is still all the world to him, and woe to any brilliant vagabond
who should warble a wanton love-song under her holy windows.

Georgiana returned the last of August. The nest morning she was
at her window, looking across into my yard. I was obliged to pass
that way, and welcomed her gayly, expressing my thanks for the
letter.

"I had to come back, you see," she said, with calm simplicity. I
lingered awkwardly, stripping upward the stalks of some weeds.

"Very few Kentucky birds are migratory," I replied at length, with
desperate brilliancy and an overwhelming grimace.

"I shall go back some time--to say," she said, and turned away with
a parting faintest smile.

I that West Point brother giving trouble? If so, the sooner a war
breaks out and he gets killed, the better. One thing is certain:
if, for the next month, fruit and flowers will give Georgiana any
pleasure, she shall have a good deal of pleasure. She is so changed!
But why need I take on about it?

They have been cleaning out a drain under the streets along the
Town Fork of Elkhorn, and several people are down with fever.



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