The Continental Monthly, Vol. III, No. V, May, 1863 - Various 4 стр.

'I say, Jack,' said an officer at Pittsburg Landing to an old crony who was serving as private in another company, 'where did you get that turkey?'

'Well, cap, I want to know first whether you ask that question as an officer or as a friend.'

'As a friend, of course, Jack.'

'Then it's none of your d business, Tom!'

The difference in pay is not only too great, but is made up in a way that shows its want of reason. Both have lived on the same fare all their lives, and the captain knows that it is an absurdity for him to be drawing the price of four rations a day on the supposition that he has been luxuriously trained, while in reality he satisfies his appetite with the same plain dishes served out to his brother in the ranks. He knows that it is an absurdity for him to receive a large pay in order to support his family according to their supposed rank, while the private's wife and children are to be made comfortable out of thirteen dollars a month; the fact being that Mrs. Captain and Mrs. Private probably live next door to each other at home, and exchange calls and groceries, and wear dresses from the same piece, and talk scandal about each other, all in as neighborly a manner as they have been accustomed to do all their lives. Indeed, whatever aristocracy of wealth and elegance was growing up among us has been set back at least a generation by this war, which has brought out into such prominent notice and elevated so high in our hearts the rougher merits of the strong arm and the dextrous hand. Every month sees a larger proportion of officers coming from among those whose habits have been the reverse of luxury. It is hard to say which would be more mischievous and absurd: for these to spend their extra pay and rations in an effort to copy the traditional style of an English Guardsman, or to keep on in their old way of life, and pocket large savings that are supposed to be thus spent.

We need therefore to root out entirely this division of the army into two classes. Let the scale of rank and pay rise by regular steps from corporal to general, so that the former may be as much or as little a 'commissioned officer' as his superiors. Abolish all invidious distinctions by a regular system of promotions from the ranks, and only from the ranks, except so far as West Point and kindred schools furnish men educated to commence active service at a higher round of the ladder. Then we shall have an army into which the best class of our youth can go as privates without feeling that they have more to dread in their own camps than on the battle field.

No doubt there would be an outcry against such a change from those who have been accustomed to the old system and enjoyed its benefits. This of itself would be no great obstacle, unless supported by a vague impression among the people at large that there must be some good reason for the present state of things, and that civilians had better not meddle with it. I see them sinking down covered with confusion when some red-faced old 'regular' bursts out upon them with 'Stuff, sir! What do you know about military matters?' The best answer to this is, that other nations, like the French, have set us the example, though by no means so well provided with intelligent material to draw from in the ranks; and that in fact England and the United States are about the only countries in which the evil is allowed to exist. In both of these it has remained from the fact that the body of the citizens have never been interested in the rank and file of the army. In this country we have now an entirely new state of things to provide for; and Yankee ingenuity must hide its head for shame if a very few years do not give us a republican army better organized and more efficient than any the world has yet seen.

TAMMANY

IN MEMORIAM

A MERCHANT'S STORY

CHAPTER XXII

I found Selma plunged in the deepest grief. The telegram which informed her of Preston's death was dated three days before (it had been sent to Goldsboro for transmission, the telegraph lines not then running to Newbern), and she could not possibly reach the plantation until after her father's burial; but she insisted on going at once. She would have his body exhumed; she must take a last look at that face which had never beamed on her but in love!

Frank proposed to escort her, but she knew he could not well be spared from business at that season; and, with a bravery and self-reliance not common to her years and her sex, she determined to go alone.

Shortly after my arrival at the house, she retired to her room with Kate, to make the final arrangements for the journey; and I seated myself with David, Cragin, and Frank, in the little back parlor, which the gray-haired old Quaker and his son-in-law had converted into a smoking room.

As Cragin was lighting his cigar, I said to him:

'Have you heard the news?'

'What news?'

As Cragin was lighting his cigar, I said to him:

'Have you heard the news?'

'What news?'

'The dissolution of Russell, Rollins & Co.'

'No; there's nothing so good stirring. But you'll hear it some two years hence.'

'Read that;' and I handed him the paper which Hallet had signed.

'What is it, father?' asked Frank, his face alive with interest.

'Cragin will show it to you, if it ever gets through his hair. I reckon he's learning to read.'

'Well, I believe I can't read. What the deuce does it mean?'

'Just what it saysFrank is free.'

The young man glanced over the paper. His face expressed surprise, but he said nothing.

'Then you've heard how things have been going on?' asked Cragin.

'No, not a word. I've seen that Hallet was abusing the boy shamefully. I came on, wanting an excuse to break the copartnership.'

'Do you know you've done me the greatest service in the world? I told Hallet, the other day, that we couldn't pull together much longer. He refused to let me off till our term is up; but I've got him now;' and he laughed in boyish glee.

'Of course, the paper releases you as well as Frank. It's a general dissolution.'

'Of course it is. How did you manage to get it? Hallet must have been crazy. He wasn't John Hallet, that's certain!'

'The genuine John, but a little excited.'

