Poor fellow! that was true. No ward in all the hospital would take him in to lie side by side with the most miserable white wreck there. Like the bat in Aesop's fable, he belonged to neither race; and the pride of one, the helplessness of the other, kept him hovering alone in the twilight a great sin has brought to overshadow the whole land. "You shall stay, then; for I would far rather have you than any lazy Jack. But are you well and strong enough?" "I guess I'll do, Ma'am." He spoke with a passive sort of acquiescence,--as if it did not much matter, if he were not able, and no one would particularly rejoice, if he were. "Yes, I think you will. By what name shall I call you?" "Bob, Ma'am." Every woman has her pet whim; one of mine was to teach the men self-respect by treating them respectfully. Tom, Dick, and Harry would pass, when lads rejoiced in those familiar abbreviations; but to address men often old enough to be my father in that style did not suit my old-fashioned ideas of propriety. This "Bob" would never do; I should have found it as easy to call the chaplain "Gus" as my tragical-looking contraband by a title so strongly associated with the tail of a kite. "What is your other name?" I asked. "I like to call my attendants by their last names rather than by their first." "I've got no other, Ma'am; we have our masters' names, or do without. Mine's dead, and I won't have anything of his about me." "Well, I'll call you Robert, then, and you may fill this pitcher for me, if you will be so kind." He went; but, through all the tame, obedience years of servitude had taught him, I could see that the proud spirit his father gave him was not yet subdued, for the look and gesture with which he repudiated his master's name were a more effective declaration of independence than any Fourth-of-July orator could have prepared.