LIEUTENANT SOMERS AND OTHERS.
Tom Somers had been absent from home nearly a year; and much as his heart
was in the work of putting down the rebellion, he was delighted with the
thought of visiting, even for a brief period, the loved ones who thought
of and prayed for him in the little cottage in Pinchbrook. I am not quite
sure that the well-merited promotion he had just received did not have
some influence upon him, for it would not have been unnatural for a young
man of eighteen, who had won his shoulder-straps by hard fighting on a
bloody field, to feel some pride in the laurels he had earned. Not that
Tom was proud or vain; but he was moved by a lofty and noble ambition. It
is quite likely he wondered what the people of Pinchbrook would say when
he appeared there with the straps upon his shoulders.
Of course he thought what his father would say, what his mother would say,
and he could see the wrinkled face of gran'ther Greene expand into a
genial smile of commendation. It is quite possible that he had even more
interest in his reception at No ---- Rutland Street, when he should
present himself to the author and finisher of those marvellous socks,
which had wielded such an immense influence upon their wearer in camp and
on the field. Perhaps it was a weakness on the part of the soldier boy,
but we are compelled to record the fact that he had faithfully conned his
speech for that interesting occasion. He had supposed every thing she
would say, and carefully prepared a suitable reply to each remark, adorned
with all the graces of rhetoric within his reach.
With the furlough in his pocket, Tom obtained his order for
transportation, and with a light heart, full of pleasant anticipations,
started for home. As he was still dressed in the faded and shattered
uniform of a non-commissioned officer, he did not attract any particular
notice on the way. He was enabled to pass through Baltimore, Philadelphia,
and New York, without being bored by a public reception, which some less
deserving heroes have not been permitted to escape. But the people did not
understand that Tom had a second lieutenant's commission in his pocket,
and he was too modest to proclaim the fact, which may be the reason why he
was suffered to pass through these great emporiums of trade without an
escort, or other demonstration of respect and admiration.
Tom's heart jumped with strange emotions when he arrived at Boston,
perhaps because he was within a few miles of home; possibly because he was
in the city that contained Lilian Ashford, for boys will be silly in spite
of all the exertions of parents, guardians, and teachers, to make them
sober and sensible. Such absurdities as "the air she breathes," and other
rhapsodies of that sort, may have flitted through his mind; but we are
positive that Tom did not give voice to any such nonsense, for every body
in the city was a total stranger to him, so far as he knew. Besides, Tom
had no notion of appearing before the original of the photograph in the
rusty uniform he wore; and as he had to wait an hour for the Pinchbrook
train, he hastened to a tailor's to order a suit of clothes which would be
appropriate to his new dignity.
He ordered them, was duly measured and had given the tailor his promise to
call for the garments at the expiration of five days, when the man of
shears disturbed the serene current of his meditations by suggesting that
the lieutenant should pay one half of the price of the suit in advance.
"It is a custom we adopt in all our dealings with strangers," politely
added the tailor.
"But I don't propose to take the uniform away until it is paid for," said
Tom, blushing with mortification; for it so happened that he had not money
enough to meet the demand of the tailor.
"Certainly not," blandly replied Shears; "but we cannot make up the goods
with the risk of not disposing of them. They may not fit the next man who
wants such a suit."
"I have not the money, sir;" and Tom felt that the confession was an awful
sacrifice of dignity on the part of an officer in the army of the Potomac,
who had fought gallantly for his country on the bloody fields of
Williamsburg and Bull Run.
"I am very sorry, sir. I should be happy to make up the goods, but you
will see that our rule is a reasonable one."
Tom wanted to tell him that this lack of confidence was not a suitable
return of a stay-at-home for the peril and privation he had endured for
him; but he left in disgust, hardly replying to the flattering request of
the tailor that he would call again. With his pride touched, he walked
down to the railroad station to await the departure of the train. He had
hardly entered the building before he discovered the familiar form of
Captain Barney, to whom he hastened to present himself.
"Why, Tom, my hearty!" roared the old sea captain, as he grasped and wrung
his hand. "I'm glad to see you. Shiver my mainmast, but you've grown a
foot since you went away. But you don't look well, Tom."
"I'm not very well, sir; but I'm improving very rapidly."
"How's your wound?"
"O, that's almost well."
"Sit down, Tom. I want to talk with you," said Captain Barney, as he led
the soldier boy to a seat.
