FRANK MANLY, THE DRUMMER BOY.
I.
FRANK AT HOME.
One evening, in the month of October, 1861, the Manly family weregathered together in their little sitting-room, discussing a question ofthe most serious importance to all of them, and to Frank in particular.Mrs. Manly sat by the table, pretending to sew; but now and then thetears rushed into her eyes, and dropped upon her work, in spite of allshe could do to keep them back. Frank watched her with a swelling breast,sorry to see his mother so grieved, and yet glad in one little corner ofhis heart; for, although she had declared that she could not think ofgranting his request, he knew well, by those tears of hers, that she wasalready thinking of granting it.
"A pretty soldier you'll make, Frank!" said Helen, his elder sister,laughing at his ambition. "You never fired a gun in your life; and if youshould see a rebel, you wouldn't know which end of the gun to point athim, you'd be so frightened."
"Yes, I know it," retorted Frank, stoutly, determined not to be dissuadedfrom his purpose either by entreaties or ridicule; "and for that reason Iam going to enlist as a drummer boy."
"Well," exclaimed Helen, "your hands will tremble so, no doubt you canroll the drumsticks admirably."
"Yes, to be sure," replied Frank, with a meaning smile; for he thoughtwithin himself, "If she really thinks I am such a coward, never mind;she'll learn better some day."
"O, don't go to war, dear Frank," pleaded, in a low, sweet voice, hisyounger sister, little Hattie, the invalid, who lay upon the lounge,listening with painful interest to the conversation; "do, brother, stayat home with me."
That affectionate appeal touched the boy's heart more deeply than hismother's tears, his elder sister's ridicule, and his father's opposition,all combined. He knelt down by little Hattie's side, put his arms abouther neck, and kissed her.
"But somebody must go and fight, little sister," he said, as soon as hecould choke back his tears. "The rebels are trying to overthrow thegovernment; and you wouldn't keep me at home--would you?--when it needsthe services of every true patriot?"
"Which of the newspapers did you get that speech out of?" asked Helen."If Jeff Davis could hear you, I think he'd give up the Confederacy atonce. He would say, 'It's no use, since Young America has spoken.'"
"Yes; like the coon in the tree, when he saw Colonel Crockett taking aimat him," added Frank: "says the coon, 'Don't shoot! If it's you, colonel,I'll come down!' And I tell ye," cried the boy, enthusiastically,"there's something besides a joke in it. Jeff'll be glad to come down outof his tree, before we hang him on it."
"But if you go to war, Frank," exclaimed the little invalid, from herpillow, "you will be shot."
"I expect to be shot at a few times," he replied; "but every man that'sshot at isn't shot, sissy; and every man that's shot isn't killed; andevery man that's killed isn't dead--if what the Bible says is true."
"O my son," said Mrs. Manly, regarding him with affectionate earnestness,"do you know what you say? have you considered it well?"
"Yes," said Frank, "I've thought it all over. It hasn't been out of mythoughts, day or night, this ever so long; though I was determined not toopen my lips about it to any one, till my mind was made up. I know fiveor six that have enlisted, and I'm just as well able to serve my countryas any of them. I believe I can go through all the hardships any of themcan. And though Helen laughs at me now for a coward, before I've been ina fight, she won't laugh at me afterwards." But here the lad's voicebroke, and he dashed a tear from his eye.
"No, no, Frank," said Helen, remorsefully, thinking suddenly of thosewhose brothers have gone forth bravely to battle, and never come homeagain. And she saw in imagination her own dear, brave, loving brothercarried bleeding from the field, his bright, handsome face deathly pale,the eyes that now beamed so hopefully and tenderly, closing--perhapsforever. "Forgive my jokes, Frank; but you are too young to go to war. Wehave lost one brother by secession, and we can't afford to lose another."
She alluded to George, the oldest of the children, who had been severalyears in the Carolinas; who had married a wife there, and become aslave-owner; and who, when the war broke out, forgot his native north,and the free institutions under which he had been bred, to side with thesouth and slavery. This had proved a source of deep grief to his parents;not because the pecuniary support they had derived from him, up to thefall of Fort Sumter, was now cut off, greatly to their distress,--forthey were poor,--but because, when he saw the Union flag fall atCharleston, he had written home that it was a glorious sight; and theyknew that the love of his wife, and the love of his property, had madehim a traitor to his country.
