“God bless my mother!  God bless them all!” were the involuntary ejaculations of the soldier boy, as he turned away from the hallowed scene.

But the memory of that blessed place, sanctified by the presence of those loving and devoted ones, was shrined in the temple of his heart, ever to go with him in camp and march, in the perils of battle and siege, to keep him true to his God, true to himself, and true to those whom he had left behind him.  That last look at home and those that make it home, like the last fond gaze we bestow on the loved and the lost, was treasured up in the garner of the heart’s choicest memories, to be recalled in the solemn stillness of the midnight vigil, amid the horrors of the battle-field when the angry strife of arms had ceased, and in the gloom of the soldier’s sick bed when no mother’s hand was near to lave the fevered brow.

The moment when he obtained his last view of the home of his childhood seemed like the most eventful period of his existence.  His heart grew big in his bosom, and yet not big enough to contain all he felt.  He wept again, and his tears seemed to come from deeper down than his eyes.  He did not hear the inspiring strains of the band, or the cheers that greeted the company as they went forth to do and die for their country’s imperilled cause.

“Blubbering again, Tom?” sneered Ben Lethbridge.  “I thought you was more of a man than that, Tom Somers.”

“I can’t help it, Ben,” replied Tom, vainly struggling to subdue his emotions.

“Better go back, then.  We don’t want a great baby in the ranks.”

“It’s nateral, Ben,” said old Hapgood.  “He’ll get over it when he sees the rebels.”

“Don’t believe he will.  I didn’t think you were such a great calf, Tom.”

“Shet up, now, Ben,” interposed Hapgood.  “I’ll bet my life he’ll stand fire as well as you will.  I’ve been about in the world some, and I reckon I’ve as good an idee of this business as you have.  Tom’s got a heart under his ribs.”

“I’ll bet he runs away at the first fire.”

“I’ll bet he won’t.”

“I know I won’t!” exclaimed Tom, with energy, as he drew his coat sleeve across his eyes.

“It isn’t the cock that crows the loudest that will fight the best,” added the old man.  “I’ll bet Tom will be able to tell you the latest news from the front, where the battle’s the hottest.  I fit my way up to the city of Mexico long er old Scott, and I’ve heard boys crow afore today.”

“Look here, old un!  If you mean to call me a coward, why don’t you say so, right up and down?” growled Ben.

“Time’ll tell, my boy.  You don’t know what gunpowder smells like yet.  If you’d been with the fust Pennsylvany, where I was, you’d a-known sunthin about war.  Now, shet up, Ben; and don’t you worry Tom any more.”