In half an hour Tom had told all he knew about the battle of Williamsburg,
and the old sailor had communicated all the news from Pinchbrook.
"Tom, you're a lieutenant now, but you haven't got on your uniform,"
continued Captain Barney.
"No, sir," replied Tom, laughing. "I went into a store to order one, and
they wouldn't trust me."
"Wouldn't trust _you_, Tom!" exclaimed the captain. "Show me the place,
and I'll smash in their deadlights."
"I don't know as I blame them. I was a stranger to them."
"But, Tom, you mustn't go home without a uniform. Come with me, and you
shall be fitted out at once. I'm proud of you, Tom. You are one of my
boys, and I want you to go into Pinchbrook all taut and trim, with your
colors flying."
"We haven't time now; the train leaves in a few moments."
"There will be another in an hour. The folks are all well, and don't know
you're coming; so they can afford to wait."
Tom consented, and Captain Barney conducted him to several stores before
he could find a ready-made uniform that would fit him; but at last they
found one which had been made to order for an officer who was too sick to
use it at present. It was an excellent fit, and the young lieutenant was
soon arrayed in the garments, with the symbolic straps on his shoulder.
"Bravo, Tom! You look like a new man. There isn't a better looking officer
in the service."
Very likely the subject of this remark thought so too, as he surveyed
himself in the full-length mirror. The old uniform, with two bullet-holes
in the breast of the coat, was done up in a bundle and sent to the express
office, to be forwarded to Pinchbrook. Captain Barney then walked with him
to a military furnishing store, where a cap, sword, belt, and sash, were
purchased. For some reason which he did not explain, the captain retained
the sword himself, but Tom was duly invested with the other accoutrements.
Our hero felt "pretty good," as he walked down to the station with his
friend; but he looked splendidly in his new outfit, and we are willing to
excuse certain impressible young ladies, who cast an admiring glance at
him as he passed down the street. It was not Tom's fault that he was a
handsome young man; and he was not responsible for the conduct of those
who chose to look at him.
With a heart beating with wild emotion, Tom stepped out of the cars at
Pinchbrook. Here he was compelled to undergo the penalty of greatness. His
friends cheered him, and shook his hand till his arm ached.
Captain Barney's wagon was at the station, and before going to his own
home, he drove Tom to the little cottage of his father. I cannot describe
the emotions of the returned soldier when the horse stopped at the garden
gate. Leaping from the vehicle, he rushed into the house, and bolted into
the kitchen, even before the family had seen the horse at the front gate.
"How d'ye do, mother?" cried Tom, as he threw himself pell-mell into the
arms of Mrs. Somers.
"Why, Tom!" almost screamed she, as she returned his embrace. "How _do_
you do?"
"Pretty well, mother. How do you do, father?"
"Glad to see you," replied Captain Somers, as he seized his son's hand.
"Bless my soul, Tom!" squeaked gran'ther Greene, shaking in every fibre of
his frame from the combined influence of rhapsody and rheumatism.
Tom threw both arms around Jenny's neck, and kissed her half a dozen times
with a concussion like that of a battery of light artillery.
"Why, Tom! I never thought nothin' of seein' you!" exclaimed Mrs. Somers.
"I thought you was sick in the hospital."
"I am better now, and home for thirty days."
"And got your new rig on," added his father.
"Captain Barney wouldn't let me come home without my shoulder-straps. I
met him in the city. He paid the bills."
"I'll make it all right with him."
"I'll pay for it by and by. You know I have over a hundred dollars a month
now."
"Gracious me!" ejaculated Mrs. Somers, as she gazed with admiration upon
the new and elegant uniform which covered the fine form of her darling
boy.
Presently Captain Barney came into the house, and for two hours Tom fought
his battles over again, to the great satisfaction of his partial auditors.
The day passed off amid the mutual rejoicings of the parties; and the
pleasure of the occasion was only marred by the thought, on the mother's
part, that her son must soon return to the scene of strife.
The soldier boy--we beg his pardon; Lieutenant Somers--hardly went out of
the house until after dinner on the following day, when he took a walk
down to the harbor, where he was warmly greeted by all his friends. Even
Squire Pemberton seemed kindly disposed towards him, and asked him many
questions in regard to Fred. Before he went home, he was not a little
startled to receive an invitation to meet some of his friends in the town
hall in the evening, which it was impossible for him to decline.
At the appointed hour, he appeared at the hall, which was filled with
people. The lieutenant did not know what to make of it, and trembled
before his friends as he had never done before the enemies of his country.
