THE UNIVERSITY OF 

NORTH CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 




THE WILMER COLLECTION 

OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS 

PRESENTED BY 

RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. 



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OUR VILLAGE 

HflUALR COLLECT 



IN 



WAR-TIME. 



BY THE AUTHOR OF 

ALLAN CAMERON, ILVERTON RECTORY, 

ETC. 




PUBLISHED BY THE 
AMEKICAN TKACT SOCIETY, 

150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK. 



The incidents in the follcAving narrative are real, and 
have actually occured in the present struggle for our 
national life, though not precisely in the order here indi- 
cated. Liberty has been taken in locating and arranging 
them, and names and places are assumed. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S64, by the 
Americas Tract Society, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court 
of the United States for the Southern District of New York. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 
The Beach 3iD aeighborhood 7 

CHAPTER II. 
The Soldiers' Aid Society 17 

CHAPTER in. 
The departure of the regiment - 35 

CHAPTER IV. 
The drummer-boy of the Twenty-sixth 50 

CHAPTER V. 
How the boys came home 80 

CHAPTER VI. 
Lights and shadows 102 



603130 



OUR VILLAGE IN AVAR-TIME. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE BEACH HILL NEIGHBOKHOOD. 

"Would you believe it, Mrs. Glenn, 
the Tyrrell House is sold, and a family is 
going to move into it right away ? The 
painters and carpenters have been there 
for a week. I did n't know the house, it 
looked so lively. It seems too bad to 
have v that place shut up from the public, 
for we all enjoyed it so much ; but I sup- 
pose the owner had the best right to it, 
after all. I have n't found out who the 
family are, but I shall hear all about it 
to-morrow, and then I will let you know ; 
for Aunt Prudence is going there to clean 



6 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

the rooms, and get them ready for the 
furniture." 

As Miss Letty paused to take breath, 
I expressed my interest in the news, 
which, to confess the truth, had affected 
me rather unpleasantly. 

The Tyrrell House was the "show- 
place " of Beach Hill, a rambling, aristo- 
cratic mansion, \milt by a wealthy Eng- 
lishman, who, after a series of domestic 
troubles, shut up the house in disgust, 
and left the country. It was his wish 
that no one should reside there ; conse- 
quently the house was out of repair, and 
the extensive grounds, laid out originally 
by a landscape gardener, were overrun 
with weeds. Still it was a lovely spot, 
and the dwellers on the hill held annual 
picnics there, and lovers strolled through 
its shaded walks by moonlight, and alto- 
gether we had come to look upon it as 
public property, held for our special ben- 

m 

fid) 



BEACH HILL NEIGHBORHOOD. 1 

efit. Great was our astonishment, there- 
fore, when we heard that the house had 
been purchased, and was fitting up for a 
family, who were to take immediate pos- 
session. It was felt by us almost, as a 
personal loss ; and woe to the new-comers, 
should they fail to atone by the charms 
of their society for the deprivation we 
were to suffer. 

Not that we were an inhospitable or 
quarrelsome set of people. On the con- 
trary, we prided ourselves on the posses- 
sion of the opposite qualities. If there 
were in the town of Woodbury a model 
neighborhood, we believed it to be located 
on Beach Hill. Ours was a very select 
society, reckoning among its members 
the clergyman, lawyer, doctor, and ed- 
itor of the town, and a number of gentle- 
men of wealth and leisure, as well as 
some who led the dubious sort of exist- 
ence called "living by one's wits." We 



8 OUK VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

assumed, however, no airs of superiority 
over our townsmen, but were content to 
manifest our self-complacency by a qui- 
etly patronizing manner whenever we 
met them. In such a community as this, 
it may be supposed the arrival of a new 
family was quite an event, particularly as 
they were about to occupy the best house 
in the town. 

The next day I was very busy at home, 
and had forgotten the coming event, when 
just at evening Miss Letty made her ap- 
pearance, every line of her face instinct 
with news which her tongue was eager to 
communicate. 

Miss Letty Brown was the dressmaker 
par excellence of the town of Woodbury ; 
and though we of the Hill had tried hard 
to appropriate her, it was found an im- 
possibility, so we were fain to share her 
services with the inhabitants of the vil- 
lage. She was a cheerful, active little 



BEACH HILL NEIGHBORHOOD. 9 

woman, of an uncertain age, with a fresh, 
breezy atmosphere always about her, 
which stirred one very pleasantly — a 
little given to gossip, yet no scandal- 
monger, but a sincere, earnest Christian, 
loving God and her fellow-men, and look- 
ing persistently on the bright side of ev- 
ery thing. No matter how dark the day, 
Miss Letty firmly believed in the sun- 
shine behind the clouds, and waited for 
it to break through. Her services were 
in constant requisition on every occasion ; 
and as she was brimming over with what 
the Yankees call "faculty," nothing that 
skill and ingenuity could accomplish came 
amiss to her. 

Hardly was the neat white sun-bonnet 
laid aside, when she exclaimed, 

"Well, it's really wonderful how things 
do come about in this world. There 7 s 
old Mr. Tyrrell thought he 7 d cut off his 
daughter with a shilling, and now her 



10 OUK VILLAGE IN WAK-TIME. 

grandson has come into possession of the 
house and land." 

"How is that?" I asked; " is this new 
family connected with the Tyrrells ?" 

"Oh yes; Aunt Prudence has told me 
all about it. Mr. Fenton, the gentleman 
who has bought the property, is the grand- 
son of Emily Tyrrell that was, and he 
has lived in Alabama a great many years. 
It seems he is a strong Union man ; and 
when this rebellion broke out, he got into 
trouble, and has been all this time trying 
to get away ; and now the family have 
come, but he stays behind to try and 
save some more of his money. Mrs. 
Fenton is very sick, and has been for a 
great while; but there is a grown-up 
daughter and another young lady, a 
niece, who is said to be an heiress, and a 
son, who I rather think is in the rebel 
army, though there is n't much said 
about it." 



BEACH HILL NEIGHBORHOOD. 11 

"Are the family coming immediate- 
ly?" I inquired, for Miss Letty's account 
had awakened my interest in these refu- 
gees from rebel tyranny. 

"They are expected every day, but 
I ? m sure the house is any thing but ready 
for them. When I heard about the poor 
sick lady, I felt like taking right hold 
and putting things to rights ; but it would 
not have been taken kindly by Aunt 
Prudence, so I held my tongue. Mrs. 
Ryder and Mabel were .there, seeing to 
the furniture and pictures, for it seems 
that when Mr. Ryder went south for his 
health, three years ago, he got acquainted 
with this family, and that is the way they 
found out that the house was for sale and 
got it. There was quite a company of 
Beach Hill people there, and among 
the rest Robert Lester, the fine-looking 
young lawyer. I do n't often take a 
fancy to young men — you need n't smile, 



12 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

Nellie — but I do like that young man 
wonderfully. There 's something so no- 
ble about him ; and yet he ? s as gentle as 
a woman." 

I assented cordially to Miss Letty's 
praise of the young lawyer, for he had 
been a favorite of mine from his first ap- 
pearance in our town. He was alone in 
the world, having no relatives but one 
sister, who was at a boarding-school at 
some distance from Woodbury. His le- 
gal knowledge and splendid powers as a 
speaker made him a marked man in the 
community, and he was rising rapidly in 
his profession, while his private charac- 
ter, so pure and manly, won the esteem 
and friendship of all. 

Unlike too many young men, Mr. Les- 
ter had not been ashamed to avow him- 
self a Christian by a public profession of 
his faith in Jesus ; and young as he was, 
Mr. Ryder had found him an efficient 



BEACH HILL NEIGHBORHOOD. 13 

helper in every good word and work, 
while even infidels and scoffers were com- 
pelled to admire his consistency and firm- 
ness of principle. 

When the war broke out, and with 
thousands of others the young men of 
our village sprang to arms, we expected 
Kobert Lester would be one of the first 
to go, for all knew his patriotic devotion 
to the cause of liberty ; but to our sur- 
prise he did not enlist, though he look- 
ed sad enough when the first company 
marched away, carrying with them our 
best wishes and prayers for their success. 
He was not a man whom one would like 
to question about his reasons for any 
course of conduct, so we waited to hear 
what he would say, but he said nothing. 

The second company went, and still 
no word from him, though his efforts to 
promote the good cause were laborious 
and incessant. There was some mystery 



14 OUR VILLAGE IX WAR-TIME. 

about it, for when urged to accept the 
command of a company, he replied hastily, 

"Do not ask it. I would give ten of 
the best years of my life to be able to 
say yes, but I cannot go. I can help to 
send others, however, and that I am do- 
ing with all my heart.*' 

In fact his purse was always open, 
and as his fortune was large, the streams 
of his benevolence flowed in various chan- 
nels, making glad many a heart which 
the war had made desolate. 

Mr. Ryder our excellent minister, Dr. 
Goodhue our physician, and Mr. Reed, 
a thin, pale young man, who edited the 
Woodbury Chronicle, were all of opin- 
ion that Mr. Lester had good reasons for 
staying at home, and the rest of us were 
satisfied to adopt their belief, though we 
felt that he had lost a glorious opportu- 
nity of becoming a hero. 

Before leaving, Miss Letty informed 



BEACH HILL NEIGHBOKHOOD. 15 

me in confidence that the new family 
were to be invited to the meeting of the 
Soldiers' Aid Society at Mrs. Atlee's, 
and that then we should know whether 
they sympathized with the government, 
or were at heart secessionists. 

"Not that I think there's any doubt 
about it," she said; 'J for if they had 
liked the rebellion, they could have 
staid there, you know. But it 's always 
best to have things clear, and it 's hard 
to satisfy some people." 

This w T as a fact which could not be 
denied, even in our neighborhood, and I 
contented myself with inquiring if any 
one besides Mr. Ryder had seen the 
Fentons. 

"I don't know, but I had my thoughts 
about it, when I saw Mr. Lester looking 
so sharp at the portraits of the family 
which are hung up. There was one of a 
young girl, the prettiest thing I ever set 



16 OUR VILLAGE IN WAB-TIME. 

eyes on ; it was so beautiful it spoilt all 
the rest. Her eyes were just like stars, 
and such lovely curls of brown hair fall- 
ing over her white neck and shoulders ; 
but the sweet look on her face was bet- 
ter than all. I 'm sure I should love that 
girl, and I guess Mr. Lester thought so 
too, from the way he kept going back to 
it again and again, as if he could n't get 
away, looking all the while so melan- 
choly. One thing I 'ni sure of," added 
Miss Letty as she rose to go; "that 
young man hasn't got any thing to be 
ashamed of ; for if ever there was an hon- 
est and brave soul looking out through a 
face, his is the one, and I'd trust him 
with the last cent I had in the world." 

With this emphatic declaration Miss 
Letty took her leave, and the last I saw 
of the white sun-bonnet, it was disap- 
pearing among the shrubbery at the par- 
sonage. 



SOLDIEKS' AID SOCIETY. IT 

CHAPTER II. 

THE SOLDIEKS' AID SOCIETY. 

The new-comers were at length set- 
tled in their pleasant home. The neigh- 
bors had all called, and were received 
with a courtesy and kindness which won 
golden opinions from every one. 

Mrs. Fenton was a confirmed invalid, 
never leaving her apartment ; but the 
peace of God, which like a river flowed 
through her soul, filled the room with sun- 
shine. In early life she had been a proud, 
ambitious woman, valuing wealth and so- 
cial distinction above all things else, and 
anxious only that her children should 
shine in the circles of fashion to which she 
belonged. But in the midst of her career 
the hand of God was laid upon her, and 
in the solitude of a sick-room she was 

Our Village. 2 



18 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

forced to think. Through the prayers 
and efforts of a faithful Christian friend 
she was brought to look to Jesus for par- 
doning and healing mercy, and after a 
season of deep mental anguish, during 
which all the waves and billows of divine 
wrath seemed rolling over her, she found 
refuge at last at the foot of the cross, and 
was enabled to say from the heart, "I 
know in whom I have believed." 

