THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE WILMER COLLECTION 
 
 OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. 
 
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OUR VILLAGE 
 
 HflUALR COLLECT 
 
 IN 
 
 WAR-TIME. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 ALLAN CAMERON, ILVERTON RECTORY, 
 
 ETC. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THE 
 AMEKICAN TKACT SOCIETY, 
 
 150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK. 
 
The incidents in the follcAving narrative are real, and 
 have actually occured in the present struggle for our 
 national life, though not precisely in the order here indi- 
 cated. Liberty has been taken in locating and arranging 
 them, and names and places are assumed. 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S64, by the 
 Americas Tract Society, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court 
 of the United States for the Southern District of New York. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 The Beach 3iD aeighborhood 7 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 The Soldiers' Aid Society 17 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 The departure of the regiment - 35 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 The drummer-boy of the Twenty-sixth 50 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 How the boys came home 80 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Lights and shadows 102 
 
 603130 
 
OUR VILLAGE IN AVAR-TIME. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE BEACH HILL NEIGHBOKHOOD. 
 
 "Would you believe it, Mrs. Glenn, 
 the Tyrrell House is sold, and a family is 
 going to move into it right away ? The 
 painters and carpenters have been there 
 for a week. I did n't know the house, it 
 looked so lively. It seems too bad to 
 have v that place shut up from the public, 
 for we all enjoyed it so much ; but I sup- 
 pose the owner had the best right to it, 
 after all. I have n't found out who the 
 family are, but I shall hear all about it 
 to-morrow, and then I will let you know ; 
 for Aunt Prudence is going there to clean 
 
6 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 the rooms, and get them ready for the 
 furniture." 
 
 As Miss Letty paused to take breath, 
 I expressed my interest in the news, 
 which, to confess the truth, had affected 
 me rather unpleasantly. 
 
 The Tyrrell House was the "show- 
 place " of Beach Hill, a rambling, aristo- 
 cratic mansion, \milt by a wealthy Eng- 
 lishman, who, after a series of domestic 
 troubles, shut up the house in disgust, 
 and left the country. It was his wish 
 that no one should reside there ; conse- 
 quently the house was out of repair, and 
 the extensive grounds, laid out originally 
 by a landscape gardener, were overrun 
 with weeds. Still it was a lovely spot, 
 and the dwellers on the hill held annual 
 picnics there, and lovers strolled through 
 its shaded walks by moonlight, and alto- 
 gether we had come to look upon it as 
 public property, held for our special ben- 
 
 m 
 
 fid) 
 
BEACH HILL NEIGHBORHOOD. 1 
 
 efit. Great was our astonishment, there- 
 fore, when we heard that the house had 
 been purchased, and was fitting up for a 
 family, who were to take immediate pos- 
 session. It was felt by us almost, as a 
 personal loss ; and woe to the new-comers, 
 should they fail to atone by the charms 
 of their society for the deprivation we 
 were to suffer. 
 
 Not that we were an inhospitable or 
 quarrelsome set of people. On the con- 
 trary, we prided ourselves on the posses- 
 sion of the opposite qualities. If there 
 were in the town of Woodbury a model 
 neighborhood, we believed it to be located 
 on Beach Hill. Ours was a very select 
 society, reckoning among its members 
 the clergyman, lawyer, doctor, and ed- 
 itor of the town, and a number of gentle- 
 men of wealth and leisure, as well as 
 some who led the dubious sort of exist- 
 ence called "living by one's wits." We 
 
8 OUK VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 assumed, however, no airs of superiority 
 over our townsmen, but were content to 
 manifest our self-complacency by a qui- 
 etly patronizing manner whenever we 
 met them. In such a community as this, 
 it may be supposed the arrival of a new 
 family was quite an event, particularly as 
 they were about to occupy the best house 
 in the town. 
 
 The next day I was very busy at home, 
 and had forgotten the coming event, when 
 just at evening Miss Letty made her ap- 
 pearance, every line of her face instinct 
 with news which her tongue was eager to 
 communicate. 
 
 Miss Letty Brown was the dressmaker 
 par excellence of the town of Woodbury ; 
 and though we of the Hill had tried hard 
 to appropriate her, it was found an im- 
 possibility, so we were fain to share her 
 services with the inhabitants of the vil- 
 lage. She was a cheerful, active little 
 
BEACH HILL NEIGHBORHOOD. 9 
 
 woman, of an uncertain age, with a fresh, 
 breezy atmosphere always about her, 
 which stirred one very pleasantly — a 
 little given to gossip, yet no scandal- 
 monger, but a sincere, earnest Christian, 
 loving God and her fellow-men, and look- 
 ing persistently on the bright side of ev- 
 ery thing. No matter how dark the day, 
 Miss Letty firmly believed in the sun- 
 shine behind the clouds, and waited for 
 it to break through. Her services were 
 in constant requisition on every occasion ; 
 and as she was brimming over with what 
 the Yankees call "faculty," nothing that 
 skill and ingenuity could accomplish came 
 amiss to her. 
 
 Hardly was the neat white sun-bonnet 
 laid aside, when she exclaimed, 
 
 "Well, it's really wonderful how things 
 do come about in this world. There 7 s 
 old Mr. Tyrrell thought he 7 d cut off his 
 daughter with a shilling, and now her 
 
10 OUK VILLAGE IN WAK-TIME. 
 
 grandson has come into possession of the 
 house and land." 
 
 "How is that?" I asked; " is this new 
 family connected with the Tyrrells ?" 
 
 "Oh yes; Aunt Prudence has told me 
 all about it. Mr. Fenton, the gentleman 
 who has bought the property, is the grand- 
 son of Emily Tyrrell that was, and he 
 has lived in Alabama a great many years. 
 It seems he is a strong Union man ; and 
 when this rebellion broke out, he got into 
 trouble, and has been all this time trying 
 to get away ; and now the family have 
 come, but he stays behind to try and 
 save some more of his money. Mrs. 
 Fenton is very sick, and has been for a 
 great while; but there is a grown-up 
 daughter and another young lady, a 
 niece, who is said to be an heiress, and a 
 son, who I rather think is in the rebel 
 army, though there is n't much said 
 about it." 
 
BEACH HILL NEIGHBORHOOD. 11 
 
 "Are the family coming immediate- 
 ly?" I inquired, for Miss Letty's account 
 had awakened my interest in these refu- 
 gees from rebel tyranny. 
 
 "They are expected every day, but 
 I ? m sure the house is any thing but ready 
 for them. When I heard about the poor 
 sick lady, I felt like taking right hold 
 and putting things to rights ; but it would 
 not have been taken kindly by Aunt 
 Prudence, so I held my tongue. Mrs. 
 Ryder and Mabel were .there, seeing to 
 the furniture and pictures, for it seems 
 that when Mr. Ryder went south for his 
 health, three years ago, he got acquainted 
 with this family, and that is the way they 
 found out that the house was for sale and 
 got it. There was quite a company of 
 Beach Hill people there, and among 
 the rest Robert Lester, the fine-looking 
 young lawyer. I do n't often take a 
 fancy to young men — you need n't smile, 
 
12 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 Nellie — but I do like that young man 
 wonderfully. There 's something so no- 
 ble about him ; and yet he ? s as gentle as 
 a woman." 
 
 I assented cordially to Miss Letty's 
 praise of the young lawyer, for he had 
 been a favorite of mine from his first ap- 
 pearance in our town. He was alone in 
 the world, having no relatives but one 
 sister, who was at a boarding-school at 
 some distance from Woodbury. His le- 
 gal knowledge and splendid powers as a 
 speaker made him a marked man in the 
 community, and he was rising rapidly in 
 his profession, while his private charac- 
 ter, so pure and manly, won the esteem 
 and friendship of all. 
 
 Unlike too many young men, Mr. Les- 
 ter had not been ashamed to avow him- 
 self a Christian by a public profession of 
 his faith in Jesus ; and young as he was, 
 Mr. Ryder had found him an efficient 
 
BEACH HILL NEIGHBORHOOD. 13 
 
 helper in every good word and work, 
 while even infidels and scoffers were com- 
 pelled to admire his consistency and firm- 
 ness of principle. 
 
 When the war broke out, and with 
 thousands of others the young men of 
 our village sprang to arms, we expected 
 Kobert Lester would be one of the first 
 to go, for all knew his patriotic devotion 
 to the cause of liberty ; but to our sur- 
 prise he did not enlist, though he look- 
 ed sad enough when the first company 
 marched away, carrying with them our 
 best wishes and prayers for their success. 
 He was not a man whom one would like 
 to question about his reasons for any 
 course of conduct, so we waited to hear 
 what he would say, but he said nothing. 
 
 The second company went, and still 
 no word from him, though his efforts to 
 promote the good cause were laborious 
 and incessant. There was some mystery 
 
14 OUR VILLAGE IX WAR-TIME. 
 
 about it, for when urged to accept the 
 command of a company, he replied hastily, 
 
 "Do not ask it. I would give ten of 
 the best years of my life to be able to 
 say yes, but I cannot go. I can help to 
 send others, however, and that I am do- 
 ing with all my heart.*' 
 
 In fact his purse was always open, 
 and as his fortune was large, the streams 
 of his benevolence flowed in various chan- 
 nels, making glad many a heart which 
 the war had made desolate. 
 
 Mr. Ryder our excellent minister, Dr. 
 Goodhue our physician, and Mr. Reed, 
 a thin, pale young man, who edited the 
 Woodbury Chronicle, were all of opin- 
 ion that Mr. Lester had good reasons for 
 staying at home, and the rest of us were 
 satisfied to adopt their belief, though we 
 felt that he had lost a glorious opportu- 
 nity of becoming a hero. 
 
 Before leaving, Miss Letty informed 
 
BEACH HILL NEIGHBOKHOOD. 15 
 
 me in confidence that the new family 
 were to be invited to the meeting of the 
 Soldiers' Aid Society at Mrs. Atlee's, 
 and that then we should know whether 
 they sympathized with the government, 
 or were at heart secessionists. 
 
 "Not that I think there's any doubt 
 about it," she said; 'J for if they had 
 liked the rebellion, they could have 
 staid there, you know. But it 's always 
 best to have things clear, and it 's hard 
 to satisfy some people." 
 
 This w T as a fact which could not be 
 denied, even in our neighborhood, and I 
 contented myself with inquiring if any 
 one besides Mr. Ryder had seen the 
 Fentons. 
 
 "I don't know, but I had my thoughts 
 about it, when I saw Mr. Lester looking 
 so sharp at the portraits of the family 
 which are hung up. There was one of a 
 young girl, the prettiest thing I ever set 
 
16 OUR VILLAGE IN WAB-TIME. 
 
 eyes on ; it was so beautiful it spoilt all 
 the rest. Her eyes were just like stars, 
 and such lovely curls of brown hair fall- 
 ing over her white neck and shoulders ; 
 but the sweet look on her face was bet- 
 ter than all. I 'm sure I should love that 
 girl, and I guess Mr. Lester thought so 
 too, from the way he kept going back to 
 it again and again, as if he could n't get 
 away, looking all the while so melan- 
 choly. One thing I 'ni sure of," added 
 Miss Letty as she rose to go; "that 
 young man hasn't got any thing to be 
 ashamed of ; for if ever there was an hon- 
 est and brave soul looking out through a 
 face, his is the one, and I'd trust him 
 with the last cent I had in the world." 
 
 With this emphatic declaration Miss 
 Letty took her leave, and the last I saw 
 of the white sun-bonnet, it was disap- 
 pearing among the shrubbery at the par- 
 sonage. 
 
SOLDIEKS' AID SOCIETY. IT 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE SOLDIEKS' AID SOCIETY. 
 
 The new-comers were at length set- 
 tled in their pleasant home. The neigh- 
 bors had all called, and were received 
 with a courtesy and kindness which won 
 golden opinions from every one. 
 
 Mrs. Fenton was a confirmed invalid, 
 never leaving her apartment ; but the 
 peace of God, which like a river flowed 
 through her soul, filled the room with sun- 
 shine. In early life she had been a proud, 
 ambitious woman, valuing wealth and so- 
 cial distinction above all things else, and 
 anxious only that her children should 
 shine in the circles of fashion to which she 
 belonged. But in the midst of her career 
 the hand of God was laid upon her, and 
 in the solitude of a sick-room she was 
 
 Our Village. 2 
 
18 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 forced to think. Through the prayers 
 and efforts of a faithful Christian friend 
 she was brought to look to Jesus for par- 
 doning and healing mercy, and after a 
 season of deep mental anguish, during 
 which all the waves and billows of divine 
 wrath seemed rolling over her, she found 
 refuge at last at the foot of the cross, and 
 was enabled to say from the heart, "I 
 know in whom I have believed." 
 
 For ten years since that hour she had 
 been confined to her couch with a hope- 
 less disease, often racked with intense 
 agony, yet always the same patient, un- 
 complaining sufferer, always calm and 
 happy, with a heart full of love and pity 
 for every form of human sorrow. By 
 her household she was looked upon as a 
 guardian spirit, rather than a helpless 
 dependent. Every disputed question 
 was referred to her decision, and what- 
 ever storms invaded the domestic circle, 
 
SOLDIERS' AID SOCIETY. 19 
 
 "mother's room" was always a place of 
 refuge, which seemed to her children the 
 dearest spot on earth. 
 
