• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Advertising
 Frontispiece
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Frank Manly, the drummer boy
 Back Cover
 Spine














Group Title: drummer boy
Title: The drummer boy
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00015104/00001
 Material Information
Title: The drummer boy
Physical Description: 334 p., <4> leaves of plates : ill. ; 19 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Trowbridge, J. T ( John Townsend ), 1827-1916
Dillingham, Charles Theodore, b. 1842 ( Publisher )
Darley, Felix Octavius Carr, 1822-1888 ( Illustrator )
Andrew, John, 1815-1875 ( Engraver )
Lee and Shepard ( Publisher )
Publisher: Lee and Shepard
Charles T. Dillingham
Place of Publication: Boston
New York
Publication Date: 1863
Copyright Date: 1863
 Subjects
Subject: Boys -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Drummers (Musicians) -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Soldiers -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Brothers -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Youth and death -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Battles -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
History -- Juvenile fiction -- United States -- Civil War, 1861-1865   ( lcsh )
War fiction -- 1863   ( rbgenr )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding) -- 1863   ( rbbin )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1863   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1863
Genre: novel   ( marcgt )
Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
War fiction   ( rbgenr )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding)   ( rbbin )
Publishers' advertisements   ( rbgenr )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
United States -- New York -- New York
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: by J.F. Trowbridge.
General Note: Illustrations engraved by John Andrew after Darley.
General Note: Added title page, engraved.
General Note: Baldwin Library copy indicates later printing.
General Note: Publisher's advertisements precede text.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00015104
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: ltqf - AAA7555
notis - ALZ8376
oclc - 13304194
alephbibnum - 002393473

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Advertising
        Advertising 1
        Advertising 2
    Frontispiece
        Frontispiece
    Half Title
        Half Title 1
        Half Title 2
    Title Page
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Table of Contents
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Frank Manly, the drummer boy
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Full Text
















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THE


DRUMMER BOY




BY


J. T. TROWBRIDGE


BOSTON
LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK
CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM



































Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by
J. E. TILTON & CO.,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.



















CONTENTS.




ftAr. |ASe
1. FRANK AT HOME, .. . 5

II. OFF TO THE WAR, . . .. 13

III. UNDER CANVAS, ..... ....... 24

IV. THE OLD DRUMMER AND THE NEW DRUM, . 37

V. FUN IN CAMP, .............47

VI. BRERINOG CAMP, .. ..........59

VII. THROUGH BOSTON, . . ............ 68

VIII. ANNAPOLIS, *..... ..... ... 83

IX. THANKSGIVING IN CAMP, . .......... 94

X. FRANK'S PROGRESS, . . . ... 104

XI. A CHRISTMAS FROLIC,. . : ............ 113

XII. THE SECESSIONIST'S TURKEYS, ........ 124

KIII. THE EXPEDITION MOVES, ... 138

XIV. THE VOYAGE AND THE STORM, . ...... 14

XV. HATTERAS INLET, ............158

XVI. How FRANE LOST HIS WATCH, . . 16
3)










CONTENTS.


CHAP. PAGl
XVII, IN WHICH FRANK SEES STRANGE THINGS, . 178

XVI. BITTER THINGS, ....... 191

XIX. SETH GETS "RILED," . . . .. 202

XX. SUNDAY BEFORE THE BATTLE, .... * 211

XXI. UP THE SOUND, .. . . . . 221

XXII. THE ATTACK OF THE GUNBOATS, 229

XXIII. THE TROOPS DISEMBARK.--THE ISLAND, . 237

XXIV. THE BIVOUAC, ............ .244

XXV. ATWATER, . ............. 250

KXVI. OLD SINJIN, . . . . . .. 258

XVII. THE SKIRMISH, . . . .. . 265

KXVIII. JACK WINCH'S CATASTROPHE, ....... 272

XXIX. How FRANK GOT NEWS OF HIS BROTHER, .281

XXX. THE BOYs MEET AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE, 292

XXXI. VICTORY OR DEATH!" . . . .. 301

XXXII. AFTER THE BATTLE, . * 308

XXXIII. A FRIEND IN NEED, . . . . 317

XXXIV. THE HOSPITAL, . . . . . . 323

XXXV. CONCLUSIO1 . ........ 33













FRANK MANLY,


THE DRUMMER BOY.




I.

FRANK AT HOME.

ONE evening, in the month of October, 1861, the
Manly family were gathered together in their little
sitting-room, discussing a question of the most serious
importance to all of them, and to Frank in particular.
Mrs. Manly sat by the table, pretending to sew; but
now and then the tears rushed into her eyes, and
dropped upon her work, in spite of all she could do to
keep them back. Frank watched her with a swelling
breast, sorry to see his mother so grieved, and yet glad
in one little corner of his heart; for, although she had
declared that she could not think of granting his
request, he knew well, by those tears of hers, that she
was already thinking of granting it.
"A pretty soldier you'll make, Frank! said Helen,
his elder sister, laughing at his ambition. You never








6 FRANK MANLY, THE DRUMMER BOY.

fired a gun in your life; and if you should see a
rebel, you wouldn't know which end of the gun t6
point at him, you'd be so frightened."
"Yes, I know it," retorted Frank, stoutly, deter-
mined not to be dissuaded from his purpose either by
entreaties or ridicule; and for that reason I am going
to enlist as a drummer boy."
"Well," exclaimed Helen, "your hands will tremble
so, no doubt you can roll the drumsticks admirably."
"Yes, to be sure," replied Frank, with a meaning
smile; for he thought within himself, "If she really
thinks I am such a coward, never mind; she'll learn
better some day."
0, don't go to war, dear Frank," pleaded, in a low,
sweet voice, his younger sister, little Hattie, the inva-
lid, who lay upon the lounge, listening with painful
interest to the conversation; "do, brother, stay at
home with me."
That affectionate appeal touched the boy's heart
more deeply than his mother's tears, his elder sister's
ridicule, and his father's opposition, all combined. He
knelt down by little Hattie's side, put his arms
about her neck, and kissed her.
"But somebody must go and fight, little .sister,"
he said, as soon as he could choke back his tears.
"The rebels are trying to overthrow the govern-
ment; and you wouldn't keep me at home--would








FRANK AT HOME.


you? -when it needs the services of every true
patriot ? "
"Which of the newspapers did you get that speech
out of?" asked Helen. "If Jeff Davis could hear
you, I think he'd give up the Confederacy at once.
He would say, 'It's no use, since Young America
has spoken.'"
"Yes; like the coon in the tree, when he saw
Colonel Crockett taking aim at him," added Frank:
"says the coon, 'Don't shoot! If it's you, colonel, I'll
come down!' And I tell ye," cried the boy, enthu-
siastically, "there's something besides a joke in it.
Jeff 'll be glad to come down out of his tree, be-
fore we hang him on it."
"But if you go to war, Frank," exclaimed the little
invalid, from her pillow, "you will be shot."
"I expect to be shot at a few times," he replied;
"but every man that's shot at isn't shot, sissy; and
e~ery man that's shot isn't killed; and every man
that's killed isn't dead -if what the Bible says is
true."
0 my son," said Mrs. Manly, regarding him with
affectionate earnestness, "do you know what you say?
have you considered it well ?"
"Yes," said Frank, "I've thought it all over. It
hasn't been out of my thoughts, day or night, this
ever so long; though I was determined not to open









8 FRANK MANLY, THE DRUMMER BOY.


my lips about it to any one, till my mind was made
up. I know five or six that have enlisted, and I'm
just as well able to serve my country as any of them
I believe I can go through all the hardships any of
them can. And though Helen laughs at me now for a
coward, before I've been in a fight, she won't laugh at
me afterwards." But here the lad's voice broke,
and he dashed a tear from his eye.
"No, no, Frank," said Helen, remorsefully, think-
ing suddenly of those whose brothers have gone forth
bravely to battle, and never come home again. And
she saw in imagination her own dear, brave, loving
brother carried bleeding from the field, his bright,
handsome face deathly pale, the eyes that now beamed
so hopefully and tenderly, closing--perhaps forever.
"Forgive my jokes, Frank; but you are too young to
go to war. We have lost one brother by secession,
and we can't afford to lose another."
She alluded to George, the oldest of the children,
who had been several years in the Carolinas; who had
married a wife there, and become a slave-owner; and
who, when the war broke out, forgot his native north,
and the free institutions under which he had been
bred, to side with the south and slavery. This had
proved a source of deep grief to his parents; not
because the pecuniary support they had derived from
him, up to the fall of Fort Sumter, was now cut ofl








FRANK AT HOME.


greatly to theii distress, for they were poor, but
because, when he saw the Union flag fall at Charles.
ton, he had written home that it was a glorious sight;
and they knew that the love of his wife, and the love
of his property, had made him a traitor to his
country.
( If I've a brother enlisted on the wrong side," said
Frank, so much the more reason that I should enlist
on the right side. And I am not so young but that I
can be doing something for my country, and some-
thing for you here at home, at the same time. If I
volunteer, you will be allowed state aid, and I mean
to send home all my pay, to the last dollar. I wish
you would tell me, father, that I can have your
consent."
Mr. Manly sat in his easy-chair, with his legs
crossed, his hands pressed together, and his head sunk
upon his breast. For a long time he had not spoken.
He was a feeble man, who had not succeeded well in
the business of life; his great fault being that he
always relied too much upon others, and not enough
upon himself. The result was, that his wife had be-
come more the head of the family than he was, and
every important question of this kind, as Frank well
knew, was referred to her for decision.
S"0, I don't know, I don't know, my son," Mr.
Manly groaned; and, uncrossing his legs, he crossed


9








10 FRANK MANLY, THE DRUMMER BOY.

them again in another posture. "I ha-e said all I
can; now you must talk with your mother."
"There, mother," said Frank, who had got the
answer he expected, and now proceeded to make good
use of it; "father is willing, you see. All I want now
is for you to say yes. I must go and enlist to.
morrow, if I mean to get into the same company with
the other boys; and I'm sure you'd rather I'd go with
the fellows I know, than with strangers. We are
going to befriend each other, and stand by each other
to the last."
"Some of them, I am afraid, are not such persons as
SI would wish to have you on very intimate terms
with, any where, my child," answered Mrs. Manly;
"for there is one danger I should dread for you
worse than the chances of the battle-field."
"What's that ?"
"That you might be led away by bad company.
To have you become corrupted by their evil influ-
ences -to know that my boy was no longer the
pure, truthful child he was; that he would blush to
have his sisters know his habits and companions; to
see him come home, if he ever does, reckless and
dissipated-0, I could endure any thing, even his
death, better than thatt"
"Well," exclaimed Frank, filled with pain, almost
with indignation, at the thought of any one, especially








FRANK AT HOME.


his mother, suspecting him of such baseness "there's
one thing -you shall hear of my death, before you
hear of my drinking, or gambling, or swearing, or any
thing of the kind. I promise you that."
"Where is your Testament, my son?" asked his
mother.
Here it is."
"Have you a pencil ?"
"He may take mine," said Hattie.
"Now write on this blank leaf what you have just
promised."
Mrs. Manly spoke with a solemn and tender ear-
nestness which made Frank tremble, as he obeyed;
for he felt now that her consent was certain, and that
the words he was writing were a sacred pledge.
"Now read what you have written, so that we can
all hear what you promise, and remember it when
you are away."
After some bashful hesitation, Frank took courage,
and read. A long silence followed. Little Hattie on
the lounge was crying.
"But you ought to keep this -for I make the
promise to you," he said, reflecting that he had used
his own Testament to write in.
No, you are to keep it," said his mother, "for I'm
afraid we shall remember your promise a great deal
better than you will."


