beaten face beamed down upon her with _such_ a smile--so full of
warm, tender, earnest affection, that I felt rebuked for my previous
poor opinion of that man.

Nor was this all. At C----, the little girl, accompanied by her mother
and several brothers and sisters, got out; while the soldier himself,
having seen them all safely deposited on the station platform, and
treated them to a hearty smack all round, returned to the car, and
resumed his seat. As the train began to move, he started up, thrust his
head out of the window, and greeted the group on the platform with
another of those bright, loving smiles, that made my heart warm to the
rough, sun-burnt soldier, in spite of tobacco, and whiskey, and dirt.

About noon we reached the pretty village of Rutland, Vt.; and there the
stentorian voice of the conductor rang out:

'Passengers for Boston, change cars!'

I hastened to obey the mandate; and the last I saw of the genial-hearted
tourist (who was going to Montreal), he was shaking hands with his
friend the conductor, whose 'beat' extended no further; and bidding him
a warm and hearty 'good-by.'

In the car in which I now found myself, no talkative tourist or
companionable conductor enlivened the way; a much more 'still-life'
order of things prevailed. But here, too, I soon found objects of
interest.

Near me sat a young officer in undress uniform, with a cicatrized bullet
wound in his cheek. He had doubtless been home on 'sick leave,' and,
though now quite restored to health, was apparently in no hurry to go
back. Far from it. Very different thoughts, I fancy, occupied his mind
than cutting rebel throats, or acquiring distinction in the 'imminent
deadly breach.' There was a lady by his side, with whom, judging by
appearances, his relations were of an extremely tender character. They
were either newly married, or about soon to 'undergo the operation.' I
incline to the latter belief; for in reply to a remark from the lady
that they would be late in arriving at their destination, I overheard
the gentleman smilingly say:

'Well, at all events, nothing can be done until _we_ get there.'

And here, in passing, I would respectfully suggest to all couples in the
peculiarly interesting position of my young fellow travellers, that a
railroad car is not the most suitable place in the world, in which to
lavish endearments on each other. However delightful the 'exercise' may
be to them, truth compels me to say that it is,