oiding the rebels, and had delivered
my message, with which my handwriting showed identity; moreover, General
Keyes, when the matter was brought to his attention, immediately
declared with a laugh that his friend Khayme's protege was a "brick."

The physical and mental tension to which I had been continuously
subjected for more than two days was followed by a reaction which,
though natural enough, surprised me by its degree. I lay on a camp-bed
after supper, utterly done. The Doctor and Lydia sat near me, and
questioned me on my adventures, as they ware pleased to term my
escapade. Lydia was greatly interested in my account of my visit to the
woman's house; the Doctor's chief interest was centred on Nick.

"Jones," said he, "you were right from a purely prudential point of view
in testing the negro well; but in your place I should have trusted him
the instant I learned that he was a slave."

"But, Father," said Lydia; "you surely don't think that all the slaves
wish to be free."

"No, I don't; but I believe that every man slave, who has independence
of character sufficient to cause him to be alone at night between two
hostile armies, wishes to be free."

"You are right, Doctor," said I; "but you must admit, I think, that at
the time I could hardly reason so clearly as you can now."

This must have been said very sleepily, for Lydia exclaimed, "Father,
Mr. Berwick needs rest."

"Yes, madam; he needs rest, but not such as you are thinking of. Let me
fully unburden himself in a mild and gentlemanly way; then he can sleep
the sleep of the just."

"Oh, Father, your words sound like a funeral service."

"I am alive, Miss Lydia; and you know the Doctor believes that the just
live forever."

"The just? I believe everybody lives forever, and always did live."

"Even, the rebels?" then I thought that I should have said
"slaveholders."

"Rebels will live forever, but they will cease to be rebels, that is,
after they have accomplished their purposes, and rebellion becomes
unnecessary."

"Then, you admit at last that rebellion, and consequently war, are
necessary?"

"No, I don't see how you can draw such an inference," said the Doctor;
"rebellion cannot make war necessary, and hostility to usurped authority
is always right."

"How can there be such without war as a consequence?" I asked languidly.

"Father," said Lydia, "please let Mr. Berwick rest."

"Madam, you are keeping him from going to sleep; I am only m