11








12 FRANK MANLY, THE DRUMMER BOY.

No, you won't !" cried Frank, full of resolution
"I shall keep that promise to the letter."
Mrs. Manly took the Testament, read over the
pledge carefully, and wrote under it a little prayer.
"Now," said she, "go to your room, and read there
what I have written. Then go to bed, and try to
sleep. We all need rest for to-morrow."
"(0 and you give your consent ?"
"My son," said Mrs. Manly, holding his hand, and
looking into his face with affectionate, misty eyes, "it
is right that you should do something for your family,
for we need your help. Your little sister is sick, your
father is feeble, and I- my hand may fail any day.
And it is right that you should wish to do some-
thing for your country; and, but that you are so
young, so very young, I should not have opposed you
at all. As it is, I shall not oppose you any more.
Think of it well, if you have not done so already.
Consider the hardships, the dangers--every thing.
Then decide for yourself. I intrust you, I give you
into the hands of our heavenly Father."
She folded him to her heart, kissing him and
weeping. Frank then kissed his sisters good-night,
his resolution almost failing him, and his heart almost
bursting with the thought that this might be the last
evening he would ever be with them, or kiss them
good-night.
















IL


OFF TO THE WAR.

IT was a calm, clear October night. The moonlight
streamed through the window of Frank's room, as he
lay in bed, thinking of the evening that was past, and
of the morning that was to come. Little Willie, his
younger brother, was sleeping sweetly at his side. He
had heard his sisters come up stairs and go to bed in
the room next to his; and they were conversing now
in low tones, -about him he was sure.
Would he ever sleep in that nice warm bed again I
Would he ever again fold dear little Willie in his
arms, and feel his dewy cheek against his own, as
he did now ? What was the future that awaited him?
Who would fill his mother's place when he was gone
from her? He had read over the prayer she wrote
for him; it was still fresh in his thoughts, and he
repeated it now to himself in the silence of the moon-
lit chamber.
When he opened his eyes, he saw a white shape
enter softly and approach his bedside. There it stood
(13)








14 FRANK MANLY, THE DRUMMER BOY.

in the moonlight, white and still. Was it a ghost?
Was it an angel? Frank was not afraid.
"Mother !"
"Are you awake, my darling?"
S0, yes, mother. I haven't slept at all."
"I didn't mean to awake you, if you were asleep,"
she said, kneeling down beside him. "But I could
not sleep; and I thought I would come and look at
you, and kiss you once more; for perhaps I shall
never see you in your bed again."
0, mother, don't talk so. I hope I shall be spared
to you a long, long time yet."
I hope you will; but we must think of the worst,
ai d be prepared for it, my son. If it is God's will, I
can give you up. And you you must make up your
mind to brave all dangers, even to die, if necessary.
It is a great and holy cause you are engaging in. It
is no gay and pleasant adventure, as perhaps you
think. Are you sure you have thought of it well ?"
"I have," responded Frank. "I am going; and I
am going to do my duty, whatever it is. For a few
minutes after I came to bed, thinking of what you had
said, and of leaving you, and of "-here he choked -
I was almost sorry I had said a word about going;
it looked so dreary and sad to me. But I said my
prayers, and now I feel better about it. I dcn't
think any thing can shake my resolution again."








OFF TO THE WAR.


"If it is so,' replied his mother, "I have nothing
more to say." And she kissed him, and gave him
plentiful good advice, and -finally prayed with him,
kneeling by his bedside.,
"0, don't go, mother," said Frank; "it is such a
comfort to have you here! May-be it is the last time."
"May-be it is, my son. But I must bid you good-
night. You must sleep. See how soundly Willie is
sleeping all this time! He don't know that he is
losing a brother."
After she was gone, Frank felt more lonesome than
ever, the house was so silent, the moonshine in his
chamber was so cold. But he hugged his warm little
brother close to his heart, and cried very softly, if he
cried at all.
I do not know how much he slept that night.
No doubt his excited thoughts kept him awake until
very late, for he was fast asleep the next morning
when Helen came to call him.
"Hurrah !" he exclaimed, starting up; "fight for
the old flag!" for he was dreaming of a battle.
"Hallo!" he said, rubbing his eyes open. "That
you, Helen ?"
"A wide-awake drummer boy you are," she replied,
with her usual good-natured irony. "You'll have to
rouse up earlier than this, I tell you, if you ever beat
the reveille for the soldiers."









FRANK MANLY, THE DRUMMER BOY.


"So much the more reason why I should have a
good nap in the morning, when I can," said Frank.
"Well, lie and sleep, if you want to," she added,
with a touch of tenderness. "I thought I'd let you
know breakfast was ready."
But Frank was wide awake enough now. He felt
there was something great and grand in the day be-
fore him, and he was anxious to meet it. He was up
and dressed in a minute. He threw open his window,
and looked away towards the city, which lay dim and
strange in the beautiful mists of the morning, with
the crimson clouds of the sunrise lifting like curtains
behind it. And the far-off roar of the rumbling streets
reached his ear, inspiring him freshly with hope and
action.
All the family were at breakfast, except Hattie, the
sick one, when Frank came down stairs. Even Willie
had crept out of bed before him, wondering what
made his brother sleep so long that morning. And
now he found the little fellow dividing his attentions
between his breakfast and his toy gun, which had
acquired a new interest in his eyes since Helen had
told him Frank was going to the war.
"I'm going with my bother Fwank," he declared,
shouldering arms over his johnny-cake. "And if any
body any webel breathing earnestly "hurt my
bother Fwank, me shoot 'em, me will!"


16








OFF TO THE WAR.


"Yes," remarked Helen, "you and Frank will put
down the rebellion, I've not the least doubt."
This was meant for a sly hit at Frank's youthful
patriotism; but Willie took it quite seriously.
"Yes," he lisped; "me and Fwank- we put down
the webellion. Take aim! "-pointing his toy at his
father's nose. "Fire! bang! See, me kill a webel."
How little the child realizes what it is to fight the
rebels," said his mother, with a sigh.
"I'm afraid," said Helen, "Frank doesn't realize it
much more than Willie does. He has just about as
correct a notion about putting down the rebellion."
"Very likely," said Frank, who had learned that the
best way to treat a joke of this kind is always to
humor it, instead of being offended. For a joke is
often like a little barking dog -perfectly harmless, if
you pass serenely by without noticing it, or if you just
say, "Poor fellow! brave dog!" and pat its neck; but
which, if you get angry and raise your stick, will
worry you all the more for your trouble, and per-
haps be provoked to bite.
There was a silence of several minutes -Willie
alone manifesting a desire to keep up the conversation
on war matters. He stuck his johnny-cake on the end
of his gun, and bombarded his mother's coffee-cup
with it; and was about to procure more johnny-cake,
in order to shell the sugar-bowl, which he called
2


17









FRANK MANLY, THE DRUMMER BOY.


"Fort Sumter," when Helen put an end to his sport
by disarming him.
"I want father to go to town with me, to the
recruiting office," said Frank; "for I don't suppose I
will be accepted, unless he does."
That sounded like proceeding at once to business,
which Mr. Manly never liked to do. He was one of
those easily discouraged men, whose rule is always to
postpone until to-morrow what they are not abso-
lutely obliged to do to-day. He waited, however,as
usual, to hear what his wife would say to the propo-
sition, before expressing himself decidedly against it.
Fortunately, Mrs. Manly had energy and self-reliance
enough for both.
"If you are still firmly resolved to go, then your
father will go with you to the recruiting office," she
said; and that settled it: for Frank was resolved-
his character resembling his mother's in respect to
energy and determination.
Accordingly, after breakfast, Mr. Manly, with fre-
quent sighs of foreboding and discouragement, made
a lather, honed his razor, and shaved himself, prepara-
tory to a visit to town. Frank, in the mean while,
made ready for his departure. He put in order the
personal effects which he intended to leave at home,
and packed into a bundle the few things he purposed
to take with him. An hour passed quickly away, with


18








OFF TO THE WAR.


all I.ts busy preparations, consultations, and leave
takings; and the last moment arrived.
"Say good-by twice to me," said Hattie, the little
invalid, rising up on her lounge to give him a fare.
well kiss.
Why twice to you ?" asked Frank.
"Because," she answered, with a sad, sweet smile,
"if you do come home from the war, perhaps you
won't find me here;" for the child had a notion that
she was going to die.
0 sissy," exclaimed Frank, "don't say so; I
shall come back, and I shall find you well."
"Yes," replied Hattie, sorry that she had said any
thing to make him feel bad; "we will think so, dear
brother." And she smiled again; just as angels
smile, Frank thought.
"Besides, this isn't my good-by for good, you know,"
said he. "I shall get a furlough, and come home and
see you all, before I leave for the seat of war with my
regiment." Frank couldn't help feeling a sort of pride
in speaking of his regiment. And may-be you will
all visit me in camp before I go."
"Come," called his father, at the door; "if we are
going to catch this car, we must be off."
So Frank abbreviated his adieus, and ran.
"Wait, wait!" screamed Willie, pulling his cap on
"Me go, me go!"


19









20 FRANK MANLY, THE DRUMMER BOY.

"Go where, you little witch ?" cried Helen.
"Me go to war, along with my bother F ank
Put down webellion," pouted the child, shouldering
his gun, and trudging out of the door in eager haste,
fearing lest he should be left behind.
Mrs. Manly was parting from her son on the door-
step, putting back a stray curl from his cheek, smooth.
ing his collar, and whispering, with wet eyes and
quivering lips, "My child, remember!"
"I will good-by !" were Frank's last words; and
he hastened after his father, just pausing on the next
corner to look around at the faces in the door of his
home, and wave his hat at them. There was Hattie,
leaning on Helen's arm, and waving her handkerchief,
which was scarcely whiter than that thin white face
of hers; and there was his mother gazing after him
with steadfast eyes of affection and blessing, while her
hands were fully occupied in restraining that small
but fiery patriot, Willie, who, with his cap over his
eyes, was vehemently struggling to go with his
bother Fwank.
This was the tableau, the final picture of home,
which remained imprinted on Frank's memory. For
the corner was passed, and the doorway and windows
of the dear old house, and the dearer faces there, were
lost to sight. He would have delayed, in order to get
one more look; but already the tinkling bells gave








OFF TO THE WAR.


warning of the near approach of the horse-car, and
he and his father had no more than time to reach the
Main Street, when it came up, and stopped to take
them in.

In but little more than an hour's time, by far the
most important step in Frank's life had been tsien,
He had enlisted.
"Well," said his father, after Frank, with a firm
and steady hand, had written his name, "it is tone
now. You are a brave boy !" -with a tear of pride,
as he regarded his handsome, spirited young volunteer,
and thought that not many fathers had such prom-
ising sons.
While they were at the recruiting office, one of
their neighbors came in.
What !" he exclaimed, "you here ? on business ?"
"Patriotic business," replied Mr. Manly, showing
his son with a fond father's emotion. "He has vol.
unteered, neighbor Winch."
"And you give your consent ?"
"I do, most certainly, since he feels it his duty to go,
and his mother is willing."
Neighbor Winch stood speechless for a moment,
the muscles of his mouth working. "I have just
heard," he said, in an agitated voice, "that my son
John has enlisted without my consent; and I have


21








22 FRANK MANLY, THE DRUMMER BOY.

come here to ascertain the fact. Do you know any
thing about it, Frank ? "
"I suppose I do," replied Frank, with some reluca
tance. "He enlisted three days ago. He wanted me
to go with him then; but I- -"
"You what ? said neighbor Winch.
"I couldn't, without first getting permission from
my father and mother," explained Frank.
"0, if my John had only acted as noble a part !"
said the neighbor. "It's a bad beginning for a boy to
run away. He has nearly broken his mother's heart."
"Well, well, neighbor," observed Mr. Manly, con.
solingly, "reflect that it's in a good cause. Jack
might have done worse, you know."
"Yes, yes. He never was a steady boy, as you
know. He has set out to learn three different trades,
and got sick of them all. I couldn't keep him at
school, neither. Of late nothing would do but he
must be a soldier. If I thought he'd stick to it, and
do his duty, I wouldn't say a word. But he'll get
tired of carrying a gun, too, before he has seen hard
service. Where is he? Do you know, Frank ?"
He is in camp, in the Jackson Blues," said Frank.
SI am going as drummer in the same company."
"I'm glad of that," replied Mr. Winch. "For,
though he is so much older than you, I think you
always have had an influence over him, Frank--a








OFF TO THE WAR.


good influence, too." And the neighbor took the
young volunteer's hand.
Frank's eyes glistened-he felt so touched by this
compliment, and so proud that his father had heard
it, and could go home and tell it to his mother and
sisters.
Neighbor Winch went on: "I want you to see
John, as soon as you can, Frank, and talk with him,
and try to make him feel how wrongly he has act-
ed -"
Here the poor man's voice failed him; and Frank,
sympathizing with his sorrow, was filled with grati-
tude to think that he had never been tempted to
grieve his parents in the same way.
Mr. Manly accompanied his son to the railroad
depot, and saw him safely in the cars that were to
convey him to camp, and then took leave of him. The
young volunteer would have forgotten his manhood,
and cried, if the eyes of strangers had not been upon
him; even as it was, his voice broke when he said his
last good-by, and sent back his love to his mother and
sisters and little Willie.


