left the city in the afternoon.

Occupying a central position in the village stood the tavern--a
two-story building, with a long piazza running along the front.
Here an extended seat was provided, on which, when the weather
was not too inclement, the floating population of the village,
who had plenty of leisure, and others when their work was over
for the day, liked to congregate, and in neighborly chat discuss
the affairs of the village, or the nation, speculating perchance
upon the varying phases of the great civil contest, which, though
raging hundreds of miles away, came home to the hearts and
hearths of quiet Rossville and every other village and hamlet in
the land.

The driver of the carriage which made its daily journeys to and
fro from the station had received from his parents the rather
uncommon name of Ajax, not probably from any supposed resemblance
to the ancient Grecian hero, of whom it is doubtful whether his
worthy progenitor had ever heard. He had been at one time a
driver on a horse-car in New York, but had managed to find his
way from the busy hum of the city to quiet Rossville, where he
was just in time for an employment similar to the one he had
given up.

One day, early in November, a young man of slight figure,
apparently not far from twenty-five years of age, descended from
the cars at the Wellington station and, crossing the track,
passed through the small station-house to the rear platform.

"Can you tell me," he inquired of a bystander, "whether there is