went back and reported to Colonel Field, who informed him that he had been reduced to the ranks. He drew himself up to his full height and said: "Colonel, I regret exceedingly to be so soon deprived of my new fledged honors that I have won on so many a hard fought and bloody battlefield, but if I am reduced to the ranks as a private soldier, I can but exclaim, like Moses of old, when he crossed the Red Sen in defiance of Pharaoh's hosts, 'O, how the mighty have fallen!'" He then marched off with the air of the born soldier.
DOWN DUCK RIVER IN A CANOE.
"Oro pro nobis."
At this place, Duck river wended its way to Columbia. On one occasion it was up—had on its Sunday clothes—a booming. Andy Wilson and I thought that we would slip off and go down the river in a canoe. We got the canoe and started. It was a leaky craft. We had not gone far before the thing capsized, and we swam ashore. But we were outside of the lines now, and without passes. (We would have been arrested anyhow.) So we put our sand paddles to work and landed in Columbia that night. I loved a maid, and so did Andy, and some poet has said that love laughs at grates, bars, locksmiths, etc. I do not know how true this is, but I do know that when I went to see my sweetheart that night I asked her to pray for me, because I thought the prayers of a pretty woman would go a great deal further "up