 Elinor Fenton the daughter was a del- 
 icate, graceful girl, inheriting her moth- 
 er's gentleness and refinement, but with 
 the shadow of a deep sorrow always vis- 
 ible on her sweet face. That there was 
 a son we knew, but nothing was ever 
 said of him, and we could easily believe 
 that his desertion of the Union cause, the 
 uncertainty of her father's fate, and the 
 illness of her mother, must exert a de- 
 pressing influence on one so young, even 
 before we heard the saddest part of her 
 story. The wealth of her affections had 
 been bestowed on one who seemed fully 
 worthy of them, but when the day of trial 
 came he was found wanting. He was 
 one of the first to enter the rebel army, 
 and his influence over young Fenton had 
 led the latter to adopt the same course. 
 
20 OUK VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 Thus doubly bereft of lover and brother, 
 the young girl devoted herself to her suf- 
 fering mother ; but her heart was open 
 as the day " to melting charity, '' and 
 none ever appealed to her in vain for 
 sympathy or relief. 
 
 When I first went to the house, I saw 
 only Mrs. Fenton and Elinor, but my in- 
 terest in both was so much excited that 
 the call was soon repeated, and on my 
 second visit Mrs. Fenton said, to her 
 daughter, 
 
 "Elinor, where is your cousin? Go, 
 my love, and tell Lilian I wish to see her 
 here." 
 
 Elinor left the room, and soon return- 
 ed, accompanied by a young girl whom 
 she introduced as Miss Grey, and in 
 whom I recognized the original of the 
 pleasing portrait I had seen. She was 
 indeed most attractive in face and per- 
 son ; bright, sparkling, and intellectual, 
 
SOLDIERS' AID SOCIETY. 21 
 
 with a world of thought and feeling -in 
 her full hazel eye, shaded by long silken 
 lashes, and an equal amount of firmness 
 and energy indicated by the finely mould- 
 ed mouth and chin. 
 
 After paying her respects to me as a 
 stranger, she seated herself on an otto- 
 man by the side of the couch, and tak- 
 ing one thin, white hand of the invalid, 
 laid her cheek on it in a caressing way, 
 which was evidently the expression of a 
 tender and loving nature. 
 
 " And what has my Lilian been about 
 all the morning," said Mrs. Fenton, "that 
 I have seen nothing of her before ?" 
 
 " Oh, dear aunt. I have been very busy, 
 I assure you. Yenus wanted me in the 
 kitchen a while, for she was afraid her 
 preserves were in danger of spoiling. 
 Then I gave little Pete his daily lesson ; 
 and last, not least, had to prepare some 
 work to take to the society to-morrow." 
 
22 OUIt VILLAGE IN WAK-TIME. 
 
 " Then you are going to our meeting?" 
 I said ; " I arn very glad to hear that, for 
 somehow I feared we should not have 
 the pleasure of seeing you young ladies 
 there." 
 
 "You do not know our Lilian," said 
 her aunt fondly, "or you would have no 
 doubts on such a subject. She is a per- 
 fect enthusiast in the Union cause, and I 
 am afraid she has almost wished herself 
 capable of bearing arms in its defence. 
 However that may be, she honors a sol- 
 dier with all her heart, and would gladly 
 devote herself in any way to do him good. 
 As for my Elinor," she added, turning 
 with a smile to her daughter, "she is no 
 less loyal than her cousin, though not 
 quite so demonstrative" naturally, and 
 tied to a sick mother who can hardly 
 live without her. But you will see them 
 both to-morrow, for the cause is dear to 
 us all." 
 
SOLDIERS 7 AID SOCIETY. 23 
 
 When I left the house, Lilian Grey 
 accompanied me to the door, and taking 
 my hand, said with a frankness that was 
 very captivating, 
 
 "Mrs. Glenn, my aunt has taken a 
 great fancy to you ; and if there were no 
 other reason, we should love you for that. 
 Now I want to ask as a great favor, that 
 you will take Elinor and myself under 
 your wing to-morrow, for we cannot help 
 dreading the battery of eyes and tongues 
 that we must encounter. I dare say you 
 are no worse here than other people^ and 
 perhaps a great deal better, but as Ye- 
 nus says, 'There 's no accounting for hu- 
 man nature, 7 and strangers usually have 
 to run the gauntlet in order to gain the 
 freedom of any country town." 
 
 I kissed the fair cheek that was glow- 
 ing like a rose, and promised my best 
 services on the morrow. 
 
 There was a very full meeting of the 
 
24 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 Soldiers' Aid Society, for it was hoped 
 that the strangers would attend, and all 
 were anxious to meet them. I went early, 
 and found Mrs. Eyder, our president, and 
 Miss Letty Brown busied in cutting and 
 fitting garments ; while in the two rooms 
 needles and tongues were equally active. 
 It was not long before Miss Fenton 
 and her cousin came in, for they had 
 none of that petty pride which leads its 
 possessor to despise punctuality as a vul- 
 gar virtue. They were both more plainly 
 dressed than most of the young ladies 
 present ; but though simple and unaf- 
 fected in manner, there was an innate 
 dignity and refinement about them which 
 effectually repelled impertinence, and dis- 
 appointed a few who were prepared, in 
 their own elegant phraseology, "to find 
 out all about them ." There was one wom- 
 an, however, who was not to be foiled in 
 this determination. 
 
SOLDIERS' AID SOCIETY. 25 
 
 Mrs. Flint was the widow of a worthy 
 man, who is said to have been worried 
 out of existence by his disconsolate part- 
 ner, and none who knew her could ques- 
 tion the probability of such a catastrophe. 
 Her manner was always deprecating ; 
 her step, true to her nature, was soft and 
 stealthy, and her voice carefully modu- 
 lated to express only amiability; but 
 there was a rigidity about the thin lips 
 and a sharp glitter in the cold blue eye 
 which told quite another story. 
 
 Greatly to the annoyance of our good 
 pastor and his wife, Mrs. Flint arrogated 
 to herself the office of adviser in all mat- 
 ters relating to the church; and as she 
 could talk fluently, and call up tears from 
 some hidden fountain on all proper occa- 
 sions, some ignorant people looked on her 
 as quite a saint, while those who knew 
 her best regarded her as a scheming, dan- 
 gerous woman, the female counterpart of 
 
2G OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 Bunyan's Talkative. She had exerted 
 herself to the utmost to get the manage- 
 ment of the Society, and especially of its 
 funds, into her own hands; and failing 
 in this, had left us in disgust, and for 
 months had not attended our meetings, 
 until brought out by curiosity on the 
 present occasion. 
 
 Mabel Ryder had drawn Elinor away 
 into a circle of young ladies ; but Lilian, 
 who had been consulting Miss Letty about 
 her work, was sitting alone, and to her 
 Mrs. Flint cautiously made her way. 
 After a few commonplace remarks, she 
 said in her softest tone, "I am very hap- 
 py to see you here, of course, but I hardly 
 expected that you Southerners would be 
 willing to help us fight against your own 
 brethren." 
 
 "I don't know," was the spirited re- 
 ply, "whom, you mean by my brethren. 
 I am an American, and love my whole 
 
SOLDIEKS' AID SOCIETY. 27 
 
 country and the clear old flag better than 
 my life. There is as much Northern 
 blood in my veins as Southern, and if it 
 were not so, I should feel just as I do 
 now. No one could be any thing to me 
 who wished to break up and destroy the 
 best government ever formed by man. 
 I never see a soldier who has fought for 
 his country without feeling as if I wished 
 to speak to him as a friend ; and I count 
 it an honor to do any thing, no matter 
 how humble, that can add to his comfort." 
 
 The dark eyes flashed and the red lips 
 trembled with the earnestness of her feel- 
 ings ; and any one but Mrs. Flint would 
 have retired from the field ; but she only 
 answered with perfect coolness, 
 
 "I admire your patriotism, but when 
 we think what a terrible thing war is, 
 and how many precious lives are thrown 
 away, we cannot help being willing to 
 do any thing for peace. 7 ' 
 
28 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 "I do not consider war as the worst 
 of all evils," replied Lilian, "dreadful as 
 it is. There are times in the history of 
 all nations, when liberty can only be pre- 
 served by fighting for it, and I believe 
 God hates a guilty peace, even more than 
 the desolations of war. Storms are very 
 useful and salutary things," she added 
 with a smile, "though they often make 
 sad havoc of property and life. None 
 can mourn more than I do the loss of 
 the glorious dead, who have fallen in the 
 cause of freedom ; but it is far better to 
 die so than to live cowards or traitors." 
 
 Clearly there was nothing to be made 
 out of Lilian Grey, and Mrs. Flint looked 
 about for Elinor ; but Mabel Eyder was 
 on her guard, and gave no opportunity 
 for an attack in that direction. So our 
 Beach Hill diplomat was silent for a 
 time, but during the afternoon I heard 
 her in discussion with Miss Letty on 
 
SOLDIERS' AID SOCIETY. 29 
 
 some subject which seemed to interest 
 the latter very deeply. I only caught 
 the conclusion of Mrs. Flint's remarks. 
 "Such things seem to me very singular, 
 to say the least." 
 
 "Well, I'm very thankful that I 
 haven't the faculty of seeing singular 
 things that some folks seem to have. I 
 always thought that this was a land of lib- 
 erty, and that men could go into the army 
 and fight, or stay at home and help oth- 
 ers to go, just as they thought right, with- 
 out being called to an account for it. Mr. 
 Lester is able to take care of himself, 
 and does n't need my help ; but I hate 
 this mousing round after characters, just 
 as if they were bits of cheese." 
 
 "But you must acknowledge/ 7 answer- 
 ed the purring voice again, "that there 's 
 a mystery about this young man, and 
 that is always against any one." 
 
 "Fiddlesticks on your mystery. I 
 
30 OUR TILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 shan't acknowledge any such thing. In 
 the first place, I don't call every thing 
 a mystery that I can't see through ; for if 
 I did, there 'd be no end of mysteries, 
 seeing I can understand but very little. 
 In the next place, supposing there is a 
 mystery, it may be a good one ; for I sup- 
 pose there can be good mysteries as well 
 as bad ones in this world." 
 
 "I have been told on very good au- 
 thority," persisted Mrs. Flint, "that Mr. 
 Lester has been much at the South, and 
 he may have his own private reasons for 
 not wishing to fight the rebels." 
 
 "And if he has/' replied Miss Letty, 
 "I dare say they are honorable ones, 
 and if they satisfy him, I don't see what 
 business 'tis of ours. When I get a per- 
 son marked down in my book as pure 
 gold, I a'n't always going over them with 
 a magnifying-glass to see if I can't find 
 a flaw somewhere. If there are things 
 
SOLDIERS' AID SOCIETY. 31 
 
 about them I do n't understand, I take it 
 for granted they 7 re of a piece with those 
 that I do understand, and so it never 
 troubles rue a bit." 
 
 "I know he is a great favorite of yours, 
 and you can't see any faults in him ; but 
 for my part, I never had clear evidence 
 of his being a Christian." 
 
 " And pray, what kind of evidence do 
 you want? 77 inquired Miss Letty, with more 
 asperity of tone than I had ever heard 
 from her before. "If humbly trusting in 
 Christ, feeding the hungry, clothing the 
 naked, and taking care of widows and or- 
 phans, is n 7 t religion, what is? Mr. Lester 
 is always on hand when any thing good 
 is going forward in the church, though he 
 does n 7 t pray at the corners of the streets, 
 like the Pharisees, nor say to everybody, 
 by his looks and actions, ' See how good 
 I am. 7 I think though, that he follows 
 his Master a great deal nearer than some 
 
32 OUK VILLAGE IN WAK-TIME. 
 
 who try to make out that their little tal- 
 low dip is a splendid Drummond light. 
 But bless me, Mrs. Flint, you 're sewing 
 that sleeve in wrong-side out. It wont 
 do to talk about our neighbors and sew 
 for th£ soldiers at the same time." 
 
 With this home-thrust Miss Letty left 
 the room, while we all inwardly rejoiced 
 that Mrs. Flint had been silenced by one 
 whom she regarded as so greatly her in- 
 ferior. 
 
 After tea all work was laid aside, and 
 the gentlemen one after another came in, 
 until the rooms were filled, and the even- 
 ing was spent in social enjoyment, It 
 was remarked by all that Eobert Lester 
 and Miss Grey did not meet as stran- 
 gers, though there was evident constraint 
 in the manner of both. Lilian changed 
 color, and seemed about to retreat when 
 he approached her ; and on his part, 
 though remarkable for his power of self- 
 
S0LDIEKS' AID SOCIETY. 33 
 
 control, there was something in his ap- 
 pearance none had ever seen before. 
 They had evidently known each other 
 previously, and met now on a different 
 footing from that of mere acquaintance. 
 A dozen pair of eyes were upon them, 
 and the situation was becoming embar- 
 rassing enough, when Elinor Fenton came 
 to the rescue of her cousin, and entering 
 into conversation with Mr. Lester, drew 
 attention from Lilian, who took refuge 
 among a group of young persons sur- 
 rounding the piano. 
 