23
















II.


SNDEAR CAN VAS.

THE cars were soon off; and the heart of Frank
swelled within him as he felt himself now fairly
embarked in his new adventure.
Soon enough the white tents of the camp rose in
sight. The Stars and Stripes floating under the blue
sky, the soldiers in their blue uniforms, the sentinels
with their glittering bayoneted guns pacing up and
down, and above all, the sound of a drum, which he
considered now to be a part of his life, made him feel
himself already a hero.
Several other recruits had come down in the train
with him, accompanied by an officer. Frank was a
stranger to them all. But he was not long without
acquaintances, for he had scarcely alighted at the
depot, when he saw coming towards him his neighbor
and chum, Jack Winch, in soldier clothes -a good-
looking young fellow, a head taller and some twc
years older than himself.
Hello, Jack! how are you ?"
(24)








UNDER CANVAS.


"Tip-top said Jack, looking happy as a prince.
The officer who had brought down the recruits
went with them to the quartermaster's department,
and gave orders for their outfit. When Frank's turn
came, his measure was taken, and an astonishing quan-
tity of army clothing issued to him. He had two
pairs of drawers, two shirts, two pairs of stockings, a
blouse, a dress coat, an overcoat, a cap, a pair of shoes,
a pair of pantaloons, and a towel. Besides these he
received a knapsack, with two blankets; a haversack,
with a tin plate, knife and fork, and spoon; and a tin
cup and canteen. He had also been told that he
should get his drum and drumsticks; but in this he
was disappointed. The department was out of drums.
"Never mind!" said Jack, consolingly. "You may
consider yourself lucky to draw your clothes so soon.
I had to wait for mine till I was examined and sworn
in. The surgeons are so lazy, or have so much to do,
or something, it may be a week before you'll be
examined."
Frank was soon surrounded by acquaintances whom
he scarcely recognized at first, they looked so changed
and strange to him in their uniforms.
"How funny it seems," said he, "to be shaking
hands with soldiers!"
These are our tents," said Jack. "They all have
their names, you see.'


25








THE DRUMMER BOY.


Which fact Frank had already noticed wit no
little astonishment.
The names were lettered on the canvas of the tents
in characters far more grotesque than elegant. One
was called the Crystal Palace;" another, the "Mam.
moth Cave;" a third bore the mystical title of Owl
House;" while a fourth displayed the sign of the
"Arab's Home; &c.
"My traps are in the 'Young Volunteer,"' said
Jack. We give it that name, because we are all of
us young fellows in there. You can tie up here too,"
- entering the tent, if you want to."
Frank gladly accepted the proposition. "How
odd it must seem," he said, to live and sleep under
canvas !"
"You'll like it tip-top, when you get used to it,"
remarked Jack, with an air of old experience.
Frank made haste to take off his civil suit and put
on his soldier clothes. Jack pronounced the uniform
a splendid fit, and declared that his friend looked
" stunning."
"But you must have your hair cut, Frank. Look
here; this is the fighting trim !" and Jack Winch,
pulling off his cap, made Frank laugh till the tears
came into his eyes, at the ludicrous sight. Jack's hair
had been clipped so close to his head that it was no


26








UNDER CANVAS.


longer than mouse's hair, giving him a pec tliarly grim
and antique appearance.
"You look like Sindbad's Old Man of the Sea!"
exclaimed Frank. "I won't have my hair cut that
way "- feeling of his own soft brown curls, which
his mother was so fond of, and which he meant to
preserve, if only for her sake.
"Pshaw! you look like a girl! Come, Frank,
there's a fellow in the Owl House' that cuts all the
hair for our company."
But here an end was put to the discussion by
some of the boys without crying, Dinner! "
"Dinner!" repeated Jack. "Hurrah! let's go and
draw our rations."
Three or four young volunteers now came into the
tent, and, opening their haversacks, drew forth their
tin plates, knives and forks. Frank did the same,
and observing that they all took their tin cups, he
took his also, and followed them, with quite as much
curiosity as appetite, to the cook-shop, where a large
piece of bread and a thick slice of boiled beef was
dealt out to each, together with a cup of coffee.
"How droll it seems to eat rations!" said Frank,
on their return, seating himself on his bed,- a tick
filled with straw, and using his lap for a table.
The bread was sweet; but the beef was of not quite


27









THE DRUMMER BOY.


so fine a quality as Frank had been used to at home
and the coffee was not exactly like his mother's.
* "Here, have some milk," said Jack. "I've an
account open with this woman "- a wrinkled old
creature, who came into the tent with a little girl,
bearing baskets of cake and fruits, and a can of milk.
"No, I thank you," said Frank. "I may as well
begin with the fare I shall have to get used to some
time, for I mean to send all my pay home to my folks
except what I'm actually obliged to use myself."
"You'll be a goose if you do!" retorted Jack. "I
shan't send home any of mine. I'm my own man
now, ye see, and what I earn of Uncle Sam 'Fm going
to have a gallus old time with, you may bet your life
on that!"
Frank drew a long breath, for he felt that the time
had now come to have the talk with his friend which
Mr. Winch had requested.
"I saw your father, this morning, Jack."
"Did ye though ? What did the old sinner have to
say ?"
"I don't like to hear you call your father such
names," said Frank, seriously. And if you had seen
how bad he felt, when he spoke of your enlisting "
"Pshaw, now, Frank! don't be green! don't get
into a pious strain, I beg of ye! You'll be the laugh.
ing stock of all the boys, if ye do."


28









UNDER CANVAS.


Frank blushed to the eyes, not knowing what reply
to make. He had felt no little pride in Mr. Winch's
responsible charge to him, and had intended to preach
to 'his more reckless companion a good, sound, moral
discourse on this occasion. But to have his overtures
received in this manner was discouraging.
"Come," continued Jack, taking something from
the straw, "we are soldiers now, and must do as
soldiers do. Have a drink, Frank ? presenting a
small bottle.
"What is it?" Frank asked, and when told,
"Brandy," he quickly withdrew the hand he had
extended. "No, I thank you, Jack. I am not going
to drink any thing of that sort, unless I need it as a
medicine. And I am sorry to see you getting into
such habits so soon."
Habits? what habits?" retorted Jack, blushing
in his turn. "A little liquor don't hurt a fellow. 1
take it only as a medicine. Yoa musn't go to being
squeamish down here, I tell you." And Jack drank a
swallow or two, smacking his lips afterwards, as he
returned the cork to the bottle.
By this time Frank's courage was up his moral
courage, I mean, which is more rare, as it is fAt more
noble, than any merely physical bravery in the tace of
auger.
I don't mean to be squeamish," he said; "but








THE DRUMMER BOY.


right is right, and wrong is wrong, Jack. And what
was wrong for us at home isn't going to be right for
us here. I, for one, believe we can go through this
war without doing any thing that will make our
parents ashamed of us when we return."
"My eye!" jeered his companion; "and do you
fancy a little swallow of brandy is going to make my
folks ashamed of me ? "
"It isn't the single swallow I object to, Jack; it's
the habit of drinking. That's a foolish thing, to say
the least, for young fellows, like you and me, to get
into; and we all know what it leads to. Who wants
to become a tobacco-spitting, rum-drinking, filthy oll
man ?"
"Ha, ha, ha," laughed Jack; rather feebly, how
ever, for he could not help feeling that Frank was as
much in the right as he was in the wrong. "You
look a long ways ahead, it seems to me. I haven't
thought of being an old man yet."
"If we live, we shall be men, and old men, too,
some day," said Frank, without minding his sneers.
" And you know we are laying the foundations of our
future characters now."
"That's what your mother, or your Sunday school
teacher, has been saying to you."
No matter who has said it. I know it's true, and I
hope I never shall forget it. I mean to become a truth,


80








UNDER CANVAS.


hcrest man if I live; and now, I believe, is the tiae
to begin."
no doubt you'll be great things," grinned Jack.
The tone in which he said this was highly offensive;
and Frank was provoked to retort, -
"You don't seem even to have thought what you
are going to be. You try first one thing, then
another, and stick to nothing. That's what your
father said this morning, with tears in his eyes."
Jack turned red as fire, either with anger or shame,
or both, and seemed meditating a passionate reply,
when some of his companions, who had been eating
their rations outside, entered the tent.
"Come in, boys," cried Jack, "and hear Frank
preach. You didn't know we had a chaplain in our
company-did ye? That's the parson, there, with the
girl's hair. He can reel you off sermons like any
thing. Fire away, Frank, and show the boys."
"Yes, steam up, parson," said Joe Harris, and give
us a specimen."
"Play away, seven," cried Ned Ellis, as if Frank
had been a fire-engine of that number.
These, together with other facetious remarks, made
Frank so ashamed and confused that he could not say
a word. For experience had not yet taught him that
even the most reckless and depraved, however they


31








THE DRUMMER BOY.


may laugh at honest seriousness in a companion, can.
not help respecting him for it in their hearts.
"You needn't blush so, young chap," said tall
Abram Atwater, a stalwart, square-shouldered, square-
featured young man of twenty, who alone had not
joined in the derisive merriment. "It won't hurt any
of these fellows to preach to them, and they know it."
Frank cast a grateful look at the tall soldier, who,
though almost a stranger to him, had thus generously
taken his part against some who professed to be his
friends. He tried to speak, but could not articulate a
word, he was still feeling so hurt by Jack's ingrati-
tude. Perhaps his pride was as much wounded as his
friendship; for, as we have hinted, he had been a good
deal puffed up with the idea of his influence over Jack.
This incident, as we shall see, had a bad effect upon
Frank himself; for, instead of persevering in the good
work he had undertaken, he was inclined to give up
all hope of exerting an influence upon any body.
In the mean time Jack was washing down the ser-
mon, as he said, with more brandy.
"'Twas such an awful dry discourse, boys;" and he
passed the bottle around to the others, who all drank,
except Abram Atwater. That stalwart young soldier
stood in the midst of the tent, straight and tall, with
his arms calmly folded under his blue cape (a favorite
attitude of his), and merely shook his ahead, with a








UNDER CANVAS.


mnId and tolerant smile, when the liquor was passed
to him.
Such was the beginning of Frank's camp life. It
was not long before he had recovered from his confu-
sion, and was apparently on good terms with his mess-
mates. He spent the afternoon in walking about the
camp; watching some raw recruits'at their drill;
watching others playing cards, or checkers, or back
gammon; getting acquainted, and learning the ways
of the camp generally.
So the day passed; and that night Frank lay for
the first time soldier-fashion, under canvas. He went
to bed with his clothes on, and drew his blanket over
him. It was not like going to bed in his nice little
room at home, with Willie snuggled warmly beside
him; yet there was a novelty in this rude and simple
mode of life that was charming. His companions, who
lay upon the ground around him, kept him awake with
their stories long after the lights were out; but at
length, weary with the day's excitement, he fell asleep.
There, a dweller now in the picturesque white
city of tents gleaming in the moonlight, ruggedly pil-
lowed on his soldier's couch, those soft brown curls
tossed over the arm beneath his head, the drummer
boy dreamed of home. The last night's consultation
and the morning's farewells were lived over again in
the visions of his brain; and once more his mother