For ten years since that hour she had 
been confined to her couch with a hope- 
less disease, often racked with intense 
agony, yet always the same patient, un- 
complaining sufferer, always calm and 
happy, with a heart full of love and pity 
for every form of human sorrow. By 
her household she was looked upon as a 
guardian spirit, rather than a helpless 
dependent. Every disputed question 
was referred to her decision, and what- 
ever storms invaded the domestic circle, 



SOLDIERS' AID SOCIETY. 19 

"mother's room" was always a place of 
refuge, which seemed to her children the 
dearest spot on earth. 

Elinor Fenton the daughter was a del- 
icate, graceful girl, inheriting her moth- 
er's gentleness and refinement, but with 
the shadow of a deep sorrow always vis- 
ible on her sweet face. That there was 
a son we knew, but nothing was ever 
said of him, and we could easily believe 
that his desertion of the Union cause, the 
uncertainty of her father's fate, and the 
illness of her mother, must exert a de- 
pressing influence on one so young, even 
before we heard the saddest part of her 
story. The wealth of her affections had 
been bestowed on one who seemed fully 
worthy of them, but when the day of trial 
came he was found wanting. He was 
one of the first to enter the rebel army, 
and his influence over young Fenton had 
led the latter to adopt the same course. 



20 OUK VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

Thus doubly bereft of lover and brother, 
the young girl devoted herself to her suf- 
fering mother ; but her heart was open 
as the day " to melting charity, '' and 
none ever appealed to her in vain for 
sympathy or relief. 

When I first went to the house, I saw 
only Mrs. Fenton and Elinor, but my in- 
terest in both was so much excited that 
the call was soon repeated, and on my 
second visit Mrs. Fenton said, to her 
daughter, 

"Elinor, where is your cousin? Go, 
my love, and tell Lilian I wish to see her 
here." 

Elinor left the room, and soon return- 
ed, accompanied by a young girl whom 
she introduced as Miss Grey, and in 
whom I recognized the original of the 
pleasing portrait I had seen. She was 
indeed most attractive in face and per- 
son ; bright, sparkling, and intellectual, 



SOLDIERS' AID SOCIETY. 21 

with a world of thought and feeling -in 
her full hazel eye, shaded by long silken 
lashes, and an equal amount of firmness 
and energy indicated by the finely mould- 
ed mouth and chin. 

After paying her respects to me as a 
stranger, she seated herself on an otto- 
man by the side of the couch, and tak- 
ing one thin, white hand of the invalid, 
laid her cheek on it in a caressing way, 
which was evidently the expression of a 
tender and loving nature. 

" And what has my Lilian been about 
all the morning," said Mrs. Fenton, "that 
I have seen nothing of her before ?" 

" Oh, dear aunt. I have been very busy, 
I assure you. Yenus wanted me in the 
kitchen a while, for she was afraid her 
preserves were in danger of spoiling. 
Then I gave little Pete his daily lesson ; 
and last, not least, had to prepare some 
work to take to the society to-morrow." 



22 OUIt VILLAGE IN WAK-TIME. 

" Then you are going to our meeting?" 
I said ; " I arn very glad to hear that, for 
somehow I feared we should not have 
the pleasure of seeing you young ladies 
there." 

"You do not know our Lilian," said 
her aunt fondly, "or you would have no 
doubts on such a subject. She is a per- 
fect enthusiast in the Union cause, and I 
am afraid she has almost wished herself 
capable of bearing arms in its defence. 
However that may be, she honors a sol- 
dier with all her heart, and would gladly 
devote herself in any way to do him good. 
As for my Elinor," she added, turning 
with a smile to her daughter, "she is no 
less loyal than her cousin, though not 
quite so demonstrative" naturally, and 
tied to a sick mother who can hardly 
live without her. But you will see them 
both to-morrow, for the cause is dear to 
us all." 



SOLDIERS 7 AID SOCIETY. 23 

When I left the house, Lilian Grey 
accompanied me to the door, and taking 
my hand, said with a frankness that was 
very captivating, 

"Mrs. Glenn, my aunt has taken a 
great fancy to you ; and if there were no 
other reason, we should love you for that. 
Now I want to ask as a great favor, that 
you will take Elinor and myself under 
your wing to-morrow, for we cannot help 
dreading the battery of eyes and tongues 
that we must encounter. I dare say you 
are no worse here than other people^ and 
perhaps a great deal better, but as Ye- 
nus says, 'There 's no accounting for hu- 
man nature, 7 and strangers usually have 
to run the gauntlet in order to gain the 
freedom of any country town." 

I kissed the fair cheek that was glow- 
ing like a rose, and promised my best 
services on the morrow. 

There was a very full meeting of the 



24 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

Soldiers' Aid Society, for it was hoped 
that the strangers would attend, and all 
were anxious to meet them. I went early, 
and found Mrs. Eyder, our president, and 
Miss Letty Brown busied in cutting and 
fitting garments ; while in the two rooms 
needles and tongues were equally active. 
It was not long before Miss Fenton 
and her cousin came in, for they had 
none of that petty pride which leads its 
possessor to despise punctuality as a vul- 
gar virtue. They were both more plainly 
dressed than most of the young ladies 
present ; but though simple and unaf- 
fected in manner, there was an innate 
dignity and refinement about them which 
effectually repelled impertinence, and dis- 
appointed a few who were prepared, in 
their own elegant phraseology, "to find 
out all about them ." There was one wom- 
an, however, who was not to be foiled in 
this determination. 



SOLDIERS' AID SOCIETY. 25 

Mrs. Flint was the widow of a worthy 
man, who is said to have been worried 
out of existence by his disconsolate part- 
ner, and none who knew her could ques- 
tion the probability of such a catastrophe. 
Her manner was always deprecating ; 
her step, true to her nature, was soft and 
stealthy, and her voice carefully modu- 
lated to express only amiability; but 
there was a rigidity about the thin lips 
and a sharp glitter in the cold blue eye 
which told quite another story. 

Greatly to the annoyance of our good 
pastor and his wife, Mrs. Flint arrogated 
to herself the office of adviser in all mat- 
ters relating to the church; and as she 
could talk fluently, and call up tears from 
some hidden fountain on all proper occa- 
sions, some ignorant people looked on her 
as quite a saint, while those who knew 
her best regarded her as a scheming, dan- 
gerous woman, the female counterpart of 



2G OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

Bunyan's Talkative. She had exerted 
herself to the utmost to get the manage- 
ment of the Society, and especially of its 
funds, into her own hands; and failing 
in this, had left us in disgust, and for 
months had not attended our meetings, 
until brought out by curiosity on the 
present occasion. 

Mabel Ryder had drawn Elinor away 
into a circle of young ladies ; but Lilian, 
who had been consulting Miss Letty about 
her work, was sitting alone, and to her 
Mrs. Flint cautiously made her way. 
After a few commonplace remarks, she 
said in her softest tone, "I am very hap- 
py to see you here, of course, but I hardly 
expected that you Southerners would be 
willing to help us fight against your own 
brethren." 

"I don't know," was the spirited re- 
ply, "whom, you mean by my brethren. 
I am an American, and love my whole 



SOLDIEKS' AID SOCIETY. 27 

country and the clear old flag better than 
my life. There is as much Northern 
blood in my veins as Southern, and if it 
were not so, I should feel just as I do 
now. No one could be any thing to me 
who wished to break up and destroy the 
best government ever formed by man. 
I never see a soldier who has fought for 
his country without feeling as if I wished 
to speak to him as a friend ; and I count 
it an honor to do any thing, no matter 
how humble, that can add to his comfort." 

The dark eyes flashed and the red lips 
trembled with the earnestness of her feel- 
ings ; and any one but Mrs. Flint would 
have retired from the field ; but she only 
answered with perfect coolness, 

"I admire your patriotism, but when 
we think what a terrible thing war is, 
and how many precious lives are thrown 
away, we cannot help being willing to 
do any thing for peace. 7 ' 



28 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

"I do not consider war as the worst 
of all evils," replied Lilian, "dreadful as 
it is. There are times in the history of 
all nations, when liberty can only be pre- 
served by fighting for it, and I believe 
God hates a guilty peace, even more than 
the desolations of war. Storms are very 
useful and salutary things," she added 
with a smile, "though they often make 
sad havoc of property and life. None 
can mourn more than I do the loss of 
the glorious dead, who have fallen in the 
cause of freedom ; but it is far better to 
die so than to live cowards or traitors." 

Clearly there was nothing to be made 
out of Lilian Grey, and Mrs. Flint looked 
about for Elinor ; but Mabel Eyder was 
on her guard, and gave no opportunity 
for an attack in that direction. So our 
Beach Hill diplomat was silent for a 
time, but during the afternoon I heard 
her in discussion with Miss Letty on 



SOLDIERS' AID SOCIETY. 29 

some subject which seemed to interest 
the latter very deeply. I only caught 
the conclusion of Mrs. Flint's remarks. 
"Such things seem to me very singular, 
to say the least." 

"Well, I'm very thankful that I 
haven't the faculty of seeing singular 
things that some folks seem to have. I 
always thought that this was a land of lib- 
erty, and that men could go into the army 
and fight, or stay at home and help oth- 
ers to go, just as they thought right, with- 
out being called to an account for it. Mr. 
Lester is able to take care of himself, 
and does n't need my help ; but I hate 
this mousing round after characters, just 
as if they were bits of cheese." 

"But you must acknowledge/ 7 answer- 
ed the purring voice again, "that there 's 
a mystery about this young man, and 
that is always against any one." 

"Fiddlesticks on your mystery. I 



30 OUR TILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

shan't acknowledge any such thing. In 
the first place, I don't call every thing 
a mystery that I can't see through ; for if 
I did, there 'd be no end of mysteries, 
seeing I can understand but very little. 
In the next place, supposing there is a 
mystery, it may be a good one ; for I sup- 
pose there can be good mysteries as well 
as bad ones in this world." 

"I have been told on very good au- 
thority," persisted Mrs. Flint, "that Mr. 
Lester has been much at the South, and 
he may have his own private reasons for 
not wishing to fight the rebels." 

"And if he has/' replied Miss Letty, 
"I dare say they are honorable ones, 
and if they satisfy him, I don't see what 
business 'tis of ours. When I get a per- 
son marked down in my book as pure 
gold, I a'n't always going over them with 
a magnifying-glass to see if I can't find 
a flaw somewhere. If there are things 



SOLDIERS' AID SOCIETY. 31 

about them I do n't understand, I take it 
for granted they 7 re of a piece with those 
that I do understand, and so it never 
troubles rue a bit." 

"I know he is a great favorite of yours, 
and you can't see any faults in him ; but 
for my part, I never had clear evidence 
of his being a Christian." 

" And pray, what kind of evidence do 
you want? 77 inquired Miss Letty, with more 
asperity of tone than I had ever heard 
from her before. "If humbly trusting in 
Christ, feeding the hungry, clothing the 
naked, and taking care of widows and or- 
phans, is n 7 t religion, what is? Mr. Lester 
is always on hand when any thing good 
is going forward in the church, though he 
does n 7 t pray at the corners of the streets, 
like the Pharisees, nor say to everybody, 
by his looks and actions, ' See how good 
I am. 7 I think though, that he follows 
his Master a great deal nearer than some 



32 OUK VILLAGE IN WAK-TIME. 

who try to make out that their little tal- 
low dip is a splendid Drummond light. 
But bless me, Mrs. Flint, you 're sewing 
that sleeve in wrong-side out. It wont 
do to talk about our neighbors and sew 
for th£ soldiers at the same time." 

With this home-thrust Miss Letty left 
the room, while we all inwardly rejoiced 
that Mrs. Flint had been silenced by one 
whom she regarded as so greatly her in- 
ferior. 

After tea all work was laid aside, and 
the gentlemen one after another came in, 
until the rooms were filled, and the even- 
ing was spent in social enjoyment, It 
was remarked by all that Eobert Lester 
and Miss Grey did not meet as stran- 
gers, though there was evident constraint 
in the manner of both. Lilian changed 
color, and seemed about to retreat when 
he approached her ; and on his part, 
though remarkable for his power of self- 



S0LDIEKS' AID SOCIETY. 33 

control, there was something in his ap- 
pearance none had ever seen before. 
They had evidently known each other 
previously, and met now on a different 
footing from that of mere acquaintance. 
A dozen pair of eyes were upon them, 
and the situation was becoming embar- 
rassing enough, when Elinor Fenton came 
to the rescue of her cousin, and entering 
into conversation with Mr. Lester, drew 
attention from Lilian, who took refuge 
among a group of young persons sur- 
rounding the piano. 

