"Sir, I am an old man. One more turn of your wheel--the tightening of the cord ever so slight--and a life worthless and burdensome will drop at your feet. The standard of truth, virtue and patriotism has bowed its once lofty crest, and is now prostrate in the dust. All that was beautiful and lovely in this land of our fathers is sinking, rotting, dying beneath the blight and mildew of your accursed lust of power. Why should I survive? My life, sir, is behind me. You ask me to be your slave. Sir, your bondage is inexorable--it is the life of an outlaw, a traitor, a felon. You ask me to be your friend, and I should consort with thieves; I should crucify every principle of a man. You ask me to be your candidate--my consent would be an act of stultification. Sir, against your savage principles I swear an eternal hatred and wage an interminable war." The feeble old man sank back exhausted into his seat. "We intend," exclaimed the chairman with great deliberation, "to scarify the old wounds of the rebels until they bleed afresh. Sixty days, sir, within which to prove your loyalty. You can retire sir." Thus ran the order, marked with three blood-red stars. * * * [Illustration: "Kase de high shurruff he dun und seed what wuz ergwine ter cum arter de bellion fell, und he flopped ober ter de publikins"----"Ole Mars Jon haint ergwine ter flop nowheys," replied Clarissa.] CHAPTER X. FREEDOM IN FLOWER. Ned, who was now in his seventy-third year, was drinking to intoxication from the cup the carpet-baggers had lifted to his lips. He sat in the shade of a mulberry tree near his cabin furbishing his musket for the next company inspection, and stopping now and then to observe the sportive pranks of a domesticated raccoon. He heard the irritable voice of his old master calling him from the verandah of the mansion, and observed with gravity to his wife--