"Battle! You amaze me, sir! That is indeed a serious matter, and may lead to most serious consequences!"
"The Lord preserve us from evil times," ejaculated the chaplain, "and lead us, poor, dependent creatures that we are, into the paths of peace and quietness! Without his grace, we are the blind leading the blind."
"Do you mean, major Willoughby, that armed and disciplined bodies have met in actual conflict?"
"Perhaps not literally so, my dear father; but the minute-men of Massachusetts, and His Majesty's forces, have met and fought. This I know, full well; for my own regiment was in the field, and, I hope it is unnecessary to add, that its second officer was not absent."
"Of course these minute-men--rabble would be the better word--could not stand before you?" said the captain, compressing his lips, under a strong impulse of military pride.
Major Willoughby coloured, and, to own the truth, at that moment he wished the Rev. Mr. Woods, if not literally at the devil, at least safe and sound in another room; anywhere, so it were out of ear-shot of the answer.
"Why, sir," he said, hesitating, not to say stammering, notwithstanding a prodigious effort to seem philosophical and calm--"To own the truth, these minute-fellows are not quite as contemptible as we soldiers would be apt to think. It was a stone-wall affair, and dodging work; and, so, you know, sir, drilled troops wouldn't have the usual chance. They pressed us pretty warmly on the retreat."
"Retreat! Major Willoughby!"
"I called it retreat, sure enough; but it was only a march in, again, after having done the business on which we went out. I shall admit, I say, sir, that we were hard pressed, until reinforced."
"Reinforced, my dear Bob! Your regiment, our regiment could not need a reinforcement against all the Yankees in New England."