LET US HAVE PEACE.

The battalion was encamped in a field on the outskirts of the village. During my absence the evening before, Major Briscoe had drilled the companies, and put them through all their evolutions to the intense admiration of the Priamites. I learned that our fellows had been treated with great kindness and hospitality by the people, and a portion of the officers had spent the evening with some of “the first families.”

When I reached the camp, the battalion was preparing for the march. As soon as I appeared, the officers gathered around me, and wanted to know what had become of Tommy. I found myself placed in a difficult position after the instructions the sufferer had given me. I simply told them we had found Tommy; that he was sick, and had just taken the steamer for home. They asked me a great many questions which I did not answer. I succeeded in turning their attention from Tommy to Christy Holgate, whose narrative I related in part, so as to enable my companions to understand the character of the Trottwoods.

They listened with excited attention when I told them of the fate of Jed’s colt; and if they were sorry for the animal, I do not think they sympathized very deeply with the owner in the loss he had incurred. Having told all I had to say, I was anxious to learn the condition of the battalion, and whether there was likely to be a mutiny against the new order of things.

“Barnscott and two or three others are a little grouty, but every officer and man does his duty faithfully,” replied Briscoe, in answer to my questions. “I don’t think we shall have any trouble.”

“I hope not.”

“I never saw the fellows drill so well as they did last night,” added the major. “The crowd that looked on frequently applauded them. The dress parade was absolutely perfect.”

“Then you expect to win the banner on Friday.”

“Of course I do,” laughed Briscoe.

“They say the Wimpleton Battalion has been increasing in numbers lately. There are over two hundred students on the other side of the lake, and they turn out three companies.”

“Their numbers won’t help them in a drill. On the contrary, they have so many new recruits that our chances are improved.”

“But the drill comes off to-morrow, Major Briscoe. Of course you don’t expect to march round to Centreport now.”

“No; certainly not; but I intend to go to Hitaca to-day. We shall take it easy, and arrive by five o’clock this afternoon. We can show off a little there to-night, and take the steamer in the morning down the lake. We will land at Gulfport, and march the rest of the way. This was what we agreed upon last night.”

“I don’t think we can do any better,” I replied. “Tommy told me he wished you to use his pony. You are a field officer, and are entitled to be mounted.”

“I am very much obliged to him, though I can’t help thinking the message is a very strange one to come from him to me.”

“I don’t think so. Tommy has switched off.”

“Switched off?”

“Precisely so. That’s a railroad phrase, and means that he has turned over a new leaf. Tommy did not say much, but he accepts the situation, and means to make the best of it.”

“I hope it is true.”

“I think it is, but time alone can prove it. I am afraid he is going to be sick.”

“I should think he would be, if he has switched off. It will be a great change of diet for him.”

“Tommy was never a bad fellow. If you could only get the conceit out of him, he would be a good fellow. Being the biggest toad in the puddle did not agree with his constitution.”

“Well, I don’t know but that is enough to spoil almost any fellow. Did Jed thrash him, or anything of that sort,” inquired the major, curiously.

“I promised Tommy that I would not say any thing about it. Don’t ask me, Briscoe.”

“I won’t.”

“He feels very sore.”

“In his bones?”

“In spirit; and in his bones, too. I think he must have taken a severe cold, for I cannot account for his condition in any other way.”

The battalion had formed in column, and the march to Hitaca was commenced. It was a magnificent day, and our fellows had rested enough to make them fresh and vigorous. The band played its choicest airs, and I never saw soldiers march better than those of the battalion. The applause bestowed upon them by the Priamites stimulated them to do their best. We were followed for some distance by the juvenile portion of the people of the town, but they soon left us; the “route step” was ordered, and we went along as happily as though we had not just passed through the “war of the students.”

The scenery in this locality was magnificent. There are half a dozen cataracts in the vicinity of Hitaca, one of which is fifty feet higher than Niagara, though, of course, its volume of water is vastly less. Our march, therefore, was full of interest, and, with the sublime and beautiful around us, we knew no such thing as fatigue. Halting for an hour for dinner, we entered Hitaca in the middle of the afternoon, almost as fresh as when we started, for we had made frequent stops to rest and view the scenery.

We were handsomely received by some of the principal citizens, who had been apprised of our approach. A field, near the head of the lake, was appropriated to our reception, and we were invited to a collation in the evening. We pitched our tents, brushed the dust from our uniforms, and soon looked as spruce and tidy as when we started.

