THE YOUNG LIEUTENANT

CHAPTER I

CAPTAIN DE BANYAN AND OTHERS


"I beg your pardon, sir; but I see, by the number on your cap, that we
belong to the same regiment," said an officer with two bars on his
shoulder-straps, as he halted in the aisle of the railroad-car, near
where Lieutenant Thomas Somers was seated. "May I be permitted to inquire
whom I have the honor of addressing?"

"Lieutenant Somers, of the ----th Massachusetts," replied the young
gentleman addressed, as he politely touched his cap in return for the
salutation of the other.

"Ah! is it possible? I am rejoiced to meet you. I have heard of you
before. Allow me to add in the most delicate manner, that you are a good
fellow, a first-rate soldier, and as brave an officer as ever sported a
pair of shoulder-straps. Permit me to offer you my hand; and allow me to
add, that it is a hand which was never sullied by a dishonorable act."

"I am happy to make your acquaintance," replied Lieutenant Somers, as he
accepted the offered hand. "Won't you take a seat, Captain----"

"Captain de Banyan, at your service," continued the officer, as he seated
himself by the side of the young lieutenant, who was completely
bewildered by the elegant and courtly speech of his new-found friend.

If Lieutenant Somers needs any further introduction to the reader, we may
briefly add, that he was a native of Pinchbrook, a town near Boston, in
the State of Massachusetts. He was now entering his eighteenth year, and
had enlisted in the great army of the Union as a private, with an earnest
and patriotic desire to serve his imperiled country in her death-grapple
with treason and traitors. He had won his warrant as a sergeant by
bravery and address, and had subsequently been commissioned as a second
lieutenant for good conduct on the bloody field of Williamsburg, where he
had been wounded. The injury he had received, and the exhaustion
consequent upon hard marching and the excitement of a terrible battle,
had procured for him a furlough of thirty days. He had spent this brief
period at home; and now, invigorated by rest and the care of loving
friends, he was returning to the army to participate in that stupendous
campaign which culminated in the seven-days' battles before Richmond.

Inspired by the hope of honorable distinction, still more by the
patriotic desire to serve the noblest cause for which the soldier ever
drew a sword, he was hastening to the post of danger and duty. As the
train hurried him by smiling fields, and through cities and villages
whose prosperity was mysteriously interlinked with the hallowed mission
which called him from the bosom of home and friends, his thoughts were
those which would naturally animate the soul of a young patriot, as he
journeyed to the battle-fields of a nation's ruin or salvation. He
thought of the bloody scenes before him, of the blessed home behind him.

Only the day before, he had made his parting visit to Lilian Ashford, who
knit his "fighting socks," as he had called them since the eventful day
when he had found her letter and her picture in them. Of course, he could
not help thinking of her; and, as he had a thin stratum of sentiment in
his composition, it is more than probable that the beautiful young lady
monopolized more than her fair share of his thoughts; but I am sure it
was not at all to the detriment of the affection he owed his mother and
the other dear ones, who were shrined in the sanctuary of his heart.