ckets; his body, from the waist up, thrown back;
his mouth stretched in a broad grin, and indeed every feature replete
with fun. When they passed out of ear-shot, he put his thumb on the end of
his nose, and bawled out: "It's all in my eye, Betty Martin," and wound up
by turning somersaults on the grass by the roadside.

Later on the sun glared like a great ball of brass. Anon a light breeze
sprung up with a breath of moisture in it.

"That's good," said the oldest soldier, taking off his cap and baring his
forehead to it; "that's good. 'Twill make more bearable the rays of yonder
heater."

Their bodies were refreshed and spirits hopeful in proportion. They did
not converse much; seemed to be taken up with noting the country, as
though comparing it with some memoranda retained in recollection only.
They were evidently strangers to that locality, for they relied for
direction upon milestones and the sign-posts that appeared at intersecting
roads. At last, when they had passed over about ten miles, they came to an
Irishman beating rock by the roadside.

The oldest of the travelers was accustomed to read the countenance, for he
was bred a lawyer, and gave up a large practice in criminal courts to join
the army. He observed a shrewdness in the Irishman's countenance that he
thought might possibly be of service; but it was a delicate matter to get
at in those times, when one might well be afraid often of the members of
one's own household.

"Good morning," he finally said.

"Good morning to ye," the Irishman responded without raising his eyes from
his rock pile.

"Have you heard the news?" was next asked.

"Faith, an' so much of it flies here and there, if a mon lets all of it
roost, 'twill stale his pace of mind like the thaving crows stale his
corn."

"What I mean is, the fight yesterday at Green River bridge. Ar'n't you
glad of the drubbing our boys gave the rebels? There's many a mother's son
of them lying in those green bottom lands there, that the morning's
reveille will never awaken more."

The face of the youngest soldier was turned away. His eyelashes were wet,
and his teeth gnawed his under lip. Once he drew his coat sleeve across
his eyes, and once he looked as if the conversation had become unbearable,
almost.

"Weel, an' when it comes to that, I am the last man to be glad at the
death of a sinner, an' I take it, many a sinner handed in his checks there
yistiddy."

After a few general remarks the