"Come to the dinner-table, Kenrick. Where are you? Dreaming of Perdita? Or planning impracticable victories for your Yankee friends? Come and join me in a bottle of claret. It may be our last together. Only think of it, my dear fellow, I am to be made a Colonel! But that will not please you. Sink politics! We will ignore all that is disagreeable. There shall be no slavery,- no Rebeldom, Yankeedom. All shall be Arcadian. We will talk over old times, and compare notes in regard to Perdita. I don't believe you are a tenth part as much in love as I am. Where has the

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enchantress gone? 'O matchless sweetness! whither art thou vanished? O thou fair soul of all thy sex! what paradise hast thou enriched and blessed?' Come, Kenrick, come; if only for auld lang syne, come and chat with me; for the day of action draws near, when there shall be no more chatting!"

Sick at heart, Kenrick handed the card to Vance, who read it, and said: “The sooner a disagreeable duty is discharged, the better. Go, cousin, and let him know the character of that fell Power which he would serve. Let him know what reason he, of all men, has to love it!"

"I'd rather face a battery than do it; but it must be done." At the same moment Winslow and the negro entered.

“I've arranged everything with Peek,” said the old man. "I've placed in his hands funds which I think will be sufficient."

"That reminds me that I must do the same," said Vance; and, taking a large sum in bank-bills from his pocket-book, he gave it to Peek to use as he might see fit, first for the common cause, and secondly for prosecuting inquiries in regard to the kidnapped child of the Pontiac, and his own family.

Peek carefully noted down dates and amounts in a memorandum-book, and then remarked, "Now I must see Captain Onslow."

"Give me that letter from his father, and I will myself deliver it," said Kenrick.

"But I promised to see him."

"That you can do this evening."

Peek gave up the letter, and Kenrick darted out of the

room.

Turning to Vance and Winslow, Peek remarked: "I thank

you for your confidence, gentlemen. I'll do my best to deserve it."

"I wish our banks deserved it as well," said Vance; then he added: "And now, Peek, make your arrangements carefully, and be with the carriage at the door just under my window at nine o'clock precisely."

Peek compared watches with Vance, promised to be punctual, and took his leave.

Vance rang the bell, and ordered a private dinner for two. Unlocking a drawer, he took from it two revolvers and handed one to Winslow, with the remark, "You are skilled in the use of the pistol, I suppose?"

Though I've been a planter and owned slaves, I must say no."

"Then a revolver would rather be a danger than a security." And Vance thrust the pistols into the side pockets of his

own coat.

Dinner was brought in.

"Come," said Vance, we must eat. My way of life has compelled me to suffer no excitement to impair my appetite. Indeed, I have passed through the one supreme excitement, after which all others, even the prospect of immediate death, are quite tame. Happy the man, Mr. Winslow, who can say, I cling to this life no longer for myself, but for others and for humanity!"

"Such a sentiment would better become a man of my age than of yours," replied Winslow.

“Here's the dinner," said Vance. "Now let us talk nothing but nonsense. Let us think of nothing that requires the effort of a serious thought."

"Well then,” replied Winslow. Suppose we discuss the last number of De Bow's Review, or that charlatan Maury's last lying letter in the London Times."

"Excellent!" said Vance. "For reaching the very sublime of the superficial, commend me to De Bow or to the Chevalier Maury."

Before the dinner was over, each man felt that the day had not been unprofitable, since he had earned a friend.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

K

LIGHT FROM THE PIT.

"There's not a breathing of the common wind
That will forget thee; thou hast great allies ;
Thy friends are exultations, agonies,

And love, and Man's unconquerable mind."-Wordsworth.

ENRICK found Onslow seated at one of the tables of

the large dining-hall and expecting his coming. The chair on his right was tipped over on its fore legs against the table as a signal that the seat was engaged. On Onslow's right sat the scoffer, Robson.

As Kenrick advanced, Onslow rose, took him by the hand, and placed him in the reserved seat. Robson bowed, and filled three glasses with claret.

"But how grave and pale you look, Charles!" said Onslow. "What the deuce is the matter? Come on! Absit atra cura! Begone, dull care! Toss off that glass of claret, or Robson will scorn you as a skulker."

