service here, I will go and do what I can for those who need my help. If you want any assistance, I shall be close at hand,” said he, as he walked away to the busy scene of woe which surrounded the wreck.

The wounded, the maimed, and the dead were rapidly taken from the pile of ruins, and placed in the cars on the road; and there was no longer anything for the young officer to do. He returned to the grassy couch of her whom he could not but regard as peculiarly his patient. The father had recovered his self-possession, and satisfied himself that Emmie was not more seriously injured than her deliverer had declared.

“My young friend, while I thank God that my daughter is still alive, I am very grateful to you for the care you have bestowed upon her,” said the father, as he grasped the young officer’s hand.

“You may well thank him, Mr. Guilford,” said one of the two gentlemen who had followed the young officer to the spot; “for the first thing I saw, when I came out from under the ruins, was this young man lifting half the top of the car off your daughter.”

“I beg your pardon, sir, but I think we should convey the young lady up to the cars; for I see they are about ready to start,” said Lieutenant Somers, blushing up to the eyes.

“I thank you, young man,” added Mr. Guilford with deep feeling. “I must see you again, and know more about you. Emmie has told me how kind you have been to her; and you may be sure I shall never forget it while I live. How do you feel now, Emmie?”

“My arm begins to pain me a little,” she answered languidly.

“We must put you into the car, and in a short time we shall be able to do something for you.”

“I will carry her up to the train, sir,” said the young officer.

“I thank you, sir,” said Emmie with a smile; “but I think I can walk.”

“Well,” said the gentleman who had spoken before, “I saw him carry you from the wreck to this place; and I am bound to say, I never saw a mother handle her baby more tenderly.”

“I am very grateful to him for what he has done for me,” added Emmie with a slight blush; “and if I needed his services, I certainly should accept his kind offer.”

She took the arm of her father, and walked very well till she came to the steep bank, whose ascent required more strength than she then possessed. Her father and Lieutenant Somers then made a “hand-chair,” and bore her up to the car, in which she was as comfortably disposed as the circumstances would permit. The train started with its melancholy freight of wounded, dead and dying.

“I see, sir, you are an officer in the army,” said Mr. Guilford as the train moved off; “but I have not yet learned your name.”

“Thomas Somers, sir,” replied our young officer.

“I must trouble you to write it down for me, with your residence when at home, and your regiment in the field.”

Lieutenant Somers complied with this request, and in return the gentleman gave him his address.

“I shall never forget you, Lieutenant Somers,” said Mr. Guilford when he had carefully deposited the paper in his memorandum-book. “I have it in my power to be of service to you; and if you ever want a friend, I shall consider it a favor if you will come to me, or write to me.”

“Thank you, sir; I am very much obliged to you. But I hope you won’t consider yourself under any obligations to me for what I have done. I couldn’t have helped doing it if I had tried.”

“Lieutenant Somers, you are in luck,” said the gentleman who had accompanied him before. “That is Senator Guilford, of ——, and he will make a brigadier-general of you before you are a year older.”

Lieutenant Somers sat down in one corner of the car, near the seats occupied by Miss Guilford and her father. He was just beginning to be conscious of the fact that he had done a “big thing;” not because he had helped one of God’s suffering creatures, but because she happened to be a Senator’s daughter. But he still had the happy reflection, that what he had done had been prompted by motives of humanity, not by the love of applause, or for the purpose of winning the favor of a great man who could dispense the “loaves and fishes” when he should need them.

He was rather sensitive. He was a young man of eighteen, and he had not yet become familiar with the grossness and selfishness of this calculating world. He was rather offended at the patronage which the Senator had proposed to bestow upon him, and he even regretted that he had so readily given him his address.

Lieutenant Somers regarded himself as emphatically a fighting officer; and the idea of working his way up to distinction by the favor of a member of Congress was repulsive to him. He really wished the Hon. Mr. Guilford had only thanked him for what he had done, and not said a word about having it in his power to be of service to him.

While he was meditating upon the events which had transpired, and the Senator’s patronizing offer, he saw Captain de Banyan enter the forward door of the car through which the gentleman who had taken so much pains to compliment the young officer had disappeared a short time before. The distinguished captain walked through the car directly to the seat of the lieutenant, who had not even yet ceased to blush under the praises which had been bestowed upon him.

“Somers, your hand,” said he, extending his own. “I have heard all about it, and am proud that our regiment has furnished so brave and devoted a man. Oh, don’t blush, my dear fellow! You are a modest man. I sympathize with you; for I am a modest man myself. I didn’t get over blushing for three weeks after his imperial majesty, the Emperor of France, complimented me for some little thing I did at the battle of Palestro.”

“I thought that was at Magenta,” added Somers.

“So it was. The fact is, I have been in a great many battles, and I get them mixed up a little sometimes. But you are in luck, Somers,” continued the captain in a lower tone, as he seated himself by the side of his fellow-officer.

“Why so?”

“They say she is the daughter of a Senator.”

“What of that?”

“What of that! Why, my dear fellow, you are as innocent as a school girl. Don’t you see he can get you on some general’s staff, and have you promoted every time there is a skirmish?”

“I don’t want to be promoted unless I earn it.”

“Of course you don’t; but every officer that earns it won’t get it. By the way, Somers, can’t you introduce me to the old gentleman?”

“I never saw him before in my life.”

“No matter for that. I’ll warrant you, he’ll be glad to make all your friends his friends.”

“But I don’t feel enough acquainted with him to introduce a gentleman whom I never saw in my life till two hours ago.”

“You are right, my dear fellow; excuse me,” replied Captain de Banyan, looking very much disappointed. “I dare say, if I should show him the autograph of the Emperor of France, he would be very glad to know me.”

“No doubt of it. At any rate, I recommend you to make the trial.”

“Yes; but the mischief of it is, I have left all those papers at home.”

“That’s unfortunate,” added Lieutenant Somers, who had some serious doubts in regard to the existence of those papers.

“So it is. If I had been lucky enough to have made the acquaintance of that young lady, as you have, I would not let my aspirations