must be soldiers, but oh, 'tis
hard, so very hard, to part with one's only child. Oh, after the care
I have taken to bring you up decently, to lose you thus; and how I
worked, day and night, to buy you off before, and yet you listed
again, though a month had not passed over your head. God help me,"
said she sighing, "for even this trial could not be without God's
will, for without that, not a sparrow could fell to the ground. But
stay, do wait a bit longer," said she, catching him by the belt, as he
was manifesting a restless impatience to join the busy throng.

"You will promise to write to me, George, you will not forget that?"

"Yes, yes, to be sure, mother, I'll write."

The sergeant now began to call the muster roll, and the poor old
creature's cheek grew whiter still as the lad exclaimed:

"Now, mother, I must fall into the ranks; good bye, good bye."

"May God Almighty preserve thee, my child; you may one day be a parent
yourself, and will then know what your poor old grandmother feels this
day."

The lad had by this time passed muster, and was soon after on board.
The afflicted grand-mother stood, with her eyes transfixed on the
vessel, gazing on her unheeding boy, who, insensible to the agonizing
feelings that rent her breast, felt not one single throe of regret,
his mind being entirely engrossed in contemplating the bright future,
which the sergeant, who enlisted him, had drawn.

Captain Ormsby, who commanded the detachment, was a man of feeling; he
had particularly noticed the poor woman's distress.

"Be comforted," said he, "I will watch over the lad, for your sake,
and will try and take him under my immediate charge, and if he behaves
well, I may be able to serve him. I will see that he writes to you."

"Heaven bless and reward your honour," she exclaimed, "surely you are
a parent yourself. Oh, yes, I knew it," said she, as she saw him wipe
off the starting tear. "May God spare you such a trial as has this day
been my lot."

"Thank you, thank you, my good woman," said he hardly able to speak.

She had touched a tender chord, and its vibration shook his very
frame, for he had in the last few days, taken leave of four motherless
girls, pledges of love by a wife whom he had fondly loved, and of whom
he had been suddenly bereaved. Well might he feel for this poor
wretch, for _he_ had known parting in all its bitterness.

A soldier and his wife stood side by side, apparently ready to embark,
whose