With a true patriot's zeal, Blair resolved to do all in his power to bring the boys of Fairport to be such Christian men as would be a blessing in their day and generation.

These thoughts had gone far to fix his decision with reference to the Fairport Guard.
It was with a burst of enthusiastic applause that the little company saw Blair appear upon the public square in his well-known uniform.

His three-cornered hat of black pasteboard was surmounted by a long black feather, and fastened under his chin by a fine leather strap, the strap being bordered by a ferocious pair of whiskers, to afford which the "black sheep" of some neighboring flock had evidently suffered.

His grandfather's coat, which had been worn at Bunker Hill, enveloped his slender form, and increased the imposing effect of his tall figure upon the minds of his subordinates.
"Three cheers for Captain Robertson! Three cheers for Blair!" shouted the boys as their leader approached.
The cheers rung out on the air somewhat feebly, though that was owing to the weakness of the throats that raised them, rather than to any want of goodwill, and so Blair understood it.
"Now give us a speech before we fall into rank," called out one of the company.
"That is just what I mean to do, if you will all listen to me," said the captain in his most dignified manner.
The stump of a fallen tree served to elevate our speaker on this occasion, as it has many an older orator in circumstances no more interesting to his hearers than were the present to the eager group of listeners.
Blair had another purpose now than to hear himself talk.

The short pause which preceded his opening sentence was not merely for effect.