Chapter XII. A Letter from the Camp

by Horatio Alger

　　The little family at the Frost farm looked forward with anxiouseagerness to the first letter from the absent father.Ten days had elapsed when Frank was seen hurrying up the roadwith something in his hand.Alice saw him first, and ran in, exclaiming, "Mother, I dobelieve Frank has got a letter from father. He is running up theroad."Mrs. Frost at once dropped her work, no less interested than herdaughter, and was at the door just as Frank, flushed withrunning, reached the gate."What'll you give me for a letter?" he asked triumphantly."Give it to me quick," said Mrs. Frost. "I am anxious to learnwhether your father is well.""I guess he is, or he wouldn't have written such a long letter.""How do you know it's long?" asked Alice. "You haven't read it.""I judge from the weight. There are two stamps on the envelope. Iwas tempted to open it, but, being directed to mother, I didn'tventure."Mrs. Frost sat down, and the children gathered round her, whileshe read the following letter:"CAMP--------, Virginia."DEAR MARY: When I look about me, and consider the novelty andstrangeness of my surroundings, I can hardly realize that it isonly a week since I sat in our quiet sitting-room at the farm,with you and our own dear ones around me. I will try to help yourimagination to a picture of my present home."But first let me speak of my journey hither."It was tedious enough, traveling all day by rail. Of course,little liberty was allowed us. Military discipline is rigid, andmust be maintained. Of its necessity we had a convincing proof ata small station between Hartford and New Haven. One of ournumber, who, I accidentally learned, is a Canadian, and had onlybeen tempted to enlist by the bounty, selected a seat by the doorof the car. I had noticed for some time that he looked nervousand restless, as if he had something on his mind."At one of our stopping-places--a small, obscure station--hecrept out of the door, and, as he thought, unobserved, dodgedbehind a shed, thinking, no doubt, that the train would go offwithout him. But an officer had his eye upon him, and a minuteafterward he was ignominiously brought back and put under guard.I am glad to say that his case inspired no sympathy. To enlist,obtain a bounty, and then attempt to evade the service for whichthe bounty was given, is despicable in the extreme. I am glad toknow that no others of our company had the least desire to followthis man's example."We passed through New York, Philadelphia, and Washington, but Ican give you little idea of either of these cities. The time wepassed in each was mostly during the hours of darkness, whenthere was little opportunity of seeing anything."In Washington I was fortunate enough to see our worthyPresident. We were marching down Pennsylvania Avenue at the time.On the opposite side of the street we descried a very tall man,of slender figure, walking thoughtfully along, not appearing tonotice what was passing around him."The officer in command turned and said: 'Boys, look sharp. Thatis Abraham Lincoln, across the way.'"Of course, we all looked eagerly toward the man of whom we hadheard so much."I could not help thinking how great a responsibility rests uponthis man--to how great an extent the welfare and destinies of ourbeloved country depend upon his patriotic course."As I noticed his features, which, plain as they are, bear theunmistakable marks of a shrewd benevolence, and evince also, as Ithink, acute and original powers of mind, I felt reassured. Icould not help saying to myself: 'This man is at least honest,and if he does not carry us in safety through this tremendouscrisis, it will not be for the lack of an honest determination todo his duty.'"And now let me attempt to give you a picture of our presentsituation, with some account of the way we live."Our camp may appropriately be called 'Hut Village.' Imagineseveral avenues lined with square log huts, surmounted bytent-coverings. The logs are placed transversely, and are clippedat the ends, so as to fit each other more compactly. In this waythe interstices are made much narrower than they would otherwisebe. These, moreover, are filled in with mud, which, as you haveprobably heard, is a staple production of Virginia. This is agood protection against the cold, though it does not give ourdwellings a very elegant appearance."Around most of our huts shallow trenches are dug, to carry offthe water, thus diminishing the dampness. Most of the huts arenot floored, but mine, fortunately, is an exception to thegeneral rule. My comrades succeeded in obtaining some boardssomewhere, and we are a little in advance of our neighbors inthis respect."Six of us are lodged in a tent. It is pretty close packing, butwe don't stand upon ceremony here. My messmates seem to bepleasant fellows. I have been most attracted to Frank Grover; abright young fellow of eighteen. He tells me that he is an onlyson, and his mother is a widow." 'Wasn't your mother unwilling to have you come out here?' Iasked him one day." 'No,' he answered, 'not unwilling. She was only sorry for thenecessity. When I told her that I felt it to be my duty, she toldme at once to go. She said she would never stand between me andmy country.'" 'You must think of her often,' I said." 'All the time,' he answered seriously, a thoughtful expressionstealing over his young face. 'I write to her twice a weekregular, and sometimes oftener. For her sake I hope my life maybe spared to return.'" 