"I say, Captain, you Virginia Loyalists don't go into this war with _vim_. It's a bitter job to you." Palmer's face reddened. "What you say is true, thank God,"--quietly. Nabbes stuck his hands into his pockets, whistling. He shrewdly suspected Palmer wasn't "sound." No patriot would go into the war with such a miserable phiz as that. Yet he fought like a tiger up in the mountains. Of course, the war was a bad business,--and the taxes--whew! Last summer things were smashed generally, and when Will (his brother) sailed in Sherman's expedition, it was a blue day enough: how his mother and the girls did carry on! (Nabbes and Will supported the family, by the way; and Nabbes, inside of his slang, billiards, etc., was a good, soft-hearted fellow.) However, the country was looking up now. There were our victories,--and his own salary was raised. Will was snug down at Port Royal,--sent the girls home some confoundedly pretty jewelry; they were as busy as bees, knitting socks, and--What, the Devil! were we to be ridden over rough-shod by Davis and his crew? Northern brain and muscle were toughest, and let water find its own level. So he tore out a fly-leaf from the big Bible, and jotted down notes of the meeting,--"An outpouring of the loyal heart of West Virginia,"--and yawned, ready for bed, contented with the world, himself, and God. Dyke touched Palmer's arm. "Lor', Capt'n," he whispered, "ef thar a'n't old Scofield! 'n the back o' th' house, watchin' you. Son killed at Manassas,--George,--d' ye know?" "I know." "Danged ef I don't respect Secesh like them," broke out Dyke. "Ye'll not sin his soul with a test-oath. Thar's grit thar. Well, God help us!" Palmer stepped down from the pulpit; but the old man, seeing him coming, turned and shouldered his way out of the crowd, his haggard face blood-red. "What'll the old chap say to Gaunt's enlistin'?" said Dyke. "Gaunt in? Bully for the parson!" said Squire Pratt. "Parson 'listed?" said the reporter. "They and the women led off in this war. I'm glad of it,--brings out the pith in 'em." "I dunno," said Dyke, looking round. "Gaunt's name brought in a dozen; but----It's a dirty business, the war. I wish 'n somebody's hands hed stayed clean of it." "It's the Lord's work," said Pratt, with a twang, being a class-leader. "Ye-s? So 'ud Bishop Polk say. Got a different Lord down thar? 'S likely. Henry Wise used to talk of the 'God of Virginia.'" "Was a fellow," said Nabbes, nursing one foot, "that set me easy about my soul, and the thing. A chaplain in Congress: after we took down that bitter Mason--and--Slidell pill, it was. Prayed to Jesus to keep us safe until our vengeance on England was ripe,--to 'aid us through the patient watch and vigil long of him who treasures up a wrong.' Old boy, thinks I, if that's Christianity, it's cheap. I'll take stock in it. Going at half-price, I think."