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it, any way, to my knowledge. This week, on Tuesday night, some one knocked at Branscome's cabin-door. He asked, "Who is there?" The reply was, "A Mend." This again was replied to with a cheerful "Come in, then," though it was in the night-time, after people had retired. Immediately the little cabin was filled with armed men; the foremost one, going close to the bed, presented a loaded pistol to the head of Branscome, commanding him to rise and dress quickly, for he was a prisoner. Of course, the man did as he was commanded; left his poor wife, and was mounted upon a horse found ready for him by the party. Meanwhile the party, consisting of less than twenty, were full of expressions of regret that no "Yankees" were there to have some fun with. Officer Jones and his men took first one road, then another. Branscome became fully persuaded that his days were numbered, but sat quietly upon his horse, knowing resistance was quite in vain. It was not long before the oft-expressed wish of the Missourians was most singularly gratified. A portion of the Wakarusa militia company had been over to see about the murdered man, and were riding