“Colonel Rosenthal, here are Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington papers. None of them are over two days old, and therefore as likely to be new to you as they were to me. Pray take them, and amuse yourself while I try to study out this cursed course on the map. You will remain here and dine with me to-day. And you will make yourself at home in the house, and within the limits of the camp consider yourself at liberty.” Justin bowed, took up the parcel of papers, and withdrew to an unoccupied window seat to look over them. And Monck resumed the study of his map, probably trying to make out the shortest and safest route to the rendezvous at the Black Bear’s Pass. So several hours went by quietly enough. Monck remained seated at the table, tracing lines on his map and making memoranda on his paper, or receiving reports and giving instructions to the officers and men who were continually coming and going. Colonel Rosenthal remained in the window seat, occupied with his newspapers. At length, about four o’clock in the afternoon, Monck impatiently arose from the table, and sweeping his maps and papers into a heap, exclaimed: “Put all these things out of my sight. The more I puzzle myself over them, the more I addle my brains. And tell them to serve dinner immediately. I want it.” Two of the men came forward and cleared the table, sweeping the things that were on top of it into a drawer below it. And then they went out to attend to the dinner. Monck stretched his huge limbs, yawned like a clap of thunder, and began to walk heavily up and down the old floor, shaking the ricketty house as with the tread of an elephant. Meanwhile his attendant soldiers came in and arranged the table for dinner, by spreading over it a white cloth, and placing upon it a miscellaneous assortment of cracked crockery ware and nicked cutlery. Then they brought in the dishes—a boiled ham, a roast turkey, and vegetables, which, with a bottle of pale brandy and another of old rye whiskey, they sat upon the dinner table, after which they arranged a second course of pastries and jellies, and a dessert of fruits, nuts, and light wines on a side-table. “Heaven bless the Scotch sutler!” exclaimed Monck, as he saw all these luxuries. “Come, Colonel, draw up to the table and help me to enjoy the good victuals set before us. Forget that we are foes, and let us be good fellows for once! What is that the Russian poet says? ‘When at the board let hate forget The bitterest words of yesterday, For where the bread and salt have met All thoughts of hate should pass away.’ Come! do not let us be worse Christians than the Cossack! Sit up, sit up!” said Monck, placing a chair for himself and one for Colonel Rosenthal at the table. Thus pressed, Justin laid aside his newspapers and came and seated himself at the board. An orderly waited on the two officers.