'He must have been. But I'm rid of him, thank the Lord! Come, what do you say to Frank's going in with me? I'll pack him off to Europe at oncehe can secure most of the old business.'

'He must decide about that. He can come with me, if he likes. He'll not go a begging, that's certain. He'll have thirty thousand to start with.'

'Thirty thousand!' exclaimed Frank. 'No, father, you can't do that; you need every dollar you've got.'

'Yes, I do, and more too. But the money is yours, not mine. You shall have it to-morrow.'

'Mine! Where did it come from?'

'From a relative of yours. But he's modest; he don't want to be known.' 'But I ought to know, I thought I had no relatives.'

'Well, you haven'tonly this one, and he's rich as mud. He gave you the five thousand; but this is a last instalmentyou won't get another red cent.'

'I don't feel exactly like taking money in that way.'

'Pshaw, my boy! I tell you it's yoursrightfully and honestly. You ought to have more; but he's close-fisted, and you must be content with this.'

'Well, Frank,' said Cragin, 'what do you say to hitching horses with me? I'll give you two fifths, and put a hundred against your thirty.

'What shall I do?' said Frank to me.

'You'd better accept. It's more than I can allow you.'

'Then it's a trade?' asked Cragin.

'Yes,' said Frank.

'Well, old gentleman, what do you saywill you move the old stool?' said Cragin, addressing David.

'Yes; I like Frank too well to stay with even his father.'

In the gleeful mood which had taken possession of the old man, the words slipped from his tongue before he was aware of it. He would have recalled them on the instant, but it was too late. Cragin caught them, and exclaimed:

'His father! Well, that explains some riddles. Dd if I won't call the new firm Hallet, Cragin & Co. I've got him all aroundha! ha!'

Frank seemed thunderstruck. Soon he plied me with questions.

'I can say nothing; I gave my word I would not. David has betrayed it; let him explain, if he pleases.'

The old bookkeeper then told the young man his history, revealing everything but the degradation of his poor mother. Frank walked the room, struggling with contending emotions. When David concluded, he put his hand in mine, and spoke a few low words. His voice sounded like his mother's. It was again her blessing that I heard.

Two weeks afterward, the old sign came down from the old warehousecame down, after hanging there three quarters of a century, and in its place went up a black board, on which, emblazoned in glaring gilt letters, were the two words,

On the same day, the busy crowd passing up old Long Wharf might have seen, over a doorway not far distant, a plainer sign. It read:

CHAPTER XXIII

Kate heard frequently from Selma within the first two months after her departure, but then her letters suddenly ceased. Her last one expressed the intention of returning to the North during the following week. We looked for her, but she did not come. Week after week went by, and still she did not come. Kate wrote, inquiring when we might expect her, but received no reply. She wrote again and again, and still no answer came. 'Something has happened to her. Do write Mrs. Preston,' said Kate. I wrote her. She either did not deign to reply, or she did not receive the letter.

None of Selma's friends had heard from her for more than three months, and we were in a state of painful anxiety and uncertainty, when, one morning, among my letters, I found one addressed to my wife, in Selma's handwriting. Her previous letters had been mailed at Trenton, but this was post-marked 'Newbern.' I sent it at once to my house. About an hour afterward I was surprised by Kate's appearance in the office. Her face was pale, her manner hurried and excited. She held a small carpet bag in her hand.

'You must start at once by the first train. You've not a moment to spare!'

'Start where?'

She handed me the letter. 'Read that.'

It was hurriedly and nervously written. I read:

'My Dearest Friend: I know you have not forsaken me, but I have written you, oh! so many times. To-day, Ally has told me that perhaps our letters are intercepted at the Trenton post office. It must be so. He takes this to Newbern. Is he not kind? He has been my faithful friend through all. Though ordered away from the plantation, he refused to go, and stood by me through the worst. He whom my own sister so cruelly wronged, has done everything for me! Whatever may become of me, I shall ever bless him.

'I have not heard from or seen any of my friends. Even my brother has not answered my letters; but he must be here, on the 17th, at the sale. That is now my only hope. I shall then be freed from this miseryworse than death. God bless you!

'I will go,' was all that I said. Kate sat down, and wept 'Oh! some terrible thing has befallen her! What can it be?'

I was giving some hurried directions to my partners, when a telegram was handed in. It was from Boston, and addressed to me personally. I opened it, and read:

'I have just heard that Selma is a slave. To be sold on the seventeenth. I can't go. You must. Buy her on my account. Pay any price. I have written Frank. Let nothing prevent your starting at once. If your partners should be short while you're away, let them draw on me.

It was then the morning of the twelfth. Making all the connections, and there being no delay of the trains, I should reach the plantation early on the seventeenth.

At twelve o'clock I was on the way. Steam was too slow for my impatience. I would have harnessed the lightning.

At lastit was sundown of the sixteenththe stage drove into Newbern.

With my carpet bag in my hand, I rushed into the hotel. Four or five loungers were in the office, and the lazy bartender was mixing drinks behind the counter.

'Sir, I want a horse, or a horse and buggy, at once.'