 When the company were about to sep- 
 arate, I chanced to be in the dressing- 
 room, when as Lilian entered the hall I 
 heard Mr. Lester say to her, 
 
 "Lilian, will you not allow me to ac- 
 company you home ?" 
 
 "Certainly not," was the hasty reply; 
 "my aunt has sent the carriage for us, 
 and I prefer riding with Elinor.' 7 
 
 Our Village. 3 
 
31 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 " Permit me at least to see you to the 
 
 carriage," he said almost humbly, and I 
 
 ' felt hurt at her cold rejection of his offer. 
 
 "There is no necessity for it," she said. 
 "Pete is here, and he is accustomed to 
 the duty." 
 
 What could this mean? Of all the 
 young men I had ever known, I should 
 have selected Eobert Lester as the one 
 best fitted to win the heart of such a 
 young lady as Lilian ; yet she shunned 
 him and repelled his attentions. My 
 thoughts were painfully occupied with 
 the subject as I returned home, and in 
 my dreams that night the two were 
 strangely blended, though alwa} T s with 
 some invisible barrier between them, 
 which I sought in vain to discover and 
 remove. 
 
DEPARTURE OF THE REGIMENT 35 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE DEPAETUEE OF THE EEGIMENT. 
 
 Forts Donalson and Henry had been 
 taken by our brave soldiers and seamen, 
 and the nation was in a fever of excite- 
 ment and joy. But recruits were wanted 
 to fill up the wasted armies in the vari- 
 ous departments, and the work of enlist- 
 ment went rapidly on among the young 
 men of our neighborhood, while mothers, 
 wives, and daughters worked day and 
 night to fit out the beloved ones who 
 were so soon to leave us for the seat of 
 war. 
 
 Lilian Grey was one of the foremost in 
 this noble work, and four of the soldiers 
 in company A of the 26th were selected 
 and sent out by her, with a bounty of 
 three hundred dollars each, to fight for 
 
36 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 the cause she loved so well. The shadow 
 on Elinor's fair brow deepened day by 
 day, as news came of terrible battles in 
 which soldiers on both sides fell by thou- 
 sands ; and even Mrs. Fentoirs faith was 
 sorely tried by the continued absence of 
 her husband, from whom no word had 
 ever reached her. 
 
 Those were sad, sad days, and every 
 heart felt the oppression as the hour of 
 parting drew near. True, "the battle 
 of the warrior, with confused noise and 
 garments rolled in blood," came to us 
 softened by distance, but many that we 
 loved were there in the thickest of the 
 fight, and others were going whom we 
 might see no more on earth. But it was 
 no time for outward expressions of sor- 
 row, so we resolutely forced back our 
 tears, and smiled on our brave boys and 
 encouraged them with words of comfort 
 and cheer, when our hearts were dying 
 
DETAKTUEE OF THE REGIMENT. 37 
 
 within us as we thought of the dangers to 
 which they were to be exposed. 
 
 It was expected by all, that on this oc- 
 casion Robert Lester would be one of the 
 first to offer himself to his country, and a 
 commission as lieutenant-colonel was ac- 
 tually made out and sent him by the gov- 
 ernor, with the flattering request that he 
 would not refuse it. But his answer was 
 the same as before. 
 
 "If I could go at all," he said to his 
 friends, "it would be as a private soldier; 
 but it avails not to speak of it ; my duty 
 lies at home." 
 
 Lilian shunned- him more resolutely 
 than ever, and once said in his hearing, 
 " If I were a man, and refused to go when 
 my country called for my services, I 
 should expect to be driven from society, 
 as unworthy the love of woman or the 
 esteem of my fellow-men." 
 
 "You are too severe, Lilian," said the 
 
38 OUK VILLAGE IN WAK-TIME. 
 
 gentle Elinor; "there are many other 
 ways of serving one's country besides 
 fighting for it, and every one can judge 
 best for himself what his duty may 
 be." 
 
 There was a look of intense pain in the 
 face of the young man as Lilian spoke, 
 but he drew himself up to his full height, 
 and the fire in his eye told all who look- 
 ed upon him that whatever the cause 
 might be, it was not lack of courage 
 which kept him at home. 
 
 "A thousand blessings on you, Miss 
 Fenton," he said in a low voice to Elinor 
 soon afterwards. "Your kind heart hes- 
 itates to condemn even where it dares 
 not approve. You can never know how 
 much good your words have done me, 
 suffering as I have from misunderstand- 
 ing on every side." 
 
 "You must pardon dear Lilian," she 
 answered in the same tone; "she feels 
 
DEPARTURE OF THE REGIMENT. 39 
 
 very strongly, and your decision has 
 been a severe disappointment to her." 
 
 "Miss Grey can never need any one 
 to plead her cause with me," he said as 
 he turned to leave the room. 
 
 A few days before the departure of the 
 regiment Miss Letty came to my house, 
 her face beaming with smiles, and to my 
 inquiry what had happened, she answered, 
 
 11 So much has happened, I don't know 
 where to begin to tell you. In the first 
 place, Mr. Fenton has got home with the 
 rest of his money ; but such a time as he 
 has had to get it. Why, the adventures 
 of Sinbad the sailor were nothing to the 
 escapes he has had and the troubles he 
 has been in. I don't think he is much 
 to speak of, compared with the rest ; but 
 that isn't what I am thinking about. 
 The best of all is, that it has come out 
 why Robert Lester couldn't enlist be- 
 fore, and now he has joined the company 
 
40 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 as a private soldier ; but, my word for 
 it, he wont be one long." 
 
 "Are you at liberty to state the rea- 
 son V I inquired. 
 
 " Oh, certainly. It seems that the 
 rich old uncle who left him his fortune, 
 made a condition in his will, that if Kob- 
 ert died without heirs, the property was 
 to go to another cousin, one Dick Satter- 
 lee, who is a flaming rebel. Our Mr. 
 Lester knew that if he was killed, all 
 that mint of money would go right into 
 the hands of the Confederate govern- 
 ment, to help on the rebellion. So he 
 thought he could do more for the Union 
 cause with the money, than by carrying 
 a musket and getting shot himself. Be- 
 sides, his poor little sister would be left 
 without any friends, and poor to boot; 
 so he just made up his mind to stand it 
 out, and let everybody misjudge him if 
 they would. 
 
DEPARTURE OF THE REGIMENT. 41 
 
 "Last week he saw in the list of killed 
 in some battle, the name of his cousin 
 Eichard Satterlee; so he went right on 
 to find out all about it. The body hadn't 
 been discovered, but everybody said he 
 was dead. When Mr. Lester came back, 
 he waited long enough to make his will, 
 and then enlisted ; and a happy looking 
 man he was, I can tell you. 
 
 "But that isn't all. He was once 
 engaged to Miss Lilian Grey; but she 
 was so angry with him because he didn't 
 go into the army, that every thing was 
 broken off between them, though she 
 loves him as she does her life, and he 
 thinks fall as much of her. But of course 
 it will all be made up now, and I ; m glad 
 of it, for they are just exactly suited to 
 each other." 
 
 When I had expressed my surprise 
 and pleasure at the good news brought 
 by Miss Letty, I inquired what she in- 
 
42 OUK VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 tended to do about little Willie, the 
 son of a deceased sister, to whom she 
 had been a second mother from his in- 
 fancy. 
 
 "Well, there's no help for it, I sup- 
 pose," she answered, while a cloud flitted 
 over her bright face ; " he is bound to go 
 as a drummer-boy with the regiment, and 
 I can't persuade him to stay at home 
 willingly, though he says he wont go 
 without my consent, It 's well his poor 
 mother is n't living, for her heart would 
 break to have him go, such a baby as he 
 is, only twelve years old. But I must 
 say for him, he's the best boy I ever 
 saw, and the men all love him so, he '11 
 be well taken care of, if he does n't get 
 killed. It 's hard for me ; but I 've got 
 nothing else to give, and though it 's like 
 taking the heart out of my body, I '11 try 
 to do it cheerfully." 
 
 Miss Letty was sewing at the Tyrrell 
 
DEPARTURE OF THE REGIMENT. 43 
 
 House when she learned from Mr. Eycler 
 the facts in relation to Robert Lester, and 
 no time was lost by her in Communicat- 
 ing them to the family. Mrs. Fenton 
 and Elinor heard with thankfulness that 
 his fame was publicly cleared, though 
 they had never doubted that it would be 
 so in the end. 
 
 -.But to the ardent and enthusiastic 
 Lilian, by whom he had been so bitterly 
 condemned, the news was like a reprieve 
 from death. She threw her arms round 
 Miss Letty's neck, exclaiming, 
 
 "Oli, you are the best and dearest 
 Miss Letty in the whole world. I didn't 
 think any thing could have made me so 
 happy." 
 
 "Lilian, dear, you forget," said her 
 aunt in her gentle tone. 
 
 "Xo, aunt, I forget nothing," Lilian 
 replied, while her eyes shone through 
 tears liko stars. "I know we are sepa- 
 
44 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 rated by my own rash act, and I shall 
 honor him only the more if he refuse 
 again to see me ; but I am glad and proud 
 to know that he is worthy of my love, or 
 that of any other woman." 
 
 The days fled rapidly, and still Mr. 
 Lester did not call on his former friends 
 the Fentons, and as Lilian went out much 
 less than usual, they seldom met. He 
 was unwilling to try to exonerate himself 
 from a suspicion which he felt to be un- 
 reasonable and degrading, or to sue for 
 a return of the love he had never forfeit- 
 ed ; and Lilian, though she would gladly 
 have humbled herself at his feet for hav- 
 ing doubted his honor and loyalty, would 
 not take the first step, lest her motives 
 should be misconstrued. 
 
 Things were in this state when, on the 
 evening before the departure of the regi- 
 ment, a note from Elinor Fenton was 
 received by the young soldier, which 
 
DEPARTURE OF THE REGIMENT. 45 
 
 brought him quickly to her side. A few 
 words of explanation passed between 
 them, and then he was ushered into the 
 library, where Lilian was busy in pre- 
 paring packages of stationery for the 
 knapsacks that were scattered about. 
 
 That interview was one never to be 
 forgotten by either of the parties. There 
 were confessions to be made on both 
 sides, and mutual forgiveness to be ex- 
 changed; for while Lester felt that he 
 should have intrusted to the woman he 
 loved the true reasons for his conduct, 
 Lilian insisted that, knowing him as she 
 did, she ought never to have doubted his 
 loyalty under any circumstances. They 
 parted, pledged to each other, and Lilian 
 accepted as a sacred legacy the charge 
 of Fanny Lester, in case of a contingen- 
 cy which her heart refused to contem- 
 plate. 
 
 The dreaded morning came at last, 
 
46 OUR VILLAGE IN WAK-TIME. 
 
 when our brave boys were to exchange 
 the comforts and endearments of home, 
 for the hardships of the camp and the 
 horrors of the battle-field. Bat a solemn 
 ceremony remained to be performed be- 
 fore they went, and with one accord the 
 steps of all were turned towards the 
 parsonage. There, in the pleasant front 
 yard, under the shadow of the tall elms 
 that had sheltered her childhood, Mabel 
 Ryder gave her hand to one whom she 
 had loved ever since she could remem- 
 ber any thing. Thomas Wiley, first 
 lieutenant of company A, was a young 
 merchant, and had been a pupil of Mr. 
 Ryder, who saw with pleasure the attach- 
 ment existing between the young man 
 and his darling child, for he knew him 
 to be one calculated in every way to 
 make her happy. When he joined the 
 regiment, Mabel gave a tearful but will- 
 ing consent, but with his urgent solicita- 
 
DEPARTURE OF THE REGIMENT. 4T 
 
 tion that she should become his wife be- 
 fore they went, she would not at first 
 comply, the time. was so short and the 
 proposition so unexpected ; but when he 
 brought forward the plea, that as his 
 wife she could with more propriety come 
 to him if wounded or sick, she yielded. 
 The privilege of attending him in sick- 
 ness or suffering was so precious, that 
 she could not lightly relinquish it ; so it 
 was fixed that the marriage should take 
 place on the morning of their departure. 
 It was a beautiful picture, that wed- 
 ding party under the trees, and one not 
 soon to be forgotten by those who wit- 
 nessed it. The fair young bride, dressed 
 in simple white, with smiles and tears 
 contending for the mastery on her cheek, 
 with her bridesmaids, Elinor and Lilian ; 
 the happy groom in his becoming uni- 
 form, supported by Eobert Lester and 
 the second lieutenant of his company; 
 
48 OUK VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 the groups of friends scattered about, and 
 outside of all the boys of the Twenty-sixth 
 looking on with the deepest interest, as 
 the pastor and father pronounced with 
 trembling voice the words that gave his 
 child to the keeping of another — all this 
 is engraven on my memory, and can 
 never be erased. 
 
