"Thank fortin, we are!" responded the farmer, heartily. "We are fast getting away from that den of sin."
"And you may preserve your morals yet," said Henry, with a pleasant laugh.
"My morals are safe enough, thank the Lord!" answered Uncle Nathan, a little touched at this reflection upon his firmness; "but I don't like the place, to say nothing of its morals."
"Very likely. But see that Irishman—the fellow who had charge of the box. He looks poorly enough, as far as this world's goods are concerned, but happy and full of mirth, for all that."
"He looks as though he had seen hard times," added Uncle Nathan, indifferently.
"He does, indeed, like many other of the poor soldiers; but, I warrant me, he has a stout will, and an honest heart. I say, my fine fellow," said Henry, addressing Pat, "come up here."
"Troth I will, then, for I see yous wear the colors of Uncle Sam," replied the Irishman, making his way to the boiler deck.
"Long life to your honor!" continued Pat, as he reached the deck, and making a low bow, as he doffed his slouched hat,—"but I wish I had the money to trate your honor."
"Which means," replied Henry, "as you have not, I should treat you?"
"That's jist it, your honor. I persave your honor is college-larnt by the way yous see into my heart."