Onslow took the picture and left the shop, but did not notice that he was followed by a well-dressed gentleman with a cigar in his mouth. This individual had been for several days watching every passer-by who looked at that photograph. He now followed Onslow to the head-quarters of his regiment; put an inquiry to one of the members of the Captain’s company, and then strolled away as if he had more leisure than he knew what to do with. But no sooner had he turned a corner, than he entered a carriage which was driven off at great speed. Not an hour had passed when a black man in livery put into Onslow’s hands this note:— “Will you come and dine with me at five to-day without ceremony? Please reply by the bearer. “Yours, C. RATCLIFF.” What can he want? thought Onslow, somewhat gratified by such an attention from so important a leader. Presuming that the object merely was to ask some questions concerning military matters, the Captain turned to the man in livery, and said, “Tell Mr. Ratcliff I will come.” Punctually at the hour of five Onslow ascended the marble steps of Ratcliff’s stately house, rang the bell, and was ushered into a large and elegantly furnished drawing-room, the windows of which were heavily curtained so as to keep out the glare of the too fervid sunlight. Pictures and statues were disposed about the apartment, but Onslow, who had a genuine taste for art, could find nothing that he would covet for a private gallery of his own. Ratcliff entered, habited in a cool suit of grass-cloth. The light hues of his vest and neck-tie heightened the contrast of his somewhat florid complexion, which had now lost all the smoothness of youth. Self-indulgent habits had faithfully done their work in moulding his exterior. Portly and puffy, he looked much older than he really was. But in his manner of greeting Onslow there was much of that charm which renders the hospitality of a plantation lord so attractive. Throwing aside all that arrogance which would have made his overseers and tradespeople keep their distance, he welcomed Onslow like an old friend and an equal. “You’ve a superb house here,” said the ingenuous Captain. “’T will do, considering that I sometimes occupy it only a month in the year,” replied Ratcliff. “I’m glad to say I only hire it. The house belonged to a Miss Aylesford, a Yankee heiress; then passed into the possession of a New York man, one Charlton; but I pay the rent into the coffers of the Confederate government. The property is confiscate.” “Won’t the Yankees retaliate?” “We sha’n’t allow them to.” “After we’ve whipped Yankee-Doo-dle-dom, what then?”