 The ceremony was over, and as the 
 regiment wheeled into line, the bride- 
 groom with one long, silent embrace con- 
 signed Mabel to the care of her friends 
 and took his place in the ranks. All the 
 stores were closed and business suspend- 
 ed, as the Twenty-sixth marched for the 
 last time, with unbroken columns, through 
 our streets. The regiment was raised in 
 the immediate vicinity, and many of its 
 members were personally known to us ; 
 but at such a moment all seemed like 
 sons and brothers. We were proud of 
 their soldierly bearing, of their firm and 
 
DEPAETUEE OF THE REGIMENT. 49 
 
 measured tread, of the precision with 
 which their evolutions were performed, 
 and the intelligence that lighted up every 
 face. What eager eyes looked out from 
 the ranks, to catch the last glimpse of 
 mother, sister, wife, or sweetheart, as, 
 amid the waving of handkerchiefs, half- 
 uttered blessings, and stifled sobs, we 
 bade them perhaps a final good-by. They 
 left us full of hope and energy, with all 
 the courage and strength of young man- 
 hood nerving each arm and animating 
 each heart. How would they come 
 back? 
 
 Our 'N Mage. 
 
50 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 THE DRUMMER-BOY OF THE TWENTY- 
 SIXTH. 
 
 After the departure of the regiment 
 there came to us a season of languor and 
 depression. "We had been in a state of 
 unnatural excitement for weeks, and the 
 reaction was inevitable. But for the let- 
 ters received regularly from our absent 
 boys, and which were read and talked 
 over by all, and the Society meetings, 
 where we came together to pray and work 
 for the soldiers, I think we should have 
 experienced a social stagnation. 
 
 Lilian Grey, now more than ever our 
 "sunbeam," as we loved to call her, was 
 out of town for a few weeks, and as Eli- 
 nor seldom left her mother, who was suf- 
 fering more than usual, we saw verv lit- 
 
THE DEUMMEK-BOY. 51 
 
 tie of our neighbors in the Tyrrell House. 
 Mr. Fenton seemed a moody, disappoint- 
 ed man, soured by a sense of injustice 
 which he had no power to punish and no 
 inclination to forgive. 
 
 Even Miss Letty, who had always 
 seemed to possess an unfailing fountain 
 of cheerfulness and hope, now wore at 
 times a clouded brow when no tidings 
 came from Willie, or the news from the 
 front was unusually warlike. She was 
 cheered, however, by continued reports 
 of Willie's good conduct and popularity 
 with the regiment, whose pet he had 
 been from the first. Of his courage there 
 could be no question, for he had been in 
 several severe engagements, and boy as 
 he was, had stood unflinchingly by the 
 side of the bravest. 
 
 On one occasion, at the close of a hard 
 fought skirmish, when a furious charge 
 of the enemy's cavalry had driven back 
 
52 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 his regiment, a division commander rid- 
 ing over the spot soon after, fonnd "Wil- 
 lie beating a tattoo on his drum as coolly 
 as if he had been on parade. 
 
 "What are you doing here, my little 
 fellow ?" said the general. 
 
 "You see, .sir." he replied, giving the 
 military salute, "I did n't know but some 
 of our boys might be about, and I thought 
 I ; d let them know there was a drummer 
 here, in case they wanted to form again." 
 
 " But what if the enemy should return, 
 and find you here alone ?" 
 
 "If they should, sir, this is my place, 
 and I 'd rather they 'd find me here than 
 skulking, any way." 
 
 "Here's an unfledged hero for you," 
 was the exclamation of the general as he 
 rode on; and the next day Willie was 
 called out and publicly thanked by the 
 commander in the presence of all the 
 troops. "It was an instance of bravery 
 
THE DRUMMER-BOY. 53 
 
 which would have done honor to a vet- 
 eran.' 7 Such were the words of the gen- 
 eral, and a happy woman was his aunt 
 as she read them in a letter written by 
 Robert Lester on the occasion. 
 
 Then came to us the news of the inva- 
 sion of Maryland by the rebels, and in a 
 few days the battle of Antietam flashed 
 over the wires, and with others we ex- 
 ulted in the victory, little thinking how 
 deeply it was to affect us, for we suppos- 
 ed the Twenty-sixth to be in a division 
 at some distance from the seat of war. 
 
 But a few days served to undeceive 
 us; and then, as the "terrible list" of 
 killed and wounded was read with dim- 
 ming eyes and blanched cheeks, we 
 learned how fearful was the loss our own 
 troops had sustained. Robert Lester, 
 who had risen rapidly from the ranks, 
 and had been made captain on the field 
 at Williamsburg, was wounded, it was 
 
54 OUK TILLAGE IN WAE-TIME. 
 
 thought, mortally. Our clear little Wil- 
 lie had lost an arm, and Lieut. Wiley, 
 the bridegroom of an hour, had fallen 
 gloriously at the head of his company, 
 while cheering them on. Many others 
 whom we knew and loved had also died 
 on the field, rendered immortal by their 
 bravery. 
 
 In the evening of the day on which 
 the news reached us, I went to the par- 
 sonage, and found our good clergyman 
 preparing to start for Maryland to look 
 after our wounded, and to bring home 
 the body of Lieut. Wiley. Poor Mabel 
 had been overwhelmed by the sad intel- 
 ligence, and as her mother was wholly 
 occupied with the heart-broken girl, there 
 was no one to assist Mr. Eycler; but 
 Miss Letty came in soon after me, and 
 she was a host in herself. She was very 
 pale, but cheerful and efficient as ever, 
 thinking of everybody and every thing, 
 
THE DEUMMER-BOY. 55 
 
 and bringing order out of confusion by 
 the magic of her touch. When I ex- 
 pressed the hope that she would remain 
 at the parsonage with Mrs. Ryder and 
 Mabel, she answered, 
 
 "Bless you, dear, you don't suppose I 
 could stay here, and little Willie lying 
 with an arm cut off at Hagerstown; do 
 you ? There is nobody can do for him as 
 I can, who am like a mother to him ; and 
 if they could, I shouldn't be willing to 
 have them. No, no, I am going to start 
 to-night with Mr. Ryder, and I shall 
 count the minutes till we get there." 
 
 "But have you no preparations to 
 make for yourself for such a journey?" 
 I inquired. 
 
 "Oh, my preparations were all made 
 hours ago, as soon as I heard the news. 
 I have put up every thing I shall be 
 likely to want for my boy; and fts for 
 myself, I am always ready, you know. 
 
56 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 There is nothing to be done but to fix up 
 Mr. Ryder and be off. Miss Lilian and 
 poor Fanny Lester are going with us, to 
 see the captain, if he 7 s alive ; and who 
 knows but their going may save his life, 
 if he isn't dead when they get there. 
 Some folks will blame Miss Lilian for 
 going ; but Fanny can't go without her, 
 and she wont care much for talk when 
 she thinks she 's doing right.'' 
 
 I saw the little company off a few 
 hours later, and a sorrowful parting it 
 was, though Miss Letty and Lilian tried 
 hard to assume a courage they did not 
 feel, to comfort Fanny Lester, whose 
 grief was terrible to witness ; and how I 
 loved and admired Lilian, when I saw 
 her so forgetful of self, soothing and sus- 
 taining the weeping sister, while her own 
 heart was bleeding silently. This young 
 girl was not one to proclaim her sorrow 
 on the house-tops, or to make noisy de- 
 
THE DRUMMER-BOY. 57 
 
 mands for sympathy. When the iron 
 entered her soul, she would turn away 
 quietly from observation, and pursuing 
 her daily round of duty, pour the tale of 
 her suffering into the ear of Infinite pity 
 alone. 
 
 It may be that I am about to betray 
 Miss Letty's confidence ; but her letters 
 from Hagerstown were such faithful 
 transcripts of her heart and character, 
 that I cannot resist the temptation to 
 give a few extracts from them to my 
 readers. 
 
 " I wish I could give you some 
 
 idea of the hospitals here, but I can't be- 
 gin to describe them. The rooms look 
 airy and clean enough ; but, Oh dear, 
 those long rows of beds, with poor suf- 
 fering, maimed, dying heroes lying on 
 them, some with faces paler than the 
 sheets, some burning up with fever, and 
 all having such a tired, anxious look, as 
 
58 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 if they wanted somebody to comfort 
 them ; and, poor fellows, they do need it 
 bad enough, I can tell you. I should 
 have been glad to stop and say a kind 
 word to every one of them, but a nurse 
 hurried me on to a little room beyond 
 the large one, with three or four beds in 
 it, and there, on a cot, I found my boy, 
 looking as white and weak as could be, 
 but just as pleasant as ever. 
 
 "He was asleep, and I didn't want to 
 wake him, so I took a chair very softly, 
 and sat down close by the dear little 
 fellow till his nap was out. The first I 
 knew, the tears were dripping, dripping 
 into my lap just like rain. I 'm sure I *d 
 no thought of crying in that place, but 
 there were tears in my heart when I saw 
 that dear little face all drawn up with 
 pain in his sleep, and when I thought 
 about that arm that had been round my 
 neck so often, and never would be any 
 
THE DKUMMEK-BOY. 59 
 
 more. By and by lie waked up, and 
 when he saw me sitting there, he gave 
 one shout, and if the sun had been shin- 
 ing right into his eyes, they couldn't 
 have been any brighter. That one look 
 would have paid me for all the jour- 
 ney, if I had n't clone a single thing for 
 him. 
 
 "'Oh, aunty,' says he, 'I was just 
 dreaming that you had come, and it 
 seemed so good to have you over me 
 once more, and now here you are. I 
 do n't know what to say, our Father is 
 so good to me.' 
 
 "It was as much as I could do to 
 speak, but I made out to tell him I had 
 come to stay and take care of him till he 
 could go home with me. 
 
 " He gave his head a little shake, just 
 as he used to when he wasn't certain 
 about a thing, and said, 
 
 " ' I don't think much about going to 
 
60 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 that home, Aunt Letty ; I 'm a little boy, 
 you know, to have an arm cut off, and 
 mine is n*t doing very well, I know from 
 the doctor's looks. But it will all come 
 out right ;' and such a smile as there was 
 on his face. ' And now, dear aunty, 
 give me another kiss, and I '11 turn over 
 and go to sleep again; and I wish you 
 could too, you look so tired.' 
 
 "I told him I wasn't tired, and then 
 I shook up his pillow, and he turned 
 over and went right to sleep like the 
 lamb he is. 
 
 "All this while there had been a pair 
 of great black eyes watching me ever so 
 wishfully the other side of the room ; so 
 when "Willie was asleep, I thought I'd 
 find out who they belonged to. I went 
 over to the bed, and found a poor young 
 fellow eighteen years old, who looked as 
 if he could n't live twenty- four hours. 
 
 11 'Is there any thing I can do for you V 
 
THE DRUMMER-BOY. 61 
 
 said I, for I felt awfully to see him lie 
 there looking so pitiful. 
 
 "'0 yes, ma'am,' said he; 'if you 
 will only speak a few kind words to me, 
 and smooth my hair as you did little 
 Willie's, it would do me so much good. 
 I thought when I saw you kiss his fore- 
 head, if my mother could only come and 
 do that, it would be easier to die.' 
 
 "'Well, my dear boy,' said I, 'I a'n't 
 your mother, nor any of your relation ; 
 but I 'm a fellow-creature, and I feel for 
 you, and am willing to clo any thing I 
 can to make you comfortable.' 
 
 "So I got some bay-rum from a nurse, 
 and bathed his hot hands and face, and 
 brushed his hair and smoothed his pil- 
 low, and then I gave him just such a kiss 
 as I did Willie, and I a'n't ashamed to 
 own it. The big tears were in his eyes, 
 and he said, 
 
 " ' I did n't think any thing in the world 
 
62 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 could do me so much good. It seems as 
 if mother was here, and I thank you a 
 thousand times. 7 
 
 "Then I asked him if there was any 
 thing more he wanted, and what do you 
 think he said ? 
 
 '"If you could only read a few verses 
 out of my Bible and pray with me, I 
 should be so glad. I in going to die, 
 and I aVt afraid to go, but I do want 
 somebody to read and pray with me 
 first.' 
 
 "Only think of that ; for me, who never 
 dared to speak loud in any meeting at 
 home, to be asked to pray with a sick 
 man in a hospital ! It was like a blow 
 to me, and for a minute I didn't know 
 what to say ; but there were those eyes 
 looking right through me, and he said 
 softly, 'If you only could.' So I pluck- 
 ed up courage, and said, 'I will, 7 and 
 then I shut to the door and read a chap- 
 
THE DKUMMEE-BOY. 63 
 
 ter in a low voice, just so he could hear 
 me, and tried to ask God to help and 
 comfort the poor boy, for he was nothing 
 more. When I got through, he took hold 
 of my hand, and said, 'I can't thank you 
 for your kindness as I want to, but God 
 will reward you, I *m sure. Take the 
 blessing of a dying man, and remember 
 you have comforted my last hours.' 
 
 "I was ashamed to hear him speak so; 
 for after all, what had I done to deserve 
 thanks for ? 
 
 "He died the next day, and I staid by 
 him all I could when Willie did n't need 
 me, and wrote a letter to his mother just 
 as he gave the words to me only an hour 
 or two before he breathed his last. Poor 
 woman ! I pitied her, for he was a no- 
 ble-looking fellow, and one that feared 
 God, and I know a mother must have set 
 a great store by such a son.' 7 
 
 In another letter she wrote, 
 
64 OUR TILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 "My little Willie is getting along very 
 slowly, and the doctors look sober about 
 him, and I know they 're afraid he 7 s go- 
 ing into a decline. His mother died of 
 that, and they say the shock to his sys- 
 tem has been so great that it may not be 
 able to rally again. But he 's just as 
 happy as the day is long, and says if he 
 had twenty arms, he 'd be willing to give 
 them all for his country. 
 
