But grandpa said that he'd been in the war and had seen two, and he'd like to see war abolished with slavery and hard drink. He was in the Black Hawk War, but that wasn't much; but the Mexican War was bad and warn't necessary, and was unjust, even Linkern thought so, and had stirred up a lot of hate. And he said the Civil War had left things bad. It had killed off a lot of fine young men, and herded toughs into places like Petersburg and stirred up all kinds of hate and bad feelin's, and made people dishonest and tricky and careless and lazy--and we'd have to stand the consequences for years to come in politics and everything. And he said the way to avoid war was the same as a man would avoid fightin' or killin' another man--you could do it mostly by usin' your mind and bein' a civilized being and not standin' too much on your pride and all that. But if you couldn't avoid it, then fight and fight hard. It was pretty near eleven o'clock and we came in sight of a white steeple and white houses, right amongst green trees--and sure enough it was Bobtown. I was so excited I could hardly stand it. And I said: "It's a downright shame that Mitch ain't here. He never saw Bobtown, and he's there in Petersburg waitin' for me, and here I am havin' this wonderful trip." We were just in a little grove, and grandpa stopped and unreined the horses and fed 'em and said, "We'll have our lunch here." "Oh," says I, "let's go on to Bobtown first." Grandpa laughed, for he knew I was wild to go on. But he said, "By and by." So we spread the tablecloth on the grass and had the lunch--and it was wonderful, fried chicken and blackberry pie and about everything. Then we drove into Bobtown. Here was a drug store, and a post-office and a billiard parlor, and a saloon kept by Porky Jim Thomas, grandpa said; and a lot of white houses, and a big store, and this wagon shop which was also a blacksmith shop. We separated now. Grandma and ma and Myrtle went to the store, and grandpa and me to the wagon shop. The wagon maker was a big man with bushy hair and he was tickled to death to see my grandpa. The wagon was all done, all except puttin' in a few bolts. It shone like a lookin' glass, all varnished up with pretty pictures on the sides, and the man said it would be ready in an hour. So grandpa said he'd go to see a man about the temperance work, and I could go with him or stay around. So I stayed to see the wagon finished.