Major Dade's Men

The military cemetery was a shady, grassy place,
well tended, peaceful, and even pleasant. A handsome monument
to all the soldiers and officers who fell during the long, hard,
harassing Seminole war stood on one side, and near it were three
low massive pyramids covering the remains of Major Dade and one
hundred and seven soldiers, massacred by Osceola's band.
"There is a dramatic occurrence connected with this
story," said Miss Sharp, sentimentally. "It seems that this
gallant Major Dade and the other young officers attended a ball
here in St. Augustine the evening before the battle, dancing
nearly all night, and then riding away at dawn, withgay adieux
and promises to return soon. That very morning, before the sun
was high in heaven, they were all dead men! So like the I Battle
of Waterloo,' you remember :
'There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry.'
I do not think this incident is generally known,
however."
"No, I don't think it is," replied John; "for as
Major Dade and his command were coming up from Key West and
Tampa Bay, on the west side of the State, and had just reached
the Withlacoochee River when they met their fate, they must have
traveled several hundred miles that night, besides swimming the
St. Johns twice, to attend the ball and return in time for the
battle. However," he added, seeing the discomfiture of the
governess, "I have no doubt they would have been very glad to
have attended it had it been possible, and we will let it go as
one of those things that 'might have been,' as I said the other
day to a young lady who, having been quite romantic over the
Bravo's Lane,' was disgusted to find that it had nothing at all
to do with handsome operatic scoundrels in slouch hats and
feathers, but was so called after a worthy family here named
Bravo."
The Professor now began to rehearse the Dade story;
indeed, he gave us an abstract of the whole Florida war. Aunt
Diana professed herself much interested, and leaned on the
Captain's arm all the time. Miss Sharp took notes.
"Come," whispered Sara, "let us go back and sit on
the sea-wail."
"Why?" I said, for I rather liked watching the
Captain's impalement.
"Martha Miles," demanded Sara, "do you think—do you
really think that I am going either to stand or stand through
another massacre?"
The next morning I was summoned to Aunt Di by a
hasty three-cornered note, and found her in a darkened room,
with a handkerchief bound around her head.
"A headache, Aunt Di?"
"Yes, Niece Martha, and worse—a heartache also,"
replied a muffled voice.
"What is the trouble?"
"Adrian Mokes has gone!"
"Gone?"
"Yes, this morning."
"Off on that hunting expedition?"
"No," replied Aunt Diana, sadly; "he has gone,
never to return."
I took a seat by the bedside, for I know Aunt Di
had a story to tell. Now and then she did let out her troubles
to me, and then seemed to feel the better for it, and ready to
go on for another six months. I was a sort of safety-valve for
the high pressure of her many plans.
"You know all I have done for Iris," she began,
"the care I have bestowed upon her. Unhappy child she has
thrown aside a princely fortune with that frivolity which she
inherits from her father's family. My dear sister Clementina
had no such traits."
"Did she really refuse him, then?"
" No; even that comfort was denied to me," said
poor Aunt Di; "it would have been something, at any rate. But
no; her conduct has been such that he simply announced to me
that he had decided to take a leisurely trip around the world,
and afterward he might spend a year or so in England, where the
society was suited to his tastes—no shop-keepers, and that sort
of thing."
"Happy England!" I said; but Aunt Di went on with
her lamentations. "He certainly admired Iris, and Iris has
certainly encouraged him for months. It is all very well to talk
about romance, but Iris is an extravagant little thing, and would
be wretched as a poor man's wife; even you can not deny that,
Niece Martha" (I could not, and did not). " Mokes would have
suited her very well in the long-run, and now, by her own
foolishness, she has lost him forever. I must confess I felt sick
at heart, to say nothing of being chilled to the bone sitting on
that damp stone."
"And where were you then?"
"Well, to tell the truth, I thought I would hint a
little something to Mokes—delicately, of course—and, as we were
walking to and fro on the sea-wall, I proposed strolling into the
demi-lune."
"That demi-lune!" I exclaimed.
"Yes; it is quite retired, you know, and I had never
seen it."
That demi-lune!
But that was not all I had to lay up against that
venerable and mysterious outlying fortification. The next
afternoon I myself strolled up there, and passing by the two
dragons, their two houses, and the supplyof mutton hanging up
below, I climbed the old stairway, and turning the angle, sat
down on the grass to rest a while. I had a new novel, and leaning
back comfortably against the parapet, I began to read; but the
warm sunshine lulled me before I knew it into one of those
soothing after-dinner naps so dear to forty years. The sound of
voices woke me. "No; Miss Miles is superficial, not to say
flippant."
("Decidedly, listeners never hear any good of
themselves," I thought; " but I can't show myself now, of course,
without making matters worse. If they should come up farther, I
can be sound asleep." For the voice came from the little hidden
stairway, and belonged unmistakably to our solemn Professor.)
"And Miss St. John is decidedly overbearing,"
continued our learned friend.
"It is only too true," sighed the voice of the
governess. "But those are the faults of the feminine mind when
undisciplined by regular mental training."
"I have noticed, however, one mind" (and here the
Professor's voice took a tender tone)—"one mind, Miss Sharp,
whose workings seem to follow my own, one mind in which I can
see an interest, veiled, of course, as is seemly, but still
plainly discernible to the penetrative eye—an interest in my
Great Work, now in process of compilation. My emotional nature
has, I fear, been somewhat neglected in the cultivation of my
intellectual faculties, but there is still time for its
development, I think."
Miss Sharp, in a gentle, assenting murmur, thought
there was.
(" So it has come about at last," I said to myself;
"and very well suited they are, too.")
"This mind might be of assistance to me in many ways,"
continued the Professor. "I could mould it to my own. And I can not
let the present happy occasion pass without disclosing to you, my
dear Miss Sharp, the state of my feelings. Although youthful, Miss
Carew—"
"Iris!" I repeated, under my breath. "Iris!" ejaculated
the governess.
"Yes, Iris, if I may use the gentle name," said the
Professor. |