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-Salter's aristocratic mien and glittering buckles lending an air of distinction to any company, while Packer's fiddle afforded much amusement. Said the landlord: "It is sartin he is a master hand at reels and hornpipes ;" and to Sunday tunes and songs he lent a most solemn or pathetic air. This envy was heightened by an annual "going abroad." Going abroad in those days did not mean crossing the ocean, but any sort of visit though only a tea drinking with the next neighbor. What a busy time there was for three or four days before they set out on their gunning trip to Hampton! Certain calls had to be made and good-byes said; then what a packing there was of many boxes. Some were filled with powder, lead, and bullet moulds, flint and tow wadding; one with the gunning suit and bags; and another with the broadcloth and ruffles for some company occasion. Then there was Packer's precious fiddle; while Salter, whose hair was thin, must not fail to put in his best false piece. After all was in readiness they would set forth on a bright October day in the stage, the admiration of the gaping crowd gathered about the tavern door, the goodbyes of the people of the inn sounding in their ears, with the barking of several dogs whose favorite Packer was.

The journey was always uneventful. They were left at the tavern in Hampton, where the stage changed horses and continued on its way to Newburyport, while Salter and Packer went on foot to Squire Knowles's, where travellers who did not stay at the tavern might find accommodation. The Squire's was a mile or two nearer the sea and opposite Captain Marston's, the guide and companion of their hunting trips. The Captain was as genial and fond of sport as either Salter or Packer, and like them unencumbered with a wife, for he had been a widower for many years.

What a place for gunning Hampton was to be sure! The woods were full of partridges and wild pigeons;

the marshes abounded in yellowlegs and plover; the meadows were the haunt of blue-winged teal and black duck; while flocks of yellow-billed coots, white gulls, and big fat loons made the ocean the favorite sporting ground. It was pleasant to rustle through the October woods, or to ramble over the beautiful meadow in search of game; but for real sport, give Salter and Packer a call on a frosty autumn morning at daybreak. Let them go with Captain Marston to the sea, haul their boats down the gangway, and push off on the bounding wave. There was the boat to manage as well as the fowl to shoot on the wing. The gunners were lying all about, waiting for every shot that was missed. There were cries from boat to boat as good or bad shots were made, and when the fowl came in great companies what care had to be taken lest one get excited! When the birds flew high and shy, it was only the best aim that brought them down. In the evening they would meet by the fire in Captain Marston's foreroom with other choice spirits of their kind and tell stories of former gunning days, melt the lead in a big shining brass spoon or a tiny threelegged pot for the moulds, and make all preparations for the following morning; while a mug of cider sat on the hearth to mull, and the loggerhead heated in the fire for the goodnight bowl of flip.

These pleasant days passed all too soon. There was the Squire's party, -he was a bachelor also, and during the visit of Salter and Packer always gave party. Old Mrs. Knowles spent three days getting ready for it,

-for the Squire was her only son and her joy and pride. There were his ruffles to crimp, his broadcloth to dust, and his buckles to shine. The pewter platters and porringers were scoured, the silver spoons rubbed up, and the knives and forks polished. There were birds to dress, a goose to stuff, and such a baking of pound and election cake, pumpkin and mince

pies. There was cider apple sauce to prepare and cranberries to stew; while on the last day, the day of the feast, the choicest cheese was cut, the clearest honeycomb selected, the golden butter made into dainty dainty shapes, and many tiny pitchers filled with yellow cream. The bottles of wine, brandy, cordials and gin were taken from the liquor case and placed in a row on the secretary, with a variety of glasses and tumblers. Last there was the braiding of the Squire's cue and a careful dusting of it with powder. It was a men's party and only the "tops of the town" were invited. What wit, mirth and jollity there was; and what tales of witches and ghosts, of buried treasure and compacts made with the devil, of valorous deeds in battle and pathetic tears in love, all true! Packer's fiddle was there to accompany both song and dance. The Squire's party was always a success. "Indeed," declared Salter, "it couldn't be done. better in Portsmouth,-a little more mahogany and plate, but no truer hospitality or better cheer or keener wit."

The day of packing and farewells would come. Mistress Knowles never set any price on her hospitality. "For 'tis no tavern," said she. "Please yourself and you please me." Holding out her hand for the reckoning, Packer would put in a coin and Salter would do likewise; but the hand never moved until another and another would find its way there. "And bless me," said Packer, "she'd be holding it out till now, Salter, if we didn't pick up our hat boxes and be off."

Thus the stream of life glided on. Time touched them gently, but still they were growing old. Each scarcely knew it of himself and only to a small extent of the other. "How Salter scuffs!" Packer said to himself one day, as he heard his friend coming through the hall. "How loud I have to speak to Packer! He must be a little deef," thought Salter; and

each felt the other must be getting along in years. Though neither spoke, they found themselves selecting the pleasant summer time for their trips to Hampton, where they might potter over the marshes and rest behind a haystack, instead of laboring with the oars or putting aging eyesight and nerves to the severe test of hunting sea fowl.

Though they were such fast friends, each had a secret; and sometimes when alone, each, with a guilty feeling tugging at his heart, would make up his mind that he would confide with the other on the morrow. But somehow that to-morrow of confidences never came. Salter's secret was a harmless one of long standing and had to do with his gold ring. When a young man he fell in love with a fair damsel, bewitched by pink ribbons in a bonnet and pink roses on a cheek. He quite lost his heart, and the young coquette led him on and on until they exchanged rings; but he heard her "called" in the meetinghouse one Sunday with another swain. Salter always wore the ring. and in his heart carried an unfading picture of ribbons and roses, and an undying love for Packer was the coquette's only rival.

