Oleah's party, however, attempted no exploits of this kind, for his men knew that he would regard it as base and dastardly an act to filch from an unoffending citizen as to fly from an enemy. Our friend Diggs was of the party, and when Oleah stationed his men in a grove, about a mile distant, and set out to visit his home, Mr. Diggs volunteered to accompany him. Oleah was annoyed, but, having no good excuse for refusal, submitted with what grace he could to the infliction. The short-legged soldier was now all smiles and satisfaction, being, in his own estimation, the favored of his captain. "I tell you--hem, hem, hem!" said Diggs, as he kicked his heels into the flanks of his horse--not January, but a spiteful little mustang--to keep up with the fierce black charger on which the captain was mounted. "I tell you--hem, hem!--this reminds me more of the return of the knights of old after a battle, or a crusade, than any thing in my experience." Diggs' conversation was not noted for brilliancy or point, but Oleah thought he never knew him to be so flat and pointless as on this occasion. "I can't for the life of me, Diggs," he said, "see that we bear any possible likeness to knights or crusaders." "Why, you see, they left their homes, and so did we. We are alike there." Oleah made no answer. He was probably convinced. Mr. Diggs went on triumphantly: "They went off to fight, so did we; they came back clothed with victory and glory, so did we." "I doubt whether either of us have achieved any victory to be boasted of. As to the glory, I lay claim to none, and you must have little, unless you acquired it in creek bottoms or turkey roosts." It was Mr. Diggs' turn to be silent now. His face became almost livid with momentary rage, and the ill-assorted companions road on without speaking, until the Tompkins' mansion was reached. The second son, in Confederate gray, was as gladly welcomed by his father as Abner in his loyal blue, while in the mother's eyes shone not only a mother's tender love, but the proud patriotism of a woman, who had given her son to the cause she believed holy and just. "And here is friend Diggs, too," said the planter, taking the hand of the little Confederate with such cordiality that Mr. Diggs was in ecstasies of delight. "Have you been well?" "Quite well, Mr. Tompkins--hem, hem!--have been quite well, except a few gun-shot wounds, received at Carrick's Ford. Hem, hem, hem!" Mrs. Tompkins, too, welcomed him with gracious hospitality, and, when Irene met him with friendly greeting, he felt more than rejoiced, that he had not given up a soldier's life. He had fought his battles and was now winning his just reward, and "sweet the treasure, sweet the pleasure, sweet the pleasure after pain."