 " I don't see much of the captain or 
 Miss Lilian, for he is in another building 
 where the officers are ; and he 's so low, 
 they do n't let anybody visit him unless 
 they have a special permit from the doc- 
 tor. I believe they have a little more 
 hope of him than they had at first, but 
 Miss Lilian says his life hangs by a sin- 
 gle thread. Dear Miss Lilian, she looks 
 tired and pale, but her smile is just as 
 bright as ever, and when she comes to 
 see Willie, it always cheers him up, like 
 
'- 
 
THE DRUMMER-BOY. 65 
 
 a breath of fresh air or a bunch of flow- 
 ers." 
 
 While Miss Letty was away in Ha- 
 gerstown, a letter came to the Fenton's 
 from their absent son, who was a priso- 
 ner in our lines, and had been severely 
 wounded, bringing the joyful intelligence 
 that he had taken from his heart the oath 
 of allegiance to the dear old flag. As 
 soon as he could travel he would come 
 home for a short visit, and then join the 
 Union army. He told them how he had 
 been left for dead on the field at Will- 
 iamsburg, and that a little drummer-bov 
 chanced to find him ; thai he brought 
 him water at the risk of his own life, 
 and finally had him carried from the 
 field by some members of the Twenty- 
 sixth, to which regiment the boy be- 
 longed. 
 
 While in the hospital there, he said 
 little Willie visited him often at his own 
 
 Our Village. 5 
 
66 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 special request, and to the artless con- 
 versation of this child he attributed his 
 first convictions of the wrong course he 
 had been pursuing. "It was the last 
 thing he thought of," the letter conclud- 
 ed, "to teach me, whom he regarded as 
 greatly his superior ; but his thoughts, so 
 far beyond his years, brought to mind 
 the neglected lessons of my precious 
 mother, and now, if I am like the repent- 
 ing prodigal, I owe it, under God, to that 
 dear boy, whose heroism is only equalled 
 by the kindness of his heart," 
 
 ft will be readily believed that the 
 Fentons were enthusiastic in their ex- 
 pressions of love and gratitude to Willie 
 for the signal service he had rendered 
 them, and a letter was sent at once to 
 Miss Letty informing her of the facts, 
 and entreating her to bring the dear in- 
 valid to the Tyrrell House immediately 
 on her return. 
 
THE DRUMMER-BOY. 67 
 
 It was a lovely evening in early au- 
 tumn when Miss Letty and her charge 
 came back to us, and the first glance at 
 Willie's pale, sweet face told us that his 
 days were numbered. Yet his spirits 
 were so buoyant, his enjoyment of every 
 thing so earnest and child-like, it was 
 hard to believe that he was indeed pass- 
 ing away from earth. 
 
 When I first visited him at the Tyrrell 
 House, he was sitting up in an easy-chair 
 in a room overlooking the garden, and 
 with choice flowers all about him. He 
 smiled as I took his hand and inquired 
 after his health, saying, 
 
 "Tin quite well, and so happy. I 
 can't think what makes everybody so 
 kind to me. I don't deserve it at all, 
 but God puts it into their hearts, and I 
 thank him for it. If dear Miss Lilian was 
 only here ; but I 'm so glad she 's with 
 the captain. " 
 
68 OUR VILLAGE iN WAR-TIME. 
 
 "Were you in Captain Lester's com- 
 pany?" I asked. 
 
 "0 yes, he got me transferred; and, 
 Mrs. Glenn, I don't think there ? s anoth- 
 er man in the world like Captain Les- 
 ter." 
 
 "In what respect, Willie?" 
 
 "In every thing. The men all love 
 him so, they 'd give their lives for him ; 
 and yet he 's very strict, and wont have 
 any drinking or gambling or swearing in 
 the camp. They have to do just right, 
 and then he 's the kindest man I ever 
 saw. If anybody is sick or in trouble, 
 they know where to go. for help ; and 
 when the chaplain is away, he prays and 
 reads a sermon to the men in the big 
 tent every Sunday. Oh dear, I do 
 hope he wont die." And the tears, 
 which no sufferings of his own could call 
 forth, fell fast for those of his beloved 
 captain. 
 
THE DRUMMER-BOY. 69 
 
 " Willie," I said, "do you remember 
 any thing about being wounded, and how 
 you felt then ¥' 
 
 "Not much at first. It is all like a 
 confused dream; how we marched all 
 day to get up with the army ; how we 
 lay down to escape the shot and shell 
 that the rebs were pouring into us ; and 
 at last, how the captain called out to us, 
 'Now, boys, is your time!' and then we 
 went in on the double-quick, till we were 
 in the thickest of it. It seems somehow 
 as if that was years ago ; but all at once, 
 when I was beating my drum as hard as 
 I could, I felt as if I was falling down 
 ever so far, and I did n't know any thing 
 more for a good while. 
 
 "When I came to myself, the fighting 
 was over, and the rebs all gone ; but I 
 was so weak that I couldn't stir nor 
 speak, and I thought my time had come ; 
 but I did n't feel afraid to die. 
 
70 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 "You remember, ma'am, the time of 
 that revival in the Sabbath-school, when 
 several of the children were admitted to 
 the church? I think I gave my heart to 
 the Saviour then ; and though Aunt Letty 
 thought I was too young to come forward 
 with them, I have always loved my Bible 
 better than any other book ; and when I 
 lay there, I tried to look up to the Lord 
 Jesus, but my eyes were heavy, and 
 would n't keep open. Then it seemed as 
 if angels were all round me, and I forgot 
 my pain and how much I wanted water, 
 and went to sleep again. The next thing 
 I knew, I was in the hospital, and my 
 arm gone." 
 
 I was affected to tears by this simple 
 recital, and could hardly command my 
 voice to say, 
 
 "But, Willie, you have always been 
 veFv full of life and activity ; does it never 
 seem hard to you to lose your arm, and 
 
THE DRUMMER-BOY. 71 
 
 to be shut up here so sick, and perhaps 
 to die ?" 
 
 His face flushed, and he looked up 
 in surprise, but soon answered pleas- 
 antly, 
 
 "Oh, you are only asking that to try 
 me ; you could n't mean it in earnest, Pm 
 sure. Why, there never was any boy 
 who had so many blessings as I have. 
 In the first place, it was such goodfless 
 in God to let me go out with the regi- 
 ment, such a poor little fellow as I am. 
 Then when I was hurt, he sent dear Aunt 
 Letty to take care of me, and bring me 
 home here to such a nice place, and 
 such kind friends. It is n't any matter 
 about my arm, for when I die I '11 have 
 wings, you know, and so it will never be 
 missed." 
 
 Dear young disciple! So early and 
 plainly taught of the blessed Saviour, 
 what could older Christians do but sit at 
 
72 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 thy feet and learn wisdom from thy sim- 
 ple, childlike words ? 
 
 While I still lingered, unable to tear 
 myself away from a scene so peaceful 
 and hallowed, Mrs. Flint came in, and 
 took a seat by his side. Her looks and 
 voice were carefully graduated to suit 
 the occasion as she said, 
 
 "I am glad to see you so comfortable, 
 and*hope, my dear child, that the chas- 
 tisement of the Lord is doing you good. 
 Do you feel that this is the case?" 
 
 Willie was a brave, happy boy nat- 
 urally, and religion had added to these 
 traits a firm trust in God as his Father, 
 through Jesus Christ, so he smiled as he 
 answered, 
 
 "I don't know, ma'am; I hope I love 
 the Saviour, and I know he loves me, and 
 he gives me so many blessings I do n't 
 think much about punishment. I don't 
 feel as if he was angry with me. when he 
 
THE DEUMMEE-BOY. 73 
 
 has died for me, and I want to please him 
 more than any thing else in the world. " 
 
 "I am afraid, my dear," she replied, 
 "that yon do not realize how great a sin- 
 ner yon are, if yon think yon don't de- 
 serve punishment for your sins." 
 
 "No indeed, it isn't that," Willie ex- 
 claimed, while his cheeks flushed with 
 the excitement of his feelings. But Miss 
 Letty could keep silence no longer, and 
 interrupted him, saying, 
 
 "Mrs. Flint, my little Willie can't talk 
 much now, but I think he lives religion 
 better than a great many of us. He 
 means, and I say, that though we do n't 
 deserve any thing but punishment for 
 our sins, it is n't always a sign that God 
 is angry with us when he lets us suffer in 
 this world. He was n't angry with Job, 
 when he allowed Satan to try him so ; 
 nor with Daniel, when he was put into 
 the lions' den ; but he did it to show what 
 
74 OUR VILLAGE IN WAK-TIME. 
 
 religion could do for people when they 
 are in the worst of troubles. I believe 
 it 7 s just so nowadays ; and that God is 
 nearer to us sometimes when every thing 
 seems to go wrong, than he is when it 's 
 fair weather and smooth sailing." 
 
 "That may be so," replied Mrs. Flint, 
 "but don't you think there 's danger of 
 making the way of religion too easy, so 
 that people will think they are Christians 
 when they are not ?" 
 
 "I don't think we have any thing to 
 do with making the way hard or easy. 
 We must take it just as Jesus Christ left 
 it; and he says, 'I love them that love 
 me, and those that seek me early shall 
 find me.' I don't read that any thing 
 but repentance and faith in the Saviour, 
 and renewing by the Holy Spirit, is nec- 
 essary to be a humble Christian; and I 
 am sure the Saviour never turned away 
 any one who came to him in earnest, and 
 
THE DKUMMEK-BOY. 15 
 
 wanted to be his disciple. But Willie is 
 getting tired, and it wont do to talk any 
 longer." 
 
 The visitor departed, leaving the little 
 invalid weary and feverish, until soothed 
 by the gentle ministrations of Miss Letty 
 and Elinor Fenton. Why is it that some 
 individuals, who pass in society for good 
 people, have the unenviable talent of 
 making every one uncomfortable with 
 whom they come in contact ? Under all 
 the velvet of their professions, the claws 
 continually lacerate, even while they 
 seem to caress. There are few commu- 
 nities in which some of these specimens 
 of humanity may not be found ; and it is 
 sad when they wear the garb of religion, 
 and pretend to be holier than others, 
 while doing the work of him who has 
 sought from the beginning to foment strife 
 and jealousy among brethren. 
 
 During the fall, Willie had several at- 
 
7G OUE VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 tacks of hemorrhage of the lungs, which 
 rapidly wasted his strength ; but he was 
 still the same happy, trusting, loving boy, 
 enjoying life with all a boy's enthusiasm, 
 yet welcoming death with perfect se- 
 renity. 
 
 On one of the last days of the Indian 
 summer, when a golden haze lay on ev- 
 ery thing, softening the landscape and 
 giving to autumn more than the beauty 
 of spring, I was called to see Willie die. 
 I found him sitting up in bed, gasping 
 for breath, and his forehead damp with 
 the death -dew; but his eye was still 
 clear, and on his lips was a smile bright 
 with heaven's own radiance. "Dear 
 "Willie," I said, "you are almost home." 
 
 11 yes, I like this home very much, 
 but that one is better. I am where 
 Christian was when he began to cross 
 the river, and in a little while I shall be 
 over." 
 
THE DEUMMER-BOY. 77 
 
 Bunyan's inimitable allegory was his 
 favorite book, and he had it almost by 
 heart. While in camp it had been his 
 greatest pleasure to repeat portions of it 
 to the listening soldiers, by whom " Wil- 
 lie's stories" were preferred to any other. 
 And now on his dying-bed the pilgrim 
 was to him a living friend who had cross- 
 ed the stream just before him, and whom 
 he was about to join in the Celestial City. 
 
 " Willie," said Mr. Ryder, "have you 
 no wish to live ?" 
 
 "To live!' 7 he repeated with anima- 
 tion; "why, don't you know I am just 
 going to live ? Oh, if you could only see 
 what I see, such beautiful angels with 
 shining wings, and hear the sweet music, 
 you would be willing to die too, so that 
 you could go and live with them." 
 
 The eloquence of look and tone with 
 which this was said is indescribable. He 
 lay quietly for a few moments with closed 
 
78 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 eyes, then suddenly turning to Miss Let- 
 ty, who was weeping, he said, 
 
 "Dear aunty, you told me of Jesus, 
 and taught me how to seek him, and now 
 I am going to live with him for ever. 
 Perhaps he will let me fly down to you 
 sometimes, and whisper to you about 
 heaven when you are sorrowful ; I should 
 love to so much. If I could only have 
 seen the captain and Miss Lilian once 
 more ; but no matter, they ; 11 come, 
 you '11 all come home by and by." 
 
 His voice failed, and he seemed al- 
 most gone, when raising his hand, he 
 whispered, 
 
 "They are all coming, mother; it is 
 light, all light ;" and then with one long 
 tremulous sigh, the ransomed spirit fled, 
 leaving the impress of its happiness. 
 
