and new drum, accosted him.

"So, you are a drummer boy—are you?"

"Yes, sir, I am learning to be one," said Frank, modestly.

Now, these two had seen each other often in camp and the captain had always regarded Frank with a smile of interest and kindness, and Frank (as he wrote home) had "always liked the looks of the captain first-rate."

"I saw you, I think, the day you came here," said the captain. "You had some curls then. What has become of them?"

Frank's lip twitched, and he cast down his eyes, ashamed to betray any lingering feeling on that subject.

"The boys cut them off in my sleep, sir."

"The rogues!" exclaimed the captain. "And what did you do?"

Frank lifted his eyes with a smile. "I partly finished them myself—they had haggled them so; and the next day I found a man to cut my hair nicely."

"Well, it is better so, perhaps: short hair for a soldier. But I liked those curls. They reminded me of a little sister of mine—she is gone now—," in a low, mellow tone. "Are you attached to any company?"

"I am enlisted in the Jackson Blues."

"What is your name?"

"Frank Manly, sir."

"Are you any relation to Mrs. Manly, of——?"

"She is my mother, sir," said Frank, with proud affection.

"Is it possible! Mrs. Manly's son! Indeed, you look like her."

"Do you know my mother, sir?"

"My lad," said the captain, "I used to go to school to her. But, though I have heard of her often, I haven't seen her for years."

"I shall write to her, and tell her about you," said Frank, delighted. "She will be glad to hear that I have found so good a friend."

"Ask her," said the captain, "If she remembers Henry Edney, who used to go to school to her in ——. She will recollect me, I am sure. And give my very kind regards to her, and to your father; and tell them I regret I didn't see you before you enlisted, for I want just such a drummer boy in my company. But never mind," he added quickly, as if conscious of having spoken indiscreetly, "you will do your duty where you are, and I will try to do mine, for we must have only one thought now—to serve our country."

They separated, with more kind words on the captain's part, and with expressions of gratitude on the part of Frank, who felt that, to compensate him for John Winch's treachery, he was already securing the friendship of a few of the best of men.

You may be sure the boy wrote to his mother all about the interview, and told her how sorry he was that he had not enlisted in Captain Edney's company; not only because he liked his new friend's kindness and affable manners so well, but also because there existed in the ranks of the Jackson Blues a strong prejudice against their own officers. Captain —— was almost a stranger to his men, and seemed determined to continue so. He seldom appeared amongst them, or showed any interest in their welfare. He had never once drilled them, but left that duty entirely to the sergeant. They consequently accused him boldly of laziness, ignorance, and conceit—three qualities which men always dislike in their superiors. How different was Captain Edney!

V.

FUN IN CAMP.

Frank now practised his lessons on his drum, and was very happy. He had passed the surgical examination a few days after his arrival in camp, and been duly sworn into the service. This latter ceremony made a strong impression on his mind. He stood in the open air, together with a number of new recruits, and heard the Articles of War read; after which they all took off their caps, and held up their right hands, while the oath was administered.

One day, on returning to camp after his lesson in the woods, he was astonished to see Jack Winch, with his cap off, his fighting-cut displayed to all beholders, and his fist shaking, marched off by armed soldiers.

"What are they doing with Jack?" he hastened to inquire of Abram Atwater, who stood among his comrades with his arms composedly crossed under his cape.

"He is put under guard," said the tall, taciturn soldier.

"You see," cried Joe Harris, coming up, "Jack had tipped the bottle once too often, and got noisy. The sergeant told him to keep still. 'Dry up yourself,' said Jack. 'Start,' says the sergeant; and he took hold of him to push him towards the tent; but the next he knew, he got a blow square in the face,—Jack was so mad!"

"Come, boys," said Ned Ellis, "Le's go over and see how he likes the fun."

The proposal was accepted; and presently a strong deputation of the Blues went to pay a visit to their disgraced comrade. Arrived at the guard tent, a couple of sentinels crossed their bayonets before them. But although they could not enter, they could look in; and there, seated on the ground, they saw Jack, in a position which would have appeared excessively ludicrous to Frank, but that it seemed to him too pitiful to behold any comrade so degraded. In consequence of his continued fury and violence, Jack had been secured in this fashion. Imagine a grotesque letter N, to which feet, arms, and a head have been added, and you have some idea of his posture, as seen in profile. His knees were elevated; forming the upper angle of the letter. The lower angle was represented by that portion of the body which forms the seat of the human animal. The arms were passed over the upper angle, that is, the knees, and kept in their place by handcuffs on the wrists, and by a musket thrust through, over the arms and under the knees.

"Can't you untie them iron knots with your teeth, Jack?" said Joe, meaning the handcuffs.

"How do you like the back to your chair?" said Ned.

"Let's see ye turn a somerset backwards, Jack."

And so forth. But Frank did not insult him in his disgrace.

Winch was by this time sufficiently sobered and humbled. He destroyed the symmetry of the N by doubling himself ingloriously over his knees and hiding his face between them.

"Got the colic, Jack?" asked Harris—"you double up so."

Winch glared up at him a moment,—a ludicrous picture, with that writhing face and that curious fighting-cut,—but cast down his eyes again, sulkily, and said nothing.

"Come away, boys," whispered Frank. "Don't stay here, making fun of him. Why do you?"

"Jack," said Ellis, "we're going to take a drink. Won't you come along with us?"—tauntingly.

And the Blues dispersed, leaving poor Jack to his own bitter reflections.

He had learned one thing—who his friends were. On being released, he shunned Harris and Ellis especially, for a day or two, and paid his court to Frank.

"I am going to tell you something, Frank," said he, as they were once at the pond-side, washing their plates after dinner. "I'm going to leave the company."

"Leave the Blues?" said Frank.

"Yes, and quit the service. I've got sick of it."

"But I thought you liked it so well."

"Well, I did at first. It was a kind of novelty. Come, let's leave it. I will."

"But how can you?"

"Easy enough. I am under age, and my father 'll get me off."

"I should think you would be ashamed to ask him to," Frank could not help saying, with honest contempt.

Jack was not offended this time by his plainness, for he had learned that those are not, by any means, our worst friends, who truly tell us our faults.

"I don't care," he said, putting on an air of recklessness. "I ain't going to lead this miserable dog's life in camp any longer, if I have to desert"—lowering his voice to a whisper; "we can desert just as easy as not, Frank, if we take a notion."

"I, for one," said Frank, indignantly, "shan't take a notion to do anything so dishonorable. We enlisted of our own free will, and I think it would be the meanest and most dishonest thing we could do to——"

"Hush!" whispered Jack. "There's Atwater; he'll hear us."

At midnight the drummer boy was awakened by a commotion in the