d miss our man in the confusion, I kept my eye on him till the
boy came rushing up with a packet of tobacco in one hand and a good
supply of cigars in the other. Not a romantic offering, certainly, but
a very acceptable one, as Joe's face proved, as we scrambled these
treasures into his pockets, all laughing at the flurry, while less
fortunate comrades helped us, with an eye to a share of these fragrant
luxuries by and by. There was just time for this, a hearty shake of
the big hand, and a grateful "Good-by, ma'am;" then the word was
given, and they were off. Bent on seeing the last of them, Tom and I
took a short cut, and came out on the wide street down which so many
troops marched that year; and, mounting some high steps, we watched
for our man, as we already called him.

As the inspiring music, the grand tramp, drew near, the old thrill
went through the crowd, the old cheer broke out. But it was a
different scene now than in the first enthusiastic, hopeful days.
Young men and ardent boys filled the ranks then, brave by instinct,
burning with loyal zeal, and blissfully unconscious of all that lay
before them. Now the blue coats were worn by mature men, some gray,
all grave and resolute: husbands and fathers, with the memory of wives
and children tugging at their heart-strings; homes left desolate
behind them, and before them the grim certainty of danger, hardship,
and perhaps the lifelong helplessness worse than death. Little of the
glamour of romance about the war now: they saw it as it was, a long,
hard task; and here were the men to do it well. Even the lookers-on
were different now. Once all was wild enthusiasm and glad uproar; now
men's lips were set, and women's smileless as they cheered; fewer
handkerchiefs whitened the air, for wet eyes needed them; and sudden
lulls, almost solemn in their stillness, followed the acclamations
of the crowd. All watched with quickened breath and brave souls that
living wave, blue below, and bright with a steely glitter above, as
it flowed down the street and away to distant battle-fields already
stained with precious blood.

"There he is! The outside man, and tallest of the lot. Give him a
cheer, auntie: he sees us, and remembers!" cried Tom, nearly tumbling
off his perch, as he waved his hat, and pointed out Joe Collins.

Yes, there he was, looking up, with a smile on his brave brown face,
my little nosegay in his button-hole, a suspicious bulge in the pocket
close by, and