“Has He not come to set human beings free? Is not the black man's bondage nearly over? Is not slavery doomed? Then the only blot upon the fair name of America will be wiped out. The North and South will become brothers again, and go hand in hand in all worthy undertakings. Thus, as one family again, they will march on, to a grand and glorious destiny.” “If my mother could hear him talk!” his listener thought. “What does he mean by the blacks being set free?” For the Proclamation of Emancipation had not yet been given to the world, and the position of the slaves during hostilities had not been settled. “Are you a Northerner?” he asked the old man. “No, I am a Southerner,” with a tinge of pride in his tones. “How do you dare say such things?”. “I am an old man, and they call me childish and silly. But I love my country, and I want to see her truly great.” “Have you always talked in this way?” queried Ralph, puzzled at the old man's language and manners. “Always. Oh, I have paid dearly for my opinions. I have had my house torn down over my head, I have suffered in my young days; but I have lost all I ever loved, and they pity me now. I know I shall live to see my prayer answered--that we may become a free and united country. Then I shall be ready to die. Yes, it comes to that with old and young. We must all be ready to die at any moment.” With a courteous nod to Ralph, he passed out of the door, and the boy was left alone. “We must be ready to die at any moment!” The words sounded like a knell to Ralph. Was _he_ ready to die? He had, been carefully nurtured by that blessing to a child, a praying mother, {115}and his boyish days were spent in the Sabbath school. Like all in the springtime of life, death seemed afar off, something that would not approach him for many years. Death was the expected portion of the old, but he had always resolutely put aside all thoughts of a future that did not belong to this life. Now these words came home like a shock. Was he ready? He had never been a bad boy, in any sense, but still he was not ready or willing to die. At that possibility his courage forsook him; memory went swiftly back to many a childish piece of wrong-doing, which, under the fear of death, he magnified into black and unpardonable sins. Filled with sorrow and repentance he fell on his knees on the hard floor of that little cabin, with the dead so near him, and cried--“Help, O Lord, or I perish!” A wave of tender feeling swept over his soul, and his mother's favorite psalm, the 118th which she had read to him so often, came to his remembrance, and one verse was as music to him,--“The Lord is on my side; I will not fear. What can man do unto me?” He rose to his feet, refreshed and made strong. [Illustration: 0123] CHAPTER X. CAMP FUN. [Illustration: 9124]