While these thoughts were passing through Richard’s mind, Colonel Carey was still thundering upon the courthouse steps. Like many others, he believed that a loud enunciation had all the force of reason, and wound up his speech by shouting that he saw among them a young man destined to lead the hosts of Virginia to victory upon many a hard-fought field and who, when the Southern Confederacy had achieved the first place among the nations of the world, would stand high upon the roll of statesmen. He referred to his young friend, young in years, but old in wisdom, courage, and understanding, Richard Tremaine, Esq., of Harrowby. At this, Richard Tremaine bowed gracefully and recognized that the colonel had made a very good opening for the battery of artillery. Cries of “Speech! Speech!” came in deep tones of men’s voices and pretty feminine cries, and Richard Tremaine, mounting the courthouse steps in his turn, said more in three minutes than the colonel had said in his three-quarters of an hour. Standing in the noonday light of the springtime, his figure outlined against the mass of the old brick building, Richard Tremaine looked like one of the straight vigorous young trees transplanted from the primeval woods. When he had finished speaking he walked across the courthouse green to the clerk’s office. There was still much business to be attended to concerning the enrollment and while Richard, with a group of gentlemen, including Mr. Wynne, the gray-haired clerk of the court, were discussing details, a horseman appeared before the open door, and, flinging himself from his horse, entered the clerk’s office. A shout went up, “Here’s George Charteris!” He was a handsome, black-browed youth with a hint of mustache, and wore a students’ cap set rakishly on the side of his head. Cries of “Hello, George!” “How are you, George?” welcomed him. “Where did you come from?” “From Baltimore, straight,” answered George Charteris, going up to Richard Tremaine and clapping him on the shoulder. “I heard four days ago how things had gone and I determined to make straight for home. Maryland is all right, gentlemen, she will be out of the Union in a week. Baltimore is on fire with enthusiasm, and everybody might have known what would happen as soon as Abe Lincoln tried to put his foot on the neck of Maryland.” Here he raised his slight boyish figure up, and his dark eyes flashed as he said: “I was in the fighting on the 19th of April.” They all looked at him with new eyes. This stripling had seen blood flow and smelled powder burn. Murmurs of interest arose and Richard Tremaine cried out: “Go on, boy, tell us about it.”