"The wine is not bad," said Robson, "but there should have been ice in the cooler. May the universal Yankee nation be eternally and immitigably consigned to perdition for depriving us of our ice. Every time I am thirsty, - and that is fifty times a day, my temper is tried, and I wish I had a plenipotentiary power of cursing. With the thermometer at ninety, 't is a lie to say Cotton is king. Ice is king. The glory of our juleps has departed. For my own part, I would grovel at old Abe's feet if he would give us ice."

Kenrick could not force a smile. He touched his lips with the claret.

"You will take soup?" inquired Onslow.

and very good."

"What you please, I'm not hungry."

"It is tomato,

Onslow ordered the servant to bring a plate of soup.

Ken

rick stirred it a moment, tasted, then pushed it from him. Its

color reminded him of the precious blood, dear to his friend, which had been so ruthlessly shed.

"A plate of pompinoe," said Onslow.

The dainty fish was put before Kenrick, and he broke it into morsels with his fork, then told the servant to take it away. "But you've no appetite," complained Onslow. "Is it the Perdita?"

Kenrick shook his head mournfully.

"Is it Bull Run?"

"No. Had not somebody been afraid of hurting slavery, and so played the laggard, the United States forces would have carried the day; and that would have been the worst thing for the country that could have happened!"

"Did I not promise there should be no politics? Nevertheless, expound."

“He laughs best who laughs last. Let that suffice. It is not time yet for the Union to gain decisive victories; nor will it be time till the conscience of the people of the North is right and ripe for the uprooting of slavery. Their conservative politicians, their Seymours and Pughs, who complain of the 'irrepressible negro,' - must find out it is the irrepressible God Almighty, and give up kicking against the pricks. Then when the North as one man shall say, 'Thy kingdom come,'Thy kingdom of justice and compassion, — then, O then! we may look for the glorious day-star that shall herald the dawn. God reigns. Therefore shall slavery not reign. I believe in the moral government of the world.”

"Isn't it a pity, Robson, that so good a fellow as Charles should be so bitter an Abolitionist? "

"Wait till he's tempted with a colonelcy in the Confederate army," sneered Robson. "Ah! Mr. Kenrick, when you see Onslow charging into Philadelphia, at the head of his troop of horse, sacking that plethoric old city of rectangles, — leering at the pretty Quakeresses, — knocking down his own men for unsoldierly familiarities, walking into those Chestnut Street jewelry stores and pocketing the diamond rings, — when you see all that, you'll wish you'd gone with the winning side."

"As I live," cried Onslow, "there's a tear in his eye! What does it mean, Charley?"

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"If it is a tear, respect its sanctity," replied Kenrick, gravely. Gentlemen, I must go," said Robson, who found the atmosphere getting to be unjoyous and uncongenial. "Good by! I've a polite invitation to be present at a meeting to raise money for the outfit of a new regiment. Between ourselves, if it were a proposition to supply the alligators in our bayous with gutta-percha tails, I would contribute my money much more cheerfully, assured that it would do much more good, and be a far more profitable investment. Addio!"

No sooner had he gone than Kenrick said: "Let us adjourn to your room. I have something to say to you."

In silence the friends passed out of the hall and up-stairs into Onslow's sleeping apartment.

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‘Kenrick,” said he, "your manner is inexplicable. It chills and distresses me. If I can do anything for you before I go North to fight for the stars and bars —”

"Never will you lift the arm for that false flag!" interrupted Kenrick. “You will join me this very hour in cursing it and spurning it."

"Charles, your hate of the Confederacy grows morbid. Let it not make us private as well as public enemies."

No, Robert, we shall be faster friends than ever."

And Kenrick affectionately threw his arms round his friend and pressed him to his breast.

"But what does this mean, Charles?" cried Onslow.

"There's a terrible pity in your eyes. Explain it, I beseech

you.'

Kenrick drew from his pocket a letter-envelope, and, taking from it four strands of hair, placed them on the white marble of the bureau before Onslow's eyes. The Captain looked at them wonderingly; took up one after another, examined it, and laid it down. His breast began to heave, and his cheek to pale. He looked at Kenrick, then turned quickly away, as if dreading some foreshadowing of an evil not to be uttered. For five minutes he walked the room, and said nothing. Then he again went to the bureau and regarded the strands of hair. 'Well," said he, speaking tremulously and quickly, and not daring to look at Kenrick, “I recognize these locks of hair. This white hair is my father's; this half gray is my mother's ;

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