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Updated: May 18, 2025
Permission to speak to one of the brothers was granted to the two travelers by the abbot, and they waited in a reception room for him to come. When he did come, treading softly in his sandals, both Eyres and Gilliam looked at him in perplexity and astonishment. It was Johnny Bellchambers, but he had a different look.
The people were kind and good to us. They divided their last crust of bread and rasher of bacon with us. We loved Lee, we loved Jackson; we loved the name, association and people of Virginia. Hatton, Forbes, Anderson, Gilliam, Govan, Loring, Ashby and Schumaker were names with which we had been long associated. We hated to leave all our old comrades behind us.
And this is the story that Tommy Eyres and Lancelot Gilliam brought back with them from their latest European tour. The other day I ran across my old friend Ferguson Pogue. Pogue is a conscientious grafter of the highest type.
All was going merrily as a marriage bell when suddenly Deputy Governor Miller appeared on the scene, accused Gilliam of having contraband goods on board, and of having evaded the export tax on tobacco when he sailed out of port with his cargo a year before.
As the procession slowly filed past, Eyres suddenly gripped Gilliam by the arm. "Look," he whispered, eagerly, "at the one just opposite you now the one on this side, with his hand at his waist if that isn't Johnny Bellchambers then I never saw him!" Gilliam saw and recognized the lost glass of fashion. "What the deuce," said he, wonderingly, "is old Bell doing here? Tommy, it surely can't be he!
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