"If I've a brother enlisted on the wrong side," said Frank, "so much themore reason that I should enlist on the right side. And I am not so youngbut that I can be doing something for my country, and something for youhere at home, at the same time. If I volunteer, you will be allowed stateaid, and I mean to send home all my pay, to the last dollar. I wish youwould tell me, father, that I can have your consent."
Mr. Manly sat in his easy-chair, with his legs crossed, his hands pressedtogether, and his head sunk upon his breast. For a long time he had notspoken. He was a feeble man, who had not succeeded well in the businessof life; his great fault being that he always relied too much uponothers, and not enough upon himself. The result was, that his wife hadbecome more the head of the family than he was, and every importantquestion of this kind, as Frank well knew, was referred to her fordecision.
"O, I don't know, I don't know, my son," Mr. Manly groaned; and,uncrossing his legs, he crossed them again in another posture. "I havesaid all I can; now you must talk with your mother."
"There, mother," said Frank, who had got the answer he expected, and nowproceeded to make good use of it; "father is willing, you see. All I wantnow is for you to say yes. I must go and enlist to-morrow, if I mean toget into the same company with the other boys; and I'm sure you'd ratherI'd go with the fellows I know, than with strangers. We are going tobefriend each other, and stand by each other to the last."
"Some of them, I am afraid, are not such persons as I would wish to haveyou on very intimate terms with, any where, my child," answered Mrs.Manly; "for there is one danger I should dread for you worse than thechances of the battle-field."
"What's that?"
"That you might be led away by bad company. To have you become corruptedby their evil influences--to know that my boy was no longer the pure,truthful child he was; that he would blush to have his sisters know hishabits and companions; to see him come home, if he ever does, recklessand dissipated--O, I could endure any thing, even his death, better thanthat."
"Well," exclaimed Frank, filled with pain, almost with indignation, atthe thought of any one, especially his mother, suspecting him of suchbaseness, "there's one thing--you shall hear of my death, before you hearof my drinking, or gambling, or swearing, or any thing of that kind. Ipromise you that."
"Where is your Testament, my son?" asked his mother.
"Here it is."
"Have you a pencil?"
"He may take mine," said Hattie.
"Now write on this blank leaf what you have just promised."
Mrs. Manly spoke with a solemn and tender earnestness which made Franktremble, as he obeyed; for he felt now that her consent was certain, andthat the words he was writing were a sacred pledge.
"Now read what you have written, so that we can all hear what youpromise, and remember it when you are away."
After some bashful hesitation, Frank took courage, and read. A longsilence followed. Little Hattie on the lounge was crying.
"But you ought to keep this--for I make the promise to you," he said,reflecting that he had used his own Testament to write in.
"No, you are to keep it," said his mother, "for I'm afraid we shallremember your promise a great deal better than you will."
"No, you won't!" cried Frank, full of resolution. "I shall
keep thatpromise to the letter."
Mrs. Manly took the Testament, read over the pledge carefully, and wroteunder it a little prayer.
"Now," said she, "go to your room, and read there what I have written.Then go to bed, and try to sleep. We all need rest--for to-morrow."
"O! and you give your consent?"
"My son," said Mrs. Manly, holding his hand, and looking into his facewith affectionate, misty eyes, "it is right that you should do somethingfor your family, for we need your help. Your little sister is sick, yourfather is feeble, and I--my hand may fail any day. And it is right thatyou should wish to do something for your country; and, but that you areso young, so very young, I should not have opposed you at all. As it is,I shall not oppose you any more. Think of it well, if you have not doneso already. Consider the hardships, the dangers--every thing. Then decidefor yourself. I intrust you, I give you into the hands of our heavenlyFather."
She folded him to her heart, kissing him and weeping. Frank then kissedhis sisters good-night, his resolution almost failing him, and his heartalmost bursting with the thought that this might be the last evening hewould ever be with them, or kiss them good-night.