But neither arguments nor entreaties could induce Miss Conyers to profit by the large-hearted hospitality of the Rosenthals, and take up even a temporary residence under their roof. She found cheap board in a respectable private family, on the suburbs, near the parsonage, and she visited her friends very often, and went every day with Erminie to the hospitals. Justin, very soon after his return home, made known his intention of enlisting as a private soldier in the army. This announcement filled the heart of his sister with dismay. All the latent pride in the gentle bosom of the Lutheran minister’s meek child arose in arms. In her own person, so deep was her humility of love, she would have stooped to the most menial office by which she could serve her country, or one of its lowliest defenders; but for her idolized brother she was more ambitious, and she could not endure the thought of the hardships, privations and humiliations he would have to suffer as a soldier in the ranks. “Do try to get a captain’s commission in one of the new regiments now being filled up. You and your friends have influence enough to secure one; you know it, Justin,” she urged. “But, my Minie, I know no more of the science of military tactics than I do of the art of alchemy,” laughed Justin. “What of that? Are not lawyers’ clerks, doctors’ boys, counter-jumpers, barbers, bar-tenders, penny-a-liners, and all sorts of men, who know no more of the science of war than you do, daily turned into commissioned officers—captains, majors, colonels, and even brigadier-generals?” rather impatiently demanded Erminie. “And hence the defeats that attended our arms during the first two years of the war. No, Erminie; I am not so presumptuous as to apply for even a second lieutenancy, while conscious that I know nothing of tactics,” said Justin, seriously. “Oh, but you can learn. There are no end to the works on military tactics. You meet them staring you in the face from every bookseller’s window, and find them lumbering up every counter where the new novels used to be displayed.” “I don’t doubt it.” “I could not begin to tell you how many there are; but two of them I remember—Casey’s Infantry Tactics and Hardee’s ditto; each in three pretty volumes, that look for all the world like song-books—little mites of volumes, that a hard student like you could master in a week.” “I dare say,” said Justin, smiling; “and at the end of a week I should be very competent to drill a company, manœuvre a regiment, or fight a battle—_on paper_!” “Oh, nonsense, brother! don’t be sarcastic. I tell you it is all easy enough. I began reading the first volume of Hardee myself, and I assure you I feel equal to the simple regimental drill. Now do, Justin, study tactics for an examination for a captain’s commission in one of the new regiments.”