A Droll Flag of Truce.
One day, a seedy individual in soiled gray walked into Halleck's private room at the Planter's House, in St. Louis, and, with the military salute, thus addressed him:
"Sir, I am an officer of General Price's army, and have brought you a letter under flag of truce."
"Where's your flag of truce?" growled Halleck.
"Here," was the prompt reply, and the Rebel pulled a dirty white rag from his pocket!
He had entered our lines, and come one hundred and fifty miles, without detection, passing pickets, sentinels, guards, and provost-marshals. Halleck, who plumed himself on his organizing capacity and rigid police regulations, was not a little chagrined. He sent back the unique messenger with a letter, assuring Price that he would shoot as a spy any one repeating the attempt.
[CHAPTER XVII.]
Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm by erecting a grammar-school.