"I suppose you are right," said the colonel, when the boy had explained
why he could not accept. "You take your letters to the gentlemen who
are going to make the war, and then you and I and others like us,
ranging from your age to mine, will have to fight it."

But Harry was not to be discouraged. He could not see things in a gray
light on that brilliant Christmas morning. Here was Charleston before
him and in a few hours he would be in the thick of great events.
A thrill of keen anticipation ran through all his veins. The colonel
and he stood by the roadside while the obliging driver waited. He
offered his hand, saying good-bye.

"It's only for a day," said Colonel Leonidas Talbot, as he gave the
hand a strong clasp. "I shall be in Charleston tomorrow, and I shall
certainly see you."

Harry sprang back to his place and the stage rolled joyously into
Charleston. Harry saw at once that the city was even more crowded than
Nashville had been. Its population had increased greatly in a few weeks,
and he could feel the quiver of excitement in the air. Citizen soldiers
were drilling in open places, and other men were throwing up earthworks.

He left the stage and carried over his arm his baggage, which still
consisted only of a pair of saddle bags. He walked to an old-fashioned
hotel which Colonel Talbot had selected for him as quiet and good,
and as he went he looked at everything with a keen and eager interest.
The deep, mellow chiming of bells, from one point and then from another,
came to his ears. He knew that they were the bells of St. Philip's and
St. Michael's, and he looked up in admiration at their lofty spires.
He had often heard, in far Kentucky, of these famous churches and their