THE DRUMMER BOY.


visited his bedside; and again his fatlhr accompanied
him to the recruiting office. But now the recruiting
office was changed into a barber's shop, which seemed
to be a tent supported by a striped pole; where, at
John Winch's suggestion, he was to have his hair
trimmed to the fighting-cut. The barber was a stiff-
looking officer in epaulets, who heated a sword red-
hot in an oven, while Frank preached to him a neat
little sermon over his ration. Then the epaulets
changed to a pair of roosters with flaming red combs,
that flapped their wings and crowed. And the barber,
approaching Frank with his red-hot sword, made him
lie on his back to be shaved. Then followed an
excruciating sense of having his hair pulled and his
face scraped and burnt, which made him move and
murmur in his sleep; until, a ruthless attempt being
made to thrust the sword up his nostrils, he awoke.
Shouts of laughter greeted him. His companions
had got up at midnight, lighted a candle, and burnt a
tork, with which they had been giving him an arti-
ficial mustache and whiskers. He must have been
a ludicrous sight, with his countenance thus orna-
mented, sitting up on his bed, rubbing his eyes open,
and staring about him, while Winch and Harris
shrieked with mirth, and Ned Ellis flapped his arms
r..d crowed.
?:-o:I put up his hand to his head. 0 grief! his


34








UNDER CANVAS.


curls had been mangled by dull shears in the unskilful
hands of John Winch. The depredator was still bran.
dishing the miserable instrument, which he had bor.
rowed for the occasion of the fellow who cut the com.
pany's hair in the Owl House."
Frank's sudden awaking, astonishment, and chagrin
were almost too much for him. He could have cried
to think of a friend-playing him such a trick; and to
think of his lost curls! But he had made up his mind
to endure every thing that might befall him with
unflinching fortitude. He must not seem weak on an
occasion like this. His future standing with his com-
rades might depend upon what he should say and do
next. So he summoned all his stoutness of heart, and
accepted the joke as good-naturedly as was possible
under the circumstances.
"I wish you'd tell me what the fun is," he said, so
that I can laugh too."
"Give him the looking-glass," cried Jack Winch,
holding the candle, while Ellis stopped crowing, to
bring a little three-cornered fragment of a broken
mirror, by which Frank was shown the artistic burnt-
cork work on his face. He could hardly help laughing
himself at his own hideousness, now that the first
disagreeable sense of being the sport of his friends had
passed.
"I hone you have had fun enough to )av for







THE DRUMMER BOY.


waking me up out of the queerest dream any body
ever had," he said. And he told all about the barber,
and the epaulets that became roosters, and the red-
hot sword for a razor, &c. Then, looking at himself
again in the piece of glass, he called out, "Give me
those shears;" and taking them, he manfully cut off
his mutilated curls. "There, that isn't exactly the
fighting-cut, Jack, but 'twill do. Now, boys, tell some
more of those dull stories, and I guess I can go to
sleep again."
And he lay down once more, declining to accept an
urgent invitation to preach.
There, boys," said stout Abram Atwater, who had
sat all the time cross-legged, a silent, gravely-smiling
spectator of the scene, "you shan't fool him any more.
He has got pluck; he has shown it. And now let
him alone."


86
















IV.


THE OLD DRUMMER AND THE NEW DRUM.

As yet, Frank had no drum. Neither had he any
scientific knowledge of the instrument. He was am-
bitious of entering upon his novel occupation, and was
elated to learn, the next morning, that he was to begin
his acquaintance with the noble art of drumming that
very day.
"The sergeant is inquiring for you," said Abram At-
water, with his mild, pleasant smile, calling him out of
the tent.
Frank, who was writing a letter to his mother, on
his knapsack, jumped up with alacrity, hid his paper,
and ran out to see what was wanted.
This way, Manly," said the sergeant. "Here's the
man that's to give you lessons. Go with him."
The teacher was a veteran drummer, with a twin-
kling gray eye, a long, thick, gray mustache, and a
rather cynical way of showing his teeth under it. He
had some drumsticks thrust into his pocket, but no
drum.
(37)








THE DRUMMER BOY.


"I suppose," thought Frank, "we shall find our
drums in the woods ;" into which his instructor
straightway conducted him in order to be away from
the diversions and noises of the camp.
Frank was disappointed. The veteran gave him hii
first, exercise on a board
"I thought I was to learn on a drum," he ventured
to suggest, looking up, not without awe, at the bushy
mustache.
"You don't want a drum till you know how to
drum," said the veteran.
But I should think it would be better-"
"Wait!" lifting his drumstick. "Do you under
-stand what we are here for ? "
"To learn to drum," replied Frank, in some astonish-
ment.
To learn to drum," repeated the veteran, a curious
smile just raising the corners of that grizzled mus-
tache. "You understand correctly. Now, am I your
teacher, or are you mine ? "
"You are mine, sir," answered the boy, still more
amazed.
"Right again!" exclaimed the professor. "That's
the way I understood it; but I might be wrong, you
know. We are all liable to be wrong are we not?"
"Yes, sir."
Frank stared.


S8








THE OLD DRUMMER.


Good again! But now it is understood correctly;
I am your instructor, and you are not mine; that is it."
Frank assented.
"Very well! Now listen. Since I am to give you
lessons, and you are not to give me lessons, you will
follow the method I propose, and excuse me if I
decline to follow your method. That is reasonable, -
is't it ?"
Certainly, sir," murmured the abashed pupil.
"The point settled, then, we will proceed," said the
veteran, with the same incomprehensible, half-sarcastic,
half-humorous, but now quite good-natured smile light-
ing up his grim visage.
"But before we proceed," said Frank, "may I just
say what I was going to ?"
The old drummer lifted both his sticks, and his eye-
brows too (not to speak of his shaggy mustache), in
surprise at the lad's audacity.
"Do you want me to report you as insubordinate ?"
he asked, after a pause, during which the two regarded
each other somewhat after the fashion of two dogs mak-
ing acquaintance a tall, leering old mastiff looking
surlily down at the advances of an anxious yet stout
and unflinching young spaniel.
"No, sir," answered Frank. "But I thought--
"You thought! What business have you to think ?"
No business, perhaps," Frank admitted, confronting


39








THE DRUMMER BOY.


the weather-beaten old drummer with his truthful, unn
daunted, fine young face. But I can't help thinking
sir, for all that." \
"You can help expressing your thoughts out of sea.
son, though," said the veteran.
"I will try to in future, sir," answered Frank,
laughing .
At the same time a smile of genuine benevolence
softened the tough, ancient visage of the veteran; and
they proceeded with the lesson.
After it was over, the teacher said to the pupil,-
Now, my young friend, I will hear that observa-
tion or question of yours, whatever it is."
"I think I have answered it for myself," said Frank.
"I was going to say, I should think it would be better
to learn to drum on a drum; but I see now, if I get to
roll the sticks on a board, which is hard, I can roll
them so much the better on a drumhead, which is
elastic."
Right, my young friend," replied the veteran, ap
provingly. "And in the mean time, we avoid a good
deal of unpleasant noise, as you see." For he had
other pupils practising under his eye in the woods, not
far from Frank.
And I should like to ask if I could have permits.
sion," began Frank, archly.
SAsk me any thing you please, out of lesson-hours."


10








THE OLD DRUMMER.


And the old drummer patted the young drummer's
shoulder.
Frank felt encouraged. He was beginning to hke
his teacher, notwithstanding his odd ways; and he
hoped the old man was beginning to like him.
"I want to know, then, if you think I will make a
drummer ?"
"And what if you will not?"
"Then I shall think I ought to give up the idea of it
at once; for I don't want to be second-rate in any
thing I once undertake."
"And you have been just a little discouraged over
your first lesson ? and would be willing now to give
up ?"
"No, sir. I should feel very bad to be obliged to
give up the drum."
"Very well. Then I can say something to comfort
you. Stick to it, as you have begun, and you will
make a drummer."
A first-rate one ? Frank asked, eagerly.
"First-rate, or else I am no judge."
"I am glad!" and the delighted pupil fairly jumped
for joy.
From that time the two got on capitally together.
Frank soon became accustomed to the veteran's eccen-
tric manners, and made great proficiency in his exer-
cises. And it was not long before the hard-featured


41








THE DRUMMER BOY.


old drummer began to manifest, in his way, a greot deal
of friendly interest in his young pupil.
"Now, my boy," said he one day, after Frank had
been practising successfully the "seven-stroke roll,"
greatly to the satisfaction of his instructor,-" now,
my boy, I think you can be safely intrusted with your
comrade."
My comrade ? queried the pupil.
"I mean, your better half."
"My better half?"
Frank was mystified.
Yes, your wife." And the grizzly mustache curled
with quiet humor.
"I must be a married man without knowing it!"
laughed Frank.
Your ship, then," said the veteran, dryly. "Come
with me."
And conducting Frank to his tent, he took from one
side an object covered with a blanket.
"My ship!" cried Frank, joyfully, already guessing
what treasure was now to be his.
"Your sword, then, if you like that name better.
For what his sword is to a hero, what his ship is to a
true sailor, what a wife is to a true husband,- such, my
young friend, to a genuine drummer is his drum."
So saying, the veteran threw aside the covering, and
presented to his pupil the long-coveted prize. The


12









THE NEW DRUM.


boy's eyes shone with pleasure, and (as he wrote that
evening to his parents) he was so happy he could have
hugged both the old drummer and the new drum.
I selected it for you, and you may be sure it is a
good one. It won't be any handsomer, but, if you use
it well, it won't be really much the worse, for going
through a campaign or two with you. For it is with
drums as it is with the drummers; they grow old, and
get some honorable scratches, and some unlucky bruises,
and now and then a broken head; but, God prospering
them, they come out, at last, ugly to look at, perhaps"
(the veteran stroked his mustache), "but well-seasoned,
and sound, and very truly at your service."
Frank thought he saw a tear in his twinkling gray
eye, and he was so much affected by it, that he caught
his hand in both of his, exclaiming, "Bless you, dear
sir! Dear, good sir, God bless you!"
The old man winked away the moisture from his
eye, smiling still, but with a quivering lip, and patted
him gently on the shoulder, without saying a word.
Frank had the sense to perceive that the interview
was now over; the veteran wished to be left alone;
and, with the new drum at his side, he left the tent,
proud and happy, and wishing in his heart that he
could do something for that singular, kind old man.
As Frank was hastening to his tent, he was met
by one of the captains n his regiment, who, see


43








THE DRUMMER BOY.


ing the right beaming face and new drum, accosted
him.
"So, you are a drummer boy are you? "
"Yes, sir, I am learning to be one," said Frank,
modestly.
Now, these two had seen each other often in camp,
and the captain had always regarded Frank with a
smile of interest and kindness, and Frank (as he wrote
home) had "always liked the looks of the captain first-
rate."
"I saw you, I think, the day you came here," said
the captain. You had some curls then. What has
become of them ? "
Frank's lip twitched, and he cast down his eyes,
ashamed to betray any lingering feeling on that sub-
ject.
"The boys cut them off in my sleep, sir."
The rogues!" exclaimed the captain. "And what
did you do ?"
Frank lifted his eyes with a smile. "I partly finished
them myself--they had haggled them so; and the
next day I found a man to cut my hair nicely."
Well, it is better so, perhaps: short hair for a sol-
lier. But I liked those curls. They reminded me of
a little sister of mine -she is.gone now -," in a low,
mellow tone. "Are you attached to any company ?"
"I am enlisted in the Jackson Blues."


44








THE NEW DRUM.