 We buried him in a quiet spot, select- 
 ed by himself near his childhood's home, 
 and a plain marble slab, with the inscrip- 
 
THE DRUMMER-BOY. 79 
 
 tion, "Our Willie," marks his resting- 
 place. His drum, a beautiful and richly 
 ornamented one given him by his regi- 
 ment after the battle of Malvern Hills, 
 and which he kept constantly near him 
 through all his illness, was enclosed in a 
 glass case, and placed at the head of his 
 grave. We shall see him no more on 
 earth, but the memory of the little drum- 
 mer-boy is still cherished in the hearts 
 of many who loved him here, and who 
 hope to meet him in the better land 
 where "sorrow and parting are sounds 
 unknown. 7 ' 
 
80 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 
 
 Capt. Lester was carried from the 
 field of Antietam insensible, and on ex- 
 amination his wounds were pronounced 
 mortal by the physicians, though no 
 means were left untried to preserve a 
 life so valuable to his country. A minie 
 ball had passed through his shoulder to the 
 back of the neck, and at the same time 
 the fragment of a shell struck his ankle, 
 inflicting a severe wound, and splinter- 
 ing the bone. He lay for several days in 
 a half-unconscious state — at times, when 
 partially roused, becoming delirious, then 
 sinking again into a lethargy from which 
 it was difficult to awaken him. A pri- 
 vate house had been hastily fitted up for 
 the reception of the wounded, and to this 
 
HOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 81 
 
 he was taken and made as comfortable 
 as circumstances admitted. 
 
 When Fanny Lester and Lilian reach- 
 ed the end of their journey, they were at 
 first denied admittance to the hospital ; 
 and it was only after the most strenuous 
 exertions on the part of Mr. Eyder that 
 they were allowed to see Capt. Lester. 
 
 " I am afraid, my dear young friends," 
 said the good man, "that you will not be 
 permitted to remain with him ; the mili- 
 tary rules are very strict, and few favors 
 are shown here." 
 
 " Have no fears on that score, my dear 
 sir," Lilian replied. "If once we gain 
 entrance, it will take at least a regiment 
 to dislodge us." 
 
 It was evening when they entered the 
 room where the sick man lay, seemingly 
 insensible to every thing around him; 
 and as Lilian approached, the nurse who 
 had been moistening his lips from time 
 
 Our Village. Q 
 
82 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 to time, came forward, and greeting. her 
 kindly, offered her a seat by his side. 
 Though terribly shocked at his death- 
 like appearance, Lilian was outwardly 
 calm; and taking from the nurse minute 
 directions with regard to the treatment 
 to be pursued, busied herself in arrang- 
 ing the dressings and medicines, to con- 
 ceal the emotion which threatened to 
 overpower her. 
 
 When this was done, she seated her- 
 self by the bedside, and taking the hand 
 of the wounded man, placed her fingers 
 on his wrist to assure herself that he still 
 lived, for in that darkened room his sleep 
 so closely resembled death, that her heart 
 stood still with terror as she looked upon 
 him. Hardly had she touched his wrist 
 when a perceptible thrill ran through the 
 veins ; there was a slight movement, and 
 then a faint voice whispered, "Is this 
 Lilian?' 7 
 
HOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 83 
 
 Too much agitated to reply at once, 
 she gave him the stimulant prescribed by 
 the nurse, turned up the lamp that she 
 might see his face, and then said as calm- 
 ly as she could, 
 
 "Yes, Robert, it is your sister and 
 Lilian, who have come to nurse and make 
 
 vou well." 
 
 «/ 
 
 11 Thank God!" was the low response; 
 and then he seemed to sleep again, while 
 Lilian watched him through the night, 
 g\ad to find that her young companion 
 had forgotten her sorrows in refreshing 
 slumber. From that time Capt. Lester's 
 symptoms were slightly improved, and 
 he had more frequent intervals of con- 
 sciousness, though there were yet but 
 faint hopes of his recovery. If medical 
 skill and the most assiduous care could 
 save him, he was certain to recover, for 
 Lilian or Fanny were with him night 
 and day, anticipating every want, and 
 
84 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 soothing by their tender sympathy the 
 sufferings which no skill could wholly 
 relieve. 
 
 For some weeks it was feared by the 
 surgeons that amputation of the foot must 
 take place ; and nothing but the prayers 
 and tears of Lilian induced them to de- 
 lay it, until, by the blessing of God on 
 her exertions, it was no longer deemed 
 necessary. The ball still remained in 
 his shoulder, and had hitherto eluded 
 search ; but it was at length found and 
 extracted ; and from that hour his prog- 
 ress, though slow, was sure. 
 
 "How is it, Eobert," said Lilian one 
 day, when he was suffering more than 
 usual from his wounds, "that you are 
 always so cheerful and patient, though 
 you suffer so much ? I have heard that 
 convalescents are expected to be irrita- 
 ble and capricious, but you do not avail 
 yourself of the privilege at all. You 
 
HOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 85 
 
 must be naturally indifferent to pain, or 
 else you have too much pride to allow it 
 to overcome you ; which is it ?" 
 
 "Neither the one nor the other, dear 
 Lilian. I have naturally a great dread 
 of pain, and do not think myself possess- 
 ed of a large share of that moral courage 
 in which your sex excel, and which is 
 the only kind which will bear the test of 
 suffering. As to pride, it is sadly out of 
 place on a sick-bed, even if it had the 
 power to deaden a sense of pain, which 
 I very much doubt." 
 
 " What is it then that makes you so de- 
 sirable a patient? for, excepting my aunt, 
 I never saw any one bear pain as you do." 
 
 "Shall I tell you, my Lilian? It is 
 the taking home to my heart, and appro- 
 priating that precious promise, 'My grace 
 is sufficient for thee, for my strength is 
 made perfect in weakness.' In myself I 
 am all weakness ; but if an almighty arm 
 
86 OUE VILLAGE IN WAK-TIME. 
 
 is underneath and around me, I have all 
 the strength and support I need. God 
 grant that you may know from your own 
 experience the blessedness of which I 
 speak." 
 
 Tears were in the eyes of Lilian as 
 she answered, 
 
 "With such examples as I have had 
 before me, I can never doubt the reality 
 of the religion of Jesus, and I would give 
 worlds, if I had them, to feel its power ; 
 but it seems impossible for me to obtain 
 such a blessing." 
 
 1 'Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and 
 thou shalt be saved," was. the reply. 
 "And now, dear Lilian, I must send you 
 from me to visit our poor patient up 
 stairs, who needs you even more than I 
 do, if that were possible." 
 
 A few days previous to this conversa- 
 tion, Lilian was passing through one of 
 the rooms in which lay some rebel offi- 
 
HOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 81 
 
 cers who had been recently brought in 
 from Virginia. Most of them were hope- 
 less cases, and the sight was so painful to 
 the young girl, that she passed on rap- 
 idly, until her steps were arrested by the 
 exclamation, "Miss Grey! can it be 
 possible Y } She turned and saw, though 
 she could hardly recognize in the pallid 
 face and emaciated form before her, 
 Lieut. Carter, the betrothed of her cous- 
 in, the rebel officer whose desertion of 
 his country's flag had caused them all so 
 much unhappiness. It was a very pain- 
 ful meeting to Lilian, and her first im- 
 pulse was to leave the room instantly; 
 but death was stamped on every feature 
 of the young man, and humanity tri- 
 umphed. She approached the bedside, 
 and said kindly, 
 
 " Mr. Carter, I can stay but a moment. 
 Is there any thing I can do for you, or 
 that you wish to say to me ?" 
 
88 OUR VILLAGE IN WAB-TIME. 
 
 The sick man replied bitterly, 
 
 "I see how it is; you all hate and 
 despise me ; but I cannot help it. I am 
 a Southerner, and would not desert my 
 brethren in arms though I lost every 
 friend on earth. What I have done I 
 would do again in the same circum- 
 stances." 
 
 "You are wrong, Hugh," said Lilian, 
 " none of us hate or despise you, though 
 the course you have taken has almost 
 broken the hearts of those who loved you 
 so dearly." 
 
 "And who love me no longer, you 
 would say. Well, I knew the penalty 
 when I put on this uniform, and I am 
 not going now to complain of the cost. I 
 hate the Yankees," he exclaimed with 
 an energy of which he seemed incapable, 
 "and the bitterest thought in dying is, 
 that Elinor has become one of their mis- 
 erable canting crew ; but they have lost 
 
nOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 89 
 
 Stanwood ; he at least is true to the bon- 
 ny blue flag. 7 ' 
 
 "Not so, Hugh. Stanwood has seen 
 his error, and taken the oath of alle- 
 giance at Washington, and only waits 
 until his wounds are healed to go home 
 and be reconciled to his family. 77 
 
 The sick man turned ghastly pale on 
 hearing this, and an execration rose to 
 his lips, which was suppressed from def- 
 erence to Lilian, who added, 
 
 "You are very ill, Hugh, and thoughts 
 like these are not suited to one in your 
 condition. Let me beg you to see the 
 chaplain; he is a good man, and will 
 gladly visit you. 77 
 
 "Oh spare me all that stereotyped 
 nonsense, 77 he exclaimed. "I will die as 
 I have lived, without the aid of priest or 
 chaplain. If my belief is correct, I do 
 not need them ; and if I am wrong, it is 
 too late to mend the mistake. I am dy- 
 
90 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 ing, and you know it ; but I will at least 
 die game : no whining repentance or 
 hypocritical confessions for Hugh Car- 
 ter." 
 
 There seemed little hope of doing him 
 any good in such a state of mind, and 
 Lilian, feeling her own incompetency to 
 reply to him, sadly turned away and left 
 the room, while memory went back to 
 other days, when he who was going into 
 eternity without one ray of light upon 
 his path, had been to her almost a broth- 
 er. There was a shadow on her bright 
 face as she went back to her patient, who 
 instantly saw it, and inquired the cause, 
 when she related the scene through which 
 she had just passed. Capt. Lester had 
 formerly known Lieut. Carter, and though 
 no bond of affinity had ever drawn the 
 young men together, he was greatly 
 shocked to learn his present condition. 
 
 "I must see him, dear Lilian/' he said ; 
 
HOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 91 
 
 "he may listen to me when he would not 
 admit a clergyman. It is too dreadful to 
 let him die so, without making one effort 
 to do him good. Poor Elinor, how could 
 she bear this ? 77 
 
 With great difficulty, and on crutches, 
 Capt. Lester made his way to the bed- 
 side of the wounded officer ; but the lat- 
 ter refused to converse with him, declar- 
 ing that his mind was made up, and he 
 would never be such a coward as to 
 change his opinions because death was 
 at hand. In vain he was urged to listen 
 to God's own words of promise. 
 
 "To those who can believe, all that is 
 well enough; as for me, I have never 
 feared any thing in life, and cannot be- 
 gin to tremble now." 
 
 A few days afterwards he died in the 
 same state of mind, declaring with his 
 latest breath that he asked no favors at 
 the hands of God or man. 
 
92 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 Elinor was informed of his death, but 
 not of the circumstances attending it; 
 and thus she was spared the keenest 
 pang of all — that of knowing that he 
 whom she had once loved and trusted, 
 died without hope. 
 
 One after another our brave boys came 
 back to us from the hospitals, wounded 
 and disabled, some maimed for life, yet 
 bating no tittle of courage or faith in the 
 ultimate triumph of the good cause. A 
 part of the regiment had reenlisted at 
 the expiration of their term of service, 
 and were with us for a few days, enjoy- 
 ing the sweets of domestic life after their 
 laborious campaigns. 
 
 It was during their stay that the death 
 of little Willie occurred, and the drum- 
 mer-boy was followed to his grave by 
 many of those who knew and loved him 
 as a son or brother in the camp. There 
 were manly tears shed around his grave ; 
 
HOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 93 
 
 and one man exclaimed, as the coffin was 
 lowered from sight, 
 
 " There goes the best boy I ever knew, 
 and I do n't believe he has left his like 
 behind him." 
 
 The first snows of winter had fallen on 
 Willie's grave before Capt. Lester came 
 back to us, with his sister and a lady 
 whom we had loved as Lilian Grey, but 
 were now to know as Mrs. Lester. She 
 was well aware that the prejudices of 
 her uncle and cousin would be shocked 
 hy her marriage away from home and in 
 a hospital; so she said nothing about it 
 in her letters, believing that her husband 
 could plead his own cause far better in 
 person than she could do by writing. 
 The event justified her expectations ; for 
 though at first Mr. Fenton was surprised 
 and angry, the reasons given by Capt. 
 Lester and the persuasions of his wife 
 soon reconciled him, and even forced him 
 
94 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 to confess that it was probably the best 
 thing that could have been done under 
 the circumstances. Mrs. Fen ton, how- 
 ever, would not consent to part with her 
 niece ; so Capt, Lester became an inmate 
 of the family, and soon won the affection 
 of all its members, while his health im- 
 proved rapidly, though the wound in his 
 ankle was still painful and troublesome. 
 
 Soon after Capt. Lester's return, there 
 came a visitor to the parsonage whose 
 arrival was warmly welcomed by Mabel, 
 though it caused her tears to flow afresh. 
 This was the father of Lieut. Wiley, who- 
 had taken the journey for the purpose 
 of becoming acquainted with the bride of 
 his son, now doubly endeared to him by 
 her early widowhood and sorrow. 
 
