“But you’ve no appetite,” complained Onslow. “Is it the Perdita?” Kenrick shook his head mournfully. “Is it Bull Run?” “No. Had not somebody been afraid of hurting slavery, and so played the laggard, the United States forces would have carried the day; and that would have been the worst thing for the country that could have happened!” “Did I not promise there should be no politics? Nevertheless, expound.” “He laughs best who laughs last. Let that suffice. It is not time yet for the Union to gain decisive victories; nor will it be time till the conscience of the people of the North is right and ripe for the uprooting of slavery. Their conservative politicians,—their Seymours and Pughs,—who complain of the ‘irrepressible negro,’—must find out it is the irrepressible God Almighty, and give up kicking against the pricks. Then when the North as one man shall say, ‘Thy kingdom come,’—Thy kingdom of justice and compassion,—then, O then! we may look for the glorious day-star that shall herald the dawn. God reigns. Therefore shall slavery not reign. I believe in the moral government of the world.” “Isn’t it a pity, Robson, that so good a fellow as Charles should be so bitter an Abolitionist?” “Wait till he’s tempted with a colonelcy in the Confederate army,” sneered Robson. “Ah! Mr. Kenrick, when you see Onslow charging into Philadelphia, at the head of his troop of horse, sacking that plethoric old city of rectangles,—leering at the pretty Quakeresses,—knocking down his own men for unsoldierly familiarities,—walking into those Chestnut Street jewelry stores and pocketing the diamond rings,—when you see all that, you’ll wish you’d gone with the winning side.” “As I live,” cried Onslow, “there’s a tear in his eye! What does it mean, Charley?” “If it is a tear, respect its sanctity,” replied Kenrick, gravely. “Gentlemen, I must go,” said Robson, who found the atmosphere getting to be unjoyous and uncongenial. “Good by! I’ve a polite invitation to be present at a meeting to raise money for the outfit of a new regiment. Between ourselves, if it were a proposition to supply the alligators in our bayous with gutta-percha tails, I would contribute my money much more cheerfully, assured that it would do much more good, and be a far more profitable investment. Addio!” No sooner had he gone than Kenrick said: “Let us adjourn to your room. I have something to say to you.” In silence the friends passed out of the hall and up-stairs into Onslow’s sleeping apartment. “Kenrick,” said he, “your manner is inexplicable. It chills and distresses me. If I can do anything for you before I go North to fight for the stars and bars—” “Never will you lift the arm for that false flag!” interrupted Kenrick. “You will join me this very hour in cursing it and spurning it.” “Charles, your hate of the Confederacy grows morbid. Let it not make us private as well as public enemies.” “No, Robert, we shall be faster friends than ever.”