I declined the invitation of General Davenant, as I had to return. My
horse was brought, and I found his foot much easier. In half an hour I
was on the road to Petersburg.
XXV.
THE BLUE SERPENT.
Once back at the "Cedars," I reflected deeply upon the history which I
had heard from the lips of General Davenant.
I shall refrain, however, from recording these reflections. If the
reader will cast his eyes back over the pages of these memoirs, he will
perceive that I have confined myself generally to the simple narration
of events--seldom pausing to offer my own comments upon the scenes
passing before me. Were I to do so, what an enormous volume I should
write, and how the reader would be bored! Now, to bore a reader, is, in
my eyes, one of the greatest crimes of which an author can be guilty.
It is the unpardonable sin, indeed, in a writer. For which reason, and
acting upon the theory that a drama ought to explain itself and be its
own commentator, I spare the worthy reader of these pages all those
reflections which I indulged in, after hearing General Davenant's
singular narrative.
"Pride! pride!" I muttered, rising at the end of an hour. "I think I
can understand that--exceptional as is this instance; but I wish I had
heard who was the 'real murderer' of George Conway!"
Having thus dismissed the subject, I set about drawing up my official
report, and this charmingly common-place employment soon banished from
my mind every more inviting subject!
It was nearly ten days after this my first ride into the wilds of
Dinwiddie, before I again set out to look after the cavalry.
Pages:
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399