med less
obnoxious to suspicion in the depleted condition of the guest-list,
since autumn was now approaching. After eleven o'clock the coterie would
scarcely be subject to interruption, and there they gathered as the hour
waxed late. The cards were duly dealt, the draw was on, when suddenly
the door opened and old Mr. Whitmel, his favorite meerschaum in his
hand and a sheaf of newly arrived journals, entered with the evident
intention of a prolonged stay. A "standpatter" seemed hardly so assured
as before he encountered the dim, surprised gaze, but the old clergyman
was esteemed a good sort, and he ventured on a reminder:

"You have been here before, haven't you, Mr. Whitmel? Saw a deal of this
sort of thing in the army!" And he rattled the chips significantly.

"Used to see that sort of thing in the army? Yes, yes, indeed--more than
I wanted to see--very much more!"

Colonel Duval took schooling much amiss. He turned up his florid face
with its auburn mustachios and Burnside whiskers from its bending
over the cards and showed a broad arch of glittering white teeth in an
ungenial laugh.

"Remember, Mr. Whitmel, at that fight we had in the hills not far from
the Ocoee, how you rebuked two artillerymen for swearing? Something was
wrong with the vent-hole of the piece, and one of the gunners asked what
business you had with their language; and you said, 'I am a minister of
the Lord,' and the fellow gave it back very patly, 'I ain't carin' ef
you was a minister of state!' Then you said, 'No, you would doubtless
swear in the presence of an angel.' And the fellow with the sponge-staff
declared, 'Say, Mister, ef you are _that_, you are an angel off your
feed certain'--you were worn to skin and bone then--'an' the rations of
manna must be ez skimpy in heaven ez the rations o' bacon down here in
Dixie.' Ha, ha, ha!"

Mr. Whitmel had taken a seat in an easy-chair; he had struck a match and
was composedly kindling his pipe. "I felt nearer a higher communion that
day than often since," he said.

The coterie of gentlemen looked at one another in disconsolate
uncertainty, and one turned his cards face downward and laid them
resignedly on the table. The party was evidently in for one of the old
chaplain's long stories, with a few words by way of application, and
there was no decent opportunity to demur. They were the intruders in the
smoking-room--not he! Here with his pipe and his paper, he was within
the accommodation assign