As he was servant of a purpose, of an ideal of triumphant democracy, why should not I also serve in a cause so splendid?
I was, indeed, young--Nicholas Trist, of Maryland; six feet tall, thin, lean, always hungry, perhaps a trifle freckled, a little sandy of hair, blue I suppose of eye, although I am not sure; good rider and good marcher, I know; something of an expert with the weapons of my time and people; fond of a horse and a dog and a rifle--yes, and a glass and a girl, if truth be told.

I was not yet thirty, in spite of my western travels.

At that age the rustle of silk or dimity, the suspicion of adventure, tempts the worst or the best of us, I fear.

Woman!--the very sound of the word made my blood leap then.

I went forward rather blithely, as I now blush to confess.