"What is your name ?"
"Frank Manly, sir."
"Are you any relation to Mrs. Manly, of ?"
"She is my mother, sir," said Frank, with proud
affection.
"Is it possible! Mrs. Manly's son! Indeed, you look
like her."
"Do you know my mother, sir?"
My lad," said the captain, "I used to go to school
to her. But, though I have heard of her often, I
haven't seen her for years."
"I shall write to her, and tell her about you," said
Frank, delighted. "She will be glad to hear that I
have found so good a friend."
"Ask her," said the captain, "if she remembers Hen-
ry Edney, who usd to go to school to her in .
She will recollect me, I am sure. And give my very
kind regards to her, and to your father; and tell them
I regret I didn't see you before you enlisted, for I want
just such a drummer boy in my company. But never
mind," he added quickly, as if conscious of having
spoken indiscreetly, "you will do your duty where you
are, and I will try to do mine, for we must have only
one thought now to serve our country."
They separated, with more kind words on the cap.
tain's part, and with expressions of gratitude on the
part of Frank, who felt that, to compensate him for


45








THE DRUMMER BOY.


John Winch's treachery, he was already secunng the
friendship qf a few of the best of men.
You may be sure the boy wrote to his mother all
about the interview, and told her how sorry he was
that he had not enlisted in Captain Edney's company;
not only because he liked his new friend's kindness and
affable manners so well, but also because there existed
in the ranks of the Jackson Blues a strong prejudice
against their own officers. Captain was almost a
stranger to his men, and seemed determined to con-
tinue so. He seldom appeared amongst them, or
showed any interest in their welfare. He had never
once drilled them, but left that duty entirely to the
sergeant. They consequently accused him boldly of
laziness, ignorance, and conceit three qualities which
men always dislike in their superiors. How different
was Captain Edneyl
















V.


FUN IN CAMP.

FRANK now practised his lessons on his drum, and
was very happy. He had passed the surgical exami-
nation a few days after his arrival in camp, and been
duly sworn into the service. This latter ceremony
made a strong impression on his mind. He stood in
the open air, together with a number of new recruits,
and heard the Articles of War read; after which they
all took off their caps, and held up their right hands,
while the oath was administered.
One day, on returning to camp after his lesson in
the woods, he was astonished to see Jack Winch, with
his cap off, his fighting-cut displayed to all behold-
ers, and his fist shaking, marched off by armed
soldiers.
"What are they doing with Jack?" he hastened to
inquire of Abram Atwater, who stood among his com-
rades with his arms composedly crossed under his
cape.
"He is put under guard," said the tall, taciturn
soldier. (47)








THE DRUMMER BOY.


You see," cried Joe Harris, coming up, "Jack had
tipped the bottle once too often, and got noisy. The
sergeant told him to keep still. 'Dry up yourself,'
says Jack. 'Start,' says the sergeant; and he took
hold of him to push him towards the tent; but the
next he knew, he got a blow square in the face,-
Jack was so mad!"
Come, boys," said Ned Ellis, "le's go over and see
how he likes the fun."
The proposal was accepted; and presently a strong
deputation of the Blues went to pay a visit to their
disgraced comrade. Arrived at the guard tent, a
couple of sentinels crossed their bayonets before them.
But although they could not enter, they could look
'n; and there, seated on the ground, they saw Jack, in
a position which would have appeared excessively
ludicrous to Frank, but that it seemed to him too piti-
ful to behold any comrade so degraded. In conse-
quence of his continued fury and violence, Jack had
been secured in this fashion. Imagine a grotesque
letter ;, to which feet, arms, and a head have been
added, and you have some idea of his posture, as seen
in profile. His knees were elevated; forming the
upper angle of the letter. The lower angle was rep-
resented by that portion of the body which forms the
seat of the human animal. The arms were passed
over the upper angle, that is, the knees, and kept in


48








FUN IN CAMP.


their place by handcuffs on the wrists, and by a
musk3t thrust through, over the arms and under the
knees.
Can't you untie them iron knots with your teeth,
Jack ? said Joe, meaning the handcuffs.
"How do you like the back to your chair?" said
Ned.
Let's see ye turn a somerset backwards, Jack."
And so forth. But Frank did not insult him in his
disgrace.
Winch was by this time sufficiently sobered and
humbled. He destroyed the symmetry of the N by
doubling himself ingloriously over his knees and hid.
ing his face between them.
"Got the colic, Jack ?" asked Harris you double
up so."
Winch glared up at him a moment,-a ludicrous
picture, with that writhing face and that curious
fighting-cut, -but cast down his eyes again, sulkily,
and said nothing.
"Come away, boys," whispered Frank. "Don't
stay here, making fun of him. Why do you ?
"Jack," said Ellis, "we're going to take a drink.
Won't you come along with us ? tauntingly.
And the Blues dispersed, leaving poor Jack to his
own bitter reflections.
He had learned one thing who hic friend wbra.
4








50


THE DRUMMER BOY.


On being released, he shunned Harris and Ellis es
pecially, for a day or two, and paid his court to
Frank.
"I'm going to tell you something, Frank," said he,
as they were once at the pond-side, washing their
plates after dinner. "I'm going to leave the com-
pany."
"Leave the Blues ?" said Frank.
"Yes, and quit the service. I've got sick of it."
"But I thought you liked it so well."
"Well, I did at first. It was a kind of novelty.
Come, le's leave it. I will."
But how can you ? "
"Easy enough. I am under age, and my father 'll
get me off."
"I should think you would be ashamed to ask him
to," Frank could not help saying, with honest con-
tempt.
Jack was not offended this time by his plainness, for
he had learned that those are not, by any means, our
worst friends, who truly tell us our faults.
"I don't care," he said, putting on an air of reck-
lessness. "I ain't going to lead this miserable dog's
life in camp any longer, if I have to desert "- lower-
ing his voice to a whisper; "we can desert just as
easy as not, Frank, if we take a notion."
"I, for one," said Frank, indignantly, shan't take a









FUN IN CAMP.


notioi- to do any thing so dishonorable. We enlisted
of our own free will, and I think it would be the
meanest and most dishonest thing we could do
to -"
"Hush !" whispered Jack. "There's Atwater; he'll
hear us."

At midnight the drummer boy was awakened by a
commotion in the tent.
"Come, Frank," said some one, pulling him vio-
lently, "we are going to have some great fun.
Hurrah !"
Frank jumped up. The boys were leaving the tent.
He had already suspected that mischief was meditated,
and, anxious to see what it was, he ran out after
them.
He found the company assembled in a dark, myste.
rious mass in the street before the row of tents.
"Get a rope around his neck," said one.
"Burn the tent," said another.
"With him in it," said a third.
"What does it all mean ?" Frank inquired of his
friend Atwater, whom he found quietly listening to the
conspirators.
"A little fun with the Gosling, I believe," said
Atwater, with a shrug. "They'd better Jet him
alone."


51








02 THE DRUMMER BOY.

"The Gosling" was the nickname which the Blaes
had bestowed on their captain.
After a hurried consultation among the ringleaders,
the company marched to the tent where the Goaling
slept. Only Atwater, Frank, and a few others lin-
gered in the rear.
"I hope they won't hurt him," said Frank. "Ought
we not to give the alarm ? "
"And get the lasting ill-will of the boys ?" said
Atwater. "We can't afford that."
The captain's tent was surrounded. Knives were
drawn. Then, at a concerted signal, the ropes sup-
porting the tent were cut. At the same time the cap-
tain's bed, which made a convenient protuberance in
the side of the tent, was seized and tipped over, while
tent-pole, canvas, and all, came down upon him in a
mass.
"Help! guard! help !" he shrieked, struggling
under the heap.
At the instant a large pile of straw, belonging to
the quartermaster's department close by, burst forth in
a sheet of flame which illumined the camp with its
glare.
The boys now ran to their tents, laughing at the
plight of the captain, as he issued, furious, from the
ruins. Frank began to run too; but thinking that
this would be considered an indication of guilt, he
stopped. Atwater was at his side.








FUN IN CAMP.


"We are caught," said Atwater, coolly. "There'a
the guard." And he folded his arms under his cape
and waited.
What shall we do ? said Frank, in great distress,
not that he feared the advancing bayonets, but he
remembered John Winch's arrest, and dreaded a simi-
lar degradation.
There are two of them," said the half-dressed cap
tain, pointing out Frank and his friend to the office
of the guard.
In his excitement he would have had them hurried
off at once to the guard-tent. But fortunately the
colonel of the regiment, who had been writing late in
his tent, heard the alarm, and was already on the spot.
He regarded the prisoners by the light of the burning
straw. Frank, recovering from the trepidation of find.
ing himself for the first time surrounded by a guard,
and subject to a serious accusation, returned his look
with a face beaming with courage and innocence.
The colonel smiled.
"Have you been meddling with Captain 's bed
and cutting his tent down ? he asked.
"No, sir," said Frank, with a mien which bore
witness to the truth.
"' Do you know who set that fire ?"
"No, sir."
What are you out of your tent for ?"








THE DRUMMER BOY.


"I came to see the fun, sir. If it was wrong I am
very sorry."
("What fun ?"
"The boys were going to have some fun; I didn't
know what, and I came to see."
SWhat boys ? "
All the boys in our company."
"Which of them did the things your captain cor
plains of? "
"I don't know, sir. They were all together; and
who tipped the bed, or cut the ropes, or set the fire, I
can't tell."
"It seems they were all concerned, then."
No, sir, not all. Some did the mischief, and the
rest looked on."
"Did this person with you do any of the mis
chief?"
No, sir; he was with me all the time, and we kept
out of it."
"How happens it, then, that only you two are
caught?"
"All the rest ran."
"And why didn't you run ?
"We had not been doing any thing to run for,"
said Frank, with convincing sincerity.
Atwater was then questioned, ard gave similar
answers.


54








FUN IN CAMP.


Captain -- ," said the colonel, "I think it is evi-
dent these are not the persons who are most deserving
of punishment. This boy, certainly, could not have
been very deeply concerned in the assault, and I am
inclined to place entire confidence in his story."
The captain himself appeared not a little ashamed
of having accused one so young and ingenuous as the
drummer boy. The prisoners were accordingly re-
leased, and the investigation of the affair was post-
poned until the morrow. Returning with Atwater to
their tent, Frank could not repress the joy he felt at
their fortunate escape. But Atwater took the whole
affair with astonishing coolness, exhibiting no more
emotion at their release than he had betrayed at their
entrapment.
"What a fellow you are!" said Frank, staying his
enthusiastic step, while his companion, with slow and
stately pace, came up with him. You don't seem tc
care for any thing."
"Those that care the most don't always show it,
said Atwater, laconically, as they crept back into the
tent.
All was hushed and dark within; but soon they
heard whispers.
"Abe Frank that you ?"
And they soon found that the tent was full of the
fugitives, awaiting their return.


55








THE DRUMMER BOY.


"What made you let 'em catch you? How did you
get off? were the first eager inquiries.
Dark as it was, Frank thought he could see Atwater
shrug his shoulders and look to him for the required
explanation. For Abram was a fellow of few words,
and Frank was glib of speech.
So Frank, seated on his bed, rated their adven-
ture, to the great delight of the boys, who bestowed
the warmest praises upon them for their spirit and
fidelity. They had stood their ground when deserted
by their companions; and, although they had told the
truth about the whole company, they had not incul-
pated individuals. Thus Frank, as he afterwards
learned with pleasure, had by his courage and truth-
fulness won both the confidence of his officers and the
good will of his comrades.
The next day the company was called to an account
for the offence. In reply to the captain's charges, the
sergeant, acting as spokesman for the rest, stated the
grievances of the men. The result was, that the cap-
tain received directions to exercise his company in the
colonel's presence; and, complying reluctantly, demon.
stated his own inefficiency in a manner which elicited
the merriment of spectators, and even provoked the
colonel to smile.
Soon after, in order to get rid of so incompetent an
officer, and at the same time punish the insubordina.








