realizes what it is to fight the rebels," said his mother, with a sigh.

"I'm afraid," said Helen, "Frank doesn't realize it much more than Willie does. He has just about as correct a notion about putting down the webellion."

"Very likely," said Frank, who had learned that the beat way to treat a joke of this kind is always to humor it, instead of being offended. For a joke is often like a little barking dog—perfectly harmless, if you pass serenely by without noticing it, or if you just say, "Poor fellow! brave dog!" and pat its neck; but which, if you get angry and raise your stick, will worry you all the more for your trouble, and perhaps be provoked to bite.

There was a silence of several minutes—Willie alone manifesting a desire to keep up the conversation on war matters. He stuck his johnny-cake on the end of his gun, and bombarded his mother's coffee-cup with it; and was about to procure more johnny-cake, in order to shell the sugar-bowl, which he called "Fort Sumter," when Helen put an end to his sport by disarming him.

"I want father to go to town with me, to the recruiting office," said Frank; "for I don't suppose I will be accepted, unless he does."

That sounded like proceeding at once to business, which Mr. Manly never liked to do. He was one of those easily discouraged men, whose rule is always to postpone until to-morrow what they are not absolutely obliged to do to-day. He waited, however, as usual, to hear what his wife would say to the proposition, before expressing himself decidedly against it. Fortunately, Mrs. Manly had energy and self-reliance enough for both.

"If you are still firmly resolved to go, then your father will go with you to the recruiting office," she said; and that settled it: for Frank was resolved—his character resembling his mother's in respect to energy and determination.

Accordingly, after breakfast, Mr. Manly, with frequent sighs of foreboding and discouragement, made a lather, honed his razor, and shaved himself, preparatory to a visit to town. Frank, in the mean while, made ready for his departure. He put in order the personal effects which he intended to leave at home, and packed into a bundle a few things he purposed to take with him. An hour passed quickly away, with all its busy preparations, consultations, and leave takings; and the last moment arrived.

"Say good-by twice to me," said Hattie, the little invalid, rising up on her lounge to give him a farewell kiss.

"Why twice to you?" asked Frank.

"Because," she answered, with a sad, sweet smile, "If you do come home from the war, perhaps you won't find me here;" for the child had a notion that she was going to die.

"O sissy," exclaimed Frank, "don't say so; I shall come back, and I shall find you well."

"Yes," replied Hattie, sorry that she had said any thing to make him feel bad; "we will think so, dear brother." And she smiled again; just as angels smile, Frank thought.

"Besides, this isn't my good-by for good, you know," said he. "I shall get a furlough, and come home and see you all, before I leave for the seat of war with my regiment." Frank couldn't help feeling a sort of pride in speaking of his regiment. "And may-be you will all visit me in camp before I go."

"Come," called his father, at the door; "if we are going to catch this car, we must be off."

So Frank abbreviated his adieus, and ran.

"Wait, wait!" screamed Willie, pulling his cap on "Me go, me go!"

"Go where, you little witch?" cried Helen.

"Me go to war, along with my bwother Fwank. Put down webellion," pouted the child, shouldering his gun, and trudging out of the door in eager haste, fearing lest he should be left behind.

Mrs. Manly was parting from her son on the doorstep, putting back a stray curl from his cheek, smoothing his collar, and whispering, with wet eyes and quivering lips, "My child, remember!"

"I will—good-by!" were Frank's last words; and he hastened after his father, just pausing on the next corner to look around at the faces in the door of his home, and wave his hat at them. There was Hattie, leaning on Helen's arm, and waving her handkerchief, which was scarcely whiter than that thin white face of hers; and there was his mother gazing after him with steadfast eyes of affection and blessing, while her hands were fully occupied in restraining that small but fiery patriot, Willie, who, with his cap over his eyes, was vehemently struggling to go with his bwother Fwank.

This was the tableau, the final picture of home, which remained imprinted on Frank's memory. For the corner was passed, and the doorway and windows of the dear old house, and the dearer faces there, were lost to sight. He would have delayed, in order to get one more look; but already the tinkling bells gave warning of the near approach of the horse-car, and he and his father had no more than time to reach the Main Street, when it came up, and stopped to take them in.

In but little more than an hour's time, by far the most important step in Frank's life had been taken. He had enlisted.

"Well," said his father, after Frank, with a firm and steady hand, had written his name, "it is done now. You are a brave boy!"—with a tear of pride, as he regarded his handsome, spirited young volunteer, and thought that not many fathers had such promising sons.

While they were at the recruiting office, one of their neighbors came in.

"What!" he exclaimed, "you here? on business?"

"Patriotic business," replied Mr. Manly, showing his son with a fond father's emotion. "He has volunteered, neighbor Winch."

"And you give your consent?"

"I do, most certainly, since he feels it his duty to go, and his mother is willing."

Neighbor Winch stood speechless for a moment, the muscles of his mouth working. "I have just heard," he said, in an agitated voice, "that my son John has enlisted without my consent; and I have come here to ascertain the fact. Do you know any thing about it, Frank?"

"I suppose I do," replied Frank, with some reluctance. "He enlisted three days ago. He wanted me to go with him then; but I——"

"You what?" said neighbor Winch.

"I couldn't, without first getting permission from my father and mother," explained Frank.

"O, if my John had only acted as noble a part!" said the neighbor. "It's a bad beginning for a boy to run away. He has nearly broken his mother's heart."

"Well, well, neighbor," observed Mr. Manly, consolingly, "reflect that it's in a good cause. Jack might have done worse, you know."

"Yes, yes. He never was a steady boy, as you know. He has set out to learn three different trades, and got sick of them all. I couldn't keep him at school, neither. Of late nothing would do but he must be a soldier. If I thought he'd stick to it, and do his duty, I wouldn't say a word. But he'll get tired of carrying a gun, too, before he has seen hard service. Where is he? Do you know, Frank?"

"He is in camp, in the Jackson Blues," mid Frank. "I am going as drummer in the same company."

"I'm glad of that," replied Mr. Winch. "For, though he is so much older than you, I think you always have had an influence over him, Frank—a good influence, too." And the neighbor took the young volunteer's hand.

Frank's eyes glistened—he felt so touched by this compliment, and so proud that his father had heard it, and could go home and tell it to his mother and sisters.

Neighbor Winch went on: "I want you to see John, as soon as you can, Frank, and talk with him, and try to make him feel how wrongly he has acted——"

Here the poor man's voice failed him; and Frank, sympathizing with his sorrow, was filled with gratitude to think that he had never been tempted to grieve his parents in the same way.

Mr. Manly accompanied his son to the railroad depot, and saw him safely in the cars that were to convey him to camp, and then took leave of him. The young volunteer would have forgotten his manhood, and cried, if