When the company were about to sep- 
arate, I chanced to be in the dressing- 
room, when as Lilian entered the hall I 
heard Mr. Lester say to her, 

"Lilian, will you not allow me to ac- 
company you home ?" 

"Certainly not," was the hasty reply; 
"my aunt has sent the carriage for us, 
and I prefer riding with Elinor.' 7 

Our Village. 3 



31 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

" Permit me at least to see you to the 

carriage," he said almost humbly, and I 

' felt hurt at her cold rejection of his offer. 

"There is no necessity for it," she said. 
"Pete is here, and he is accustomed to 
the duty." 

What could this mean? Of all the 
young men I had ever known, I should 
have selected Eobert Lester as the one 
best fitted to win the heart of such a 
young lady as Lilian ; yet she shunned 
him and repelled his attentions. My 
thoughts were painfully occupied with 
the subject as I returned home, and in 
my dreams that night the two were 
strangely blended, though alwa} T s with 
some invisible barrier between them, 
which I sought in vain to discover and 
remove. 



DEPARTURE OF THE REGIMENT 35 

CHAPTER III. 

THE DEPAETUEE OF THE EEGIMENT. 

Forts Donalson and Henry had been 
taken by our brave soldiers and seamen, 
and the nation was in a fever of excite- 
ment and joy. But recruits were wanted 
to fill up the wasted armies in the vari- 
ous departments, and the work of enlist- 
ment went rapidly on among the young 
men of our neighborhood, while mothers, 
wives, and daughters worked day and 
night to fit out the beloved ones who 
were so soon to leave us for the seat of 
war. 

Lilian Grey was one of the foremost in 
this noble work, and four of the soldiers 
in company A of the 26th were selected 
and sent out by her, with a bounty of 
three hundred dollars each, to fight for 



36 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

the cause she loved so well. The shadow 
on Elinor's fair brow deepened day by 
day, as news came of terrible battles in 
which soldiers on both sides fell by thou- 
sands ; and even Mrs. Fentoirs faith was 
sorely tried by the continued absence of 
her husband, from whom no word had 
ever reached her. 

Those were sad, sad days, and every 
heart felt the oppression as the hour of 
parting drew near. True, "the battle 
of the warrior, with confused noise and 
garments rolled in blood," came to us 
softened by distance, but many that we 
loved were there in the thickest of the 
fight, and others were going whom we 
might see no more on earth. But it was 
no time for outward expressions of sor- 
row, so we resolutely forced back our 
tears, and smiled on our brave boys and 
encouraged them with words of comfort 
and cheer, when our hearts were dying 



DETAKTUEE OF THE REGIMENT. 37 

within us as we thought of the dangers to 
which they were to be exposed. 

It was expected by all, that on this oc- 
casion Robert Lester would be one of the 
first to offer himself to his country, and a 
commission as lieutenant-colonel was ac- 
tually made out and sent him by the gov- 
ernor, with the flattering request that he 
would not refuse it. But his answer was 
the same as before. 

"If I could go at all," he said to his 
friends, "it would be as a private soldier; 
but it avails not to speak of it ; my duty 
lies at home." 

Lilian shunned- him more resolutely 
than ever, and once said in his hearing, 
" If I were a man, and refused to go when 
my country called for my services, I 
should expect to be driven from society, 
as unworthy the love of woman or the 
esteem of my fellow-men." 

"You are too severe, Lilian," said the 



38 OUK VILLAGE IN WAK-TIME. 

gentle Elinor; "there are many other 
ways of serving one's country besides 
fighting for it, and every one can judge 
best for himself what his duty may 
be." 

There was a look of intense pain in the 
face of the young man as Lilian spoke, 
but he drew himself up to his full height, 
and the fire in his eye told all who look- 
ed upon him that whatever the cause 
might be, it was not lack of courage 
which kept him at home. 

"A thousand blessings on you, Miss 
Fenton," he said in a low voice to Elinor 
soon afterwards. "Your kind heart hes- 
itates to condemn even where it dares 
not approve. You can never know how 
much good your words have done me, 
suffering as I have from misunderstand- 
ing on every side." 

"You must pardon dear Lilian," she 
answered in the same tone; "she feels 



DEPARTURE OF THE REGIMENT. 39 

very strongly, and your decision has 
been a severe disappointment to her." 

"Miss Grey can never need any one 
to plead her cause with me," he said as 
he turned to leave the room. 

A few days before the departure of the 
regiment Miss Letty came to my house, 
her face beaming with smiles, and to my 
inquiry what had happened, she answered, 

11 So much has happened, I don't know 
where to begin to tell you. In the first 
place, Mr. Fenton has got home with the 
rest of his money ; but such a time as he 
has had to get it. Why, the adventures 
of Sinbad the sailor were nothing to the 
escapes he has had and the troubles he 
has been in. I don't think he is much 
to speak of, compared with the rest ; but 
that isn't what I am thinking about. 
The best of all is, that it has come out 
why Robert Lester couldn't enlist be- 
fore, and now he has joined the company 



40 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

as a private soldier ; but, my word for 
it, he wont be one long." 

"Are you at liberty to state the rea- 
son V I inquired. 

" Oh, certainly. It seems that the 
rich old uncle who left him his fortune, 
made a condition in his will, that if Kob- 
ert died without heirs, the property was 
to go to another cousin, one Dick Satter- 
lee, who is a flaming rebel. Our Mr. 
Lester knew that if he was killed, all 
that mint of money would go right into 
the hands of the Confederate govern- 
ment, to help on the rebellion. So he 
thought he could do more for the Union 
cause with the money, than by carrying 
a musket and getting shot himself. Be- 
sides, his poor little sister would be left 
without any friends, and poor to boot; 
so he just made up his mind to stand it 
out, and let everybody misjudge him if 
they would. 



DEPARTURE OF THE REGIMENT. 41 

"Last week he saw in the list of killed 
in some battle, the name of his cousin 
Eichard Satterlee; so he went right on 
to find out all about it. The body hadn't 
been discovered, but everybody said he 
was dead. When Mr. Lester came back, 
he waited long enough to make his will, 
and then enlisted ; and a happy looking 
man he was, I can tell you. 

"But that isn't all. He was once 
engaged to Miss Lilian Grey; but she 
was so angry with him because he didn't 
go into the army, that every thing was 
broken off between them, though she 
loves him as she does her life, and he 
thinks fall as much of her. But of course 
it will all be made up now, and I ; m glad 
of it, for they are just exactly suited to 
each other." 

When I had expressed my surprise 
and pleasure at the good news brought 
by Miss Letty, I inquired what she in- 



42 OUK VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

tended to do about little Willie, the 
son of a deceased sister, to whom she 
had been a second mother from his in- 
fancy. 

"Well, there's no help for it, I sup- 
pose," she answered, while a cloud flitted 
over her bright face ; " he is bound to go 
as a drummer-boy with the regiment, and 
I can't persuade him to stay at home 
willingly, though he says he wont go 
without my consent, It 's well his poor 
mother is n't living, for her heart would 
break to have him go, such a baby as he 
is, only twelve years old. But I must 
say for him, he's the best boy I ever 
saw, and the men all love him so, he '11 
be well taken care of, if he does n't get 
killed. It 's hard for me ; but I 've got 
nothing else to give, and though it 's like 
taking the heart out of my body, I '11 try 
to do it cheerfully." 

Miss Letty was sewing at the Tyrrell 



DEPARTURE OF THE REGIMENT. 43 

House when she learned from Mr. Eycler 
the facts in relation to Robert Lester, and 
no time was lost by her in Communicat- 
ing them to the family. Mrs. Fenton 
and Elinor heard with thankfulness that 
his fame was publicly cleared, though 
they had never doubted that it would be 
so in the end. 

-.But to the ardent and enthusiastic 
Lilian, by whom he had been so bitterly 
condemned, the news was like a reprieve 
from death. She threw her arms round 
Miss Letty's neck, exclaiming, 

"Oli, you are the best and dearest 
Miss Letty in the whole world. I didn't 
think any thing could have made me so 
happy." 

"Lilian, dear, you forget," said her 
aunt in her gentle tone. 

"Xo, aunt, I forget nothing," Lilian 
replied, while her eyes shone through 
tears liko stars. "I know we are sepa- 



44 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

rated by my own rash act, and I shall 
honor him only the more if he refuse 
again to see me ; but I am glad and proud 
to know that he is worthy of my love, or 
that of any other woman." 

The days fled rapidly, and still Mr. 
Lester did not call on his former friends 
the Fentons, and as Lilian went out much 
less than usual, they seldom met. He 
was unwilling to try to exonerate himself 
from a suspicion which he felt to be un- 
reasonable and degrading, or to sue for 
a return of the love he had never forfeit- 
ed ; and Lilian, though she would gladly 
have humbled herself at his feet for hav- 
ing doubted his honor and loyalty, would 
not take the first step, lest her motives 
should be misconstrued. 

Things were in this state when, on the 
evening before the departure of the regi- 
ment, a note from Elinor Fenton was 
received by the young soldier, which 



DEPARTURE OF THE REGIMENT. 45 

brought him quickly to her side. A few 
words of explanation passed between 
them, and then he was ushered into the 
library, where Lilian was busy in pre- 
paring packages of stationery for the 
knapsacks that were scattered about. 

That interview was one never to be 
forgotten by either of the parties. There 
were confessions to be made on both 
sides, and mutual forgiveness to be ex- 
changed; for while Lester felt that he 
should have intrusted to the woman he 
loved the true reasons for his conduct, 
Lilian insisted that, knowing him as she 
did, she ought never to have doubted his 
loyalty under any circumstances. They 
parted, pledged to each other, and Lilian 
accepted as a sacred legacy the charge 
of Fanny Lester, in case of a contingen- 
cy which her heart refused to contem- 
plate. 

The dreaded morning came at last, 



46 OUR VILLAGE IN WAK-TIME. 

when our brave boys were to exchange 
the comforts and endearments of home, 
for the hardships of the camp and the 
horrors of the battle-field. Bat a solemn 
ceremony remained to be performed be- 
fore they went, and with one accord the 
steps of all were turned towards the 
parsonage. There, in the pleasant front 
yard, under the shadow of the tall elms 
that had sheltered her childhood, Mabel 
Ryder gave her hand to one whom she 
had loved ever since she could remem- 
ber any thing. Thomas Wiley, first 
lieutenant of company A, was a young 
merchant, and had been a pupil of Mr. 
Ryder, who saw with pleasure the attach- 
ment existing between the young man 
and his darling child, for he knew him 
to be one calculated in every way to 
make her happy. When he joined the 
regiment, Mabel gave a tearful but will- 
ing consent, but with his urgent solicita- 



DEPARTURE OF THE REGIMENT. 4T 

tion that she should become his wife be- 
fore they went, she would not at first 
comply, the time. was so short and the 
proposition so unexpected ; but when he 
brought forward the plea, that as his 
wife she could with more propriety come 
to him if wounded or sick, she yielded. 
The privilege of attending him in sick- 
ness or suffering was so precious, that 
she could not lightly relinquish it ; so it 
was fixed that the marriage should take 
place on the morning of their departure. 
It was a beautiful picture, that wed- 
ding party under the trees, and one not 
soon to be forgotten by those who wit- 
nessed it. The fair young bride, dressed 
in simple white, with smiles and tears 
contending for the mastery on her cheek, 
with her bridesmaids, Elinor and Lilian ; 
the happy groom in his becoming uni- 
form, supported by Eobert Lester and 
the second lieutenant of his company; 



48 OUK VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

the groups of friends scattered about, and 
outside of all the boys of the Twenty-sixth 
looking on with the deepest interest, as 
the pastor and father pronounced with 
trembling voice the words that gave his 
child to the keeping of another — all this 
is engraven on my memory, and can 
never be erased. 

