Te of the little garden in front of the place George asked: "What story are we to tell?" "The usual yarn, I suppose," answered Watson. "Fleming County, Kentucky--anxious to join the Confederate forces--_et cetera_. Bah! I loathe all this subterfuge and deceit. I wish I were back fighting the enemy in the open day!" They walked boldly up to the door of the house and knocked. The old gentleman whom Watson had seen soon stood before them. The lamp which he held above him shone upon a face full of benignity and peacefulness. His features were handsome; his eyes twinkled genially, as if he loved all his fellow-men. Watson told his Kentucky story, and asked food and lodgings for George and himself until the early morning. "Come in," said the old man, simply but cordially, "any friend of the South is a friend of mine." The minister (for he proved to be a country preacher who rode from church to church "on circuit"), ushered the two Northerners and the dog