and profitable, for which he
thanked God and his Excellency.

Elsin, resting one elbow on the table, listened and looked out into the
village street where farmers and soldiers were passing, some arm in
arm, gravely smoking their clay pipes and discussing matters in the
sunshine, others entering or leaving the few shops where every sort of
ware was exposed for sale, still others gathered on the bridge, some
fishing in the Bronx, some looking on or reading fresh newspapers from
New England or Philadelphia, or a stale and tattered Gazette which had
found its way out of New York.

At a nod from me the landlord signaled the servants and withdrew,
leaving us there alone together with a bottle of claret on the table
and a dish of cakes and raisins.

"So these good folk are rebels," mused Elsin, gazing at the people in
the street below. "They seem much like other people, Carus."

"They are," I said, laughing.

"Well," she said, "they told me otherwise in New York. But I can see no
very great ferocity in your soldiers' countenances. Nor do they dress
in rags. Mr. De Lancey told me that the Continentals scarce mustered a
pair of breeches to a brigade."

"It has been almost as bad as that," I said gravely. "These troops are
no doubt clothed in uniforms sent from France, but I fear there are
rags and to spare in the south, where Greene and Lafayette are harrying
Cornwallis--God help them!"

"Amen," she said softly, looking at me.

Touched as I had never been by her, I held out my hand; she laid hers
in mine gravely.

"So that they keep clear of Canada, I say God speed men who stand for
their own homes, Carus! But," she added innocently, "I could not be
indifferent to a cause which you serve. Come over here to the
window--draw your chair where you can see. Look at that officer, how
gallant he is in his white uniform faced with green!"

"That is a French officer," I said. "Those three soldiers passing
yonder who wear white facing on their blue coats, and black
spatterdashes from ankle to thigh, are infantry of the New England
line. The soldiers smoking under the tree are New York and New Jersey
men; they wear buff copper-clouts, and their uniform is buff and blue.
Maryland troops wear red facings; the Georgia line are faced with blue,
edged around by white. There goes an artilleryman; he's all blue and
scarlet, with yellow on his hat; and here stroll a dozen dragoons in
helmet and jack-boots and blue jackets laced, lined