The ceremony was over, and as the 
regiment wheeled into line, the bride- 
groom with one long, silent embrace con- 
signed Mabel to the care of her friends 
and took his place in the ranks. All the 
stores were closed and business suspend- 
ed, as the Twenty-sixth marched for the 
last time, with unbroken columns, through 
our streets. The regiment was raised in 
the immediate vicinity, and many of its 
members were personally known to us ; 
but at such a moment all seemed like 
sons and brothers. We were proud of 
their soldierly bearing, of their firm and 



DEPAETUEE OF THE REGIMENT. 49 

measured tread, of the precision with 
which their evolutions were performed, 
and the intelligence that lighted up every 
face. What eager eyes looked out from 
the ranks, to catch the last glimpse of 
mother, sister, wife, or sweetheart, as, 
amid the waving of handkerchiefs, half- 
uttered blessings, and stifled sobs, we 
bade them perhaps a final good-by. They 
left us full of hope and energy, with all 
the courage and strength of young man- 
hood nerving each arm and animating 
each heart. How would they come 
back? 



Our 'N Mage. 



50 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 



CHAPTEE IV. 

THE DRUMMER-BOY OF THE TWENTY- 
SIXTH. 

After the departure of the regiment 
there came to us a season of languor and 
depression. "We had been in a state of 
unnatural excitement for weeks, and the 
reaction was inevitable. But for the let- 
ters received regularly from our absent 
boys, and which were read and talked 
over by all, and the Society meetings, 
where we came together to pray and work 
for the soldiers, I think we should have 
experienced a social stagnation. 

Lilian Grey, now more than ever our 
"sunbeam," as we loved to call her, was 
out of town for a few weeks, and as Eli- 
nor seldom left her mother, who was suf- 
fering more than usual, we saw verv lit- 



THE DEUMMEK-BOY. 51 

tie of our neighbors in the Tyrrell House. 
Mr. Fenton seemed a moody, disappoint- 
ed man, soured by a sense of injustice 
which he had no power to punish and no 
inclination to forgive. 

Even Miss Letty, who had always 
seemed to possess an unfailing fountain 
of cheerfulness and hope, now wore at 
times a clouded brow when no tidings 
came from Willie, or the news from the 
front was unusually warlike. She was 
cheered, however, by continued reports 
of Willie's good conduct and popularity 
with the regiment, whose pet he had 
been from the first. Of his courage there 
could be no question, for he had been in 
several severe engagements, and boy as 
he was, had stood unflinchingly by the 
side of the bravest. 

On one occasion, at the close of a hard 
fought skirmish, when a furious charge 
of the enemy's cavalry had driven back 



52 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

his regiment, a division commander rid- 
ing over the spot soon after, fonnd "Wil- 
lie beating a tattoo on his drum as coolly 
as if he had been on parade. 

"What are you doing here, my little 
fellow ?" said the general. 

"You see, .sir." he replied, giving the 
military salute, "I did n't know but some 
of our boys might be about, and I thought 
I ; d let them know there was a drummer 
here, in case they wanted to form again." 

" But what if the enemy should return, 
and find you here alone ?" 

"If they should, sir, this is my place, 
and I 'd rather they 'd find me here than 
skulking, any way." 

"Here's an unfledged hero for you," 
was the exclamation of the general as he 
rode on; and the next day Willie was 
called out and publicly thanked by the 
commander in the presence of all the 
troops. "It was an instance of bravery 



THE DRUMMER-BOY. 53 

which would have done honor to a vet- 
eran.' 7 Such were the words of the gen- 
eral, and a happy woman was his aunt 
as she read them in a letter written by 
Robert Lester on the occasion. 

Then came to us the news of the inva- 
sion of Maryland by the rebels, and in a 
few days the battle of Antietam flashed 
over the wires, and with others we ex- 
ulted in the victory, little thinking how 
deeply it was to affect us, for we suppos- 
ed the Twenty-sixth to be in a division 
at some distance from the seat of war. 

But a few days served to undeceive 
us; and then, as the "terrible list" of 
killed and wounded was read with dim- 
ming eyes and blanched cheeks, we 
learned how fearful was the loss our own 
troops had sustained. Robert Lester, 
who had risen rapidly from the ranks, 
and had been made captain on the field 
at Williamsburg, was wounded, it was 



54 OUK TILLAGE IN WAE-TIME. 

thought, mortally. Our clear little Wil- 
lie had lost an arm, and Lieut. Wiley, 
the bridegroom of an hour, had fallen 
gloriously at the head of his company, 
while cheering them on. Many others 
whom we knew and loved had also died 
on the field, rendered immortal by their 
bravery. 

In the evening of the day on which 
the news reached us, I went to the par- 
sonage, and found our good clergyman 
preparing to start for Maryland to look 
after our wounded, and to bring home 
the body of Lieut. Wiley. Poor Mabel 
had been overwhelmed by the sad intel- 
ligence, and as her mother was wholly 
occupied with the heart-broken girl, there 
was no one to assist Mr. Eycler; but 
Miss Letty came in soon after me, and 
she was a host in herself. She was very 
pale, but cheerful and efficient as ever, 
thinking of everybody and every thing, 



THE DEUMMER-BOY. 55 

and bringing order out of confusion by 
the magic of her touch. When I ex- 
pressed the hope that she would remain 
at the parsonage with Mrs. Ryder and 
Mabel, she answered, 

"Bless you, dear, you don't suppose I 
could stay here, and little Willie lying 
with an arm cut off at Hagerstown; do 
you ? There is nobody can do for him as 
I can, who am like a mother to him ; and 
if they could, I shouldn't be willing to 
have them. No, no, I am going to start 
to-night with Mr. Ryder, and I shall 
count the minutes till we get there." 

"But have you no preparations to 
make for yourself for such a journey?" 
I inquired. 

"Oh, my preparations were all made 
hours ago, as soon as I heard the news. 
I have put up every thing I shall be 
likely to want for my boy; and fts for 
myself, I am always ready, you know. 



56 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

There is nothing to be done but to fix up 
Mr. Ryder and be off. Miss Lilian and 
poor Fanny Lester are going with us, to 
see the captain, if he 7 s alive ; and who 
knows but their going may save his life, 
if he isn't dead when they get there. 
Some folks will blame Miss Lilian for 
going ; but Fanny can't go without her, 
and she wont care much for talk when 
she thinks she 's doing right.'' 

I saw the little company off a few 
hours later, and a sorrowful parting it 
was, though Miss Letty and Lilian tried 
hard to assume a courage they did not 
feel, to comfort Fanny Lester, whose 
grief was terrible to witness ; and how I 
loved and admired Lilian, when I saw 
her so forgetful of self, soothing and sus- 
taining the weeping sister, while her own 
heart was bleeding silently. This young 
girl was not one to proclaim her sorrow 
on the house-tops, or to make noisy de- 



THE DRUMMER-BOY. 57 

mands for sympathy. When the iron 
entered her soul, she would turn away 
quietly from observation, and pursuing 
her daily round of duty, pour the tale of 
her suffering into the ear of Infinite pity 
alone. 

It may be that I am about to betray 
Miss Letty's confidence ; but her letters 
from Hagerstown were such faithful 
transcripts of her heart and character, 
that I cannot resist the temptation to 
give a few extracts from them to my 
readers. 

" I wish I could give you some 

idea of the hospitals here, but I can't be- 
gin to describe them. The rooms look 
airy and clean enough ; but, Oh dear, 
those long rows of beds, with poor suf- 
fering, maimed, dying heroes lying on 
them, some with faces paler than the 
sheets, some burning up with fever, and 
all having such a tired, anxious look, as 



58 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

if they wanted somebody to comfort 
them ; and, poor fellows, they do need it 
bad enough, I can tell you. I should 
have been glad to stop and say a kind 
word to every one of them, but a nurse 
hurried me on to a little room beyond 
the large one, with three or four beds in 
it, and there, on a cot, I found my boy, 
looking as white and weak as could be, 
but just as pleasant as ever. 

"He was asleep, and I didn't want to 
wake him, so I took a chair very softly, 
and sat down close by the dear little 
fellow till his nap was out. The first I 
knew, the tears were dripping, dripping 
into my lap just like rain. I 'm sure I *d 
no thought of crying in that place, but 
there were tears in my heart when I saw 
that dear little face all drawn up with 
pain in his sleep, and when I thought 
about that arm that had been round my 
neck so often, and never would be any 



THE DKUMMEK-BOY. 59 

more. By and by lie waked up, and 
when he saw me sitting there, he gave 
one shout, and if the sun had been shin- 
ing right into his eyes, they couldn't 
have been any brighter. That one look 
would have paid me for all the jour- 
ney, if I had n't clone a single thing for 
him. 

"'Oh, aunty,' says he, 'I was just 
dreaming that you had come, and it 
seemed so good to have you over me 
once more, and now here you are. I 
do n't know what to say, our Father is 
so good to me.' 

"It was as much as I could do to 
speak, but I made out to tell him I had 
come to stay and take care of him till he 
could go home with me. 

" He gave his head a little shake, just 
as he used to when he wasn't certain 
about a thing, and said, 

" ' I don't think much about going to 



60 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

that home, Aunt Letty ; I 'm a little boy, 
you know, to have an arm cut off, and 
mine is n*t doing very well, I know from 
the doctor's looks. But it will all come 
out right ;' and such a smile as there was 
on his face. ' And now, dear aunty, 
give me another kiss, and I '11 turn over 
and go to sleep again; and I wish you 
could too, you look so tired.' 

"I told him I wasn't tired, and then 
I shook up his pillow, and he turned 
over and went right to sleep like the 
lamb he is. 

"All this while there had been a pair 
of great black eyes watching me ever so 
wishfully the other side of the room ; so 
when "Willie was asleep, I thought I'd 
find out who they belonged to. I went 
over to the bed, and found a poor young 
fellow eighteen years old, who looked as 
if he could n't live twenty- four hours. 

11 'Is there any thing I can do for you V 



THE DRUMMER-BOY. 61 

said I, for I felt awfully to see him lie 
there looking so pitiful. 

"'0 yes, ma'am,' said he; 'if you 
will only speak a few kind words to me, 
and smooth my hair as you did little 
Willie's, it would do me so much good. 
I thought when I saw you kiss his fore- 
head, if my mother could only come and 
do that, it would be easier to die.' 

"'Well, my dear boy,' said I, 'I a'n't 
your mother, nor any of your relation ; 
but I 'm a fellow-creature, and I feel for 
you, and am willing to clo any thing I 
can to make you comfortable.' 

"So I got some bay-rum from a nurse, 
and bathed his hot hands and face, and 
brushed his hair and smoothed his pil- 
low, and then I gave him just such a kiss 
as I did Willie, and I a'n't ashamed to 
own it. The big tears were in his eyes, 
and he said, 

" ' I did n't think any thing in the world 



62 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

could do me so much good. It seems as 
if mother was here, and I thank you a 
thousand times. 7 

"Then I asked him if there was any 
thing more he wanted, and what do you 
think he said ? 

'"If you could only read a few verses 
out of my Bible and pray with me, I 
should be so glad. I in going to die, 
and I aVt afraid to go, but I do want 
somebody to read and pray with me 
first.' 

"Only think of that ; for me, who never 
dared to speak loud in any meeting at 
home, to be asked to pray with a sick 
man in a hospital ! It was like a blow 
to me, and for a minute I didn't know 
what to say ; but there were those eyes 
looking right through me, and he said 
softly, 'If you only could.' So I pluck- 
ed up courage, and said, 'I will, 7 and 
then I shut to the door and read a chap- 



THE DKUMMEE-BOY. 63 

ter in a low voice, just so he could hear 
me, and tried to ask God to help and 
comfort the poor boy, for he was nothing 
more. When I got through, he took hold 
of my hand, and said, 'I can't thank you 
for your kindness as I want to, but God 
will reward you, I *m sure. Take the 
blessing of a dying man, and remember 
you have comforted my last hours.' 

"I was ashamed to hear him speak so; 
for after all, what had I done to deserve 
thanks for ? 

