"Is it the greatest and freest because you belong to it?" inquired the doctor with a sly smile. "I notice that our great men are the greater for being our countrymen, and that our country is also the greater because it is our country. We love the person or thing that sheds glory or honor in any way upon us, more because it does so, than because it is glorious or honorable in itself. For instance the walls of Shakespeare's home are written over with the names of visitors. Now, why is this? What leads Snooks and Noakes to scribble their names on the door-jambs of the shrine at Stratford-upon-Avon? Is it to honor Shakespeare or themselves? Perhaps they cannot quote two lines of his works, perhaps have never even read them. It arises purely from that ignoble desire to gratify in some way the measureless vanity of man. Snooks and Noakes care nothing for Shakespeare, but the world recognizes him as a celebrity, and they by connecting themselves, in however remote a degree, with celebrity, fancy they thereby acquire an atom of it." "I don't see how any of this applies to me," said Mark, seemingly a little hurt at the doctor's remarks. "I'm sure I am not actuated by any such small and contemptible motives. Don't misunderstand me," he continued with rising enthusiasm; "I intend devoting myself to the cause of the Union, solely because I believe it to be the right one, and to carry justice with it." "Ah! well--I like that way of putting it better," said the doctor. "You know, Mark, how I have always endeavored to imbue you with the belief, that to be just is the only rule of life, and that I should be sorry to see you swerve from that in any way." "But I do believe that the cause of the Union is the just one, and that of the Secessionists the unjust one. I also believe that ours involves the cause of freedom throughout the universe. Our country, doctor, is the beacon of light and hope to the oppressed of all nations." "So I've heard," said the doctor dryly, "and that millions yet unborn--and so forth. Well--well, my zealous young friend, bent on it, I see--God be with you. I hope it will all turn out right. But Mark, how--how are you going? Will not your--your--" He hesitated, fearing he had trenched on delicate ground, for he reflected that the young man's lameness might interfere with his project. "Of course," said Mark, guessing the remainder of the question, "I prefer joining the cavalry." "Well, a wilful lad must have his way, I presume, as well as a wilful woman. So boot and saddle, my boy, and may Southern steel and lead spare you to return to us, is the earnest wish of your old friend, Basil Wattletop. But whom shall I have to play chess with? Have you thought of that?" "Ah! doctor, it's a grander game I shall engage in this time, but only as a pawn." "Why a pawn?"