Among the soldiers, I noticed one, on whom not more than nineteen summers had shone; nay, less than that.  His light and joyous heart seemed bounding with delight, as he witnessed the busy scene that met his wondering eyes.  An aged woman stood near him, whose blanched and withered cheek but ill accorded with the cheerful look of her light-hearted thoughtless son.  She took his hand, and sobbed out, “Oh, George, my poor boy, little thought I to see the day when I should be thus forsaken; I did hope you would now have staid with me, and been a comfort in my old days.”

“Hush, hush! grand-mother, the boys are all looking at you.  Come, now, don’t be blubbering so foolishly, I shall soon come back again.”

“Come back again, boy! afore that day comes, these poor old bones will be mouldering in the dust.  But God’s will be done, and may his blessings be upon you; I know there must be soldiers, but oh, ’tis hard, so very hard, to part with one’s only child.  Oh, after the care I have taken to bring you up decently, to lose you thus; and how I worked, day and night, to buy you off before, and yet you listed again, though a month had not passed over your head.  God help me,” said she sighing, “for even this trial could not be without God’s will, for without that, not a sparrow could fell to the ground.  But stay, do wait a bit longer,” said she, catching him by the belt, as he was manifesting a restless impatience to join the busy throng.

“You will promise to write to me, George, you will not forget that?”

“Yes, yes, to be sure, mother, I’ll write.”

The sergeant now began to call the muster roll, and the poor old creature’s cheek grew whiter still as the lad exclaimed: 

“Now, mother, I must fall into the ranks; good bye, good bye.”

“May God Almighty preserve thee, my child; you may one day be a parent yourself, and will then know what your poor old grandmother feels this day.”

The lad had by this time passed muster, and was soon after on board.  The afflicted grand-mother stood, with her eyes transfixed on the vessel, gazing on her unheeding boy, who, insensible to the agonizing feelings that rent her breast, felt not one single throe of regret, his mind being entirely engrossed in contemplating the bright future, which the sergeant, who enlisted him, had drawn.

Captain Ormsby, who commanded the detachment, was a man of feeling; he had particularly noticed the poor woman’s distress.

“Be comforted,” said he, “I will watch over the lad, for your sake, and will try and take him under my immediate charge, and if he behaves well, I may be able to serve him.  I will see that he writes to you.”

“Heaven bless and reward your honour,” she exclaimed, “surely you are a parent yourself.  Oh, yes, I knew it,” said she, as she saw him wipe off the starting tear.  “May God spare you such a trial as has this day been my lot.”

“Thank you, thank you, my good woman,” said he hardly able to speak.