"He died the next day, and I staid by 
him all I could when Willie did n't need 
me, and wrote a letter to his mother just 
as he gave the words to me only an hour 
or two before he breathed his last. Poor 
woman ! I pitied her, for he was a no- 
ble-looking fellow, and one that feared 
God, and I know a mother must have set 
a great store by such a son.' 7 

In another letter she wrote, 



64 OUR TILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

"My little Willie is getting along very 
slowly, and the doctors look sober about 
him, and I know they 're afraid he 7 s go- 
ing into a decline. His mother died of 
that, and they say the shock to his sys- 
tem has been so great that it may not be 
able to rally again. But he 's just as 
happy as the day is long, and says if he 
had twenty arms, he 'd be willing to give 
them all for his country. 

" I don't see much of the captain or 
Miss Lilian, for he is in another building 
where the officers are ; and he 's so low, 
they do n't let anybody visit him unless 
they have a special permit from the doc- 
tor. I believe they have a little more 
hope of him than they had at first, but 
Miss Lilian says his life hangs by a sin- 
gle thread. Dear Miss Lilian, she looks 
tired and pale, but her smile is just as 
bright as ever, and when she comes to 
see Willie, it always cheers him up, like 




'- 



THE DRUMMER-BOY. 65 

a breath of fresh air or a bunch of flow- 
ers." 

While Miss Letty was away in Ha- 
gerstown, a letter came to the Fenton's 
from their absent son, who was a priso- 
ner in our lines, and had been severely 
wounded, bringing the joyful intelligence 
that he had taken from his heart the oath 
of allegiance to the dear old flag. As 
soon as he could travel he would come 
home for a short visit, and then join the 
Union army. He told them how he had 
been left for dead on the field at Will- 
iamsburg, and that a little drummer-bov 
chanced to find him ; thai he brought 
him water at the risk of his own life, 
and finally had him carried from the 
field by some members of the Twenty- 
sixth, to which regiment the boy be- 
longed. 

While in the hospital there, he said 
little Willie visited him often at his own 

Our Village. 5 



66 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

special request, and to the artless con- 
versation of this child he attributed his 
first convictions of the wrong course he 
had been pursuing. "It was the last 
thing he thought of," the letter conclud- 
ed, "to teach me, whom he regarded as 
greatly his superior ; but his thoughts, so 
far beyond his years, brought to mind 
the neglected lessons of my precious 
mother, and now, if I am like the repent- 
ing prodigal, I owe it, under God, to that 
dear boy, whose heroism is only equalled 
by the kindness of his heart," 

ft will be readily believed that the 
Fentons were enthusiastic in their ex- 
pressions of love and gratitude to Willie 
for the signal service he had rendered 
them, and a letter was sent at once to 
Miss Letty informing her of the facts, 
and entreating her to bring the dear in- 
valid to the Tyrrell House immediately 
on her return. 



THE DRUMMER-BOY. 67 

It was a lovely evening in early au- 
tumn when Miss Letty and her charge 
came back to us, and the first glance at 
Willie's pale, sweet face told us that his 
days were numbered. Yet his spirits 
were so buoyant, his enjoyment of every 
thing so earnest and child-like, it was 
hard to believe that he was indeed pass- 
ing away from earth. 

When I first visited him at the Tyrrell 
House, he was sitting up in an easy-chair 
in a room overlooking the garden, and 
with choice flowers all about him. He 
smiled as I took his hand and inquired 
after his health, saying, 

"Tin quite well, and so happy. I 
can't think what makes everybody so 
kind to me. I don't deserve it at all, 
but God puts it into their hearts, and I 
thank him for it. If dear Miss Lilian was 
only here ; but I 'm so glad she 's with 
the captain. " 



68 OUR VILLAGE iN WAR-TIME. 

"Were you in Captain Lester's com- 
pany?" I asked. 

"0 yes, he got me transferred; and, 
Mrs. Glenn, I don't think there ? s anoth- 
er man in the world like Captain Les- 
ter." 

"In what respect, Willie?" 

"In every thing. The men all love 
him so, they 'd give their lives for him ; 
and yet he 's very strict, and wont have 
any drinking or gambling or swearing in 
the camp. They have to do just right, 
and then he 's the kindest man I ever 
saw. If anybody is sick or in trouble, 
they know where to go. for help ; and 
when the chaplain is away, he prays and 
reads a sermon to the men in the big 
tent every Sunday. Oh dear, I do 
hope he wont die." And the tears, 
which no sufferings of his own could call 
forth, fell fast for those of his beloved 
captain. 



THE DRUMMER-BOY. 69 

" Willie," I said, "do you remember 
any thing about being wounded, and how 
you felt then ¥' 

"Not much at first. It is all like a 
confused dream; how we marched all 
day to get up with the army ; how we 
lay down to escape the shot and shell 
that the rebs were pouring into us ; and 
at last, how the captain called out to us, 
'Now, boys, is your time!' and then we 
went in on the double-quick, till we were 
in the thickest of it. It seems somehow 
as if that was years ago ; but all at once, 
when I was beating my drum as hard as 
I could, I felt as if I was falling down 
ever so far, and I did n't know any thing 
more for a good while. 

"When I came to myself, the fighting 
was over, and the rebs all gone ; but I 
was so weak that I couldn't stir nor 
speak, and I thought my time had come ; 
but I did n't feel afraid to die. 



70 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

"You remember, ma'am, the time of 
that revival in the Sabbath-school, when 
several of the children were admitted to 
the church? I think I gave my heart to 
the Saviour then ; and though Aunt Letty 
thought I was too young to come forward 
with them, I have always loved my Bible 
better than any other book ; and when I 
lay there, I tried to look up to the Lord 
Jesus, but my eyes were heavy, and 
would n't keep open. Then it seemed as 
if angels were all round me, and I forgot 
my pain and how much I wanted water, 
and went to sleep again. The next thing 
I knew, I was in the hospital, and my 
arm gone." 

I was affected to tears by this simple 
recital, and could hardly command my 
voice to say, 

"But, Willie, you have always been 
veFv full of life and activity ; does it never 
seem hard to you to lose your arm, and 



THE DRUMMER-BOY. 71 

to be shut up here so sick, and perhaps 
to die ?" 

His face flushed, and he looked up 
in surprise, but soon answered pleas- 
antly, 

"Oh, you are only asking that to try 
me ; you could n't mean it in earnest, Pm 
sure. Why, there never was any boy 
who had so many blessings as I have. 
In the first place, it was such goodfless 
in God to let me go out with the regi- 
ment, such a poor little fellow as I am. 
Then when I was hurt, he sent dear Aunt 
Letty to take care of me, and bring me 
home here to such a nice place, and 
such kind friends. It is n't any matter 
about my arm, for when I die I '11 have 
wings, you know, and so it will never be 
missed." 

Dear young disciple! So early and 
plainly taught of the blessed Saviour, 
what could older Christians do but sit at 



72 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

thy feet and learn wisdom from thy sim- 
ple, childlike words ? 

While I still lingered, unable to tear 
myself away from a scene so peaceful 
and hallowed, Mrs. Flint came in, and 
took a seat by his side. Her looks and 
voice were carefully graduated to suit 
the occasion as she said, 

"I am glad to see you so comfortable, 
and*hope, my dear child, that the chas- 
tisement of the Lord is doing you good. 
Do you feel that this is the case?" 

Willie was a brave, happy boy nat- 
urally, and religion had added to these 
traits a firm trust in God as his Father, 
through Jesus Christ, so he smiled as he 
answered, 

"I don't know, ma'am; I hope I love 
the Saviour, and I know he loves me, and 
he gives me so many blessings I do n't 
think much about punishment. I don't 
feel as if he was angry with me. when he 



THE DEUMMEE-BOY. 73 

has died for me, and I want to please him 
more than any thing else in the world. " 

"I am afraid, my dear," she replied, 
"that yon do not realize how great a sin- 
ner yon are, if yon think yon don't de- 
serve punishment for your sins." 

"No indeed, it isn't that," Willie ex- 
claimed, while his cheeks flushed with 
the excitement of his feelings. But Miss 
Letty could keep silence no longer, and 
interrupted him, saying, 

"Mrs. Flint, my little Willie can't talk 
much now, but I think he lives religion 
better than a great many of us. He 
means, and I say, that though we do n't 
deserve any thing but punishment for 
our sins, it is n't always a sign that God 
is angry with us when he lets us suffer in 
this world. He was n't angry with Job, 
when he allowed Satan to try him so ; 
nor with Daniel, when he was put into 
the lions' den ; but he did it to show what 



74 OUR VILLAGE IN WAK-TIME. 

religion could do for people when they 
are in the worst of troubles. I believe 
it 7 s just so nowadays ; and that God is 
nearer to us sometimes when every thing 
seems to go wrong, than he is when it 's 
fair weather and smooth sailing." 

"That may be so," replied Mrs. Flint, 
"but don't you think there 's danger of 
making the way of religion too easy, so 
that people will think they are Christians 
when they are not ?" 

"I don't think we have any thing to 
do with making the way hard or easy. 
We must take it just as Jesus Christ left 
it; and he says, 'I love them that love 
me, and those that seek me early shall 
find me.' I don't read that any thing 
but repentance and faith in the Saviour, 
and renewing by the Holy Spirit, is nec- 
essary to be a humble Christian; and I 
am sure the Saviour never turned away 
any one who came to him in earnest, and 



THE DKUMMEK-BOY. 15 

wanted to be his disciple. But Willie is 
getting tired, and it wont do to talk any 
longer." 

The visitor departed, leaving the little 
invalid weary and feverish, until soothed 
by the gentle ministrations of Miss Letty 
and Elinor Fenton. Why is it that some 
individuals, who pass in society for good 
people, have the unenviable talent of 
making every one uncomfortable with 
whom they come in contact ? Under all 
the velvet of their professions, the claws 
continually lacerate, even while they 
seem to caress. There are few commu- 
nities in which some of these specimens 
of humanity may not be found ; and it is 
sad when they wear the garb of religion, 
and pretend to be holier than others, 
while doing the work of him who has 
sought from the beginning to foment strife 
and jealousy among brethren. 

During the fall, Willie had several at- 



7G OUE VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

tacks of hemorrhage of the lungs, which 
rapidly wasted his strength ; but he was 
still the same happy, trusting, loving boy, 
enjoying life with all a boy's enthusiasm, 
yet welcoming death with perfect se- 
renity. 

On one of the last days of the Indian 
summer, when a golden haze lay on ev- 
ery thing, softening the landscape and 
giving to autumn more than the beauty 
of spring, I was called to see Willie die. 
I found him sitting up in bed, gasping 
for breath, and his forehead damp with 
the death -dew; but his eye was still 
clear, and on his lips was a smile bright 
with heaven's own radiance. "Dear 
"Willie," I said, "you are almost home." 

11 yes, I like this home very much, 
but that one is better. I am where 
Christian was when he began to cross 
the river, and in a little while I shall be 
over." 



THE DEUMMER-BOY. 77 

Bunyan's inimitable allegory was his 
favorite book, and he had it almost by 
heart. While in camp it had been his 
greatest pleasure to repeat portions of it 
to the listening soldiers, by whom " Wil- 
lie's stories" were preferred to any other. 
And now on his dying-bed the pilgrim 
was to him a living friend who had cross- 
ed the stream just before him, and whom 
he was about to join in the Celestial City. 

" Willie," said Mr. Ryder, "have you 
no wish to live ?" 

"To live!' 7 he repeated with anima- 
tion; "why, don't you know I am just 
going to live ? Oh, if you could only see 
what I see, such beautiful angels with 
shining wings, and hear the sweet music, 
you would be willing to die too, so that 
you could go and live with them." 

The eloquence of look and tone with 
which this was said is indescribable. He 
lay quietly for a few moments with closed 



78 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

eyes, then suddenly turning to Miss Let- 
ty, who was weeping, he said, 

"Dear aunty, you told me of Jesus, 
and taught me how to seek him, and now 
I am going to live with him for ever. 
Perhaps he will let me fly down to you 
sometimes, and whisper to you about 
heaven when you are sorrowful ; I should 
love to so much. If I could only have 
seen the captain and Miss Lilian once 
more ; but no matter, they ; 11 come, 
you '11 all come home by and by." 

His voice failed, and he seemed al- 
most gone, when raising his hand, he 
whispered, 

"They are all coming, mother; it is 
light, all light ;" and then with one long 
tremulous sigh, the ransomed spirit fled, 
leaving the impress of its happiness. 

