No one made any further objection.
"I wish Heron had not been so confoundedly particular about St. Paul," Mr. Money went on to say in a discontented tone. "That was absurd. St. Paul's no worse than lots of other fellows, and in such a thing as this we can't afford to throw away any offer of support. We have to fight against the Duke and his lot anyhow, and the help of St. Paul couldn't have done us any harm in that quarter, and it might have done us some good in others. I shouldn't wonder if St. Paul had some friends and admirers here still; and it is as likely as not that his being with us might conciliate a few of the mad Radicals. They might like him just because he is against his brother, the Duke."
"But Mr. Heron would not have such help as that," Lucy said, in tones of pride.
"Oh, by Jove! if you want to carry an election—and now, I suppose, if St. Paul has any influence at all, it will be given against us."
Minola thought of her unholy compact, and did not venture to say a word on the subject.
THE "UNIFORMED MILITIA" SERVICE.
I spent seven years of my boyhood at school among the hills of old Connecticut, about fifteen miles back of Bridgeport, in a region even now in almost its primitive simplicity and pastoral beauty. It has been left quiet and untouched between the iron ways of Housatonic and Danbury, equidistant from both, and sufficiently far away from either to be free from the impulse and incentive of that practical missionary of modern progress, the railroad.
City born, but partly country bred, I understand well the sentiment of the New Englander for his old home, and often live over again the days in those familiar hills and valleys of Fairfield. I would revel in enjoyment if it were possible for me to revisit them. It was there my eyes were open to the delights of a "town muster," and my steps taught rhythm by fife and drum.