“We shall be full of soldiers to-night,” said one of the gentlemen who visited us to me.

“We are only a hundred and fifty,” I replied.

“But the others will be here to-night.”

“What others, sir?” I inquired.

“Why, the battalion from the other side of the lake--the Wimpleton students,” laughed the gentleman, as though he were familiar with the quarrel which had so long existed between the two institutions.

“Indeed! Are they coming too?” I exclaimed, astonished at the information; though I need not have been, for one side never did anything in which the other did not immediately follow suit.

“We heard of them at Port Gunga this morning, and they must be here very soon,” answered the citizen.

I did not exactly like the idea of meeting the Wimpletonians at first. I dreaded a collision of any kind, which the rivalry between the two Institutes was likely to produce. I went to Major Briscoe at once with the information.

“Good!” replied he. “I am glad we arrived first.”

“We must keep our men close to-night, or there may be a row, which would be very mortifying to all of us.”

“We will not have any row, or anything of the kind. Colonel Wimpleton and Major Toppleton may quarrel, if they are so minded, but I will have nothing to do with their feud. We will do the handsome thing, Skotchley.”

“What’s that?” I asked with deep interest.

“Let us have peace,” said the major, impressively; and I am not sure he was not the original author of this celebrated expression. “It takes two to quarrel. We will be the first to hold out the olive-branch. I propose to march out and escort the Wimpletonians into town with all the honors. We will treat them with the utmost respect and consideration; and I am sure there will be nothing but the best of feeling.”

“I like that,” I replied, with emphasis.

“If we are cross and sullen, they will also be so; and then it won’t take much to get up a quarrel.”

I was delighted with this proposition. It was exactly in accordance with my own feelings. Major Briscoe ordered the lines to be formed, and then resolved the battalion into a hollow square. He stated briefly that the Wimpletonians were on the march for Hitaca, and would soon arrive. He was in favor of conciliation and good feeling, especially as we were to drill with them the next day. He meant to be courteous to them, and should, therefore, tender them an escort. The fellows clapped their hands, perhaps with a few exceptions. Briscoe then cautioned his officers and men to treat our rivals as though they were our best friends.

The speech concluded, the battalion broke into column, and we marched out on the Southport road. We halted just outside of the town, and Briscoe appointed me to go forward and meet the Wimpletonians. I was to “do the pleasant” in the most agreeable manner, to tender the escort, and arrange the formalities according to the instructions given me by the major. I walked about half a mile, and stopped to view a beautiful cascade. While I was appreciating its beauties, I heard the drum-beat of the Wimpleton column. I waited until it came up.

Magnanimous as I was disposed to be on my errand of peace, I could not help feeling that our rivals did not quite come up to our standard. Their uniforms were not so new and bright, and they had only a drum corps. I stepped up to Major Ben Pinkerton, who was in command, and, saluting him with my sword, delivered my message.

“That’s handsome, and I’m very much obliged to you,” replied the major. “I’ll speak to our fellows, and give you an answer in a few moments.”

He halted his column, and, after consulting his officers and men, informed me that the polite offer of Major Briscoe was gratefully accepted. I had delicacy enough to retire, after I had stated the programme suggested by my commander, in order to enable Major Pinkerton to give such instructions to his force as the unexpected meeting might require. I did not hear what he said to them, but I have no doubt they were substantially the same as those to which I had listened in our own battalion.

The march was resumed, and in due time, the Wimpletonians reached our battalion, which was drawn up in a line at the side of the road.

“Present--arms!” shouted Major Briscoe; and the band played the appropriate air.

The Centreport battalion marched by the other, and, in turn, forming at the side of the road, presented arms, while we marched in front of it. We then took the head of the column, and escorted our guests into Hitaca, where we were received with applause. On the ground appropriated to the Wimpletonians we presented arms again. The two majors met, shook hands, and appeared to be the best of friends. In fact it was a jolly time. We helped the Wimps pitch their tents, and did all we could to assist them. Such a fraternizing of ancient enemies was never seen, and I began to think we should get to hugging one another before the scene was finished.

At seven o’clock we formed again. More courtesies followed. The majors each reviewed the battalion of the other, and we marched in one column to the festivities of the evening. We had a grand time,--all the better for the sudden and unexpected meeting with the Wimpletonians. At ten we went to our camps.