"Georgy."

"What part of Georgia?"

"Midway."

--[How odd that is! My father was settled for seven years as pastor over
the church at Midway, Georgia, and this youth is very probably a grandson
or great grandson of one of his parishioners.]

"Where did you go to church when you were at home?"

"Never went inside 'f a church b't once in m' life."

"What did you do before you became a soldier?"

"Nothin'."

"What do you mean to do when you get back?"

"Nothin'."

Who could have any other feeling than pity for this poor human weed, this
dwarfed and etiolated soul, doomed by neglect to an existence but one
degree above that of the idiot?

With the group was a lieutenant, buttoned close in his gray coat,--one
button gone, perhaps to make a breastpin for some fair traitorous bosom.
A short, stocky man, undistinguishable from one of the "subject race" by