FUN IN CAMP.


tion of the men, it was resolved to disband the com-
pany. Thus was afforded to Frank the opportunity,
which seemed to him almost providential, of joining
Captain Edney's company, and to John Winch the
desired chance to quit the service, of which he had so
soon grown weary.
At this time the boys' fathers came down together
to visit them. John had written home a pitiful letter,
and Mr. Winch went to see about getting him off.
But Jack was no sooner out of the service than he
wished to be in again. Frank, Atwater, and several
others, had joined Captain Edney's company, and he
determined to follow their example.
John !" groaned Mr. Winch, in despair at this
inconstancy, "when will you learn to be a little more
steady-minded ? Here I have come expressly to plead
your cause, and get you off; but before I have a
chance, you change your mind again, and now noth
ing can persuade you to go home."
SWell," said John, "I didn't like the company I
was in. I'm satisfied now, and I'm going to serve my
country."
"Well, well," said Mr. Winch, "I shall let you do
as you please. But reflect; you enlist with my con-
sent now, and you must dismiss all hope of getting off
next time you are sick of your bargain."
I shan't be sick of it again," said John, as fall


57








THE DRUMMER BOY.


of ambition as he had lately been of discontent and
disloyalty.
In the mean time Frank made the most -f his
father's visit. He showed him his new tent, his knap-
sack and accoutrements, and his handsome drum. IHe
introduced him to the old drummer, and to Atwater,
and to Captain Edney. The latter invited them both
into his tent, and was so kind to them that Frank
almost shed tears of gratitude, to think that his father
could go home and tell what a favorite he was with
his captain. Then, when dinner-time came, Frank
drew a ration for his father, in order that he might
know just what sort of fare the soldiers had, and how
they ate it. And so the day passed. And Frank
accompanied his father to the cars, and saw him off,
sending a thousand good wishes home, and promis-
ing that he would certainly get a / irlough the com
ing week, and visit them.


58
















VI.


BREAKING CAMP.

FRANK was disappointed in not being able to keep
that promise. An order came for the regiment to be
ready to march in two days; in the mean time no fur-
loughs could be granted.
"I am sorry for you, Frank," said Captain Edney;
"and I would make an exception in your case, if
possible."
"No, I don't ask that, sir," said Frank, stoutly. "I
did want to see my folks again, but -- He turned
avvay his face.
"Well," said the captain, "I think it can be arranged
so that you shall see them again, if only for a short
time. You can warn them in season of our breaking
camp, and they will meet you as we pass through
Boston."
This was some consolation; although it was hard
for Frank to give up the long-anticipated pleasure of
visiting his family, and the satisfaction of relating his
e.-erience of a soldier's life to his sisters and mates.
(.59)









THE DRUMMER BOY.


He had thought a good deal, with innocent vanity, of
the wonder and admiration he would excite, in his
uniform, fresh from camp, and bound for the battle-
felds of his country; but he had thought a great deal
more of the happiness of breathing again the atmos-
phere of love and sympathy which we find nowhere
but at home.
The excitement which filled the camp helped him
forget his disappointment. The regiment was in fine
spirits. It was impatient to be on the march. Its
destination was not known; some said it was to be
moved directly to Washington; others, that it was to
rendezvous at Annapolis, and form a part of some for-
midable expedition about to be launched against the
rebellion; but all agreed that what every soldier
ardently desired was now before them active ser-
vice, and an enemy to be conquered.
The two days in which time the regiment was to
prepare to move, became three days four days -a
week; unavoidable obstacles still delayed its depart-
ure, to the infinite vexation of Frank, who saw what
a long furlough he might have enjoyed, and who
r peatedly sent to his friends directions when and
where to meet him, which he found himself obliged,
each time, to write in haste and countermand the next
morning. Such are some of the annoyances of a
soldier's life.


60








BREAKING CAMP.


But at length the long-delayed orders came. They
were received with tumultuous joy by the impatient
troops. It was necessary to send the ponderous bag-
gage train forward a day in advance; and the tents
were struck at once. All was bustle, animation, and
hilarity in the camp; and a night of jubilee followed.
The drummer boy never forgot that night, amid
all his subsequent adventures. While his companions
were singing, shouting, and kindling fires, he could
not help thinking, as he watched their animated figures
lighted up by the flames, that this was, probably, the
last night many of them would ever pass in theii
native state; that many would fall in battle, and find
their graves in a southern soil; and that, perhaps, he
himself was one of those who would never return.
What are you thinking about, my bold soldier
boy?" said a familiar voice, while a gentle hand slapped
him on the back.
He turned and saw the bushy mustache of his
friend and master, the old drummer, peering over his
shoulder.
"O Mr. Sinjin!" said Frank. (The veteran wrote
his name St. John, but every body called him Sinjin.)
"I was afraid I should not see you again."
"Eh, and why not ?"
"Because we are off in the morning, you know,
and I couldn't find you to-day; and --"


61








THE DRUMMER BOY.


"And what, my lad ?" said the old man, regarding
him with a very tender smile.
"I couldn't bear the thought of going without see-
ing you once more."
"And what should a young fellow like you want
to see an ugly, battered, miserable old hulk like me,
for ?"
"You have been very kind to me," said Frank,
getting hold of the old man's hard, rough hand; and
I shall be sorry to part with you, sir, very sorry."
"Well, well." The veteran tried in vain to appear
careless and cynical, as he commonly did to other
people. "You are young yet. You believe in friend..
ship, do you ? "
"And don't you ?" Frank earnestly inquired.
"I did once. A great while ago. But never mind
about that. I believe in you, my boy. You have not
seen the world and grown corrupted; you are still
capable of a disinterested attachment; and may it
be long before the thoughtlessness of some, and the
treachery of others, and the selfishness of all, con-
vince you that there is no such thing as a true friend."
And the old drummer gave his mustache a fierce
jerk, as if he had some grudge against it.
"0 Mr. Sinjin," said Frank, "I shall never think so
and I am sure you do not. Haven't you any friends ?
Don't you really care for any body? Here are all


62









BREAKING CAMP.


these boys; you know a good many of us, and every
body that knows you half as well as I do, likes you
and we are going off now in a few hours, and some o.
us will never come back; and don't you care?"
"Few, I fancy, think of me as you do," said the old
man, in a slightly choking voice. "They call me Old
SBijin, without very much respect," grinning grimly
under his mustache.
"But they don't mean any thing by that; they
like you all the time, sir," Frank assured him.
"Well, like me or not," said the veteran, his smile
softening as he looked down at the boy's face upturned
so earnestly to his in the fire-light, "I have deter-
mined, if only for your sake, to share the fortunes of
the regiment."
"You have? 0, good! And go with us?" cried
Frank, ready to dance for joy.
"I've got tired, like the rest of you, of this dull
camp life," said the old drummer; "and seeing you
pack your knapsack has stirred a little youthful blood
in my veins which I didn't suppose was there. I'm
off for the war with the rest of you, my boy;" and
he poked a coal from the fire to light his cigar, hiding
his face from Frank at the same time.
Frank, who could not help thinking that it was
partly for his sake that the old man had come to this
decision, was both rejoiced and sobered by this evi.


63








THE DRUMMER BOY.


dence of friendship m one who pretended not to be-
lieve there was such a thing as true friendship in the
world.
"I am so glad you are going; but I am afraid
you are too old; and if any thing should happen
to you-- Frank somehow felt that, in that case,
he would be to blame.
The old man said nothing, but kept poking at the
coal with a trembling hand.
"Here, Old Sinjin," said Jack Winch, "have a match.
Don't be singing' your mustaches over the fire for
nothing;" with an irreverent pun on the old man's
name.
"Mr. Sinjin is going with us, Jack," said Frank.
Is he ? Bully for you, old chap! said Jack, as the
veteran, with a somewhat contemptuous smile, ac-
cepted the proffered match, and smoked away in silence.
"We are going to have a gallus old time; nothing
could hire me to stay at ho he." For Jack, when in-
spired by the idea of change, was always enthusias-
tic; he was then always going to have a gallus old
time, if any body knows what that is. "Here goes
my shoes," pitching those which be had worn from
home into the fire.
"Why, Jack," said Frank, "what do you burn them
for? Those were good shoes yet."
"I know it. But I couldn't carry them. The other


64








BREAKING CAMP.


boys are burning up all their old boots and shoes
Uncle Sam furnishes us shoes now."
"But you should have sent them home, Jack;
I sent mine along with my clothes. If you don't
ever want them again yourself, somebody else may."
"What do I care for somebody else ? I care more
for seeing the old things curl and fry in the fire as if
they was mad. O, ain't that a splendid blaze! It's
light as day all over the camp. By jimmy, the fel-
lows there are going to have a dance."
John ran off. Old Sinjin had also taken his de
parture, evidently not liking young Winch's company
Frank was left once more to his own thoughts, watch
ing the picturesque groups about the fires. It was now
midnight. The last of the old straw from the emptied
ticks had been cast into the flames, and the broken
tent-floors were burning brilliantly. Some of the
wiser ones were bent on getting a little sleep. Frank
saw Atwater spreading his rubber blanket on the
ground, and resolved to follow his example. Others
did the same; and with their woollen blankets over
them, their knapsacks under their heads, and their
feet to the fire, they bivouacked merrily under the
lurid sky.
It was Frank's first experience of a night in the
open air. The weather was mild, although it was u w
November; the fires kept them warm; and hut foi
5









THE DRUMMER BOY.


the noises made by the wilder sort of fellows they
would have slept well in that novel fashion. The
drummer boy sank several times into a light slumber,
but as often started up, to hear the singing and laugh-
ter, and to see Atwater sleeping all the while calmly
at his side, the wakeful ones making sport and keeping
up the fires, and the flames glittering dimly on the
slacks of arms. The last time he awoke it was day;
and the short-lived camp-fires were paling their sad
rays before the eternal glory of the sunrise.
The veteran Sinjin beat the drummers' call. Frank
seized his drum and hurried to join his friend, beat-
ing with him the last reveille which was to rouse up
the regiment in the Old Bay State.
After roll-call, breakfast; then the troops were
drawn up under arms, preparatory to their departure.
A long train of a dozen cars was at the depot, in
readiness to receive the regiment, which now marched
out of the old camping-ground to the gay music of a
band from a neighboring city.
After waiting an hour on the train, they heard the
welcome whistle of the engine, and the still more wel.
come clang of the starting cars, and off they went
amid loud cheers and silent tears.
Frank had no relatives or near friends in the crowd
left behind, as many of his comrades had, but his heart
beat fast with the thought that there were loved ones
whom he should meet soon.


660









BREAKING CAMP.


But the regiment reached Boston, and marched
through the streets, and paraded on the Common;
and all the while his longing eyes looked in vain for
his friends, who never appeared. It seemed to him
that nearly every other fellow in his company saw
friends either on the march or at the halt, while he
alone was left unnoticed and uncomforted. And so
his anticipated hour of enjoyment was changed to one
of bitterness.
Why was it ? His last letter must have had time
to reach his family. Besides, they might have seen
by the newspapers that the regiment was coming.
Why then did they fail to meet him ? His heart
swelled with grief as he thought of it, he was there,
so near home, for perhaps the last time, and nobody
that he loved was with him during those precious,
wasting moments.
But, suddenly, as he was casting his eyes for the
twentieth time along the lines of spectators, searching
for some familiar face, he heard a voice not father's,
or mother's, or sister's, but one scarcely less dear than
the dearest.
"My bother Fwank! me %nt mybwother Fwank!"
And turning, he saw little Willie running towards
him, almost between the legs of the policemen sta-
tioned to keep back tht crowd.
















VIL


THROUGH BOSTON.