We buried him in a quiet spot, select- 
ed by himself near his childhood's home, 
and a plain marble slab, with the inscrip- 



THE DRUMMER-BOY. 79 

tion, "Our Willie," marks his resting- 
place. His drum, a beautiful and richly 
ornamented one given him by his regi- 
ment after the battle of Malvern Hills, 
and which he kept constantly near him 
through all his illness, was enclosed in a 
glass case, and placed at the head of his 
grave. We shall see him no more on 
earth, but the memory of the little drum- 
mer-boy is still cherished in the hearts 
of many who loved him here, and who 
hope to meet him in the better land 
where "sorrow and parting are sounds 
unknown. 7 ' 



80 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

CHAPTER V. 

HOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 

Capt. Lester was carried from the 
field of Antietam insensible, and on ex- 
amination his wounds were pronounced 
mortal by the physicians, though no 
means were left untried to preserve a 
life so valuable to his country. A minie 
ball had passed through his shoulder to the 
back of the neck, and at the same time 
the fragment of a shell struck his ankle, 
inflicting a severe wound, and splinter- 
ing the bone. He lay for several days in 
a half-unconscious state — at times, when 
partially roused, becoming delirious, then 
sinking again into a lethargy from which 
it was difficult to awaken him. A pri- 
vate house had been hastily fitted up for 
the reception of the wounded, and to this 



HOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 81 

he was taken and made as comfortable 
as circumstances admitted. 

When Fanny Lester and Lilian reach- 
ed the end of their journey, they were at 
first denied admittance to the hospital ; 
and it was only after the most strenuous 
exertions on the part of Mr. Eyder that 
they were allowed to see Capt. Lester. 

" I am afraid, my dear young friends," 
said the good man, "that you will not be 
permitted to remain with him ; the mili- 
tary rules are very strict, and few favors 
are shown here." 

" Have no fears on that score, my dear 
sir," Lilian replied. "If once we gain 
entrance, it will take at least a regiment 
to dislodge us." 

It was evening when they entered the 
room where the sick man lay, seemingly 
insensible to every thing around him; 
and as Lilian approached, the nurse who 
had been moistening his lips from time 

Our Village. Q 



82 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

to time, came forward, and greeting. her 
kindly, offered her a seat by his side. 
Though terribly shocked at his death- 
like appearance, Lilian was outwardly 
calm; and taking from the nurse minute 
directions with regard to the treatment 
to be pursued, busied herself in arrang- 
ing the dressings and medicines, to con- 
ceal the emotion which threatened to 
overpower her. 

When this was done, she seated her- 
self by the bedside, and taking the hand 
of the wounded man, placed her fingers 
on his wrist to assure herself that he still 
lived, for in that darkened room his sleep 
so closely resembled death, that her heart 
stood still with terror as she looked upon 
him. Hardly had she touched his wrist 
when a perceptible thrill ran through the 
veins ; there was a slight movement, and 
then a faint voice whispered, "Is this 
Lilian?' 7 



HOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 83 

Too much agitated to reply at once, 
she gave him the stimulant prescribed by 
the nurse, turned up the lamp that she 
might see his face, and then said as calm- 
ly as she could, 

"Yes, Robert, it is your sister and 
Lilian, who have come to nurse and make 

vou well." 

«/ 

11 Thank God!" was the low response; 
and then he seemed to sleep again, while 
Lilian watched him through the night, 
g\ad to find that her young companion 
had forgotten her sorrows in refreshing 
slumber. From that time Capt. Lester's 
symptoms were slightly improved, and 
he had more frequent intervals of con- 
sciousness, though there were yet but 
faint hopes of his recovery. If medical 
skill and the most assiduous care could 
save him, he was certain to recover, for 
Lilian or Fanny were with him night 
and day, anticipating every want, and 



84 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

soothing by their tender sympathy the 
sufferings which no skill could wholly 
relieve. 

For some weeks it was feared by the 
surgeons that amputation of the foot must 
take place ; and nothing but the prayers 
and tears of Lilian induced them to de- 
lay it, until, by the blessing of God on 
her exertions, it was no longer deemed 
necessary. The ball still remained in 
his shoulder, and had hitherto eluded 
search ; but it was at length found and 
extracted ; and from that hour his prog- 
ress, though slow, was sure. 

"How is it, Eobert," said Lilian one 
day, when he was suffering more than 
usual from his wounds, "that you are 
always so cheerful and patient, though 
you suffer so much ? I have heard that 
convalescents are expected to be irrita- 
ble and capricious, but you do not avail 
yourself of the privilege at all. You 



HOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 85 

must be naturally indifferent to pain, or 
else you have too much pride to allow it 
to overcome you ; which is it ?" 

"Neither the one nor the other, dear 
Lilian. I have naturally a great dread 
of pain, and do not think myself possess- 
ed of a large share of that moral courage 
in which your sex excel, and which is 
the only kind which will bear the test of 
suffering. As to pride, it is sadly out of 
place on a sick-bed, even if it had the 
power to deaden a sense of pain, which 
I very much doubt." 

" What is it then that makes you so de- 
sirable a patient? for, excepting my aunt, 
I never saw any one bear pain as you do." 

"Shall I tell you, my Lilian? It is 
the taking home to my heart, and appro- 
priating that precious promise, 'My grace 
is sufficient for thee, for my strength is 
made perfect in weakness.' In myself I 
am all weakness ; but if an almighty arm 



86 OUE VILLAGE IN WAK-TIME. 

is underneath and around me, I have all 
the strength and support I need. God 
grant that you may know from your own 
experience the blessedness of which I 
speak." 

Tears were in the eyes of Lilian as 
she answered, 

"With such examples as I have had 
before me, I can never doubt the reality 
of the religion of Jesus, and I would give 
worlds, if I had them, to feel its power ; 
but it seems impossible for me to obtain 
such a blessing." 

1 'Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and 
thou shalt be saved," was. the reply. 
"And now, dear Lilian, I must send you 
from me to visit our poor patient up 
stairs, who needs you even more than I 
do, if that were possible." 

A few days previous to this conversa- 
tion, Lilian was passing through one of 
the rooms in which lay some rebel offi- 



HOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 81 

cers who had been recently brought in 
from Virginia. Most of them were hope- 
less cases, and the sight was so painful to 
the young girl, that she passed on rap- 
idly, until her steps were arrested by the 
exclamation, "Miss Grey! can it be 
possible Y } She turned and saw, though 
she could hardly recognize in the pallid 
face and emaciated form before her, 
Lieut. Carter, the betrothed of her cous- 
in, the rebel officer whose desertion of 
his country's flag had caused them all so 
much unhappiness. It was a very pain- 
ful meeting to Lilian, and her first im- 
pulse was to leave the room instantly; 
but death was stamped on every feature 
of the young man, and humanity tri- 
umphed. She approached the bedside, 
and said kindly, 

" Mr. Carter, I can stay but a moment. 
Is there any thing I can do for you, or 
that you wish to say to me ?" 



88 OUR VILLAGE IN WAB-TIME. 

The sick man replied bitterly, 

"I see how it is; you all hate and 
despise me ; but I cannot help it. I am 
a Southerner, and would not desert my 
brethren in arms though I lost every 
friend on earth. What I have done I 
would do again in the same circum- 
stances." 

"You are wrong, Hugh," said Lilian, 
" none of us hate or despise you, though 
the course you have taken has almost 
broken the hearts of those who loved you 
so dearly." 

"And who love me no longer, you 
would say. Well, I knew the penalty 
when I put on this uniform, and I am 
not going now to complain of the cost. I 
hate the Yankees," he exclaimed with 
an energy of which he seemed incapable, 
"and the bitterest thought in dying is, 
that Elinor has become one of their mis- 
erable canting crew ; but they have lost 



nOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 89 

Stanwood ; he at least is true to the bon- 
ny blue flag. 7 ' 

"Not so, Hugh. Stanwood has seen 
his error, and taken the oath of alle- 
giance at Washington, and only waits 
until his wounds are healed to go home 
and be reconciled to his family. 77 

The sick man turned ghastly pale on 
hearing this, and an execration rose to 
his lips, which was suppressed from def- 
erence to Lilian, who added, 

"You are very ill, Hugh, and thoughts 
like these are not suited to one in your 
condition. Let me beg you to see the 
chaplain; he is a good man, and will 
gladly visit you. 77 

"Oh spare me all that stereotyped 
nonsense, 77 he exclaimed. "I will die as 
I have lived, without the aid of priest or 
chaplain. If my belief is correct, I do 
not need them ; and if I am wrong, it is 
too late to mend the mistake. I am dy- 



90 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

ing, and you know it ; but I will at least 
die game : no whining repentance or 
hypocritical confessions for Hugh Car- 
ter." 

There seemed little hope of doing him 
any good in such a state of mind, and 
Lilian, feeling her own incompetency to 
reply to him, sadly turned away and left 
the room, while memory went back to 
other days, when he who was going into 
eternity without one ray of light upon 
his path, had been to her almost a broth- 
er. There was a shadow on her bright 
face as she went back to her patient, who 
instantly saw it, and inquired the cause, 
when she related the scene through which 
she had just passed. Capt. Lester had 
formerly known Lieut. Carter, and though 
no bond of affinity had ever drawn the 
young men together, he was greatly 
shocked to learn his present condition. 

"I must see him, dear Lilian/' he said ; 



HOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 91 

"he may listen to me when he would not 
admit a clergyman. It is too dreadful to 
let him die so, without making one effort 
to do him good. Poor Elinor, how could 
she bear this ? 77 

With great difficulty, and on crutches, 
Capt. Lester made his way to the bed- 
side of the wounded officer ; but the lat- 
ter refused to converse with him, declar- 
ing that his mind was made up, and he 
would never be such a coward as to 
change his opinions because death was 
at hand. In vain he was urged to listen 
to God's own words of promise. 

"To those who can believe, all that is 
well enough; as for me, I have never 
feared any thing in life, and cannot be- 
gin to tremble now." 

A few days afterwards he died in the 
same state of mind, declaring with his 
latest breath that he asked no favors at 
the hands of God or man. 



92 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

Elinor was informed of his death, but 
not of the circumstances attending it; 
and thus she was spared the keenest 
pang of all — that of knowing that he 
whom she had once loved and trusted, 
died without hope. 

One after another our brave boys came 
back to us from the hospitals, wounded 
and disabled, some maimed for life, yet 
bating no tittle of courage or faith in the 
ultimate triumph of the good cause. A 
part of the regiment had reenlisted at 
the expiration of their term of service, 
and were with us for a few days, enjoy- 
ing the sweets of domestic life after their 
laborious campaigns. 

It was during their stay that the death 
of little Willie occurred, and the drum- 
mer-boy was followed to his grave by 
many of those who knew and loved him 
as a son or brother in the camp. There 
were manly tears shed around his grave ; 



HOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 93 

and one man exclaimed, as the coffin was 
lowered from sight, 

" There goes the best boy I ever knew, 
and I do n't believe he has left his like 
behind him." 

The first snows of winter had fallen on 
Willie's grave before Capt. Lester came 
back to us, with his sister and a lady 
whom we had loved as Lilian Grey, but 
were now to know as Mrs. Lester. She 
was well aware that the prejudices of 
her uncle and cousin would be shocked 
hy her marriage away from home and in 
a hospital; so she said nothing about it 
in her letters, believing that her husband 
could plead his own cause far better in 
person than she could do by writing. 
The event justified her expectations ; for 
though at first Mr. Fenton was surprised 
and angry, the reasons given by Capt. 
Lester and the persuasions of his wife 
soon reconciled him, and even forced him 



94 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

to confess that it was probably the best 
thing that could have been done under 
the circumstances. Mrs. Fen ton, how- 
ever, would not consent to part with her 
niece ; so Capt, Lester became an inmate 
of the family, and soon won the affection 
of all its members, while his health im- 
proved rapidly, though the wound in his 
ankle was still painful and troublesome. 

Soon after Capt. Lester's return, there 
came a visitor to the parsonage whose 
arrival was warmly welcomed by Mabel, 
though it caused her tears to flow afresh. 
This was the father of Lieut. Wiley, who- 
had taken the journey for the purpose 
of becoming acquainted with the bride of 
his son, now doubly endeared to him by 
her early widowhood and sorrow. 

