d in, and were presently sleeping the sleep of the constant in
heart. But Aladdin did not dream about the pretty girl of Manchester,
Maryland. When he could not help himself--under the disadvantage of
sleep, when suddenly awakened, or when left alone--his mind harped upon
Margaret. And often the chords of the harping were sad chords. But on
this particular night he dreamed well. He dreamed that her little feet
did wrong and fled for safety unto him. What the wrong was he knew
in his dream, but never afterward--only that it was a dreadful,
unforgivable wrong, not to be condoned, even by a lover. But in his
dream Aladdin was more than her lover, and could condone anything. So
he hid her feet in his hands until those who came to arrest them had
passed, and then he waked to find that his hands were empty, and the
delicious dream over. He waked also to find that it was still dark,
and that the Sixth Army Corps was to march to a place called Taneytown,
where General Meade had headquarters. He made ready and presently was
riding by his general at the head of a creaking column, under the starry
sky. In the great hush and cool that is before a July dawn, God showed
himself to the men, and they sang the "Battle-hymn of the Republic," but
it sounded sweetly and yearningly, as if sung by thousands of lovers:

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord:
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword
His truth is marching on.

The full sunlight gives man poise and shows him the practical side of
things, but in the early morning and late at night man is seldom quite
rational. He weakly allows himself to dwell upon what was not, is not,
and will not be. And so Aladdin, during the first period of that march,
pretended that Margaret was to be his and that all was well.

A short distance out of Manchester the column met with orders from
General Meade and was turned westward toward Gettysburg. With the
orders came details of the first day's fight, and Aladdin learned of the
officer bringing them, for he was a Maine man, that Hamilton St. John
was among the dead. Aladdin and the officer talked long of the poor boy,
for both had known him well. They said that he had not been as brilliant
as John, nor as winning as Hannibal, but so honest and reliable, so
friendly and unselfish. They went over his good qualities again and
again, and