Ip ever botherr Fwank" felt a thrill of joy, it waa
then. Willie ran straight to his arms, in spite of the
long-legged officer striding to catch him, and pulling
down his neck, hugged him, and kissed him, and
hugged and kissed him again, with such ardor that the
delighted bystanders cheered, and the pursuing police
man stepped back with a laugh of melting human
kindness.
"He's too much for me, that little midgit is," he
said, returning to his place. "Does he belong to you,
ma'am?" addressing a lady whose humid eyes be-
trayed something more than a stranger's interest in
the scene.
They are my children," said the lady. "Will you
be so good, sir, as to tell the drummer boy to step this
way ? "
But already Frank was coming. How thankful he
then felt that he was not a private, confined to the
ranks! In a minute his mother's arm was about him,
(68)








THROUGH BOSTON.


and her kiss was on his cheek, and Helen was squeez-
ing one hand, and his father the other, while Willie
was playing with his drumsticks.
"I am all the more glad," he said, his face
shining with gratitude and pleasure, "because I
was just giving you up -thinking you wouldn't
come at all."
"Only think," said Helen, "because you wrote on
your letter, In haste, the postmaster gave it to Maggie
Simpson yesterday to deliver, for she was going right
by our house; but Dan Alford came along and asked
her to ride, and she forgot all about the letter, and
would never have thought of it again, I suppose, if I
hadn't seen the postmaster and set off on the track of
it this morning. She had gone over to her aunt's, and
I had to follow her there; and then she had to go
home again, to get the letter out of her other dress
pocket; but her sister Jane had by this time got on
the dress, in place of her own, which was being
washed, and worn it to school; and so we had to
go on a wild-goose chase after Jane."
"Well, I hope you had trouble enough for one let-
ter! said Frank.
But you haven't heard all yet," said Helen, laugh-
ing, "for when we found Jane, she had not the letter,
she had taken it out of the pocket, when she put the
dress on, and left it on the bureau at home. So off








THE DRUMMER BOY.


again we started, Maggie and I, but before we got to
her house, the letter had gone again her mother had
found it in the mean time, and sent it to us by the
butcher boy. Well, I ran home, but no butcher boy
had made his appearance; and, do you think, when I
got to the meat shop, I found him deliberately sawing
off a bone for his dog, with your letter in his greasy
pocket."
He had forgotten it too!" said Frank.
"Not he! but he didn't think it of very much
importance, and he intended to bring it to us some
time during the day after he had fed his dog By
this time father had got news that the regiment was in
town; and such a rush as we made for the horse-cars
you never did see!"
But Hattie! where is she?" Frank asked, anx-
iously.
Helen's vivacious face saddened a little.
"O, we came away in such a hurry we couldn't
bring her, even if she had been well enough."
"Is she worse ?"
She gets no better," said Mrs. Manly, "and she
herself thought she ought not to try to come. Maggic
Simpson offered to stay with her."
"I am so sorry! I wanted to see her. Did she
send any message to me ? "
"Yes," said his mother. "She said, 'Give my love


70








THROUGH BOSTON.


to dear brother, and tell him to think of me some.
times.'"
"Think of her sometimes!" said Frank. "Tell
her I shall always think of her and love her."
By this time Captain Edney, seeing Frank with his
friends, came towards them. Frank hastened to hide
his emotion; and, saluting the officer respectfully, said
to him, with a glow of pleasure: -
Captain Edney, this is my mother."
Captain Edney lifted his cap, with a bright smile.
Well," he said, this is a meeting I rather think
neither of us ever looked forward to, when we used to
spend those long summer days in the old school-house,
which I hope you remember."
"I remember it well and one bright-faced boy in
particular," said Mrs. Manly, pressing his hand cor-
dially.
A rather mischievous boy, I am afraid I was; a
little rebel myself, in those days," said the captain.
" "Yet a boy that I always hoped much good
of," said Mrs. Manly. "I cannot tell you how
gratified I am to feel that my son is entrusted in
your hands."
You may be sure I will do what I can for him,"
said the captain, "if only to repay your early care
of me."
IHe then conversed a few moments with Mr. Manly,


71








THE DRUMMER BOY.


who was always well satisfied to stand a little in the
background, and let his wife have her say first.
"And this, I suppose, is Frank's sister," turning
to Helen. "I should have known her, I think, for she
looks so much as you used to, Mrs. Manly, that I can
almost fancy myself stepping up to her with my slate,
and saying, 'Please, ma'am, show me about this
sum? '"
Frank, in the mean time, was occupied in exhibiting
to Willie his drum, and in preventing him, partly by
moral suasion, but chiefly by main force, from gratify-
ing his ardent desire to pound upon it.
"And here is our little brother," said the captain,
lifting Willie, notwithstanding his struggles and kicks,
and kissing his shy, pouting cheeks. He'll make a
nice drummer boy too, one of these days."
This royal flattery won the child over to his new
friend immediately.
"Me go to war with my bother Fwank! dwum,
and scare webels!" panting earnestly over his im.
portant little story, which the captain was obliged to
out short.
Well, Frank, I suppose you would like to spend
the rest of the time with your friends. Be at the Old
Colony depot at five o'clock. Meanwhile," touch-
mg his cap, a pleasant time to all of you."
So saying, he left them, and Frank departed with


72








THROUGH BOSTON.


his friends, carrying his drum with him, to the great
delight of little Willie, whose heart would have been
broken if all hope of being allowed to drum upon it
had been cut off by leaving it behind.
"Mrs. Gillett has invited us to bring you to her
house," said Mrs. Manly. "I want to have a long talk
with you there; and I want Mrs. Gillett's brother, the
minister, to see you."
Frank was not passionately fond of ministers; and
immediately an unpleasant image rose in his mind, of
a solemn, black-coated individual, who took a mourn-
ful satisfaction in damping the spirits of young people
by his long and serious conversations.
You needn't strut so, Frank, if you have got soldier
clothes on," laughed Helen. "I'll tell folks you are
smart, if you are so particular to have them know it."
"'Do, if you please," said Frank. And I'll tell 'em
you're handsome, if you'll put your veil down so they
won't know but that I am telling the truth."
"There, Helen," said Mrs. Manly, "you've got your
joke back with interest. Now I'd hold my tongue, if
I was you."
Frank. and I wouldn't know each other if we
didn't have a little fun together," said Helen. Be-
sides, we'll all feel serious enough by and by, I guess."
For she loved her brother devotedly, much as she de-
lighted to tease him; and she would have been glad to


73








THE DRUMMER BOY.


drown in merry jests the thought of the final parting,
which was now so near at hand.
They were cordially received at Mrs. Gillett's house;
and there Mrs. Manly enjoyed the wished-for opportu-
nity of talking with her son, and Willie had a chance
to beat the drum in the attic, and Mrs. Gillett secretly
emptied Frank's haversack of its rations of pork and
hard tack, and filled it again with excellent bread and
butter, slices of cold lamb, and sponge cake. More-
over, a delightful repast was prepared for the visitors,
at which Frank laughed at his own awkwardness, de-
claring that he had eaten from a tin plate so long, with
his drumhead for a table, that he had almost forgotten
the use of china and napkins.
"If Hattie was only here now!" he said, again and
again. For it needed only his invalid sister's presence,
during these few hours, to make him perfectly happy.
"Eat generously," said the minister, "for it may be
long before you sit at a table again."
"Perhaps I never shall," thought Frank, but he did
not say so lest he might hurt his mother's feelings.
The minister was not at all such a person as he had
expected to see, but only a very pleasant gentleman,
not at all stiffened with the idea that he had the dig.
nity of a profession to sustain. HIe was natural, friend-
ly, and quite free from that solemn affectation which
now and then becomes second nature in minister


74








THROUGH BOSTON.


some of us know, but which never fails to repel the
sympathies of the young.
Mr. Egglestone was expecting soon to go out on a
mission to the troops, and it % as for this reason Mrs.
Manly wished them to become acquainted.
"I wish you were going with our regiment," said
Frank. "We have got a chaplain, I believe, but I have
never seen him yet, or seen any body who has seen
him."
Well, I hope at least I shall meet you, if we both
reach the seat of war," said the minister, drawing him
aside. But whether I do or not, I am sure that, with
such a good mother as you have, and such dear sisters
as you leave behind, you will never need a chaplain to
remind you that you have something to preserve more
precious than this mortal life of ours, the purity and
rectitude of your heart."
This was spoken so sincerely and affectionately that
Frank felt those few words sink deeper into his soul
than the most labored sermon could have done. Mr.
Egglestone said no more, but putting his arm confid-
ingly over the boy's shoulder, led him back to his
mother.
.And now the hour of parting had come. Frank's
friends, including the minister, went with him to the
cars. Arrived at the depot, they found it thronged
with soldiers, and surrounded by crowds of citizens.









THE DRUMMER BOY.


"O, mother !" said Frank, "you must see -ur dr um-
major, old Mr. Sinjin -my teacher, you know. There
lie is; I'll run and fetch him!"
He returned immediately, dragging after him the
grizzled veteran, who seemed reluctant, and looked
unusually stern.
"It's my mother and father, you know," said Frank.
"They want to shake hands with you.'
"What do they care for me?" said the old man,
frowning.
Frank persisted, and introduced his father. The
veteran returned Mr. Manly's salute with rigid mili-
tary courtesy, without relaxing a muscle of his austere
countenance.
"And this is my mother," said Frank.
With still more formal and lofty politeness, the old
man bent his martial figure, and quite raised his cap
from his old gray head.
"Madam, your very humble servant! "
"Mr. St. John!" exclaimed Mrs. Manly, in aston-
ishment. "Is it possible that this is my old friend St.
John ?"
"Madam," said the veteran, with difficulty keeping
up his cold, formal exterior, "I hardly expected you
would do me the honor to remember one so unwor-
thy;" bending lower than before, and raising his hat


76








THROUGH BOSTON.


again, while his lips twitched nervously under his thick
mustache.
"Why, where did you ever see him, mother ?" cried
Frank, with eager interest.
"Mr. St.John was an old friend of your grandfather's,
Frank. Surely, sir, you have not forgotten the little
girl you used to take on your knee and feed with
candy ? "- for the old man was still looking severe and
distant.
"I have not forgotten many pleasant things -and
some not so pleasant, which I would have forgotten by
every body." And the old drummer gave his mus-
tache a vindictive pull.
"Be sure," said Mrs. Manly, I remember nothing of
you that was not kind and honorable. I think you
must have known who my son was, you have been so
good to him. But why did you not inform him, or me
through him, who you were? I would have been so
glad to know about you."
"I hardly imagined that." The old cynical smile
curled the heavy mustache.- "And if I could be of
'any service to ypur son, it was needless for you to
know of it. I was Mr. St. John when you knew me;
but I am nobody but Old Sinjin now. Madam, I
wish you a very good-day, and much happiness.
Your servant, sir!"
And shaking hands stiffly, first with Mrs. Many,


71









THE DRUMMER BOY.


then with her husband, the strange old man stalked
away.
"Who is he ? what is it about him ? asked Frank,
stung with curiosity. "Never did I think you knew
Old Sinjin."
Your father knows about him, and I will tell you
some time," said Mrs. Manly, her eyes following the
retreating figure with looks of deep compassion. "In
the mean time, be very kind to him, very gentle and
respectful, my son."
"I will," said Frank, "but it is all so strange! I
can't understand it."
"Well, never mind now. Here is Captain Edney
Stalking with' Helen and Mr. Egglestone, and Willie
is playing with his scabbard. Pretty well ac-
quainted this young gentleman is getting!" said
Mrs. Manly, hastening to take the child away from
the sword.
"Pitty thord pitty man !" lisped Willie, who had
fallen violently in love with the captain and his accou-
trements. "Me and Helen, we like pitty man We
go with pitty man "
Helen blushed; while the captain, laughing, took a
piece of money from his pocket and gave it to Willie
for the compliment.
Frank, who had been absent a moment, now joined
the group, evidently much pleased at something


78








THROUGH BOSTON.


