GENERAL MARTIN MILLER. 



117 



sweat boards, chuck-luck and other gamblers, peanuts, 

 gingerbread and, above all, General Martin Miller re- 

 splendent in chapeau bras, epaulet, sword and sash, 

 mounted on a white horse, trying to bring order out of 

 chaos. If all these things did not make soldiers for the 

 State out of the rawest kind of material it certainly made 

 a very large day for the small boy. 



If any one trait was more prominent than another in 

 the mental make-up of General Miller it was his love of 

 boys and his desire to see them have fun. Having no 

 children of his own at that time, he was fond of those of 

 his neighbors. Things were getting along in shape and 

 the gamblers were reaping a harvest, when the General 

 invited a crowd of boys to follow him if they wanted to 

 see some fun. Every sweat board and chuck-luck table 

 had piles of coin of all sizes and values piled up to show 

 their ability to pay bets, and as the General came along- 

 side of one he would wheel his horse suddenly, clap the 

 spurs to him, and that gambler's coin was scattered far 

 and wide, a harvest for those who could reap. Somehow 

 the gamblers did not appear to like this, judging from 

 their remarks. 



Years after this the General became a grocer, and in 

 that very democratic community subsided into plain, 

 every-day Mat Miller, so called by every man, woman and 

 child in the village. 



We were in his store one day talking of going down to 

 the Popskinny for a couple of days' fishing and to camp 

 in Rivenburg's barn in the hay. 



"What do you boys do down there at night?" he asked. 

 "Perhaps you raid Teller's potato patch and roast his po- 

 tatoes with his fence rails. I think I'll go along to keep 

 you straight." 



"Come along," said Billy Shaw, "we'll let you gather 