He was a plain New England farmer, 
cultivating a few acres of hard soil, from 
which he managed by unceasing indus- 
try to gain a support for his small fam- 



nOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 95 

ily ; but lie was rich in faith, and his be- 
nevolence would shame that of many a 
millionaire. His son had left home while 
still very young; but he was fondly re- 
membered, and his loss lamented by the 
aged pair, who had only one daughter 
left to be the stay of their declining years. 
Mr. Wiley went from house to house 
through the Beach Hill neighborhood, 
wherever a disabled soldier or a bereav- 
ed wife or mother were to be found, 
often accompanied by Mabel,' who in her 
mourning garb looked so pale and shad- 
owy that we almost expected to see her 
vanish from our sight. The old man 
loved to hear and talk of his dead son ; 
but he loved still more to speak of Him 
who died for sinners, and of the heaven 
to which his disciples are hastening. It 
was impossible on such occasions for the 
most careless to listen unmoved; and 
tears were often seen to steal down the 



96 OUR VILLAGE IX WAR-TIME. 

cheeks of bearded men, though all "un- 
used to the melting mood," as they heard 
from his lips the story so often told, yet 
ever new, of G-ethsemane and Calvary. 

The visit of Mr. Wiley was a blessing 
to many souls in Woodbury, and espe- 
cially to Mabel and Lilian, both of whom 
made a public profession of faith in Christ 
the Sabbath before his departure. When 
he left for home, Mabel and her mother 
went with him, as our physician recom- 
mended a change of scene for the former, 
whose health was suffering from the 
shock she had sustained. 

Capt. Lester had now so far recovered 
as to walk with only the assistance of a 
cane, when, one evening after Lilian had 
been spending the day with me, he came 
in bringing a large package, which he 
threw into her lap, saying, "Read that, 
dear wife, and then tell me what to do.' J 

She opened the envelope and found 



HOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 9*1 

inclosed a commission as colonel of a 
veteran regiment then being raised, with 
a letter in which nattering mention was 
made of Capt. Lester's services in the 
army, and the estimation in which he 
was held by the chief magistrate of the 
state. 

Lilian's eyes sparkled with all a wife's 
pride as she read the letter, and turning 
to her husband, she said, u There ought 
to be but one cause for hesitation on such 
a subject. If you are well enough to go, 
you cannot doubt for a moment your 
duty to accept it, I would not hold you 
back, if I could, and I am certain that I 
could not, if I would." 

"Thanks, dear Lilian; I knew your 
brave and true heart would cheer me on 
in the path of duty ; but I have been a 
petted invalid so long, that I am ashamed 
to say the thought of leaving all I love 
was at first painful to me." 

Our Village. 7 



98 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

"And may I not go with you?" she 
inquired; "you know how well I can 
bear hardships ; and I assure you I will 
take care that you shall find me no in- 
cumbrance.' 1 

"That you could never be, in any 
case," was his reply; "but the coming 
campaign is likely to be a fatiguing and 
perilous one, and besides, I must not set 
an example of self-indulgence to the regi- 
ment. It would never do for the colonel 
to be enjoying the society of his wife, 
unless he grants the same privilege to 
the other officers, and in that case, I fear 
we should be in danger of losing the 
name of the 'fighting regiment,' which 
the veterans have so nobly earned." • 

"I submit, as in duty bound, to your 
decision ; but I must have a promise that 
I may come to you instantly, if at any 
time you should need me." 

The promise was readily given, and 



HOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 99 

Lilian smiled through her tears as she 
playfully pictured his helplessness, when 
he should find himself thrown once more 
on his own resources. 

" I know you have almost spoiled me," 
he replied in the same tone, "but the 
camp is a good school in which to learn 
to endure hardships and self-denial, and 
I am not likely to want for lessons in our 
present service." 

Several members of the Twenty-sixth, 
when they found that Capt. Lester was 
to have the command of a regiment, 
were transferred, and most of his field 
and line officers were old friends and 
comrades, so we bade him farewell cheer- 
fully, though his health was not fully re- 
established. 

True to her former professions, Lilian 
sent him forth with smiles and blessings ; 
and after his departure, she had always 
a word of comfort and cheer for those 



100 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

who had given their household treasures 
to the cause of freedom. But the few 
who knew her intimately, knew that she 
shed bitter tears when no eye but that 
of God was upon her, as she thought of 
the perils by which he was surrounded, 
and which he had neither the power nor 
the wish to shun. 

The regiment commanded by Col. Les- 
ter was in the second division of the 
Sixth corps in the Army of the Potomac, 
and was stationed near the enemy's out- 
posts, so that picket-firing and skirmish- 
ing were of daily occurrence, though there 
had been no general engagement since 
the battle of Gettysburg. 

That grand Army of the Potomac ; 
how my heart thrills as I think or write 
of it! Composed, as no other army on 
earth ever was made up, save our own 
noble troops of the West and South-west, 
of the very flower of American manhood, 



HOW THE BOYS CAME HOME. 101 

with youth, wealth, intellect, and talent 
filling its ranks, and yet, by a strange 
fatality, doomed to experience unmerited 
defeats or fruitless victories, it has wait- 
ed with a courage and patience truly sub- 
lime for the moment of triumph which is 
sure to come at last. So often decima- 
ted, yet never subdued, but Antceus-like, 
gathering fresh vigor from every disaster, 
they have not always been able to com- 
mand success, but they have done more ; 
for they have deserved it. In the coming 
time, when this fearful war shall have 
passed into history, and our children are 
reaping its glorious results, it will be a 
prouder boast than that of royal lineage 
to have the right to say, "My father was 
a soldier in the Army of the Potomac." 



102 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 



CHAPTER VI. 

LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 

I had been absent from home for sev- 
eral weeks, and after my return, sick- 
ness in the family confined me closely, 
so that I knew little of what had been 
occurring in the neighborhood. Miss 
Letty, through whom my information usu- 
ally came, was seldom seen abroad, to 
the great surprise and inconvenience of 
many families who had learned to look 
upon her frequent visits as an indispens- 
able part of their domestic arrangements. 

""What has happened to Miss Letty ?" 
I inquired of Lilian Lester, at a meeting 
of our Aid Society, as I noticed the look 
of gravity which seemed strangely out 
of place on her countenance, usually so 
cheerful. 



LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 103 

"I am not aware of any cause for it," 
Lilian replied, " and yet she certainly 
does look as if she were carrying a weight 
of care. Dear Miss Letty, I hope noth- 
ing has happened to trouble her, for she 
is so kind and unselfish that she ought to 
be very happy." 

As I left the house, Miss Letty came 
up, and proposed to accompany me home, 
an offer which I gladly accepted, for it 
was evident that there was something 
she wished to communicate, and I hoped, 
by sharing her anxieties, to alleviate 
them. We walked for a few steps in 
silence, and then my companion, in an 
embarrassed tone, very different from 
her ordinary manner, inquired, 

"Mrs. Glenn, have you ever seen Mr. 
Thurston when he has been here preach- 
ing for Mr. Ryder ?" 

"Mr. Thurston," I repeated; "is he 
the home missionary stationed at M , 



104 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

among the mountains? If so, I have seen 
him, and heard him preach ; but why do 
you ask that question?'' 

Strange to say, I had not a suspicion 
of the state of affairs, notwithstanding 
the confusion of my companion, for I had 
never heard of the death of Mr. Thurs- 
ton's wife, and therefore was not likely 
to think of him in connection with Miss 
Letty. 

"Why," she said, "I only wanted to 
know whether you had ever seen him, 
and how you liked him, if you had; for 
you see he has been over here several 
times lately, and called on me with Mr. 
Eyder, and— pshaw, how silly I am — 
well, he has asked me to marry him." 

Miss Letty actually blushed like a 
young girl as she made this confession, 
which took me so utterly by surprise, 
that for a moment I had not a word to 
say. 



LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 105 

"I see you are astonished at it, and no 
wonder ; I told him that everybody would 
wonder that he should offer himself to me, 
a seamstress, and without one cent of 
money in the world ; but he only smiled, 
and said he wanted a wife for himself, 
and not to suit the public ; that he did n't 
want a young girl, nor a rich wife either, 
to look down on him and his poor peo- 
ple." 

''You are mistaken," I replied; "it 
is n't that which surprised me, but I had 
never heard that he was a widower ; and 
then the thought of losing you is some- 
thing so new, and not very pleasant, I 
assure you. What shall we do without 
you ?" 

"I thought of that," was the reply, 
for Miss Letty had too much simplicity 
of character to pretend to be ignorant of 
her importance in the community, though 
she was truly humble in her estimate of 



106 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

herself; "and I told Mr. Thurston I had 
been here so long, and had got so into 
the habit of doing every thing for every- 
body, that I was afraid they 'd miss me 
a good deal. But he said if that was the 
case, I was just the one for a poor min- 
ister, who had to contrive to make ends 
meet, and that his children needed me 
more than the folks in Woodbury did. 
You see he just brushed awa}^ all my ob- 
jections like so many cobwebs, so that I 
couldn't say another word." 

"I am glad he seems to appreciate 
your worth ; if we must give you up, it 
will be a comfort to know that you are 
happy." 

"Oh, as to that I don't know; I sap- 
pose people at my age have n't very ro- 
mantic notions of happiness ; I 'm sure I 
have n't; but if I can do any good to one 
of the Lord's servants, I shall be glad. 
But when I think how much will be ex- 



LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 107 

pected of me, I am so frightened I feel 
like giving it all right up. You see, when 
I was a child they did n't care much about 
education in our town, and though I 've 
picked up some ideas here and there go- 
ing through the world, I don't know very 
much. Then I 'm plain and homely in my 
ways, and 1 'm afraid he '11 be ashamed 
of me some time when he sees me by the 
side of other ministers' wives ; but when 
I told him so he only laughed, and said 
if that was all my difficulty, he should 
look on it as settled ; so I had to say yes, 
for he would n't hear to any thing else." 
I said every thing in my power to en- 
courage Miss Letty, for I felt that Mr. 
Thurston had made a wise choice for him- 
self and his children, and that our little 
seamstress, with her fund of good sense, 
energy, and activity, and above all, with 
her unwavering trust in God, would make 
a far better wife for a clergyman than 



108 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

many an educated and refined woman 
who was deficient in these qualities, as 
too many are. 

"And how soon are we to lose you?" 
I inquired; "I trust not immediately; 
you must give us a little time to be- 
come reconciled to the thought of such a 
change." 

"Mr. Thurston is very anxious that I 
should go right away; he says he has 
been alone so long, and his children need 
me so much ; but I told him I must see 
to the work I had on hand, so as to leave 
you all comfortable, or I should n't be 
easy in my mind about going. It ; s hard 
to leave such friends as I have got here, 
and to go away from dear little "Willie's 
grave too ; but Mr. Ryder seems to think 
it is my duty to go, because there are so 
few that would be willing to take such a 
place. I do n't see how that can be, for 
I ; m sure Mr. Thurston is one of the best 



LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 109 

of men, and I think any woman might be 
happy with him." 

From the earnestness with which this 
was said, I saw that Miss Letty was re- 
ally interested in the good minister, and 
not about to sacrifice herself from a sense 
of duty merely; and I was glad to be- 
lieve this, for I feared she might not be 
as comfortable under her new responsi- 
bilities as she had been in Woodbury. 

The wedding took place in church ; 
and after an hour or two spent at the 
parsonage, where the friends of the bride 
called to offer their congratulations and 
to bid her good-by, the happy pair left 
for their mountain home, from whence 
we have repeatedly heard of the new 
Mrs. Thurston, as useful and beloved 
beyond any of her predecessors in that 
place. 

Mrs. Fenton had been for months rap- 
idly failing, and her symptoms were now 



110 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

such as to indicate a speedy release from 
her sufferings. She was intensely anx- 
ious to see her long-absent son once more 
on earth, and this strong maternal feeling 
seemed actually to hold back the spirit, 
already pluming its wings for flight. "I 
shall not die till I have seen him again," 
was her constant reply to the inquiries 
of her friends. "He will come in time 
to receive my parting breath, and I am 
content." 

