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    "Not Captain Creach? Not Captain Creach?" I stammered.

    “Are you a nurse?” arsks Miss Flimflam, looking at me misdoubtfully.


    The weapon felt strangely top-heavy, it swayed in his hands, a mist seemed to rise between him and the sight, and as the report rang out he knew he had missed--missed badly. Almost at once there came other reports from the trees in sharp succession, and a roar of such fury and pain as shook the air, echoing far and near through the forest.

    The next day the Harpes started toward the hiding place of their women and children. They traveled south about fifteen miles to the home of James Tompkins on Deer Creek, not far from what was then known as Steuben’s Lick, near which place, according to one tradition, General Steuben of Revolutionary fame was wounded, some fifteen years before, by an Indian. They rode good horses. Both were fairly well dressed and, upon meeting Tompkins, represented themselves as Methodist preachers. Their equipment aroused no suspicion, for the country was almost an unbroken wilderness and preachers as well as most other pioneers, were often seen traveling well armed. Tompkins invited them to supper, and Big Harpe, to ward off suspicion, said a long grace at table. In the course of their

    This new grave yard was on the Natchez Trace and contained less than half a dozen graves. Tradition says that an effort was made by a number of people who had kinsmen buried in it to influence the officials to bury elsewhere the decapitated remains of these despised desperadoes. Their request was not granted, and the burial was held late on the night of the execution within a few yards of where stood one of the head-surmounted poles. The next day the indignant men who had opposed this as a burial place for the two villains, exhumed their dead and removed the remains about a half mile south of Greenville and there began a new burying ground which today is known as Bellegrove Church Yard.33

    “Ah, mon ami, you mistake my emotion. It is this villainous sea that troubles me! The mal de mer—it is horrible suffering!”

    I followed hastily, wanting to see Delane in the moment of his triumph. I knew he took all these little sporting successes with an absurd seriousness, as if, mysteriously, they were the shadow of more substantial achievements, dreamed of, or accomplished, in some previous life. And perhaps the elderly man’s vanity in holding his own with the youngsters was also an element of his satisfaction; how could one tell, in a mind of such monumental simplicity?





    It was on the 16th and 17th of Sept. 1862, that Mc-Clel-lan and Lee fought at An-tie-tam Creek, near Sharps-burg, in Ma-ry-land. This was one of the most se-vere bat-tles of the war. On Sept. 18, Lee with-drew a-cross the Po-to-mac, and Mc-Clel-lan slow-ly went af-ter him.


    "At first glance," Retief said, "it looks as though the places are already occupied, and the deeds are illegal."


    The Dem-o-crat-ic par-ty met in Cin-cin-na-ti and named James Bu-chan-an of Penn-syl-va-ni-a as their choice. Bu-chan-an was e-lec-ted.


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