The Drummer Boy | Page 3

dread for you worse than
the chances of the battle-field."
"What's that?"
"That you might be led away by bad company. To have you become
corrupted by 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 his habits and companions; to see him come home, if he ever
does, reckless and dissipated--O, I could endure any thing, even his
death, better than that."
"Well," exclaimed Frank, filled with pain, almost with indignation, at
the thought of any one, especially his mother, suspecting him of such
baseness, "there's one thing--you shall hear of my death, before you
hear of my drinking, or gambling, or swearing, or any thing of that kind.
I promise 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
Frank tremble, as he obeyed; for he felt now that her consent was
certain, and that the words he was writing were a sacred pledge.
"Now read what you have written, so that we can all hear what you
promise, and remember it when you are away."
After some bashful hesitation, Frank took courage, and read. A long
silence 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 shall
remember your promise a great deal better than you will."
"No, you won't!" cried Frank, full of resolution. "I shall keep that
promise to the letter."

Mrs. Manly took the Testament, read over the pledge carefully, and
wrote under 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 face
with affectionate, misty eyes, "it is right that you should do something
for your family, for we need your help. Your little sister is sick, your
father is feeble, and I--my hand may fail any day. And it is right that
you should wish to do something for your country; and, but that you are
so 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 done
so already. Consider the hardships, the dangers--every thing. Then
decide for yourself. I intrust you, I give you into the hands of our
heavenly Father."
She folded him to her heart, kissing him and weeping. Frank then
kissed his sisters good-night, his resolution almost failing him, and his
heart almost bursting with the thought that this might be the last
evening he would ever be with them, or kiss them good-night.

II.
OFF TO THE WAR.
It was a calm, clear October night. The moonlight streamed through the
window of Frank's room, an he lay in bed, thinking of the evening that
was past, and of the morning that was to come. Little Willie, his
younger brother, was sleeping sweetly at his side. He had heard his
sisters come up stairs and go to bed in the room next to his; and they
were conversing now in low tones,--about him he was sure.
Would he ever sleep in that nice warm bed again? Would he ever again
fold dear little Willie in his arms, and feel his dewy cheek against his

own, as he did now? What was the future that awaited him? Who
would fill his mother's place when he was gone from her? He had read
over the prayer she wrote for him; it was still fresh in his thoughts, and
he repeated it now to himself in the silence of the moonlit chamber.
When he opened his eyes, he saw a white shape enter softly and
approach his bedside. There it stood in the moonlight, white and still.
Was it a ghost? Was it an angel? Frank was not afraid.
"Mother!"
"Are you awake, my darling?"
"O, yes, mother. I haven't slept at all."
"I didn't mean to awake you, if you were asleep," she said, kneeling
down beside him. "But I could not sleep; and I thought I would come
and look at you, and kiss you once more; for perhaps I shall never see
you in your bed again."
"O, mother, don't talk so. I hope I shall be spared to