'I hope so, too,' I answered warmly. Then after a minute'ssilence, I added from some impulse: 'Will you let me call youFrank? I have a boy at home, not many years younger than you. Hisname is Frank also--it will seem to remind me of him.'" 'I wish you would,' he answered, his face lighting up withevident pleasure. 'Everybody calls me Frank at home, and I amtired of being called Grover.'"So our compact was made. I shall feel a warm interest in thisbrave boy, and I fervently hope that the chances of war willleave him unscathed."I must give you a description of Hiram Marden, another of oursmall company, a very different kind of person from Frank Grover.But it takes all sorts of characters to make an army, as well asa world, and Marden is one of the oddities. Imagine a tall youngfellow, with a thin face, lantern jaws, and long hair 'slicked'down on either side. Though he may be patriotic, he was led intothe army from a different cause. He cherished an attachment for avillage beauty, who did not return his love. He makes noconcealment of his rebuff, but appears to enjoy discoursing in asentimental way upon his disappointment. He wears such an air ofmeek resignation when he speaks of his cruel fair one that theeffect is quite irresistible, and I find it difficult to accordhim that sympathy which his unhappy fate demands. Fortunately forhim, his troubles, deep-seated as they are, appear to have verylittle effect upon his appetite. He sits down to his rations witha look of subdued sorrow upon his face, and sighs frequentlybetween the mouthfuls. In spite of this, however, he seldomleaves anything upon his tin plate, which speaks well for hisappetite, since Uncle Sam is a generous provider, and few of usdo full justice to our allowance."You may wonder how I enjoy soldier's fare. I certainly do longsometimes for the good pumpkin and apple pies which I used tohave at home, and confess that a little apple sauce would make myhardtack a little more savory. I begin to appreciate your goodqualities as a housekeeper, Mary, more than ever. Pies can be gotof the sutler, but they are such poor things that I would ratherdo without than eat them, and I am quite sure they would try mydigestion sorely."There is one very homely esculent which we crave in the camp--Imean the onion. It is an excellent preventive of scurvy, adisease to which our mode of living particularly exposes us. Weeat as many as we can get, and should be glad of more. Tell Frankhe may plant a whole acre of them. They will require considerablecare, but even in a pecuniary way they will pay. The price hasconsiderably advanced since the war began, on account of thelarge army demand, and will doubtless increase more."As to our military exercises, drill, etc., we have enough tooccupy our time well. I see the advantage of enlisting in aveteran regiment. I find myself improving very rapidly. Besidesmy public company drill, I am getting my young comrade, FrankGrover, who has been in the service six months, to give me someprivate lessons. With the help of these, I hope to pass mustercreditably before my first month is out."And now, my dear Mary, I must draw my letter to a close. In thearmy we are obliged to write under difficulties. I am writingthis on my knapsack for a desk, and that is not quite so easy asa table. The constrained position in which I am forced to sit hastired me, and I think I will go out and 'limber' myself a little.Frank, who has just finished a letter to his mother, will nodoubt join me. Two of my comrades are sitting close by, playingeuchre. When I joined them I found they were in the habit ofplaying for small stakes, but I have succeeded in inducing themto give up a practice which might not unlikely lead to badresults."In closing, I need not tell you how much and how often I thinkof you all. I have never before been separated from you, andthere are times when my longing to be with you again is verystrong. You must make up for your absence by frequent and longletters. Tell me all that is going on. Even trifles will serve toamuse us here."Tell Frank to send me Harper's Weekly regularly. Two or threetimes a week I should like to have a daily paper forwarded. Everynewspaper that finds its way into camp goes the rounds, and itscontents are eagerly devoured."I will write you again very soon. The letters I write andreceive from home will be one of my principal sources ofpleasure. God bless you all, is the prayer of your affectionatehusband and father,"HENRY FROST."It is hardly necessary to say that this letter was read witheager interest. That evening all the children, including littleCharlie, were busy writing letters to the absent father. I havenot room to print them all, but as this was Charlie's firstepistolary effort, it may interest some of my youthful readers tosee it. The mistakes in spelling will be excused on the score ofCharlie's literary inexperience. This is the way it commenced:"DEER FARTHER: I am sorry you hav to live in a log hous stuck upwith mud. I shud think the mud wood cum off on your close. I amwel and so is Maggie. Frank is agoin to make me a sled--a realgood one. I shal cal it the egle. I hope we shal soon hav sumsno. It will be my berth day next week. I shal be seven yearsold. I hope you cum back soon. Good nite."from CHARLIE."Charlie was so proud of his letter that he insisted on having itenclosed in a separate envelope and mailed by itself--a requestwhich was complied with by his mother.