The Orpheus C. Kerr Papers, Series 2. R. H. Newell

ember to his own bosom. None could be more ready to repudiate all their Northern debts than was Mr. Ordeth to repudiate his, and his deadly hatred of the Abolitionist was only equaled by that of a New England man owning a colored drayman, and living next door to him. "We will raise a million of soldiers if need be," said the chivalrous Virginian at a public meeting in Richmond, "and sacrifice our last crust." After which he went comfortably home and growled very much at the dampness of his slippers and the barely perceptible chill in his buttered toast. Great admiration was evoked on all sides by this spirited conduct, and when he finally donated one hundred dollars of his creditors' money to the Volunteer fund, there was some talk of making him a brigadier; but it happened to leak out that he knew something of military business from early study, and, of course, that project had to be given up. A brigadier with military capability would be an anomaly indeed!

      And so, this self-sacrificed gentleman meekly wore his honors in private life, his patriotism deepening and intensifying until it attained the pitch of verbal perfection demonstrated in the first chapter of this veracious narrative. Suddenly, however, this patriotism suffered what its possessor's pocket did not—a "sea change": the Confiscation Act passed by the Congress of the United States induced Mr. Ordeth to consider seriously what might possibly happen to a certain little property of his near Danville, in the event of certain Union achievements; and the news of McClellan's advance to within five miles of Richmond, did not tend to increase the patriotic fervor of this chivalrous Virginian.

      It was on the second morning after the summary incarceration of Mr. Bob Peters, that Mr. Ordeth peremptorily called for his newspaper, and, having elevated his feet upon the window sill, proceeded to read the more humorous articles of the journal in question, which were chiefly devoted to the discussion of divers excellent plans for invading the North in one column, and burning Richmond in the next. The only other person in the apartment at the time was Mrs. Ordeth, who turned very pale when her lord took up his paper, and watched him as he read, with considerable agitation. She was evidently expecting an explosion, and it came.

      Having perused with mitigated satisfaction a leader on the sublime nobility of soul evidenced by the people who destroyed their city at the approach of the enemy, Mr. Ordeth turned to the Local Department of the reduced sheet before him, and was electrified at the discovery therein of a full and accurate account of the arrest of "one Robert Peters, supposed to be a Yankee spy, who is said to have found refuge for some time past in the house of a well-known citizen, and who was seized at the instigation of a devoted Daughter of the South, who, by a pardonable device, lured him from his hiding place for that purpose. But for the disordered state of things just now, the citizen said to have harbored this fellow would be called to account for his equivocal concern in the matter."

      The paper dropped from the hands of Mr. Ordeth, and he stared at his wife in utter bewilderment.

      "Don't be angry with us, Victor!" exclaimed that lady, tremblingly; for she had seen the paper and anticipated what was coming. "Libby hid poor Bob away because she didn't want to see one of our own relations taken and hung, and when she told me of it I didn't dare to tell you."

      "And do you mean to tell me that it was in my house he was secreted?" asked the Virginian, tragically.

      "Yes, my dear, up-stairs, you know."

      This unexampled revelation might have produced a scene, had not the door been opened at the moment by Jocko, who unceremoniously entered with a folded paper in his hand.

      "Dis wus brung for you, Mars'r, by de angel ob de—I mean by de gemman wid gold on he shoulder."

      The master hastily snatched the paper from the dutiful black, waved him magisterially from the presence, and found himself ordered to report on the following morning for military duty at the headquarters of the military commandant, Richmond. A new draft was ordered!

      Passing the paper to his wife, without a word of comment, Mr. Ordeth commenced to pace the room with long and rapid strides. Finally, he stopped short before his lady's chair:—

      "I am beginning to think," said he, coolly, "that the Union is best for the South, after all."

      "Yes, my dear."

      "And we must be off for Danville this very afternoon."

      "Oh!"

      A pause, and then—

      "I was hasty about Bob. My friend, General Evans, has just come in from Leesburg. I must explain this matter to him and get Bob discharged; for Bob may be of great service to us, my dear, when the Yankees take possession."

      Mrs. Ordeth understood her husband well enough to appreciate this remarkable change in his sentiments, and refrained from exhibiting any astonishment at this speech. She only answered:

      "You know best, Victor."

      The head of the house received this judicious reply in full payment of all demands on his wife's attention, and immediately went forth to put his designs into execution—as fine a specimen of the Southern Union man as ever welcomed the advent of the loyal army with enthusiasm, and immediately presented a bill for damages sustained in the cause of Freedom!

      CHAPTER VIII.—WITHOUT END.

      Seated upon the lounge where he so often had rested, with her elbows resting upon the table on which his arms had so frequently reposed, sat the afflicted Libby. She had heard her paternal leave the house an hour before, and she had just heard the sound of his boots in the hall below as he returned; but she felt no desire to learn the reason thereof. Like her mother, she had seen the account of Mr. Peters' arrest in the morning paper, and her bewilderment at the statement respecting the device used to entrap that persecuted youth by a Daughter of the South, was only equalled by her grief at the unfortunate present predicament of her lover. So absorbed was she in her sorrows that she heard not the opening of the parlor door below her, nor the sound of footsteps on the stairs:—

      "Miss Ordeth!"

      Was it a dream? The beautiful mourner turned quickly in the direction of the sound, and beheld the bodily presentment of Mr. Bob Peters, who stood near the door with his shocking bad hat between his hands and an expression of stern reproach upon his countenance.

      "Bob!—you here?" exclaimed the maiden, starting from her seat with a little shriek.

      "Mr. Peters, if you please, Madame," said the late captive, with much dignity. "Owing to a great spread of Union sentiment in the bosom of your paternal relative, and his consequent representation in my behalf, I am here, to blast you with the sight of the innocence you have betrayed! I slipped up here to confront you, Madame," observed Mr. Peters, with some ease of manner, "while the old ones were packing the silver-plated spoons preparatory to a combined movement on the peaceful hamlet of Danville."

      "What do you mean, you ridiculous thing?" asked Libby, scarcely believing her own ears.

      "That we must part," returned Mr. Peters, calmly straightening an angle in the rim of his hat. "You named an hour for my nocturnal escape—quarter-past Twelve. I fled the Residence at that unseemly hour, though another maiden had previously invited me to liberty and the pursuit of happiness. I went, and walked straight into the arms of the unsleeping Southern Confederacy, who was inebriated at the time, and conducted me to the penal pork-packing establishment. Enough! we part. I go to Danville with you, but only as an ordinary acquaintance of chilling reserve."

      "Why Bob, what can you mean?" ejaculated Libby, to whom this remarkable speech was not particularly lucid; "it was not my fault that you were taken. If you had gone at quarter-past Twelve, as I told you, all would have been well. Oh, Bob, when Jocko told me next morning that he had waited for you a whole hour in the hall in vain, and when ma and I found that you had really gone at the wrong time, I sat right down and cried my eyes out."

      "The wrong time!" exclaimed Mr. Peters, striding suddenly toward the mirror. "Impossible! Observe this repeater of mine, which is a reliable time-piece. On the night in question, this repeater was plainly before me, hanging on this gas bracket, before this looking-glass." Here Mr. Peters illustrated his assertion by suspending his watch from the bracket, under which it spun feebly for a moment. "At the very instant of my