The desolate house, even more than the sight of the field after the battle was over, brought home to him the meaning of war.

It was not alone the death of men but the uprooting of a country for their children and their children's children as well.

Then his mind traveled back to his uncle, Colonel Kenton, and suddenly he smote his knee.
"What is it, Dick," asked Colonel Winchester, who sat only two or three yards away.
"Now I remember, sir.

When I was only seven or eight years old I heard my uncle tell of stopping, as I told you, at a great plantation in Mississippi called Bellevue, but I couldn't recall the name of its owner.

I know him now." "What is the name, Dick ?" "Woodville, John Woodville.