"The funniest thing has happened! A fellow in
our company, and one of the best fellows he is too I
but I can't help laughing he met his girl to-day,
and they suddenly took it into their heads to get mar-
ried; so they sent two of their friends to get their
licenses for them, one, one way, and the other another
way, for they live in different places. And the fel-
low's license has come, and the girl's hasn't, and they
wouldn't have time to go to a minister's now if it had.
It is too bad! but isn't it funny ? The fellow is one
of my very best friends. I wrote to you about him;
Abe Atwater. There he is, with his girl !"
And Frank pointed out the tall young soldier,
standing stately and taciturn, but with a strong emo-
tion in that usually mild, grave face of his, perceptible
'enough to those who knew him. His girl was at his
side, crying.
"How I pity her! "said Helen. "But he takes it
coolly enough, I should think."
"He takes every thing that way," said Frank; "but
you can't tell much by his face how he feels, though I
can see he is biting hard to keep his heart down now,
straight as he stands."
"I'll speak to her," said Helen; and while Frank
accosted Atwater, she made acquaintance with the-
girl.
"Yes," said the soldier, "it would be better to know


79








THE DRUMMER BOY.


I was leaving a wife behind, to think of me and look
for my coming back. But I never knew she cared so
much for me; and now it's too late."
"To think," said the girl to Helen, "he has loved
me all along, but never told me, because he thought I
wouldn't have him! And now he is going, and may
be I shall never see him again! And we want to be
married, and my license hasn't come!" And she
poured out her sorrows into the bosom of the sym-
pathizing Helen, with whdm suffering and sympathy
made her at once acquainted.
Just then the signal sounded for the train to be in
readiness to start. And there were hurried partings,
and tears in many a soldier's eye. And Frank's
mother breathed into his ear her good-by counsel and
blessing. And Atwater was bidding his girl farewell,
when a man came bounding along the platform with a
paper in his hand the marriage license.
"Too late now!" said Atwater, with a glistening
smile. "We are off!"
"But here is a minister!" cried Helen, -"Mr.
Egglestone! O, Captain Edney! have the train
wait until this couple can be married. It won't
take a minute!"
The case of the lovers was by this time well under-
stood, not only by Captain Edney and Mr. Eggle.
stone, but also by the conductor of the train and


80








THROUGH BOSTON.


scores of soldiers and citizens. An interested throng
crowded to witness the ceremony. The licenses were
m the hands of the minister, and with his musket at
ordei arms by his right side, and his girl at his left,
Atwater stood up to be married, as erect and attentive
as if he had been going through the company drill.
And in a few words Mr. Egglestone married them
Frank' holding Atwater's musket while he joined
hands with his bride.
In the midst of the laughter and applause which fol.
lowed, the soldier, with unchanging features, fumbled
in his pocket for the marriage fee. He gave it to Mr.
Egglestone, who politely handed it to the bride. But
she returned it to her husband.
You will need it more than I shall, Abram -
forcing it, in spite of him, back into his pocket.
"Good-by she sobbed, kissing him. "Good-by,
my husband!" :
This pleasing incident had served to lighten the
pain of Frank's parting with his friends. When sor
r6wful farewells are to be said, no matter how quickly
they are over. And they were over now; and Frank
was on the departing triin, waving his cap for the last
time to the friends he could not see for the tears that
dimmed his eyes,
And the cars rolled slowly away, amid cheers which
drowned the sound of-weeping. And the bride who
6


81








82 THE DRUMMER BOY.

had had her husband for a moment only, and lost him,
- perhaps forever, and the mother who had given
her son to her country, perhaps never to receive
him back,- and other wives, and mothers, and fa-
thers, and sisters, were left behind, with all the untold
pangs of grief and anxious love in their hearts, gazing
after the long swift train that bore their loved ones
away to the war.
















VII.


ANNAPOLIS.

AND the tram sped on; and the daylight faded fast;
and darkness shut down upon the world. And still
the train sped on.
When it was too dark to see any thing out of the
car windows, and Frank was tired of the loud talking
around him, he thought he would amuse himself by
nibbling a little hard tack." So he opened his hav-
ersack, and discovered the cake, and bread and butter,
and cold lamb, with which some one who loved him
had stored it. He was so moved by this evidence of
thoughtful kindness that it was some time before he
could make up his mind to break in upon the little
stock of provisions, which there was really more satis-
faction in contemplating than in eating any ordinary
supper. But the sight of some of his comrades resort-
ing for solace to their rations decided him, and he
shared with them the contents of his haversack.
The train reached Fall River at nine o'clock,
and the passengers were transferred to the steamer
(83\








THE DRUMMER BOY.


"Metropolis." The boat was soon swarming with
soldiers, stacking their arms, and hurrying this way
and that in the lamp-light. Then the clanking of the
engine, the trembling of the steamer, and the sound
of rushing water, announced that they were once more
in motion.
Frank had never been on salt water before, and he
was sorry this was in the night; but he was destined
before long to have experience enough of the sea, both
by night and by day.
When he went upon deck the next morning, the
steamer was cutting her way gayly through the waters
of New York harbor, a wonderful scene to the un-
travelled drummer boy, who had never before wit-
nessed such an animated picture of dancing waters,
ships under full sail, and steamboats trailing long
dragon-tails of smoke in the morning air.
Then there was the city, with its forests of masts,
its spires rising dimly in the soft, smoky atmosphere
that shrouded it, and the far, faint sound of its bells
musically ringing.
Then came the excitement of landing; the troops
forming, and, after a patriotic reception by the Sons
of Massachusetts," marching through the city to the
barracks; then dinner; and a whole afternoon of
sight-seeing afterwards.
The next day the regiment was off again, crossing


84








ANNAPOLIS.


the ferry, and taking tlhe cars for Philadelphia. From
Philadelphia it kept on into the night again, until it
reached a steamer, in waiting to receive it, on Chesa-
peake Bay.
The next morning was rainy; and the rain con-
tinued all day, pouring dismally; and it was raining
still when, at midnight, the boat arrived at Annapolis.
In the darkness and storm the troops landed, and took
up their temporary quarters in the Naval Academy.
In one of the recitation halls, Frank and his comrades
spread their blankets on the floor, put their knapsacks
under their heads, and slept as soundly after their
wearisome journey as they ever did in their beds at
home. Indeed, they seemed to fall asleep as promptly
as if by word of command, and to snore by platoons.
The next morning the rain was over. At seven
o'clock, breakfast; after which the regiment was re-
viewed on the Academy parade. Then Frank and a
squad of jovial companions set out to see the town, -
taking care to have with them an intelligent young
corporal, named Gray, who had been there before, and
knew the sights.
"Boys," said young Gray, as they sallied forth, "we
are now in Queen Anne's city, for that, I suppose
you know, is what the word Annapolis mears. It was
the busiest city in Maryland once; but, by degrees, all
its trade and fashion went over to Baltimore, and left


85








THE DRUMMER BOY.


the old town to go to sleep, though it has woke up
and rubbed its eyes a little since the rebellion broke
out."
When was you here, Gray ? asked Jack Winch.
Gray smiled at his ignorance, while Frank said, -
"What! didn't you know, Jack, he was here with
the Eighth Massachusetts, last April, when they
saved Washington and the Union ?"
"The Union ain't saved yet! said Jack.
"But we saved Washington; that's every where
admitted," said Gray, proudly. "On -the 19th of
April the mob attacked the Sixth Massachusetts
in Baltimore, took possession of the city, and de-
stroyed the communication with Washington. You
remember that, for it was the first blood shed in this
war; and April 19, 1861, takes its place with April 19,
1775, when the first blood was shed at Lexington, in
the Revolution."
Of course I know all that!" said Jack, who never
liked to be thought ignorant of any thing.
"Well, there.was the government at Washington in
danger, the Eighth Massachusetts on its way to
save it, and Baltimore in the hands of the rebels. I
tell you, every man of us was furious to cut our way
through, and avenge the murders of the 19th. But
General Butler hit upon a wiser plan, and instead
bf keeping on to Baltimore, we switched off, seized a


86








ANNAPOLIS.


ferry-boat on the Chesapeake, just as she was about to
be taken by the secessionists, ran down here to Annap-
olis, sayed the city, saved the old frigate Constitu-
tion,' and, with the New York Seventh, went to work
to open a new route to Washington.
"Our boys repaired the railroad track, which the
traitors had torn up, and put in shape again the
engine they had disabled. We had men that could
do any thing; and that very engine was one they had
made, for the South never did its own engine-
building, but sent to Massachusetts to have it done.
Charley IIomans knew every joint and pin in that old
machine, and soon had her running over the road
again."
"How far is it to Washington ? asked Frank.
"About forty miles; but then we thought it a hun-
dred, we were so impatient to get there! What a
march we had all day and: all night, the engine help-
ing us a little, and we: helping the engine by hunting
up and replacing now and then a stray rail which the
traitors had torn from the track. A good many got
used uip, and Charley Homans took 'em aboard the
train. It was ori that nIarch I fell in with one of the
pleasantest fellows I ever saw; always full of wit and
good-humor, with a cheery word for every body. He
belonged to the New York Seventh. He told me
his name was Winthrop. But I did not know till


87








THE DRUMMER BOY.


afterwards that he was Theodore Winthrop, tan
author; afterwards Major Winthrop, who fell last
June only two months after at Big Bethel."
"It was a North Carolina drummer boy that shot
him," said Frank. "Winthrop was heading the at-
tack on the battery; he jumped upon a log, and was
calling to the men, 'Come on!' when the drummer
boy took a gun, aimed deliberately, and shot him dead."
"I wouldn't want to be killed by a miserable drum-
mer boy! said Jack Winch, envious- because Frank
remembered the incident.
"A drummer boy may be as brave as any body,"
said Frank, keeping his temper. "But I wouldn't
want to be even the bravest drummer boy, in a bad
cause."
And as for being shot," said Gray, "I think Jack
wouldn't willingly place himself where there was much
danger of being killed by any body."
"You'll see! you'll see !" said Jack, testily. "Just
wait till the time comes."
"What water is this the town fronts on ?" asked
Frank.
"The Chesapeake, of course! Who don't know
that?" said Jack, contemptuously.
"Only it ain't!" said Gray, with a quiet laugh.
"This is the River Severn. The Chesapeake is some
two miles below."


88








ANNAPOLIS.


There, Jack," said Ned Ellis, "I'd give up now.
You don't know quite so much as you thought you
did."
What a queer old town it is," said Frank, gener-
ously wishing to draw attention from Jack's mortifica-
tion. It isn't a bit like Boston. It don't begin to
be as smart a place."
Of course not!" said Jack, more eager than ever
now to appear knowing. "And why should it be?
Boston is the capital of Massachusetts; and if Annap-
olis was only the capital of this state, it would be
smart enough."
"What is the capital of this state ?" asked Gray,
winking slyly at Frank.
"Baltimore! I thought every body knew that,"
said Jack, with an air of importance.
This ludicrous blunder raised a great laugh.
"O Jack! O Jack Winch! where did you go to
school ?" said Joe Harris, "not to know that Fred-
erick is the capital of Maryland."
"So it is! I had forgotten," said Jack. "Of
course I knew Frederick was the capital, if I had
only thought."
At this the boys laughed louder than ever, and
Jack flew into a passion.
"Harris was fooling you," whispered Frank.
\ 3 3


89








THE DRUMMER BOY.


"Annapolis is the capital. Gray is taking us now to
see the State House."
"Ha,, ha, ha !" Winch suddenly burst forth. "Did
you think I didn't know? Annapolis is the capital;
and there's the State House."
"Is it possible?" said Gray. "The rebels must
have changed it then, for that was St. John's College
when I was here before."
The boys shouted with merriment; all except Jack,
who was angry. He had been as fickle at his studies,
when at school, as he had always been at every thing
else; never sticking long to any of them, but forever
beginning something new; until, at last, ignorant of
all, he gave up, declaring that he had knowledge
enough to get through the world with, and that be
wasn't going to bother his brain with books any
longer. It added now to his chagrin to think that
he had not education enough to prevent him from
appearing ridiculous among his mates, and that the
golden opportunity of acquiring useful information in
his youth was lost forever.
Meanwhile Frank's reflections were very different.
Gray's reminiscences of April had strongly impressed
upon his mind the fact that he was now on the verge
of his country's battle-fields; that this was the first
soil that had been wrested from the grasp of treason,
aid saved for the Union, that the ground he stood


90




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