the papers; but
Captain Benson wants your consent in writing, so that there shall be no
mistake about it."

The mother read the paper in silence and sadness, for the thought of
having her noble boy exposed to the perils of the camp and the march, the
skirmish and the battle, was terrible, and nothing but the most exalted
patriotism could induce a mother to give a son to his country.

"I don't want to sign this paper, Thomas," said she, when she had finished
reading it.

"Have you forgot what you said the other night, mother?"

"No, I haven't forgot it, and I feel now just as I did then. If there is
any real need of your going, I am willing you should go."

"Need? Of course there is need of soldiers. The President wasn't joking
when he called for seventy-five thousand men."

"But there are enough to go without you."

"That's just what everybody might say, and then there wouldn't be anybody
to go."

"But you are young, and not very strong."

"I'm old enough, and strong enough. When I can get a day to myself, I
don't think it's any great hardship to carry father's heavy fowling-piece
from sunrise to sunset; and I guess I can stand it to carry a musket as
long as any of them."

"You are only a boy."

"I shall be a man soon enough."

"When you have gone, John will want to go too."

"No, mother, I don't want to go into the army," said John, with a sly wink
at his brother. "I shall never be a soldier if I can help it."

"What am I going to do, if you all go off and leave me?" added Mrs.
Somers, trying hard to keep down a tear which was struggling for birth in
her fountain of sorrows.

"I don't think you will want for anything, mother. I'm sure I wouldn't
leave you, if I thought you would. I don't get but two dollars and a half
a week in the store, and I shall have eleven dollars a month in the army,
and it won't cost me any thing for board or clothes. I will send every
dollar I get home to you."

"You are a good boy, Thomas," replied Mrs. Somers, unable any longer to
r