While he lay there surrounded by a knot of rebels, he had an opportunity to learn their opinions. They were vexed, disappointed, and angry, and bestowed unmeasured abuse upon the artillery company for not coming sooner. This battery had been in the vicinity of the Keys to guard that place from a boat-attack, which was expected. On the appearance of the Middy on the preceding night, it had been sent for, and had been momentarily expected during the forenoon. This was the principal reason why the steamers had not been burned. Jack Somers found himself to be an object of great curiosity. He was visited by all the men, women and children in the place, all of whom were anxious to look upon one of the “terrible Yankees.” The sufferer was not a very dangerous-looking person, especially in his present exhausted condition; and those who came to scoff at him found their admiration and sympathy excited rather than their hatred. He was pale, but he was handsome; and the ladies expressed their surprise that such a pretty boy should be a “horrid Yank.” Among those who came were Major Sandford, a rich planter residing near the landing, and his wife and daughter. The latter, a girl of fifteen, was touched to the heart by the sad, pale face of Jack. She thought it was a terrible thing for such a nice-looking young man to lie wounded and suffering upon a heap of cotton-bales. “What is your name, poor fellow?” said she. “John Somers, miss,” answered Jack. “What did you come down here to kill our people for?” added she. “Because they are rebels and traitors!” replied he faintly. We don’t know whether Miss Edith Sandford liked this answer or not; but she protested with all her might against the little Yankee’s lying on cotton-bales, where he was, in such a dreadful condition. She insisted that her father should take him home, and treat him like a human being. She was an only daughter; and, though Major Sandford had a great many objections, he finally consented, and Jack was paroled for this purpose. He was conveyed in a wagon to the house of the planter; a good room was provided for him, and Edith saw that he was tenderly nursed. At the expiration of a fortnight, he was able to walk out. “I wish you wasn’t a Yankee,” said Edith one day, as they walked in front of the mansion. “I wish you wasn’t a rebel,” replied Jack. “I’m not a rebel, any more than you are!” exclaimed she, with a very pretty pout upon her interesting countenance. “We won’t talk politics then,” laughed Jack. “I suppose my time here is about out, and I must soon be sent to a rebel prison.” “To prison? Oh, no! they won’t send a nice young man like you to prison.” “But they will, Miss Edith.” “Why don’t you run off, then?” “I would not break my parole.” “I thought a Yankee would do anything that is mean.” “I think not.”