I took the missive with wet eyes to our good farmer-general of the North. He read it, and spoke with feeling of his own mother gone to her long rest.
"Bell," said he, "you are worn out. After mess in the morning mount your horses, you and the corporal, and go and visit them. Report here for duty on October 16."
Then, as ever after a kindness, he renewed his quid of tobacco, turning quickly to the littered desk at headquarters.