“My good little sister, tactics cannot be learned from books comfortably conned in the chimney corner. They must be learned on the parade ground and on the battle-field.” “But I cannot _bear_ that you, with your scholarly intellect and refined habits should be a common soldier, Justin! I cannot bear it!” said Erminie, almost ready to cry. “My Minie! for ages to come the children of the ‘common soldiers’ who fight in this war for the Union will look back upon their forefathers with more just pride than ever did the sons of kings upon their royal ancestry.” “I know it, Justin! But, in the meantime, the association! Why, the rank and file of our army are made up of all sorts of men!” pleaded Erminie. “My sister, your experience among the wounded soldiers in the hospitals must have taught you that there are as noble men and true gentlemen in the rank and file of our army as any that ever wore the stars of a major-general,” said Justin, very gravely. “I know it! oh, I know it! Heaven forgive me for my pride; for while you spoke I thought of Grandison, a Frenchman, who died after many months of suffering in the Trinity Church hospital in Georgetown. He was one of the most accomplished scholars and polished gentlemen I ever met anywhere, not even excepting his countrymen the Orleans princes whom I met at the President’s reception. Heaven forgive me for saying anything in disparagement of the common soldier!” said Erminie, meekly, as her brown eyes filled with tears at the remembrance of the dying soldier whose death-bed she had smoothed. “And you will oppose my plan no longer, my sister?” inquired Justin, caressing her. “No longer,” she murmured in reply. So Justin went and enlisted in a new regiment that was being formed to go into active service. And his sister saw no more of him for a week, at the end of which he re-appeared at the parsonage with his fine auburn hair cropped close to his head and surmounted by the soldier’s cap, and his athletic form displayed to the very best advantage in the round blue jacket and trowsers of the private’s uniform. The three young ladies were alone in the drawing-room when he was ushered in in this dress. Half laughing and half crying, Erminie sprang to welcome him. With visible emotion Britomarte also offered him her hand. And Elfie openly expressed her opinion: “Justin, you were cut out for a common soldier! I never saw you look so well in my life. But then the closefitting uniform of a private certainly does show off ‘a fine figure of a man,’ as no other dress in the world could. Somehow or other, I think of a gladiator, and of an Apollo, and the Colossus of Rhodes, when I look at you in that tight fit, Mr. Rosenthal.” “Miss Fielding, I am your slave and your knight. Were it permitted in the ranks, I would pin your glove upon my cap for a feather and bear it through the battle-field to certain victory!” said Justin, laughing and bowing. “No, don’t! Britomarte would put a spider in my dumplin!”