CHAPTER XII. A LETTER FROM THE CAMP
The little family at the Frost farm looked forward with anxiouseagerness to the first letter from the absent father.
Ten days had elapsed when Frank was seen hurrying up the road withsomething in his hand.
Alice saw him first, and ran in, exclaiming, "Mother, I do believe Frankhas got a letter from father. He is running up the road."
Mrs. Frost at once dropped her work, no less interested than herdaughter, and was at the door just as Frank, flushed with running,reached the gate.
"What'll you give me for a letter?" he asked triumphantly.
"Give it to me quick," said Mrs. Frost. "I am anxious to learn whetheryour father is well."
"I guess he is, or he wouldn't have written such a long letter."
"How do you know it's long?" asked Alice. "You haven't read it."
"I judge from the weight. There are two stamps on the envelope. I wastempted to open it, but, being directed to mother, I didn't venture."
Mrs. Frost sat down, and the children gathered round her, while she readthe following letter:
"CAMP --------, Virginia.
"DEAR MARY: When I look about me, and consider the novelty andstrangeness of my surroundings, I can hardly realize that it is only aweek since I sat in our quiet sitting-room at the farm, with you andour own dear ones around me. I will try to help your imagination to apicture of my present home.
"But first let me speak of my journey hither.
"It was tedious enough, traveling all day by rail. Of course, littleliberty was allowed us. Military discipline is rigid, and must bemaintained. Of its necessity we had a convincing proof at a smallstation between Hartford and New Haven. One of our number, who, Iaccidentally learned, is a Canadian, and had only been tempted to enlistby the bounty, selected a seat by the door of the car. I had noticed forsome time that he looked nervous and restless, as if he had something onhis mind.
"At one of our stopping-places--a small, obscure station--he creptout of the door, and, as he thought, unobserved, dodged behind a shed,thinking, no doubt, that the train would go off without him. Butan officer had his eye upon him, and a minute afterward he wasignominiously brought back and put under guard. I am glad to say thathis case inspired no sympathy. To enlist, obtain a bounty, and thenattempt to evade the service for which the bounty was given, isdespicable in the extreme. I am glad to know that no others of ourcompany had the least desire to follow this man's example.
"We passed through New York, Philadelphia, and Washington, but I cangive you little idea of either of these cities. The time we passed ineach was mostly during the hours of darkness, when there was littleopportunity of seeing anything.
"In Washington I was fortunate enough to see our worthy President. Wewere marching down Pennsylvania Avenue at the time. On the opposite sideof the street we descried a very tall man, of slender figure, walkingthoughtfully along, not appearing to notice what was passing around him.
"The officer in command turned and said: 'Boys, look sharp. That isAbraham Lincoln, across the way.'
"Of course, we all looked eagerly toward the man of whom we had heard somuch.
"I could not help thinking how great a responsibility rests upon thisman--to how great an extent the welfare and destinies of our belovedcountry depend upon his patriotic course.
"As I noticed his features, which, plain as they are, bear theunmistakable marks of a shrewd benevolence, and evince also, as I think,acute and original powers of mind, I felt reassured. I could not helpsaying to myself: 'This man is at least honest, and if he does not carryus in safety through this tremendous crisis, it will not be for the lackof an honest determination to do his duty.'
"And now let me attempt to give you a picture of our present situation,with some account of the way we live.
"Our camp may appropriately be called 'Hut Village.' Imagine severalavenues lined with square log huts, surmounted by tent-coverings. Thelogs are placed transversely, and are clipped at the ends, so as to fiteach other more compactly. In this way the interstices are made muchnarrower than they would otherwise be. These, moreover, are filled inwith mud, which, as you have probably heard, is a staple production ofVirginia. This is a good protection against the cold, though it does notgive our dwellings a very elegant appearance.
"Around most of our huts shallow trenches are dug, to carry off thewater, thus diminishing the dampness. Most of the huts are not floored,but mine, fortunately, is an exception to the general rule. My comradessucceeded in obtaining some boards somewhere, and we are a little inadvance of our neighbors in this respect.
"Six of us are lodged in a tent. It is pretty close packing, butwe don't stand upon ceremony here. My messmates seem to be pleasantfellows. I have been most attracted to Frank Grover; a bright youngfellow of eighteen. He tells me that he is an only son, and his motheris a widow.
"'Wasn't your mother unwilling to have you come out here?' I asked himone day.
"'No,' he answered, 'not unwilling. She was only sorry for thenecessity. When I told her that I felt it to be my duty, she told me atonce to go. She said she would never stand between me and my country.'
"'You must think of her often,' I said.
"'All the time,' he answered seriously, a thoughtful expressionstealing over his young face. 'I write to her twice a week regular, andsometimes oftener. For her sake I hope my life may be spared to return.'
