able, he dragged along as if he either were
sorry or ashamed to draw me among people; but I cared not for their jeers
and laughs. I was now a soldier and anxious to get home. I pictured the
feeling and joyous greetings of my brothers and sister as they would see
me ride up in my uniform; how the boys would envy me, and how the sister
would throw her arms about me and kiss me, and how her bosom would heave
with pride as she gazed upon the uniform that covered her hero brother.
Oh! I pictured it all in my boyish fancy, and hastened all my
arrangements, so full of joy that I could scarcely eat. I would not wait
till morning, but started home about midnight, arriving there just at
sunrise.

[Illustration]

It was on the 17th of September, 1863, one of those bright, balmy days
that we have in good old New England, seated in a "gig," might be seen the
writer of this little sketch, dressed in soldiers' clothes, covered by one
of those familiar cape overcoats that nearly covered the "gig" and poor
old horse. I felt as proud as if I was the general in command of all the
army.

Instead of giving the family a surprise, they had heard of my enlisting
from the stage-driver, and I found them all in tears. But when I made my
appearance tears changed to laughter, for the sight of me I think was
enough to give them hope. They didn't believe our government would have
such a little, ill-dressed soldier. And father said, after looking me all
over: "Well, if they have mustered you in, after they see you in that
uniform it will be muster out, my boy."

In about ten days I received orders to report in Augusta. Then the family
realized there was more in it than they at first thought, but consoled
themselves with the belief that when I reached headquarters, I would be
found useless, and sent home. I went away, leaving them with that feeling
of hope struggling behind their copious tears. And the lingering kiss of
my little step-sister, and her soft sobbing, "Don't, don't, please don't
go," as she hung around my neck, ran constantly in my mind from that time
till now. All through the nights, on the long marches, in all my troubles,
that soft, sweet voice was calling, "George, please, please, don't go."
And I could see her little form, and her ever-thoughtful face, a guiding
star and a compass that ever guided me away from the shoals and
quicksands. She was an angel companion to me all through the trials and
hardships of that awful war.