Some one of the Old Guard was always at hand to escort the Governor
home. Sometimes the General's business duties denied him the
privilege, and then Judge Broomfield or Colonel Titus, or one of the
Ashford County Slaughters would be on hand to perform the rite.

Such were the observances attendant upon the Governor's morning
stroll to the post-office. How much more magnificent, impressive,
and spectacular, then, was the scene at public functions when
the General would lead forth the silver-haired relic of former
greatness, like some rare and fragile waxwork figure, and trumpet
his pristine eminence to his fellow citizens!

General Deffenbaugh was the Voice of Elmville. Some said he was
Elmville. At any rate, he had no competitor as the Mouthpiece. He
owned enough stock in the _Daily Banner_ to dictate its utterance,
enough shares in the First National Bank to be the referee of its
loans, and a war record that left him without a rival for first
place at barbecues, school commencements, and Decoration Days.
Besides these acquirements he was possessed with endowments. His
personality was inspiring and triumphant. Undisputed sway had
moulded him to the likeness of a fatted Roman emperor. The tones of
his voice were not otherwise than clarion. To say that the General
was public-spirited would fall short of doing him justice. He
had spirit enough for a dozen publics. And as a sure foundation
for it all, he had a heart that was big and stanch. Yes; General
Deffenbaugh was Elmville.

One little incident that usually occurred during the Governor's
morning walk has had its chronicling delayed by more important
matters. The procession was accustomed to halt before a small brick