Some of the stories of death and disaster moved him greatly; but, alas, they were among the unaccountable fortunes of life, and could not be remedied by him.

So he had gone his way day by day, watching the coming in and the departing of troops, seeing the bands of dirty, disheveled, gaunt, sickly men returning from the fields and hospitals; and all he could do was to feel sorry.

This war was not for him.

He had taken no part in it, and he felt sure that he could only rejoice in its conclusion--not as a patriot, but as a financier.

It was wasteful, pathetic, unfortunate.
The months proceeded apace.