ce
and study its parts separately, each feature was seen to have a beauty
all its own.

"So sweet and beautiful a face and so lovely a form could only have been
handed to a soul of whom _they_ are not even worthy," thought Ensal.

A sober look was in Ensal's eye and some kind of a mad gallop was in his
heart. There was more than soberness in the blue eyes of Earl Bluefield,
Ensal's companion. When Ensal looked around at his friend he was
astonished at the terribly bitter look on his face.

The train emptied a number of its passengers and rushed on and on and
on, as if fleeing from the results to be anticipated from its deposit of
new and strange forces into the life of Almaville.

CHAPTER II.

_His Face Was Her Guide._

"This is a rich man's war and a poor man's fight." Such is said to have
been the character of the sentiment that was widespread in the ranks of
the Confederate army during the late Civil War.

Be that as it may, it is very evident that the highest interest of the
"poor whites" who bore the brunt of the fighting was to be conserved by
the collapse rather than the triumph of the cause for which they fought
with unsurpassed gallantry. For, with the downfall of the system of
enforced labor, the work of the world became an open market, and the
dignity of labor being restored, the "poor whites" had both a better
opportunity and a more congenial atmosphere to begin their rise. Thus
the stars in their courses fought for the "poor whites" in fighting
bitterly against them.

At one time the Negroes of the cities of the South had almost a
monopoly of the work of transferring passengers and baggage to
and from the depots, but white men organized transfer companies, placed
white agents on the incoming trains to solicit patronage, employed white
men to drive the transfer wagons and thus largely wrested the business
from the hands of the Negroes. But the Negroes would yet drive up to the
station, hoping for some measure of success in the spirited contests
that would arise in attempts to capture such gleanings as the advance
agents of the transfer companies had left behind.

So, when the train on which we rode into Almaville poured its stream of
passengers upon the platform of the car shed and they had ascended the
steps to the depot platform, they were greeted with a series of shouts
from the Negro hackmen and expressmen standing at the edge of the
platform, the preponderance of the chances against t