giving, I began: 'Captain?' He turned to me. 'Oh! you want
to go to New Orleans?' 'Yes, to spend Christmas; any chance for me?' He
looked at his watch. 'My dear young sir,' he said, 'go into the car and
take a seat, and I'll do the best I can with you.' I went in, not at all
sure that I should get a berth.

"This, of course, was only a part of what went on, but the crowd had
gotten into a good humor and was joking, and I had fallen into the same
spirit. The first person I looked for when I entered the car was, of
course, the sick woman. I soon picked her out: a sweet, frail-looking
lady, with that fatal, transparent hue of skin and fine complexion.
She was all muffled up, although the car was very warm. Every seat was
either occupied or piled high with bags. Well, the train started, and
in a little while the Captain came in, and the way that old fellow
straightened things out was a revelation. He took charge of the car and
ran it as if he had been the Captain of a boat. At first some of the
passengers were inclined to grumble, but in a little while they gave in.
As for me, I had gotten an upper berth and felt satisfied. When I waked
up next morning, however, we were only a hundred and fifty miles from
Washington, and were standing still. The next day was Christmas, and
every passenger on the train, except the sick lady and her husband, and
the Captain, had an engagement for Christmas dinner somewhere a thousand
miles away. There had been an accident on the road. The train which was
coming north had jumped the track at a trestle and torn a part of it
away. Two or three of the trainmen had been hurt. There was no chance of
getting by for several hours more. It was a blue party that assembled
in the dressing-room, and more than one cursed his luck. One man was
talking of suing the company. I was feeling pretty gloomy myself, when
the Captain came in. 'Well, gentlemen, 'Christmas-gift'; it's a fine
morning, you must go out and taste it,' he said, in a cheery voice,
which made me feel fresher and better at once, and which brought a
response from every man in the dressing-room. Someone asked promptly how
long we should be there. 'I can't tell you, sir, but some little time;
several hours.' There was a groan. 'You'll have time to go over the
battle-field,' said the Captain, still cheerily. 'We are close to the
field of one of the bitterest battles of the war.' And then he proceeded
to tell us about it briefly. He said, in answe