To this hospitable retreat I wended my way in obedience to one of the
colonel's characteristic notes:--

No. 51 BEDFORD PLACE
_Friday._

Everything is booming--Fitz says the scheme will take like the
measles--dinner tomorrow at six--don't be late.

CARTER.

The colonel had written several similar notes that week,--I lived but
a few streets away,--all on the spur of the moment, and all expressive
of his varying moods and wants; the former suggested by his unbounded
enthusiasm over his new railroad scheme, and the latter by such requests
as these: "Will you lend me half a dozen napkins--mine are all in the
wash, and I want enough to carry me over Sunday. Chad will bring, with
your permission, the extra pair of andirons you spoke of." Or, "Kindly
hand Chad the two magazines and a corkscrew."

[Illustration]

Of course Chad always tucked them under his arm, and carried them away,
for nobody ever refused the colonel anything--nobody who loved him.
As for himself, he would have been equally generous in return, and
have emptied his house, and even his pocketbook, in my behalf, had
that latter receptacle been capable of further effort. Should this
have been temporarily overstrained,--and it generally was,--he would
have promptly borrowed the amount of the nearest friend, and then have