The road took a twist that led me face to face with a small whitewashed cottage, smear’d with black stains of burning. For seemingly it had been fir’d in one or two places, only the flames had died out: and from the back, where some out-building yet smoulder’d, rose the smoke that I spied. But what brought me to a stand was to see the doorway all crack’d and charr’d, and across it a soldier stretch’d—a green-coated rebel—and quite dead. His face lay among the burn’d ruins of the door, that had wofully singed his beard and hair. A stain of blood ran across the door stone and into the road. I was gazing upon him and shuddering, when again I heard the groans. They issued from the upper chamber of the cottage. I stepped over the dead soldier and mounted the ladder that led upstairs. The upper room was but a loft. In it were two beds, whereof one was empty. On the edge of the other sat up a boy of sixteen or thereabouts, stark naked and moaning miserably. With one hand he seem’d trying to cover a big wound that gaped in his chest: the other, as my head rose over the ladder, he stretch’d out with all the fingers spread. And this was his last effort. As I stumbled up, his fingers clos’d in a spasm of pain; his hands dropp’d, and the body tumbled back on the bed, where it lay with the legs dangling. The poor lad must have been stabb’d as he lay asleep. For by the bedside I found his clothes neatly folded and without a speck of blood. They were clean, though coarse; so thinking they would serve for Delia, I took them, albeit with some scruples at robbing the dead, and covering the body with a sheet, made my way downstairs. [Illustration: “Oh, Jack—they do not fit at all!”—Page 121.] Here, on a high shelf at the foot of the ladder, I discover’d a couple of loaves and some milk, and also, lying hard by, a pair of shepherd’s shears, which I took also, having a purpose for them. By this time, being sick enough of the place, I was glad to make all speed back to Delia. She was still waiting among the leafless alders, and clapp’d her hands to see the two loaves under my arm. Said I, flinging down the clothes, and munching at my share of the bread— “Here is the boy’s suit that you wish’d for.” “Oh, dear! ’tis not a very choice one.” Her face fell. “All the better for escaping notice.” “But—but I _like_ to be notic’d!” Nevertheless, when breakfast was done, she consented to try on the clothes. I left her eyeing them doubtfully, and stroll’d away by the river’s bank. In a while her voice call’d to me— “Oh, Jack—they do not fit at all!” “Why, ’tis admirable!” said I, returning, and scanning her. Now this was a lie: but she took me more than ever, so pretty and comical she look’d in the dress. “And I cannot walk a bit in them!” she pouted, strutting up and down. “Swing your arms more, and let them hang looser.” “And my hair. Oh, Jack, I have such beautiful hair!” “It must come off,” said I, pulling the shears out of my pocket.