 He was a plain New England farmer, 
 cultivating a few acres of hard soil, from 
 which he managed by unceasing indus- 
 try to gain a support for his small fam- 
 
nOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 95 
 
 ily ; but lie was rich in faith, and his be- 
 nevolence would shame that of many a 
 millionaire. His son had left home while 
 still very young; but he was fondly re- 
 membered, and his loss lamented by the 
 aged pair, who had only one daughter 
 left to be the stay of their declining years. 
 Mr. Wiley went from house to house 
 through the Beach Hill neighborhood, 
 wherever a disabled soldier or a bereav- 
 ed wife or mother were to be found, 
 often accompanied by Mabel,' who in her 
 mourning garb looked so pale and shad- 
 owy that we almost expected to see her 
 vanish from our sight. The old man 
 loved to hear and talk of his dead son ; 
 but he loved still more to speak of Him 
 who died for sinners, and of the heaven 
 to which his disciples are hastening. It 
 was impossible on such occasions for the 
 most careless to listen unmoved; and 
 tears were often seen to steal down the 
 
96 OUR VILLAGE IX WAR-TIME. 
 
 cheeks of bearded men, though all "un- 
 used to the melting mood," as they heard 
 from his lips the story so often told, yet 
 ever new, of G-ethsemane and Calvary. 
 
 The visit of Mr. Wiley was a blessing 
 to many souls in Woodbury, and espe- 
 cially to Mabel and Lilian, both of whom 
 made a public profession of faith in Christ 
 the Sabbath before his departure. When 
 he left for home, Mabel and her mother 
 went with him, as our physician recom- 
 mended a change of scene for the former, 
 whose health was suffering from the 
 shock she had sustained. 
 
 Capt. Lester had now so far recovered 
 as to walk with only the assistance of a 
 cane, when, one evening after Lilian had 
 been spending the day with me, he came 
 in bringing a large package, which he 
 threw into her lap, saying, "Read that, 
 dear wife, and then tell me what to do.' J 
 
 She opened the envelope and found 
 
HOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 9*1 
 
 inclosed a commission as colonel of a 
 veteran regiment then being raised, with 
 a letter in which nattering mention was 
 made of Capt. Lester's services in the 
 army, and the estimation in which he 
 was held by the chief magistrate of the 
 state. 
 
 Lilian's eyes sparkled with all a wife's 
 pride as she read the letter, and turning 
 to her husband, she said, u There ought 
 to be but one cause for hesitation on such 
 a subject. If you are well enough to go, 
 you cannot doubt for a moment your 
 duty to accept it, I would not hold you 
 back, if I could, and I am certain that I 
 could not, if I would." 
 
 "Thanks, dear Lilian; I knew your 
 brave and true heart would cheer me on 
 in the path of duty ; but I have been a 
 petted invalid so long, that I am ashamed 
 to say the thought of leaving all I love 
 was at first painful to me." 
 
 Our Village. 7 
 
98 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 "And may I not go with you?" she 
 inquired; "you know how well I can 
 bear hardships ; and I assure you I will 
 take care that you shall find me no in- 
 cumbrance.' 1 
 
 "That you could never be, in any 
 case," was his reply; "but the coming 
 campaign is likely to be a fatiguing and 
 perilous one, and besides, I must not set 
 an example of self-indulgence to the regi- 
 ment. It would never do for the colonel 
 to be enjoying the society of his wife, 
 unless he grants the same privilege to 
 the other officers, and in that case, I fear 
 we should be in danger of losing the 
 name of the 'fighting regiment,' which 
 the veterans have so nobly earned." • 
 
 "I submit, as in duty bound, to your 
 decision ; but I must have a promise that 
 I may come to you instantly, if at any 
 time you should need me." 
 
 The promise was readily given, and 
 
HOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 99 
 
 Lilian smiled through her tears as she 
 playfully pictured his helplessness, when 
 he should find himself thrown once more 
 on his own resources. 
 
 " I know you have almost spoiled me," 
 he replied in the same tone, "but the 
 camp is a good school in which to learn 
 to endure hardships and self-denial, and 
 I am not likely to want for lessons in our 
 present service." 
 
 Several members of the Twenty-sixth, 
 when they found that Capt. Lester was 
 to have the command of a regiment, 
 were transferred, and most of his field 
 and line officers were old friends and 
 comrades, so we bade him farewell cheer- 
 fully, though his health was not fully re- 
 established. 
 
 True to her former professions, Lilian 
 sent him forth with smiles and blessings ; 
 and after his departure, she had always 
 a word of comfort and cheer for those 
 
100 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 who had given their household treasures 
 to the cause of freedom. But the few 
 who knew her intimately, knew that she 
 shed bitter tears when no eye but that 
 of God was upon her, as she thought of 
 the perils by which he was surrounded, 
 and which he had neither the power nor 
 the wish to shun. 
 
 The regiment commanded by Col. Les- 
 ter was in the second division of the 
 Sixth corps in the Army of the Potomac, 
 and was stationed near the enemy's out- 
 posts, so that picket-firing and skirmish- 
 ing were of daily occurrence, though there 
 had been no general engagement since 
 the battle of Gettysburg. 
 
 That grand Army of the Potomac ; 
 how my heart thrills as I think or write 
 of it! Composed, as no other army on 
 earth ever was made up, save our own 
 noble troops of the West and South-west, 
 of the very flower of American manhood, 
 
HOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 101 
 
 with youth, wealth, intellect, and talent 
 filling its ranks, and yet, by a strange 
 fatality, doomed to experience unmerited 
 defeats or fruitless victories, it has wait- 
 ed with a courage and patience truly sub- 
 lime for the moment of triumph which is 
 sure to come at last. So often decima- 
 ted, yet never subdued, but Antceus-like, 
 gathering fresh vigor from every disaster, 
 they have not always been able to com- 
 mand success, but they have done more ; 
 for they have deserved it. In the coming 
 time, when this fearful war shall have 
 passed into history, and our children are 
 reaping its glorious results, it will be a 
 prouder boast than that of royal lineage 
 to have the right to say, "My father was 
 a soldier in the Army of the Potomac." 
 
102 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 
 
 I had been absent from home for sev- 
 eral weeks, and after my return, sick- 
 ness in the family confined me closely, 
 so that I knew little of what had been 
 occurring in the neighborhood. Miss 
 Letty, through whom my information usu- 
 ally came, was seldom seen abroad, to 
 the great surprise and inconvenience of 
 many families who had learned to look 
 upon her frequent visits as an indispens- 
 able part of their domestic arrangements. 
 
 ""What has happened to Miss Letty ?" 
 I inquired of Lilian Lester, at a meeting 
 of our Aid Society, as I noticed the look 
 of gravity which seemed strangely out 
 of place on her countenance, usually so 
 cheerful. 
 
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 103 
 
 "I am not aware of any cause for it," 
 Lilian replied, " and yet she certainly 
 does look as if she were carrying a weight 
 of care. Dear Miss Letty, I hope noth- 
 ing has happened to trouble her, for she 
 is so kind and unselfish that she ought to 
 be very happy." 
 
 As I left the house, Miss Letty came 
 up, and proposed to accompany me home, 
 an offer which I gladly accepted, for it 
 was evident that there was something 
 she wished to communicate, and I hoped, 
 by sharing her anxieties, to alleviate 
 them. We walked for a few steps in 
 silence, and then my companion, in an 
 embarrassed tone, very different from 
 her ordinary manner, inquired, 
 
 "Mrs. Glenn, have you ever seen Mr. 
 Thurston when he has been here preach- 
 ing for Mr. Ryder ?" 
 
 "Mr. Thurston," I repeated; "is he 
 the home missionary stationed at M , 
 
104 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 among the mountains? If so, I have seen 
 him, and heard him preach ; but why do 
 you ask that question?'' 
 
 Strange to say, I had not a suspicion 
 of the state of affairs, notwithstanding 
 the confusion of my companion, for I had 
 never heard of the death of Mr. Thurs- 
 ton's wife, and therefore was not likely 
 to think of him in connection with Miss 
 Letty. 
 
 "Why," she said, "I only wanted to 
 know whether you had ever seen him, 
 and how you liked him, if you had; for 
 you see he has been over here several 
 times lately, and called on me with Mr. 
 Eyder, and— pshaw, how silly I am — 
 well, he has asked me to marry him." 
 
 Miss Letty actually blushed like a 
 young girl as she made this confession, 
 which took me so utterly by surprise, 
 that for a moment I had not a word to 
 say. 
 
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 105 
 
 "I see you are astonished at it, and no 
 wonder ; I told him that everybody would 
 wonder that he should offer himself to me, 
 a seamstress, and without one cent of 
 money in the world ; but he only smiled, 
 and said he wanted a wife for himself, 
 and not to suit the public ; that he did n't 
 want a young girl, nor a rich wife either, 
 to look down on him and his poor peo- 
 ple." 
 
 ''You are mistaken," I replied; "it 
 is n't that which surprised me, but I had 
 never heard that he was a widower ; and 
 then the thought of losing you is some- 
 thing so new, and not very pleasant, I 
 assure you. What shall we do without 
 you ?" 
 
 "I thought of that," was the reply, 
 for Miss Letty had too much simplicity 
 of character to pretend to be ignorant of 
 her importance in the community, though 
 she was truly humble in her estimate of 
 
106 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 herself; "and I told Mr. Thurston I had 
 been here so long, and had got so into 
 the habit of doing every thing for every- 
 body, that I was afraid they 'd miss me 
 a good deal. But he said if that was the 
 case, I was just the one for a poor min- 
 ister, who had to contrive to make ends 
 meet, and that his children needed me 
 more than the folks in Woodbury did. 
 You see he just brushed awa}^ all my ob- 
 jections like so many cobwebs, so that I 
 couldn't say another word." 
 
 "I am glad he seems to appreciate 
 your worth ; if we must give you up, it 
 will be a comfort to know that you are 
 happy." 
 
 "Oh, as to that I don't know; I sap- 
 pose people at my age have n't very ro- 
 mantic notions of happiness ; I 'm sure I 
 have n't; but if I can do any good to one 
 of the Lord's servants, I shall be glad. 
 But when I think how much will be ex- 
 
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 107 
 
 pected of me, I am so frightened I feel 
 like giving it all right up. You see, when 
 I was a child they did n't care much about 
 education in our town, and though I 've 
 picked up some ideas here and there go- 
 ing through the world, I don't know very 
 much. Then I 'm plain and homely in my 
 ways, and 1 'm afraid he '11 be ashamed 
 of me some time when he sees me by the 
 side of other ministers' wives ; but when 
 I told him so he only laughed, and said 
 if that was all my difficulty, he should 
 look on it as settled ; so I had to say yes, 
 for he would n't hear to any thing else." 
 I said every thing in my power to en- 
 courage Miss Letty, for I felt that Mr. 
 Thurston had made a wise choice for him- 
 self and his children, and that our little 
 seamstress, with her fund of good sense, 
 energy, and activity, and above all, with 
 her unwavering trust in God, would make 
 a far better wife for a clergyman than 
 
108 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 many an educated and refined woman 
 who was deficient in these qualities, as 
 too many are. 
 
 "And how soon are we to lose you?" 
 I inquired; "I trust not immediately; 
 you must give us a little time to be- 
 come reconciled to the thought of such a 
 change." 
 
 "Mr. Thurston is very anxious that I 
 should go right away; he says he has 
 been alone so long, and his children need 
 me so much ; but I told him I must see 
 to the work I had on hand, so as to leave 
 you all comfortable, or I should n't be 
 easy in my mind about going. It ; s hard 
 to leave such friends as I have got here, 
 and to go away from dear little "Willie's 
 grave too ; but Mr. Ryder seems to think 
 it is my duty to go, because there are so 
 few that would be willing to take such a 
 place. I do n't see how that can be, for 
 I ; m sure Mr. Thurston is one of the best 
 
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 109 
 
 of men, and I think any woman might be 
 happy with him." 
 
 From the earnestness with which this 
 was said, I saw that Miss Letty was re- 
 ally interested in the good minister, and 
 not about to sacrifice herself from a sense 
 of duty merely; and I was glad to be- 
 lieve this, for I feared she might not be 
 as comfortable under her new responsi- 
 bilities as she had been in Woodbury. 
 
 The wedding took place in church ; 
 and after an hour or two spent at the 
 parsonage, where the friends of the bride 
 called to offer their congratulations and 
 to bid her good-by, the happy pair left 
 for their mountain home, from whence 
 we have repeatedly heard of the new 
 Mrs. Thurston, as useful and beloved 
 beyond any of her predecessors in that 
 place. 
 
 Mrs. Fenton had been for months rap- 
 idly failing, and her symptoms were now 
 
110 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 such as to indicate a speedy release from 
 her sufferings. She was intensely anx- 
 ious to see her long-absent son once more 
 on earth, and this strong maternal feeling 
 seemed actually to hold back the spirit, 
 already pluming its wings for flight. "I 
 shall not die till I have seen him again," 
 was her constant reply to the inquiries 
 of her friends. "He will come in time 
 to receive my parting breath, and I am 
 content." 
 
