"You don't tell me, sor! I see in the 'Hur'ld' that they call it the Civil War, but it 's nothin' but oncivil, sor, for to fight agin' your ould home."
"You are right," assented the captain. "There 's nothing civil about war. I suppose the old house has long been deserted."
"Sure, look at the forage, thin. 'Tis piled up as nately as you plaze. Wait till the b'ys git at it! Look at the smoke of the chimbly. Barrin' the jay-birds, 'tis the peacefulest sight I 've seen."
"My people are gone," said the captain. "My father was a Union man. I would n't be surprised to hear of him somewhere at the North. The day that I was eighteen he gave me a larruping for disobedience, and I ran away."
"Don't spake of it, sor." O'Halloran held up his hands. "Many 's the time I 've had me feelin's hurted wit' a bar'l stave."
"That was in 1860," said the captain. "I was too proud to go back home, but when the war began I remembered what a strong Union man my father was, and I joined the Union army."
"'T is a great scheme for a play," said the big Irishman solemnly.
