The Drummer Boy | Page 3

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 you a long, long time yet."
"I hope you will; but we must think of the worst, and be prepared for it, my son. If it is God's will, I can give you up. And you--you must make up your mind to brave all dangers, even to die, if necessary. It is a great and holy cause you are engaging in. It is no gay and pleasant adventure, as perhaps you think. Are you sure you have thought of it well?"
"I have," responded Frank. "I am going; and I am going to do my duty, whatever it is. For a few minutes after I came to bed,