Packer's secret was of a different nature. Packer enjoyed life beyond his means which were fast coming to an end. His raiment was too fine, his fare too substantial, his punch too often, and his "going abroad" quite incompatible with the state of his finances; but still he never told Salter. His secret burned and glowed a secret still, until one day he found himself helplessly and hopelessly in debt. with the prison staring him in the face. In fact the sheriff was already present to escort him to jail, and Salter did not know it. The landlady bade him good-by, declaring that she would send every one of his things to him and that she would never trouble him for the bit he owed her; adding, with a tear in her eye, that he had always been a credit to her house, and

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what would Salter say, belonging to such a respectable family, to find his chum in jail!

When Salter did come and find Packer gone, with trembling voice he upbraided himself for not confiding in him. "Had I been frank with him," he muttered, "he would never have kept his troubles from me. He could have lived with me and saved his reckoning here and eked out his money. One allowance of toddy would have done for us both, and one fire would have made us warm. He might have helped with the backlogs and chored around the garden; but 'tis too late, too late, all because I had secrets." He wiped his eyes again and again as he scuffed about the deserted room, tenderly handling Packer's familiar belongings. At last he stopped his accusations and started for the jail. Here he found Packer unexpectedly cheerful. Indeed his only worry seemed to be that he was parted from his friend; and his first words were: "No more gunning on Hampton marshes, no more stories by Captain Marston's hearth, no more of the Squire's parties for me."

Salter asked for a statement of his debts, at once declaring that he would pay them all. "It is no use-no use," muttered Packer. "I should be just as bad off again in no time. It wouldn't do one mite o' good." In spite of tears and protestations he remained firm, and would not touch one cent of Salter's money. So the friends parted. Oh, the pipes they had smoked together; the boxes of snuff they had emptied; the mugs of mulled cider and glasses of punch they had told stories over! Oh, the fat ducks and yellow-billed coots that had disappeared before them; the swarms of bees they had hived! And were these all things of the past?

Salter was a man of character and decision; and when he found that Packer's case was hopeless, that his household goods were transferred to the jail for good, and that thereafter the defunct Packers in oil would look

down on him from prison walls, he made up his mind what to do. Straightway he transferred his household goods to the jail,-blue cups and saucers and all. He presented his bees to the jailer, a good-natured fellow, promising to care for them himself; and in lieu of his room he begged of his cousin a cow, which he also gave to the jailer with the provision that he and Packer should have a share of milk and butter and honey.

There they spent the few remaining years of their lives: Packer at the town's expense, provided with luxuries from Salter's purse, both revelling in milk and honey from the jailer's cows and bees, on a shorter allowance of snuff, tobacco and toddy to be sure, but still happy because together. Captain Marston did not forget them, and many a bunch of birds found its way to the jail.

Packer was the one to go first; he was always the jollier of the two, but somehow death possessed no terrors, for was not his beloved friend by his side? He was buried from the Salter mansion with all the ceremony due to his former state and to a friend of Salter's, and his name was cut on a slatestone slab at Salter's expense.

Salter again took up his abode in the family home, Packer's treasures mingled with his own, and the Packers in oil looked down from the wall in company with the Salters. He was never known to smile again, but would sit for hours twirling the wellworn band of gold which encircled his wasted finger; and he would shake his head and mutter something which no one understood. He put away all his gold buttons and buckles and took to wearing Packer's silver ones, as something nearer and dearer; but it was for a few months only. His last resting place was but a few feet from Packer's in that pleasant sunny graveyard in old Portsmouth, overlooking the blue sea, which never changes though friends be false or friends be

true.

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BY N. L. SHELDON.

NIQUE among men and educators of his day stood Captain Alden Partridge, the founder of Norwich University, who was born in Norwich, in the Green Mountain State, January 12, 1785. His father was a farmer in independent circumstances who had served in the Revolutionary War, had taken part in the capture of Burgoyne and his army at Saratoga, and was thoroughly imbued with the martial spirit of the early days of the Republic, which spirit seems to have been transmitted in no small measure to his son.

Young Partridge was reared in the good old New England fashion, attending the district schools of those times during the winter months, and doing all sorts of work around the house and farm at other seasons of the year, until he was sixteen years old. Then, showing studious tendencies, he was allowed to fit for college, and in August, 1802, entered Dartmouth, which was just across the Connecticut from his home.

After nearly completing his course there, he received the appointment of cadet in the artillerists in the United States service, with orders to repair to West Point, New York, and report to the commanding officer of the National Military Academy, which was then in its infancy. Here he received such instruction as the National Academy was, in those days, able to give, was graduated in July, 1806, and transferred to the United State Corps of Engineers, and commissioned as

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for the purpose of military instruction in

the duties of privates and noncommissioned officers, to be encamped at least three months of each year, and taught all the duties incident to a regular camp. The age of ad

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CAPTAIN ALDEN PARTRIDGE. Founder of Norwich University.

fourteen

It

fixed, the minimum at and the maximum at twenty-one, and the preliminary knowledge required was to be well versed in reading, writing and arithmetic. It was further provided that every every cadet who received a regular degree from the academic staff, after going through all the classes, should be considered among the candidates for a

ence to a class of offi

cers and citizens in the city of New York. The views which he then presented on the best means of na

tional defence were in advance

of the "piping times of peace" of 1818, but have since been found, by our terrible experiences in the wars of 1847, 1861 and 1898, to be eminently sound and practical. He believed that our chief reliance for national defence was in the "military habits of the great body of the American people, organized into suitable (military) departments, correspond

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