hated Ryely rise in his stirrups, and heard his stentorian voice roar
out the word, "Charge!"

A deafening shout answered his appeal. In an instant Hardscrabble and
its allies were down on Dogtown and its defenders. The latter stood it
for a moment, but Ryely knocked the colonel off his horse, the surgeon
had his nose pulled, the Dogtown Blues justified their name by their
looks, and, seized with a sudden panic, fled--fled ingloriously from
their native training field. The audacious outrage was
consummated--history was violated--and General Washington was beaten by
Cornwallis.

Dire were the threats against Ryely uttered by the colonel, as he was
carried home on a shutter; nothing short of a court martial was his
slightest menace. But no court martial ever took place. The military
pride and glory of Dogtown were wounded to the quick; the force of
popular opinion compelled Slorkey to resign, and to consummate his
chagrin, his treacherous rival was chosen colonel of the regiment. So
unstable are human honors--so ungrateful are republics.




THE THREE BRIDES.


Towards the close of a chilly afternoon, in the latter part of last
November, I was travelling in New Hampshire on horseback. The road was
solitary and rugged, and wound along through gloomy pine forests and
over abrupt and stony hills. Several circumstances conduced to my