urs to mop their brows.

On the other hand, once you got beyond the gold lace and the etiquette,
you discovered a good man and a patriot. It was far from being the
General's fault that Mr. Hopper and others made money in mules and
worthless army blankets. Such things always have been, and always will be
unavoidable when this great country of ours rises from the deep sleep of
security into which her sons have lulled her, to demand her sword. We
shall never be able to realize that the maintenance of a standing army of
comfortable size will save millions in the end. So much for Democracy
when it becomes a catchword.

The General was a good man, had he done nothing else than encourage the
Western Sanitary Commission, that glorious army of drilled men and women
who gave up all to relieve the suffering which the war was causing. Would
that a novel--a great novel--might be written setting forth with truth
its doings. The hero of it could be Calvin Brinsmade, and a nobler hero
than he was never under a man's hand. For the glory of generals fades
beside his glory.

It was Mr. Brinsmade's carriage that brought Mrs. Brice home from her
trying day in the hospital. Stephen, just returned from drill at Verandah
hall, met her at the door. She would not listen to his entreaties to
rest, but in the evening, as usual, took her sewing to the porch behind
the house, where there was a little breeze.

"Such a singular thing happened to-day, Stephen," she said. "It was while
we were trying to save the life of a poor sergeant who had lost his arm.
I hope we shall be allowed to have him here. He is suffering horribly."

"What happened, mother?" he asked.

"It was soon after I had come upon this poor fellow," she said. "I saw
the--the flies around him. And as I got down beside him to fan them away
I had such a queer sensation. I knew that some one was standing behind
me, looking at me. Then Dr. Allerdyce came, and I asked him about the
man, and he said there was a chance of saving him if we could only get
help. Then some one spoke up,--such a sweet voice. It was that Miss
Carvel my dear, with whom you had such a strange experience when you
bought Hester, and to whose party you once went. Do you remember that
they offered us their house in Glencoe when the Judge was so ill?"

"Yes," said Stephen.

"She is a wonderful creature," his mother continued. "Such personality,
such life! And wasn't it a remarkable offer for a Southern woman to mak