As the volunteers of the Pinchbrook company could ill afford to lose the time devoted to drill before they should be mustered into the service of the United States, the town voted to pay each man fifteen dollars a month for three months.  This generous and patriotic action of the town rejoiced the heart of Tom Somers, for his mother actually needed the pittance he had earned at the store.  Mrs. Somers had heard nothing from her husband; but the destruction of the Gosport Navy Yard, and the seizure of several northern vessels in the harbor of Norfolk, left her little to hope for in that direction.  Suddenly an impregnable wall seemed to rise up between the North and the South, and she not only feared that Captain Somers had lost all his worldly possessions, but that he would hardly be able to escape himself from the fiery furnace of secession and treason.

To her, therefore, the future looked dark and forbidding.  She foresaw that she and her family would be subjected to the pressure of want, or at least be dependent upon the kindness of friends for support.  She had freely stated her fears to her children, and fully exhibited the insufficiency of the family resources.  The vote of the town was a perfect godsend to Tom, and a fat legacy from a rich relative would not have kindled a stronger feeling of gratitude in his soul.

For the next five weeks, Tom was employed forenoon, afternoon, and evening, in the drill, and he soon made himself proficient.  The company was recruited nearly up to its maximum number, and was then attached to the —­th regiment, which had just been formed and ordered to Fort Warren.

On the 27th day of May, the company, escorted by the patriotic citizens of Pinchbrook, marched to Boston, and Tom took a sorrowful farewell of his mother, his brother and sisters, and a score of anxious friends.

“Now don’t let the rebels hit you in the backbone, Thomas,” said gran’ther Green, as he shook the hand of the soldier boy.

“No, gran’ther; if I can’t fight, I won’t run away,” replied Tom.

“You’ve got good blood in your veins, my boy:  don’t disgrace it.  I don’t know as you’ll ever see me again, but God bless you, Thomas;” and the old man turned away to hide the tears which began to course down his wrinkled cheek.

“Be a good boy, Thomas,” added his mother.

“I will, mother.”

“And remember what I’ve been telling you.  I’m not half so much afraid of your being killed by a bullet, as I am of your being ruined by bad men.”

“You needn’t fear any thing of that kind, mother.”

“I shall pray that you may be saved from your friends as well as from your enemies.  We shall see you again before you go off, I hope.”

“Yes, mother; we shall not be sent south yet.”

“Don’t forget to read your Testament, Thomas,” said Mrs. Somers.

“I won’t, mother,” replied the soldier boy, as he again shook hands with all the members of the family, kissed his mother and his sisters, and hitching up his knapsack, took his place in the ranks.