into some sort of service, so that they would become at least morally subject to the act of Congress, approved August 6, which declared all such persons discharged from previous servitude.  In comparing my own attitude to the war with the Doctor’s, I frequently thought that he cared nothing for the Union, and I cared everything; that he was concerned only in regard to human slavery, while I was willing for the States themselves to settle that matter; for I could see no constitutional power existing in the Congress or in the President to abolish or even mitigate slavery without the consent of the party of the first part.  I was in the war not on account of slavery, certainly, but on account of the preservation of the Union; Dr. Khayme was in the war—­so far as he was in it at all—­not for the Union, but for the abolition of slavery.

On this night of February 6, the Doctor smoked and read and occasionally gave utterance to some thought.

“Jones,” said he, “we are going to have news from the West; Grant advances.”

“I trust he will have better luck than McDowell had,” was my reply.

“He will; I don’t know that he is a better general, but he has the help of the navy.”

“But the rebels have their river batteries,” said I.

“Yes, and these batteries are costly, and will prove insufficient; if the North succeeds in this war, and I see no reason to doubt her success if she will but determine to succeed, it will be through her navy.”

I did not say anything to this.  The Doctor smoked, Lydia sat looking dreamily at the door of the stove.

After a while I asked:  “Why is it that we do not move?  February is a spring month in the South.”

The Doctor replied, “It is winter here, and the roads are bad.”

“Is it not winter in Kentucky and Tennessee?”

“Grant has the help of the navy; McClellan will move when he gets the help of the navy.”

“What good can the navy do between Washington and Richmond?”

“The James River flows by Richmond,” said the Doctor.

I had already heard some talk of differences between our general and the
President in regard to a removal of the Army of the Potomac to Fortress
Monroe.  I asked the Doctor if McClellan would advance on Richmond by the
Peninsular route, as it was called.

“He will if he is allowed to do so,” replied the Doctor; “at least,” he added, “that is my opinion; in fact, I am so well convinced of it that I shall make preparation at once to remove my camp to some good place near Fort Monroe.”

This intention was new to me, and it gave me great distress.  What I should do with myself after the Doctor had gone, I did not know; I should get along somehow, of course, but I should miss my friends sadly.

“I am very sorry to hear it, Doctor,” said I, speaking to him and looking at Lydia; her face was impervious.

“Oh,” said the Doctor, with his rare and peculiar smile, “maybe we can take you with us; you would only be going ahead of your regiment.”