 Stanwood Fenton had never recovered 
 from the wound received at South Moun- 
 tain, and after months of terrible agony, 
 had recently been obliged to submit to 
 amputation of the hand as the only means 
 of saving his life. He was now recover- 
 ing slowly, and had been sent to the con- 
 valescent camp, when a letter from Eli- 
 nor informed him of the condition of his 
 mother. In spite of the remonstrances 
 of his physicians he obtained, through 
 
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. Ill 
 
 the influence of Col. Lester, a dismissal 
 from the camp, and started for home un- 
 der the care of Capt. May, a former mem- 
 ber of the Twenty-sixth, and' now com- 
 mander of a company in Col. Lester's 
 regiment, who had a furlough in conse- 
 quence of ill health. 
 
 Mrs. Fenton had seemed to be in a 
 dying state for several hours, but her 
 frequent inquiries showed us that she still 
 expected the arrival of her son, though 
 no word had reached her of his intention 
 to start for home. 
 
 " It is my only earthly care," she said, 
 "and I think my Father will grant me 
 this request." 
 
 She had been apparently sleeping/ and 
 all was perfectly still in and around the 
 house, when suddenly starting and open- 
 ing her eyes, she exclaimed, "He is com- 
 ing ; I hear the wheels ; he is almost here ; 
 thank God." 
 
112 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 None of us could hear a sound ; but 
 the mother's ears, quickened by affection, 
 caught the distant rumbling, though the 
 moment b*efore death seemed - about to 
 close them for ever. A few moments 
 brought the carriage to the door, and 
 Elinor and Lilian flew to meet and wel- 
 come the returning wanderer. 
 
 "Is my mother still living ?'' was his 
 first inquiry ; and on receiving an answer 
 in the affirmative, the strength which had 
 sustained him on the way suddenly de- 
 serted him. He sank into a chair, and 
 covering his face, gave way for a few 
 moments to the emotions which shook 
 his frame, while Elinor threw her arms 
 around his neck, and wept silently. But 
 Lilian, who knew the anxiety of her dy- 
 ing aunt, said tenderly, 
 
 "Dear cousin, this will never do. 
 Think of your mother, whose life is now 
 counted by moments, and who is waiting 
 
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 113 
 
 for you. All your strength will be need- 
 ed for this interview, and you must be 
 calm, since agitation might be instantly 
 fatal to her. 7 ' 
 
 "I know it," was his reply, "and you 
 shall see me a man again soon ; but I 
 have feared the worst all the way home, 
 and the revulsion of feeling overcame 
 me at first. May you never know, dear 
 girls, what it is to have remorse added 
 to the sorrow of such an hour as this." 
 
 The interview between the dying moth- 
 er and her erring, but penitent son, was 
 witnessed only by members of the fam- 
 ily ; and at its close, she was so exhausted 
 as to be almost insensible. But the lamp 
 of life burned up brightly once more be- 
 fore going out for ever. She bade us all 
 farewell, with a few tender and appro- 
 priate words to each ; then turning to her 
 son, who was kneeling at the bedside, with 
 his face buried in the pillows, she said, 
 
 Our Village. 8 
 
114 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 as she laid her cold hand upon his head, 
 "My dear boy, I once asked for you in 
 my blindness length of days and temporal 
 prosperity. Now I trust I have sought 
 better things of God for you ; but you 
 must seek him for yourself, or you will nev- 
 er see his face in peace. With my dyiug 
 breath I charge you, make it the busi- 
 ness of your life to meet me in heaven.*'' 
 
 After a few loving words to her hus- 
 band, Elinor, and Lilian, with a kind 
 message to Col. Lester, she said, in a 
 voice clear and distinct as in health, 
 
 "I wish to give it as my dying testi- 
 mony to all here present, that -not one 
 good thing has ever failed in my experi- 
 ence, of all that the Lord has spoken. 
 The religion of the Bible has been to me 
 an infinite blessing. I have lived on it 
 for years, and it has supported me in 
 suffering and sorrow, and now I am dy- 
 ing in perfect peace ; for Jesus is with 
 
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 115 
 
 me, and his rod and staff, they comfort 
 me." 
 
 Her voice died away, but the smile on 
 her countenance was like the dawn of 
 heaven in its brightness ; and it may 
 have been the reflection of that radiance, 
 for before her words had ceased to echo 
 in that hushed chamber, the spirit had 
 escaped from its wasted tenement, and 
 was already rejoicing before the throne 
 of God. 
 
 Col. Lester came home to see her bur- 
 ied, but stayed only a few days, as active 
 service was soon expected. He was in 
 good health, and seemed very happy, and 
 as Lilian was to return with him to Wash- 
 ington, there was nothing to mar her en- 
 joyment of his brief visit. After their 
 departure, Elinor and her brother were 
 very lonely, and Capt. May, whose leave 
 of absence had been extended, was a fre- 
 quent visitor at the Tyrrell House, and 
 
116 OUK VILLAGE IN WAK-TIME. 
 
 a great favorite with all its inmates, from 
 Mr. Fenton down to Mammy Yenus, and 
 Pete recently promoted to the dignity 
 of coachman. 
 
 To know Elinor Fenton intimately was 
 to love her, and the young soldier found, 
 before he had dreamed of danger, that 
 his heart was no longer in his own pos- 
 session. He could not with propriety 
 make known his feelings to Elinor so 
 soon after her bereavement, but from his 
 friend Stanwood he received all the en- 
 couragement which a brother's best wish- 
 es could give ; and when lie rejoined his 
 regiment, he carried with him a hope 
 which brightened his darkest hours, and 
 made every hardship seem light. 
 
 Young Fenton had been at home but 
 a few months before he became a univer- 
 sal favorite, as we discovered the acqui- 
 sition we had made in his society. He 
 was ardent, impulsive, and generous even 
 
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 117 
 
 to a fault, and possessed the best traits 
 of Southern character, with an ingenuous 
 frankness peculiarly his own. Often led 
 astray by the warmth of his feelings, he 
 was quick to perceive and retract his 
 errors, and eager to make reparation for 
 them. It was impossible to associate with 
 Stanwood Fenton without being con- 
 stantly reminded of the Saviour's remark 
 to the young man who came to him, and 
 who awoke so (Jeep an interest in his be- 
 nevolent heart: "One thing thou lack- 
 est." Deep religious principle was the 
 one thing wanting in his character, the 
 balance-wheel without which his move- 
 ments were erratic and uncertain, guided 
 rather by the impulse of the moment 
 than by any sense of accountability to 
 God. 
 
 His original plan had been to enter the 
 Union army as soon as possible after the 
 death of his mother, but his health had 
 
118 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 suffered greatly from long confinement in 
 the hospital ; and the loss of his hand, 
 together with the entreaties of his father 
 and sister, induced him to relinquish the 
 idea, and devote himself to the care of 
 his father's business, which had suffered 
 from neglect. The light came back to 
 Elinor's eye, and the bloom to her cheek, 
 as she saw her brother once more in his 
 proper place at home; and though her 
 beloved mother was still* fondly remem- 
 bered and her loss deplored, it was with 
 a chastened sorrow, as she felt that for 
 her to die had been great gain. 
 
 Winter, with its storms and sunshine, 
 its triumphs and reverses, wore away at 
 length, and with the first blossoms of 
 May Lilian came back to us, more wel- 
 come to our hearts than the breath of 
 spring or the fragrance of forest flowers. 
 She was accompanied by Captain, now 
 Major May, who was on the staff of Gen. 
 
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 119 
 
 Lester, and who eagerly availed himself 
 of an opportunity to revisit the spot 
 where his earthly hopes were centred. 
 During her stay at the head-quarters of 
 her husband, Lilian had learned to ap- 
 preciate the worth of the young aide-de- 
 camp, and ardently hoped he might be 
 successful in his suit. Why should I 
 narrate the progress of events ? It was 
 the same old story repeated once again, 
 a tale as old as the history of the race, 
 yet new in the experience of every hu- 
 man heart— the story of faithful love 
 meeting its reward at last in the affection 
 of the beloved object. As Elinor heard 
 from her cousin the recital of the gallant 
 exploits of Major May, of his courage and 
 devoted loyalty, she loved him not only 
 "for the perils he had passed,' 7 but for 
 the high principle which had thus far 
 shielded him from the peculiar tempta- 
 tions of a soldier's life ; and before his 
 
120 OUR TILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 departure lie won from her a promise, 
 that when the war was ended, or his 
 term of service expired, he might claim 
 his reward. 
 
 Months have passed, and still the cloud 
 of war overshadows the land, and still 
 our beloved ones are absent from us, 
 some with the heroic Sherman in North- 
 ern Georgia, 'scaling the heights of Ken- 
 esaw and Lookout mountains, and driv- 
 ing the eagle from his eyrie, as they plant 
 the stars and stripes among the clouds ; 
 some are in the sultry swamps and bay- 
 ous of Louisiana, exposed to a foe more 
 insidious and deadly than the rebel ar- 
 mies; and others, among whom are our 
 best and bravest, are swelling the ranks 
 which threaten the Confederate capital. 
 
 " The time has come when brothers must fight 
 And sisters must pray at home." 
 
 But while we look up to Him who 
 alone can send help and deliverance, it 
 
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 121 
 
 is our privilege to labor as well as to 
 pray, and while we wait upon Gocl, to 
 watch for every opportunity of doing 
 whatever our hands find to do in the 
 good cause, with our whole heart. 
 
 The heavens are dark above us, and 
 the earth rocks wildly under our feet, 
 but God has a divine purpose underlying 
 all these convulsions, and it is fixed and 
 immutable as his throne. Faith sees in 
 the overturnings around us the majestic 
 march of his providence, preparing a 
 way in the tempest, and making the 
 wrath of man to praise him, while he 
 restrains the remainder thereof. 
 
 It is good for us sometimes, when hope 
 deferred makes the heart sick, to go back 
 to first principles, that we may gather 
 strength from a review of our past history 
 and of God's dealings with us as a nation. 
 
 The American republic was unique in 
 its inception and establishment. The 
 
122 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 pilgrim band who came to New England 
 in the Mayflower were not a company of 
 commercial adventurers, led hither by the 
 hope of gain ; still less were they a party of 
 military freebooters, actuated by the lust 
 of conquest, like the- Spaniards, who car- 
 ried fire and sword among the unoffend- 
 ing inhabitants of Southern America. 
 The principle which led those noble men 
 and women to forsake kindred and home, 
 and to brave the perils of a howling wil- 
 derness, and which sustained them amid 
 all their privations and sufferings, was 
 not earthly or perishable. It was the 
 burning, quenchless thirst for religious 
 liberty, the strong determination to wor- 
 ship God according to the dictates ot 
 their own conscience, though the roof of 
 their temple were the boundless sky and 
 their altar the rough stones of the forest, 
 that actuated the founders of this repub- 
 lic in their sublime enterprise. 
 
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 123 
 
 They came to these wilds of nature 
 that they might found a colony and build 
 up a church, and advance the interests 
 of the Redeemer's kingdom, and serve 
 as stepping-stones to others in the great 
 work of human progress. And never 
 has the divine declaration, ''Them that 
 honor me I will honor," been more sig- 
 nally fulfilled than in the growth of the 
 infant nation thus established. Every 
 step of the way in which, as a people, 
 we have been led, from the landing on 
 Plymouth rock to the proud position 
 which we have hitherto occupied among 
 the nations, has been marked by special 
 interpositions of Providence, no less real, 
 though less miraculous, than the pillar of 
 cloud and flame which guided the ancient 
 Israelites to the land of promise. 
 
 But in our prosperity we have forgot- 
 ten the Pock whence we were hewn, and 
 have rebelled against our father's God, 
 
124 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 
 
 and refused to obey his commands, until 
 in his righteous indignation he has come 
 out in judgment against us, and left us to 
 our own ways and to eat the fruit of our 
 own devices. As a nation we have 
 deeply sinned. As a nation we are suf- 
 fering a fearful punishment. 
 
 But let not the enemies of liberty in 
 the old world or the new, exult in the 
 belief that the republic is about to be 
 rent in fragments, and the last hope of 
 the oppressed millions of Europe to be 
 for ever entombed. We are bearing the 
 indignation of the Lord because we have 
 sinned against him; but when his pur- 
 poses concerning us are accomplished, 
 he will arise to execute judgment for 
 us. 
 
 No careful observer of God's provi- 
 dence can doubt that he has reserved 
 America for a grand destiny — that our 
 country has a mission to perform of the 
 
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 125 
 
 sublimest import, and a grand agency to 
 exert in the regeneration of the world. 
 
 If we read aright the divine purpose 
 in reference to this nation, and the his- 
 torical causes here concentrating, we 
 must believe that the vital forces inher- 
 ent in our government and institutions 
 will, with the blessing of God, master all 
 the antagonisms now threatening their 
 overthrow ; and that, having passed 
 through this baptism of blood and fire, 
 we shall emerge cleansed and purified, 
 ^nd stand as a beacon light to the strug- 
 gling nations of the old world, until suf- 
 fering humanity everywhere, regenerat- 
 ed and redeemed, shall rejoice in one 
 grand jubilee of liberty, Christianity, 
 and universal brotherhood. 
 
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