Stanwood Fenton had never recovered 
from the wound received at South Moun- 
tain, and after months of terrible agony, 
had recently been obliged to submit to 
amputation of the hand as the only means 
of saving his life. He was now recover- 
ing slowly, and had been sent to the con- 
valescent camp, when a letter from Eli- 
nor informed him of the condition of his 
mother. In spite of the remonstrances 
of his physicians he obtained, through 



LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. Ill 

the influence of Col. Lester, a dismissal 
from the camp, and started for home un- 
der the care of Capt. May, a former mem- 
ber of the Twenty-sixth, and' now com- 
mander of a company in Col. Lester's 
regiment, who had a furlough in conse- 
quence of ill health. 

Mrs. Fenton had seemed to be in a 
dying state for several hours, but her 
frequent inquiries showed us that she still 
expected the arrival of her son, though 
no word had reached her of his intention 
to start for home. 

" It is my only earthly care," she said, 
"and I think my Father will grant me 
this request." 

She had been apparently sleeping/ and 
all was perfectly still in and around the 
house, when suddenly starting and open- 
ing her eyes, she exclaimed, "He is com- 
ing ; I hear the wheels ; he is almost here ; 
thank God." 



112 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

None of us could hear a sound ; but 
the mother's ears, quickened by affection, 
caught the distant rumbling, though the 
moment b*efore death seemed - about to 
close them for ever. A few moments 
brought the carriage to the door, and 
Elinor and Lilian flew to meet and wel- 
come the returning wanderer. 

"Is my mother still living ?'' was his 
first inquiry ; and on receiving an answer 
in the affirmative, the strength which had 
sustained him on the way suddenly de- 
serted him. He sank into a chair, and 
covering his face, gave way for a few 
moments to the emotions which shook 
his frame, while Elinor threw her arms 
around his neck, and wept silently. But 
Lilian, who knew the anxiety of her dy- 
ing aunt, said tenderly, 

"Dear cousin, this will never do. 
Think of your mother, whose life is now 
counted by moments, and who is waiting 



LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 113 

for you. All your strength will be need- 
ed for this interview, and you must be 
calm, since agitation might be instantly 
fatal to her. 7 ' 

"I know it," was his reply, "and you 
shall see me a man again soon ; but I 
have feared the worst all the way home, 
and the revulsion of feeling overcame 
me at first. May you never know, dear 
girls, what it is to have remorse added 
to the sorrow of such an hour as this." 

The interview between the dying moth- 
er and her erring, but penitent son, was 
witnessed only by members of the fam- 
ily ; and at its close, she was so exhausted 
as to be almost insensible. But the lamp 
of life burned up brightly once more be- 
fore going out for ever. She bade us all 
farewell, with a few tender and appro- 
priate words to each ; then turning to her 
son, who was kneeling at the bedside, with 
his face buried in the pillows, she said, 

Our Village. 8 



114 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

as she laid her cold hand upon his head, 
"My dear boy, I once asked for you in 
my blindness length of days and temporal 
prosperity. Now I trust I have sought 
better things of God for you ; but you 
must seek him for yourself, or you will nev- 
er see his face in peace. With my dyiug 
breath I charge you, make it the busi- 
ness of your life to meet me in heaven.*'' 

After a few loving words to her hus- 
band, Elinor, and Lilian, with a kind 
message to Col. Lester, she said, in a 
voice clear and distinct as in health, 

"I wish to give it as my dying testi- 
mony to all here present, that -not one 
good thing has ever failed in my experi- 
ence, of all that the Lord has spoken. 
The religion of the Bible has been to me 
an infinite blessing. I have lived on it 
for years, and it has supported me in 
suffering and sorrow, and now I am dy- 
ing in perfect peace ; for Jesus is with 



LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 115 

me, and his rod and staff, they comfort 
me." 

Her voice died away, but the smile on 
her countenance was like the dawn of 
heaven in its brightness ; and it may 
have been the reflection of that radiance, 
for before her words had ceased to echo 
in that hushed chamber, the spirit had 
escaped from its wasted tenement, and 
was already rejoicing before the throne 
of God. 

Col. Lester came home to see her bur- 
ied, but stayed only a few days, as active 
service was soon expected. He was in 
good health, and seemed very happy, and 
as Lilian was to return with him to Wash- 
ington, there was nothing to mar her en- 
joyment of his brief visit. After their 
departure, Elinor and her brother were 
very lonely, and Capt. May, whose leave 
of absence had been extended, was a fre- 
quent visitor at the Tyrrell House, and 



116 OUK VILLAGE IN WAK-TIME. 

a great favorite with all its inmates, from 
Mr. Fenton down to Mammy Yenus, and 
Pete recently promoted to the dignity 
of coachman. 

To know Elinor Fenton intimately was 
to love her, and the young soldier found, 
before he had dreamed of danger, that 
his heart was no longer in his own pos- 
session. He could not with propriety 
make known his feelings to Elinor so 
soon after her bereavement, but from his 
friend Stanwood he received all the en- 
couragement which a brother's best wish- 
es could give ; and when lie rejoined his 
regiment, he carried with him a hope 
which brightened his darkest hours, and 
made every hardship seem light. 

Young Fenton had been at home but 
a few months before he became a univer- 
sal favorite, as we discovered the acqui- 
sition we had made in his society. He 
was ardent, impulsive, and generous even 



LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 117 

to a fault, and possessed the best traits 
of Southern character, with an ingenuous 
frankness peculiarly his own. Often led 
astray by the warmth of his feelings, he 
was quick to perceive and retract his 
errors, and eager to make reparation for 
them. It was impossible to associate with 
Stanwood Fenton without being con- 
stantly reminded of the Saviour's remark 
to the young man who came to him, and 
who awoke so (Jeep an interest in his be- 
nevolent heart: "One thing thou lack- 
est." Deep religious principle was the 
one thing wanting in his character, the 
balance-wheel without which his move- 
ments were erratic and uncertain, guided 
rather by the impulse of the moment 
than by any sense of accountability to 
God. 

His original plan had been to enter the 
Union army as soon as possible after the 
death of his mother, but his health had 



118 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

suffered greatly from long confinement in 
the hospital ; and the loss of his hand, 
together with the entreaties of his father 
and sister, induced him to relinquish the 
idea, and devote himself to the care of 
his father's business, which had suffered 
from neglect. The light came back to 
Elinor's eye, and the bloom to her cheek, 
as she saw her brother once more in his 
proper place at home; and though her 
beloved mother was still* fondly remem- 
bered and her loss deplored, it was with 
a chastened sorrow, as she felt that for 
her to die had been great gain. 

Winter, with its storms and sunshine, 
its triumphs and reverses, wore away at 
length, and with the first blossoms of 
May Lilian came back to us, more wel- 
come to our hearts than the breath of 
spring or the fragrance of forest flowers. 
She was accompanied by Captain, now 
Major May, who was on the staff of Gen. 



LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 119 

Lester, and who eagerly availed himself 
of an opportunity to revisit the spot 
where his earthly hopes were centred. 
During her stay at the head-quarters of 
her husband, Lilian had learned to ap- 
preciate the worth of the young aide-de- 
camp, and ardently hoped he might be 
successful in his suit. Why should I 
narrate the progress of events ? It was 
the same old story repeated once again, 
a tale as old as the history of the race, 
yet new in the experience of every hu- 
man heart— the story of faithful love 
meeting its reward at last in the affection 
of the beloved object. As Elinor heard 
from her cousin the recital of the gallant 
exploits of Major May, of his courage and 
devoted loyalty, she loved him not only 
"for the perils he had passed,' 7 but for 
the high principle which had thus far 
shielded him from the peculiar tempta- 
tions of a soldier's life ; and before his 



120 OUR TILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

departure lie won from her a promise, 
that when the war was ended, or his 
term of service expired, he might claim 
his reward. 

Months have passed, and still the cloud 
of war overshadows the land, and still 
our beloved ones are absent from us, 
some with the heroic Sherman in North- 
ern Georgia, 'scaling the heights of Ken- 
esaw and Lookout mountains, and driv- 
ing the eagle from his eyrie, as they plant 
the stars and stripes among the clouds ; 
some are in the sultry swamps and bay- 
ous of Louisiana, exposed to a foe more 
insidious and deadly than the rebel ar- 
mies; and others, among whom are our 
best and bravest, are swelling the ranks 
which threaten the Confederate capital. 

" The time has come when brothers must fight 
And sisters must pray at home." 

But while we look up to Him who 
alone can send help and deliverance, it 



LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 121 

is our privilege to labor as well as to 
pray, and while we wait upon Gocl, to 
watch for every opportunity of doing 
whatever our hands find to do in the 
good cause, with our whole heart. 

The heavens are dark above us, and 
the earth rocks wildly under our feet, 
but God has a divine purpose underlying 
all these convulsions, and it is fixed and 
immutable as his throne. Faith sees in 
the overturnings around us the majestic 
march of his providence, preparing a 
way in the tempest, and making the 
wrath of man to praise him, while he 
restrains the remainder thereof. 

It is good for us sometimes, when hope 
deferred makes the heart sick, to go back 
to first principles, that we may gather 
strength from a review of our past history 
and of God's dealings with us as a nation. 

The American republic was unique in 
its inception and establishment. The 



122 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

pilgrim band who came to New England 
in the Mayflower were not a company of 
commercial adventurers, led hither by the 
hope of gain ; still less were they a party of 
military freebooters, actuated by the lust 
of conquest, like the- Spaniards, who car- 
ried fire and sword among the unoffend- 
ing inhabitants of Southern America. 
The principle which led those noble men 
and women to forsake kindred and home, 
and to brave the perils of a howling wil- 
derness, and which sustained them amid 
all their privations and sufferings, was 
not earthly or perishable. It was the 
burning, quenchless thirst for religious 
liberty, the strong determination to wor- 
ship God according to the dictates ot 
their own conscience, though the roof of 
their temple were the boundless sky and 
their altar the rough stones of the forest, 
that actuated the founders of this repub- 
lic in their sublime enterprise. 



LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 123 

They came to these wilds of nature 
that they might found a colony and build 
up a church, and advance the interests 
of the Redeemer's kingdom, and serve 
as stepping-stones to others in the great 
work of human progress. And never 
has the divine declaration, ''Them that 
honor me I will honor," been more sig- 
nally fulfilled than in the growth of the 
infant nation thus established. Every 
step of the way in which, as a people, 
we have been led, from the landing on 
Plymouth rock to the proud position 
which we have hitherto occupied among 
the nations, has been marked by special 
interpositions of Providence, no less real, 
though less miraculous, than the pillar of 
cloud and flame which guided the ancient 
Israelites to the land of promise. 

But in our prosperity we have forgot- 
ten the Pock whence we were hewn, and 
have rebelled against our father's God, 



124 OUR VILLAGE IN WAR-TIME. 

and refused to obey his commands, until 
in his righteous indignation he has come 
out in judgment against us, and left us to 
our own ways and to eat the fruit of our 
own devices. As a nation we have 
deeply sinned. As a nation we are suf- 
fering a fearful punishment. 

But let not the enemies of liberty in 
the old world or the new, exult in the 
belief that the republic is about to be 
rent in fragments, and the last hope of 
the oppressed millions of Europe to be 
for ever entombed. We are bearing the 
indignation of the Lord because we have 
sinned against him; but when his pur- 
poses concerning us are accomplished, 
he will arise to execute judgment for 
us. 

No careful observer of God's provi- 
dence can doubt that he has reserved 
America for a grand destiny — that our 
country has a mission to perform of the 



LIGHTS AND SHADOWS. 125 

sublimest import, and a grand agency to 
exert in the regeneration of the world. 

If we read aright the divine purpose 
in reference to this nation, and the his- 
torical causes here concentrating, we 
must believe that the vital forces inher- 
ent in our government and institutions 
will, with the blessing of God, master all 
the antagonisms now threatening their 
overthrow ; and that, having passed 
through this baptism of blood and fire, 
we shall emerge cleansed and purified, 
^nd stand as a beacon light to the strug- 
gling nations of the old world, until suf- 
fering humanity everywhere, regenerat- 
ed and redeemed, shall rejoice in one 
grand jubilee of liberty, Christianity, 
and universal brotherhood. 



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