“You must go and call on the President, Miss Merry.  He receives Thursdays at the State House.  Then you’ll see a really great man in authority, not the backwoods clowns that have brought this country into ridicule—­such a man as Virginia used to give the people for President,” Rosa said in the tone a lady of Louis XVIII’s court might have used to an adherent of the Bonapartes.

“Ah, Rosa, we saw a gentle, tender-hearted man in Washington—­the very ideal of a people’s father.  No one else can ever be President to me while he lives,” Olympia said, seriously.

“Lincoln?” Rosa asked, a little disdainfully.

“Yes, Abraham Lincoln.  We have all misunderstood him.  Oh if you could have seen him as I saw him—­so patient, so considerate:  the sorrows of the nation in his heart and its burdens on his shoulders; but confident, calm, serene, with the benignant humility of a man sent by God,” Olympia added almost reverently.  “It was he who came to our aid and ordered the rules to be broken that our mother might seek Jack.”

Rosa was about to retort, but a warning glance from Vincent checked her, and she said nothing.

“I say, Dick, don’t try to capture Jeff Davis or blow up the Confederate Congress, or any other of the casual master strokes that may enter your wild head.  Remember that we have given double hostages to the enemy.  We have accepted their hospitality, and we have made ourselves their guests,” Jack said, half seriously, as the young Hotspur wrung his hand in a tearful embrace.

“Above all, remember, Mr. Yankee, that you are in a certain sense a civilian now; you must not compromise us by free speech in Richmond,” Rosa added.

“Ah, I know very well there’s none of that in the South:  you folks object to free speech; they killed poor old Brown for it; that’s what you made war for, to silence free speech,” Dick cried hotly, while Merry pinched his arm in terror.

Dick began his campaign in the morning with longheaded address.  He visited the prison under ample powers from General Lee—­procured though Vincent’s mediation.  There were a score of the Caribees in Castle Winder, and to these the boy came as a good fairy in the tale.  For he distributed money, tobacco, and other things, which enabled the unfortunates to beguile the tedious hours of confinement.  The prisoners were crowded like cattle in the immense warehouse in squads of a hundred or more.  They had blankets to stretch on the floor for beds, a general basin to wash in, and for some time amused themselves watching through the barred windows the crowds outside that flocked to the place to see the Yankees, and, when not checked by the guards, to revile and taunt them.