Year: 1862

The whole city was wild with triumph
at the victories of Fort Donelson and
Roanoke. Cheer after cheer went up
from the Exchange, and people were al
most momentarily jostling each other in
the thronged streets, and instead of beg
ging pardon would burst into a shout
for the old flag. Woman that 1 am, as
| hurried home in the twilight of the
glorious day, had to hold my muf close
to my voice to keep from swelling the
great thanksgiving. Turning the cor
ner of nay own street, | was astonished
to see that my own parlor was brilliantly
lighted, and through the thin curtains
| likewise saw figures moving rapidly.
| ran up the steps, and soon discovered
the reason, for as 1 opened the door all
my children and several Of my neigh
bors rushed with a great sweep into
the hall, and for a moment | was nearly
stunned with their cheers for the Fort,
the soldiers, the Stars and Stripes, etc.
At last, at the volley for the Suuboats,
they stopped from sheer exhaustion,
and l asked very mcekiy, "What in the
world are you down in the parlor for?''


"Well, mother gasped viii, "we
wanted to play We were gunboats, and
the nursery wasn't big enough. See me
now; | am to run up within four hun
dred yards of the guns of the Fort, !"
and with yell like wild Indians, he
branished a cane and made charge at
the book case, coming within an inch
of smashing my Dante and Beatrice
| WINGED, but did not sco!d them, only
enticed them into the less crowded din
ing room, where we played gunboats
an: cheered until their father, coming
home to tea, rather checked US by say
ing graveiy that he thought he should
have TO send US all to the watch house
Many incidents of the battles he told
the eager children as we took our tea,
and just before their bed time, as they
stood around him for the customary
story, he told them the one L shall now
try to tell you.


"You all know" said the father, chow
last April the Massachusetts troops
were attacked and murdered in the
streets of Baltimore, and how the whole
heart of New England thrilled to
avenge their death. There was young
boy of Marblehead, only fifteen years
old, Albert Mansur by name, who came
from school on that day wild with in
dignation, and told his mother that he
was going to the war; he couldn't stay
at home. why, Albert laughed his
happy mother, they won't have you;
you are too little, my boy. Il can
drum, cant | mother? / guess those
old rebels will run when they hear me
play the Star Spapgled Banner, and
out he went, and his mother heard him
play the smart old tune as he marched
down the street at the head of a latter
demallion set of urchins, called by him
his regiment. He had gift for drum
ming, and thinking of his words that
mothers heart still beat with fear. He
was her only child, her handsome boy; how
could she let him go? But she scolded
herself for even thinking of it. Of
course his father would keep him at
home. At dinner time, Albert attacked
his father on the subject, but his father
peremptorily answered no and told him
that there must be no more talk on the
matter.


Usually his fathers decision settled
matters, but this time eAlbertargued man
fully. He could do just as good service
as anybody; he ought to go; he must go.
But Mr.. Mansur was firm, and he had to
yield, although the struggle was so Sc
we're that he grew thin and pale. At
last, to divert his attention, they sent
him to his grandfather, in Augusta, and
fervently hoped he would forget his
fancy But when he arrived there, he
found regiment all ready to go into
camp short way from the city. He
accompanied them as drummer. His
father and mother, as the week went by,
became impatient, and at last went for
him. AS they rode through the streets,
almost, the first person they saw was AL
bert, marching in a fine new uniform,
with this same company, on their
way to the station. He had kept his