"'I hope so, too,' I answered warmly. Then after a minute's silence, Iadded from some impulse: 'Will you let me call you Frank? I have a boyat home, not many years younger than you. His name is Frank also--itwill seem to remind me of him.'
"'I wish you would,' he answered, his face lighting up with evidentpleasure. 'Everybody calls me Frank at home, and I am tired of beingcalled Grover.'
"So our compact was made. I shall feel a warm interest in this braveboy, and I fervently hope that the chances of war will leave himunscathed.
"I must give you a description of Hiram Marden, another of our smallcompany, a very different kind of person from Frank Grover. But it takesall sorts of characters to make an army, as well as a world, and Mardenis one of the oddities. Imagine a tall young fellow, with a thin face,lantern jaws, and long hair 'slicked' down on either side. Though hemay be patriotic, he was led into the army from a different cause. Hecherished an attachment for a village beauty, who did not return hislove. He makes no concealment of his rebuff, but appears to enjoydiscoursing in a sentimental way upon his disappointment. He wears suchan air of meek resignation when he speaks of his cruel fair one that theeffect is quite irresistible, and I find it difficult to accord himthat sympathy which his unhappy fate demands. Fortunately for him, histroubles, deep-seated as they are, appear to have very little effectupon his appetite. He sits down to his rations with a look of subduedsorrow upon his face, and sighs frequently between the mouthfuls. Inspite of this, however, he seldom leaves anything upon his tin plate,which speaks well for his appetite, since Uncle Sam is a generousprovider, and few of us do full justice to our allowance.
"You may wonder how I enjoy soldier's fare. I certainly do longsometimes for the good pumpkin and apple pies which I used to have athome, and confess that a little apple sauce would make my hardtacka little more savory. I begin to appreciate your good qualities as ahousekeeper, Mary, more than ever. Pies can be got of the sutler, butthey are such poor things that I would rather do without than eat them,and I am quite sure they would try my digestion sorely.
"There is one very homely esculent which we crave in the camp--I meanthe onion. It is an excellent preventive of scurvy, a disease to whichour mode of living particularly exposes us. We eat as many as we canget, and should be glad of more. Tell Frank he may plant a whole acre ofthem. They will require considerable care, but even in a pecuniary waythey will pay. The price has considerably advanced since the war began,on account of the large army demand, and will doubtless increase more.
"As to our military exercises, drill, etc.,
we have enough to occupyour time well. I see the advantage of enlisting in a veteran regiment.I find myself improving very rapidly. Besides my public company drill,I am getting my young comrade, Frank Grover, who has been in the servicesix months, to give me some private lessons. With the help of these, Ihope to pass muster creditably before my first month is out.
"And now, my dear Mary, I must draw my letter to a close. In the armywe are obliged to write under difficulties. I am writing this on myknapsack for a desk, and that is not quite so easy as a table. Theconstrained position in which I am forced to sit has tired me, and Ithink I will go out and 'limber' myself a little. Frank, who has justfinished a letter to his mother, will no doubt join me. Two of mycomrades are sitting close by, playing euchre. When I joined them Ifound they were in the habit of playing for small stakes, but I havesucceeded in inducing them to give up a practice which might notunlikely lead to bad results.
"In closing, I need not tell you how much and how often I think of youall. I have never before been separated from you, and there are timeswhen my longing to be with you again is very strong. You must make upfor your absence by frequent and long letters. Tell me all that is goingon. Even trifles will serve to amuse us here.
"Tell Frank to send me Harper's Weekly regularly. Two or three times aweek I should like to have a daily paper forwarded. Every newspaper thatfinds its way into camp goes the rounds, and its contents are eagerlydevoured.
"I will write you again very soon. The letters I write and receive fromhome will be one of my principal sources of pleasure. God bless you all,is the prayer of your affectionate husband and father,
"HENRY FROST."
It is hardly necessary to say that this letter was read with eagerinterest. That evening all the children, including little Charlie, werebusy writing letters to the absent father. I have not room to print themall, but as this was Charlie's first epistolary effort, it may interestsome of my youthful readers to see it. The mistakes in spelling will beexcused on the score of Charlie's literary inexperience. This is the wayit commenced:
"DEER FARTHER: I am sorry you hav to live in a log hous stuck up withmud. I shud think the mud wood cum off on your close. I am wel and so isMaggie. Frank is agoin to make me a sled--a real good one. I shal cal itthe egle. I hope we shal soon hav sum sno. It will be my berth day nextweek. I shal be seven years old. I hope you cum back soon. Good nite.
"from CHARLIE."
Charlie was so proud of his letter that he insisted on having itenclosed in a separate envelope and mailed by itself--a request whichwas complied with by his mother.