His face had as many
expressions as could be found in a regiment, and he seemed a strange
combination of cunning, simplicity, undaunted courage, and undoubting
faith; yet, though he might pass for a simpleton, he talked a quaint
sort of wisdom which ought to have given him to history.
The young Colonel sounded him thoroughly; for the fate of the little
army might depend on his fidelity. The man's soul was as clear as
crystal, and in ten minutes the Yankee saw through it. His history is
stereotyped in that region. Born among the hills, where the crops are
stones, and sheep's noses are sharpened before they can nibble the thin
grass between them, his life had been one of the hardest toil and
privation. He knew nothing but what Nature, the Bible, the "Course of
Time," and two or three of Shakspeare's plays had taught him; but
somehow in the mountain air he had grown to be a man,--a man as
civilized nations account manhood.
"Why did you come into the war?" at last asked the Colonel.
"To do my sheer fur the kentry, Gin'ral," answered the man. "And I
didn't druv no barg'in wi' th' Lord.
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