The General beamed, as he gazed around with a look that showed that he thought life might still be worth living if only he could meet occasionally such a reception as had just been given him. Others smiled too; for it was known that the General had been an almost life-long lover and suitor of Miss Thomasia Gray, whose twenty years’ failure to smile on him had in no way damped his ardor or dimmed his hope. In fact, the old soldier, in his faded gray, with his bronzed, worn, high-bred face, was nearer achieving the object of his life at that moment than he had ever been in the whole twenty years of his pursuit. Had the occasion come fifteen or even ten years earlier, he might have done so; but Miss Thomasia had reached the point when to marry appeared to her ridiculous, and the only successful rival of the shaft of Cupid is the shaft of Ridicule. At such a meeting as this there were necessarily many serious things to be considered. One was the question of bread; another of existence. None could look around on the wide, deserted fields and fail to take in this. Everything like civil government had disappeared. There was not a civil officer left in the State. From Governor to justices of the peace, every office had been vacated. The Birdwood meeting was the first in the county at which was had any discussion of a plan for the preservation of order. Even this was informal and unpremeditated; but when it reached the ears of Colonel Krafton, the new commander of that district, who had just arrived, it had taken on quite another complexion, and the “Cary Conference,” as it came to be called, was productive of some very far-reaching consequences to certain of those who participated in it, and to the county itself. As to some matters broached at Birdwood that day, there was wide diversity of opinion among those present. Dr. Cary was in favor of accepting the issues as settled by the war; of making friends with the high authorities—as had already been done by some in other parts of the State, and of other States. “Never! never!” declared General Legaie, with whom were most of the others. “They have done their worst; they have invaded us, and taken our negroes from us. Let them bear the responsibilities they have assumed.” It was easy to see, from the enthusiasm which greeted the General, on which side the sympathy lay. “The worst! General Legaie?” exclaimed Dr. Cary. “The worst will be coming for years. ’After the sword comes the cankerworm.’ Mark my words: the first terms offered are always the best. I should not be surprised if you were to live to see negroes invested with the elective franchise.” “Impossible! Preposterous! Incredible!” declared general Legaie, his words being echoed by most of those present. “It seems almost impossible and quite incredible, yet to an old man many things appear possible that are incredible,” said Dr. Cary. “We will die before such an infamy should be perpetrated!” protested General Legaie, with spirit.