He was cheered lustily by the men, and the women waved their
handkerchiefs, as though he had been a general of division. But his
confusion reached the climax when Captain Barney led him upon the
platform, and Mr. Boltwood, a young lawyer resident in Pinchbrook,
proceeded to address him in highly complimentary terms, reviewing his
career at Bull Run, on the Shenandoah, on the Potomac, to its culmination
at Williamsburg, and concluded by presenting him the sword which the
captain had purchased, in behalf of his friends and admirers in his native
town.
Fortunately for Tom, the speech was long, as he was enabled in some
measure to recover his self-possession. In trembling tones he thanked the
donors for their gift, and promised to use it in defence of his country as
long as a drop of blood was left in his veins--highly poetical, but it
required strong terms to express our hero's enthusiasm--whereat the men
and boys applauded most vehemently, and the ladies flourished their
cambrics with the most commendable zeal. Tom bowed--bowed again--and kept
bowing, just as he had seen General McClellan bow when he was cheered by
the troops. As the people would not stop applauding, Tom, his face all
aglow with joy and confusion, descended from the platform, and took his
seat by the side of his mother.
The magnates of Pinchbrook then made speeches--except Squire
Pemberton--about the war, patriotism, gunpowder, and eleven-inch shot and
shells. Every body thought it was "a big thing," and went home to talk
about it for the next week. Tom's father, and mother, and sister, and
gran'ther Greene, said ever so many pretty things, and every body was as
happy as happy could be, except that John was not at home to share in the
festivities. Letters occasionally came from the sailor boy, and they went
to him from the soldier boy.
Mrs. Somers was not a little surprised, the next day, to hear her son
announce his intention to take the first train for the city; but Tom could
not postpone his visit to No ---- Rutland Street any longer, for he was
afraid his uniform would lose its gloss, and the shoulder-straps their
dazzling brilliancy.
Tom's courage had nearly forsaken him when he desperately rang the bell at
the home of Lilian Ashford; and he almost hoped the servant would inform
him that she was not at home. Lilian was at home, and quaking like a
condemned criminal before the gallows, he was ushered into the presence of
the author of his socks.
Stammering out his name he drew from his pocket the battered photograph
and the shattered letter, and proceeded at once to business. Lilian
Ashford blushed, and Tom blushed--that is to say, they both blushed. When
he had presented his relics, he ventured to look in her face. The living
Lilian was even more beautiful than the Lilian of the photograph.
"Dear me! So you are the soldier that wore the socks I knit," said Lilian;
and our hero thought it was the sweetest voice he ever heard.
"I am, Miss Ashford, and I did not run away in them either."
"I'm glad you did not," added she, with a musical laugh, which made Tom
think of the melody of the spheres, or some such nonsense.
"I have to thank you for my promotion," said Tom, boldly.
"Thank me!" exclaimed she, her fair blue eyes dilating with astonishment.
"The socks inspired me with courage and fortitude," replied Tom, in exact
accordance with the programme he had laid down for the occasion. "I am
sure the thought of her who knit them, the beautiful letter, and the more
beautiful photograph, enabled me to do that which won my promotion."
"Well, I declare!" shouted Lilian, in a kind of silvery scream.
Bravo, Tom! you are getting along swimmingly. And he said sundry other
smart things which we have not room to record. He stayed half an hour, and
Lilian begged him to call again, and see her grandmother, who was out of
town that day. Of course he promised to come, promised to bring his
photograph, promised to write to her when he returned to the army--and I
don't know what he did not promise, and I hardly think he knew himself.
But the brief dream ended, and Tom went home to Pinchbrook, after he had
sat for his picture. The careless fellow left Lilian's photograph on the
table in his chamber a few days after, and his mother wanted to know whose
it was; and the whole story came out, and Tom was laughed at, and Jenny
made fun of him, and Captain Barney told him he was a match for the finest
girl in the country. The lieutenant blushed like a boy, but rather enjoyed
the whole thing.
A sad day came at last, and Tom went back to the army. He went full of
hope, and the blessing of the loved ones went with him. He was received
with enthusiasm by his old companions in arms, and Hapgood--then a
sergeant--still declared that he would be a brigadier in due time,--or, if
he was not, he ought to be. His subsequent career, if not always as
fortunate as that portion which we have recorded, was unstained by
cowardice or vice.
FINIS.
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